Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.
I can never thank you enough for your patience. I have been writing a few other stories, and did have something else irl to deal with, so this was late...again. Might cross-post the stories here. I'm not sure.
Anyway, please enjoy!
Chapter Thirty-Two: Coincidence
The smell of sap and pine surrounded the individual perched in the evergreen tree. A gentle breeze filtered through the branches of the Sugar Pine, bringing up the sound of the soft tread of the deer below. It sniffed at the ground, pawing here and there to move the dead needles; a buck just looking for a meal. The hidden person observed the animal with keen eyes and raised their hand from the branch to their instrument, intent on their purpose.
A pencil scratched gently on a blank sheet of paper that rested against their bended knee. The wind blew again, harsher this time, and their free hand snatched up the corner of the page that threatened to be torn from their lap. The buck looked around, hearing some of the noise, but nosed at the ground again. It seemed that it did not sense any danger.
"You know, it'd probably be smarter to kill it," a voice whispered. "Bet everyone would like something fresh again."
The person ignored the voice, instead drawing a graceful line with one stroke, grasping the concept of the animal's left side without needing to erase. A slight smile formed on their lips as they spent a good fifteen minutes observing the buck, sketching out features with a skill that would make some art students, if there were any left, envious. Before the artist's very eyes, a bird's eye view of the buck was coming to life on the page. It was a relaxing moment, a quiet moment, a peaceful moment…
In the distance, there was a very distinctive crack of a gun firing, and the artist put down their pencil, sighing. The buck, startled, dashed in the opposite direction of the sound, leaving the individual perched in the tree with an expression of a silent defeat. Looking up at the sky, it was if the artist was pleading with whatever god or gods resided above.
"Well, there goes that," said their compatriot. "Someone had the same idea. Do you think they missed?"
"Wasn't that one," came the short reply. There was a prolonged silence before they eventually added, "She got it. It was just a few meters away."
"Eh, they would have started a fight if they had seen each other anyway. At least you'll get a meal, right?" The voice laughed as if it was some grand joke. With a roll of the eyes, the would-be artist used the hand that had a particular penchant to speak as the one he shifted most of his weight to on his descent to the ground.
Dark boots hit the ground without a sound, the dirt hardly puffing up around the soles. Pine needles sprinkled the earth and brought forth a sweet, clean smelling waft of air around him. A peaceful morning was making its way across the forest, with the early light bringing color and life to what had recently been a darkened gray world. Birds tweeted from their lofty roosts as he made his way back to town, a tune his mother used to hum to him in his mind.
The winter had been rough without central heating, but they had all managed to make do and lead a rather pacific existence through the early months of the year. Now the buds of spring were flowering alongside grass shoots that sprung up on the abandoned pathways and the cracks of the beaten cement. Buzzing colonies of bees set to their work as the morning warmed the earth in its leisurely way.
Voices could be heard in the distance, one young and one old, and the fledgling artist meandered over to where they manifested. With the excited chatter of the younger individual, it was only too obvious of the news that they would bring. Still, he did not want to ruin the glee of the person speeding to him, arms outstretched for some kind of contact.
"I did it, D!" Claire shouted, her hands raised high. D cautiously put his own hands up and received a hard smack of celebration to each. He had not expected her to also wrap her arms around him and lift him, but such was the way of the strange girl they had met so many months ago. One that now he considered very much a strange friend.
"Like you have room to talk," muttered his left appendage. D ignored it, hoping that Samuel had not heard the snide remark. There was no need to worry, however, as the man had simply waved and turned back to where they had come from. Claire plopped D onto the ground and grabbed his hand to drag him back to the hotel. He allowed her. Just as he had allowed her to pick him up.
The boy was faster and stronger than her, after all.
"I got it," the girl said, breathless as she tugged him along. "For a second, even though I know I've done it before with other things, I've never got something so big!"
"But aren't smaller things harder to aim at?" D inquired, smiling. He knew full well what those words would do for the girl; not like she needed the praise.
"Yeah, well," Claire said with a shrug, a self-contented smirk on her face, "it's harder to do it humanely with bigger things, I think."
They slowed as they reached the door, their feet hitting the wooden porch that spoke of home. The entrance was wide open, airing out the interior from the enclosed winter that they had had to share. Upstairs they could hear the soft footsteps of Bakura, making his way through daily chores that he would begin without question before they returned home for the morning. Claire kicked off her shoes, gently placed them at the entrance, and ran up the steps. D continued to follow her with a more measured approach at climbing the stairs.
They found Bakura moving from the room to the balcony, in the process of cleaning the outer windows. All knew there was technically no need for this, as there would be no one visiting to care, but it seemed to please Bakura, and everyone did appreciate a clean living space. Little did they know that he was also training his discerning eye; anything out of place had to be recognized. It would be something he could use practically at a later time.
For even the littlest shift in dirt, the slightest bend of a branch, could lead to success.
"Bakura, Bakura, Bakura!" Claire shouted, waving her arms around with wild abandon.
"Claire, Claire, Claire?" Bakura inquired, rubbing a fingerprint upon the pane into nonexistence.
"Mr. Sam asked if you could go help him with what he's gotta do, because guess what?!"
"What?" An amused smile crossed his face, and he glanced at D knowingly. The boy gave a noncommitted nod.
"I diiid iiiit," the girl sang, dancing around like she was keeping a hula hoop from the ground. "I gooot oneee."
"Congratulations!" Bakura beamed and pulled her into a hug, which she gladly returned. "Were you as fortunate?" He added, turning to D.
The boy nodded. He pulled out his drawing. "I think I'm getting better," he reflected, handing it over. Bakura took it and marveled at the detail that the ten-year-old had put into it. It also seemed to brighten his mood.
"Would you mind if we hung it up?"
"I guess," the boy replied, looking at the ground. He could not hide the remnants of a smile from Claire, who at that point realized what he had been drawing.
"Oh, cool!" she exclaimed. "You should teach me how to draw."
"You don't have the patience," D jeered.
"Says the guy who pouts when he doesn't do good immediately!" Claire spat back.
"Oh? Says the girl who gets bored and does something else if she doesn't understand it immediately!" D shouted. "And I don't pout!"
"Says the guy who says he doesn't pout…and then POUTS ABOUT POUTING!"
Bakura chuckled to himself as the two began to bicker in earnest. It was a very different display that the boy was providing in comparison to the year before. D was still very quiet, and only really spoke when he felt like conveying something of importance, but lately he was becoming more vocal about things regarding their family unit. For that's what it felt like it was becoming. An actual family.
Before the arguing could become any more heated, Bakura passed between the two of them, breaking the line of sight between the two insulters. They looked to him as he pointed at another room, across from the one that they inhabited. With a gentle voice, he stopped their quarreling and reminded them of something they both had in common.
"Before I head on out, I really should remind you that Samuel didn't find those instruments you all asked for so that they could gather dust. They were doing that just fine on their own. After you both get your lessons done for the day, you should try them out."
The two children looked to each other, aware that they had more important things to focus on, then nodded to each other. A truce had been formed for a moment. They both hurried off to complete their assignments for the day as Bakura made his way down the steps and out of the hotel to find Samuel.
In his peripheral, he saw something shimmer and flicker in and out of existence before it made its way back to the hotel. Placing a hand over his heart, he used the motion to center himself. Weakened by the light or not, a protector was a protector. In this world, these children needed protection. If he could sustain it at this time, for the duration he was gone, he would prove to himself that he was improving on something that even Ewan had eventually had to shake his head at, at a loss for understanding its constraints. Bakura took in a deep breath and continued his trek without halting his movements.
After the cleanup was done, and the meat stored safely away, Bakura found himself sitting beside Samuel as noon passed them by. Samuel was flicking a coin up into the air and catching it, lost in thought. Bakura stretched his arms out as they rested and heard his back pop. It offered a great relief. They sat in silence after that for a time, as Ewan rested in the lower part of the hotel, while the children, watched by something only D noticed in passing, were busy scribbling down notes on what information would be useful to them for the world they were in at present.
"When it really warms up, we should take the kids swimming," Samuel stated, catching the coin for the last time in his rotation. "There's a little lake nearby that should be fine for them to splash around in."
"I'm sure that Claire would like that," Bakura said, tapping mud off his shoes.
"Oh, shit. That's right. Sorry."
"It's no harm. D doesn't hate water or anything."
"Yeah, but you know its hard sometimes to remember that kid isn't what we would have called normal. Not that that matters."
"He is good at making it seem like everything's fine."
"You're right about that. It gets a little worrying sometimes. My wife, even for how tough she was, at least made sure that I knew what was going on. And at least we don't have to worry about any of that with Claire. She lets us know right away." Both adults chuckled at that before Samuel's face turned serious. "Be careful with him."
Bakura's head dipped in a quick affirmation. There was still no need to share D's lineage and why some things bothered him less. It still bothered him. "I worry sometimes that he's pushing himself too hard."
"Well, I think you forget that he looks up to a certain someone, who also has a penchant for pushing himself too far."
"I…" Bakura could not even feign confusion, knowing full well what Samuel was insinuating. Time to change the subject then.
"So, do you think what we have will last us a while?" he asked, and the other man gave him a look. With his response, however, it seemed he was fine with dropping the former subject.
"To put it lightly," Samuel replied. "With the books left over, and with our elder-walking-encyclopedia, we should be able to piece together how to live off of the land better than we knew before. It's not like the rations from the past world are going to survive for much longer."
"And if you are thinking of travelling after you finish resting up here, it's better that you get your practice in now. That way you don't run into what you did when we first met."
Bakura was taken aback by the blunt addition. It seemed that Samuel had also known of their temporary stay. Bakura rubbed at his cheek, looking at the man beside him, a little sheepish. They had never spoken about it, so how did he know?
"Oh, come on kid. Wipe that look off your face. Ewan told me. It is what it is."
"You could come with us, you know." Bakura surprised himself with his own offer.
"Nah, I'm fine here. This is where I was happiest, and I'm not long for this world anyway. Don't want to be, either. I'm just going to keep helping out my father-in-law for as long as I can, to repay the favor. He has always been a great help, an understanding guy. I think if more, y'know, vampires, were like him, we'd be able to coexist pretty easily."
"Wouldn't that be nice?" Bakura considered aloud.
"Yeah, it would," Samuel agreed. "But even at my most optimistic, that ain't gonna happen. I mean, if it was the case, wouldn't they have done, I dunno…something to stop all this?"
"I wouldn't really know."
"I don't think anyone does."
They sat there in silence once again, reflecting on the world and what the ramifications of the tragedies brought by long ago disagreements would have. Neither of them could imagine the aberrancy that would befall the future. Even for all that they had already seen.
"I forgot to ask, and I feel terrible for not asking earlier, but how did Claire do?" Bakura inquired, breaking the silence.
"Oh, she did fine. She's got a knack for it. Makes me think of when my dad and I went out together. She might have been a little over-excited, but I don't think she thinks of the gun as a toy, so that's a plus." Samuel cracked his neck, thinking on something. "I'm not gonna mince words, she's definitely more of a sniper sort, and she's got better aim than you."
"Ah," Bakura grunted. He was not offended, but he did have to admit to himself that while his aim had improved, it was still off when any movement was involved. He could hit the thing now, sure, but hit where he wanted? There was still a long way to go.
"But…" Samuel added, and Bakura turned to face him, curious. "Ewan said that you might be more for close-quarter fighting anyway. Said you were a natural with any knife, or knifelike thing, he throws your way. You're quick. I've seen that, too. Your gun is in your hand faster than I can tell sometimes."
"Not as fast as D," Bakura chuckled.
"No, not as fast as D, but only Ewan could be, I think. What I mean is, you're quick, you're quiet, and I think that while we should keep practicing with it, you might not be made for a loud weapon."
Bakura nodded, and sighed. "I don't know why that is, but you might be right. It is still strange to me that this is a normal conversation these days."
He looked at his hands and reflected on his own training. Why was it that even though he had more practice with a gun, fighting with a blade felt more natural? Why did he feel so comfortable with a knife in his hand, or on occasion the wakizashi that they had found?
He understood why D was such a natural, it seemed almost written in his genes, and when he swung around the blade (for Bakura had watched the boy train some nights) it was as if he were dancing. It was still far too big for him, but he was making it work. Bakura could feel pride for the boy without any questions popping into his mind. For his aptitude with any weapon, he could only hazard a guess. A guess that made just as much sense as the Diabound card that kept miraculously popping up, even when he was sure he had left it.
He was about to ask Samuel about his beliefs regarding the supernatural, when his ears picked up on a strange sound. A soft tapping was coming from the distance; wood on asphalt. Samuel sat up and turned to where Bakura was now looking. Both waited in silence, intently searching for any sign of who was making that noise. For there were no animals that could have, and all their allies were back in the hotel. They did not ask if the other had heard, they just knew.
They faced the pair of strangers that slowly made their way down the street, distant enough that they would not have noticed Bakura or Samuel from their positions. Yet as they moved closer, Bakura's jaw dropped in shock. They were not strangers to him.
"Are you done now?" Claire asked irritably, tapping her foot.
"You might be done," the boy replied evenly, "but they do have a bit of a higher standard when it comes to what I produce."
"Ugh, there you go again with that old people talk."
"I could just not reply."
Claire sighed noisily. "Don't be like that."
D did not reply immediately. He simply wrote down the last sentence of his reflection on the psychological effects of society when faced with change and put his pencil down. "Done," he said, raising his hands. "Better now?"
"Yeah, better." Claire grabbed his wrist and tugged him along. "Now come on, let's play with the instruments!"
D allowed himself to be tugged along, not as bothered by her need for nearness as he had once been. They entered the room that contained a drum set in the corner, a guitar in the other, and various wind instruments strewn about the room as organized as it could be. The town had had its fair share of musicians, and sheet music was available to the two children as well. However, that was not what Claire was interested in. She grabbed the guitar and started strumming on it, making sounds that seemed palatable for her to listen to. D meandered over to a flute and put it to his lips. He carefully practiced a measured breath of air, traveling along the flute register as he released it.
"Booooring," Claire declared after D performed the sounds thrice. "You should make up a song to what I play, since you're not playing."
"I'm practicing," D stated, "that's playing."
"Yeah, good luck with explaining that to her," his left hand chuckled.
"I know what practicing is," Claire shot back at the hand. "It's just boring. Sing a song. I bet you can't."
D shrugged. "Fine. But are you going to try and play, or are you just going to mess with me?"
Claire gave him an innocent smile. "I'll play the sounds I like best first, and then you can come up with the song after you hear it a few times."
With D's approval, Claire played a few notes, almost western in their way. He had to admit, he was surprised she was able to perform something so fluid without learning the specifics of the chords. It was not perfect, but it was certainly something to behold. The only two issues he had was that he did not think he could come up with anything, and that he trusted Claire's ability to tell the truth about these things as far as she could throw him.
"Sing…now," she commanded.
And he attempted.
"Under a dark and endless sky
I raise my voice to cry out
Will I find you there?
Waves of thoughts on the world that's past
Batter 'gainst the walls of my mind
But it's not what's laid waste
As the earth burns around us
I still hear your voice
As the land ever changes
I maintain the course…"
Suddenly, as he knew it would, she changed it on him. Had she been practicing without his knowledge? Taking it as a challenge, unthinking of the words that came, D continued as she strummed.
"The sun has set on the world that surrounds us
I move on, move on, fighting alone
Recalling all, lost and forgotten
Holding it close to my chest
Of our time, of theirs, and the could haves
Hearts beating, and beating to our song…"
There was a strange look on her face, but it changed to a vicious grin as she changed the tune again. He glared at her in frustration but pressed on.
"Rain pours down upon the cinders
Bringing the scent of land's rebirth
But what choice is there
If there's no you
Following the path of dug graves
Gazing down upon a world razed
A beloved's tune flows from my lips
Cutting through silence…"
D begged internally for her to be done, for if he stopped and she was not ready, she would have thrown a fit. Yet, she continued playing, and the tune switched back to a previous one. One he was now more familiar with.
"A sullen guise containing thoughtless lies
Haunting the edges of our minds
Hiding a breath of truth
A bright silhouette of deep regret
Wonderment engulfing all who
Peer into the flames
It's my turn to cry for you
But no tears will fall…
The sun has set on the world that surrounds us
I move on, move on, fighting alone
Recalling all, lost and forgotten
Holding it close to my chest
Of our time, of theirs, and of the could haves
Hearts beating, and beating to our song…"
Claire watched him, and her shock that he recalled something he had sung before could not have been more apparent. It gave him the interest to continue, to prove to her that he could be spontaneous, and do well, too.
"Bringing forth the earned demise
Of the sepulchral bringer of lies
I still continue to chase the call
Memories filter through the strands
Of needles brought in by fate's hands
Cutting through silence, I will chase your call
Rain pours down upon the cinders
Bringing the scent of land's rebirth
What does any of this world matter
If there's no you?
Running down the path of dug graves
Gazing upon a world that's defaced
A beloved's tune pours from my lips
Bringing forth the earned demise
Of the sepulchral bringer of lies
With your memory close
Please break through this silence
Following the path of lost graves
Gazing down upon a world dazed
A beloved's tune flows from my lips
I will forever chase your call…"
He let the last note linger and she strummed just a bit longer before she set the guitar down. On her face was a mixture of awe and irritation. "That was the stupidest, saddest, dumbest song," she blurted. "Dear God, do you have to be good at everything?!"
D blushed. "I'm not good at everything."
"Oh yeah? Name something you aren't good at."
D pondered on the subject a while. After a moment he raised a finger, readying an idea. "I'm terrible at telling jokes," he offered. He left out her own admission that he could not compose a song.
"Uh…no you are…I mean…yeah, yeah you tell some stupid jokes."
The boy's expression soured. "You didn't have to be so blunt."
"Well I mean, you're too serious!" Claire waved her hands at him, indicating that exact moment was proof enough.
"But that's fine," she added as an afterthought. "I can be the cool, wisecracking, lovable protagonist and you can be my silent but loyal muscle."
D's frown deepened. "You're only using that word because you just learned it."
"That's what learnin's for!" She shot back, pointing her fingers at him in a finger gun salute. It was a habit that she had picked up from Samuel, who motioned in such a way from time to time.
"You are absurd," D reflected. Suddenly his head snapped toward the window. It was at such a speed that it made Claire jump with a start. The protective gaze of what Bakura called Diabound had dissipated, and not in its usual fashion. On top of that, there were unfamiliar sounds coming from the distance, and coming this way. There was someone new outside.
Two new ones.
"Holy shit," Bakura murmured. The look on the pair's faces mirrored his surprise as they reached the area where he stood. Perhaps the only thing that would have been more surprising was if a member from the ship that had abandoned the boy and him to the ocean. As it stood, it was still a shock. Even if they had only been miles apart.
"Hey," came the tired reply to his nearly silent response. Before them stood Albert, still sporting his baggy sweater, although now it was tied around his waist as the day warmed the air. Beside him stood Jessica—or was it Cindy—who rested part of her weight against the wooden walking stick she now carried. The duos eyed each other Samuel turned to Bakura for answers, but Bakura could only continue to stare. What were they doing there? Had the battle been lost? Was everyone dead? He had so many questions.
"You know these people?" Samuel asked, unable to remain silent. It was not accusatory, but he was interested in the response.
"He stayed with us for a bit. With the kids of course," Albert answered for him. It seemed there was no animosity, whatever the outcome that occurred. "Helped us through a rough patch; made it possible for us to move on with our lives."
"Huh," Samuel said, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw. "Well, a friend of his is a friend of mine, right?" He looked at Bakura, searching for some silent reaction. Bakura gave him a quick but meaningful look, hoping that he would catch on that things were more difficult to explain than what could be at present. With the return glance, he assumed there was an understanding.
"Cool, cool," Albert said, waving his hand to as if to disperse the surface small talk. "Do you guys have any water? We're thirsty."
"Not much out there," Jessica added. With her tone, Bakura still could not place what name she would be settling with. She seemed cautious. Then again, she had helped him. Still…
"How'd you guys…Is everything okay over there?" Bakura asked. Before they could answer, Samuel stepped between them, a large smile on his face. He adjusted his glasses and motioned for them to follow.
"We'll listen to your story after you guys get some water, and a meal in you," he began, and pointed a finger at Bakura from behind their backs as they moved toward the hotel. 'Wait,' it seemed to say. 'Let them get comfortable first.'
Bakura refrained from any immediate questions on their journey back. His mind was full of them, however. Their appearance could mean anything, and for as much as he felt no ill will toward them, there was this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that made him cautious of their arrival. For all the roads they could have taken at this time, a simple coincidence was hard to believe. Yet, he could not prove, even to himself, anything that would point to another situation.
Two figures could be spotted on the balcony as they reached the hotel. Both appeared watchful of the advancing group, but the one in the dark clothing appeared almost calculating in his gaze. Bakura waved a hand to signal all was well. Claire visibly relaxed while D remained stone-faced. Either the distrust was still strong, or he had something else on his mind. At any rate, they entered.
The children remained scarce for the first hour as Bakura and Samuel made their guests comfortable. A little thought chimed in Bakura's mind, that he was glad he had started with the first-floor windows yesterday, and he had to stifle a laugh. He could not recall the last time he had worried on something so mundane. Once the pair of newcomers were comfortable, they were happy to begin their tale.
"Never thought I'd see you again," Jessica began. "You were in rough shape when you left."
So, she remembered. "Thank you for helping me back there, by the way," Bakura said. "I never got to thank you properly."
She waved her hand dismissively. "You started something pretty crazy, trying to help us all. The least I could do was pull you out of a bad situation."
"What happened?" Samuel asked. "We sort of got the gist of what happened. It would be interesting to hear from some other people on what went down."
The pair were only too happy to divulge the fight from their side. There was an instant where Bakura knew that the woman would have wanted to be called by a different name with how graphic she was. Both glossed over how Bakura and the children came to the town, and for that Bakura was touched but not willing to forget the truth of it. He had only given minor details, much of the truth had been his shame and burden to bear. It seemed that Samuel was content with what he gave, however, and content with what the pair portrayed. As such, there were no additional questions from him.
After the trio had left the town, the others apparently had attempted to do what Bakura had suggested. Since they had managed to decimate the bulk of the other city's fighters, they set to work. Before additional reinforcements could arrive, they packed what was left over and began guiding those unable to fight out of town, and the opposite way that their foes were coming. Some of the remnants of the townspeople were not too keen on leaving, but what choice was there? At least what choice, until they came.
"They?" Both Bakura and Samuel inquired.
"This really well-dressed guy, he just sort of shows up as we're dragging the wounded and the others out of town. Since there was only one guy, but we were beat, Aaron decided he would actually talk to this guy."
"Well that was a shift in his attitude," Bakura responded, unintentionally aloud. Jessica snickered, but Albert continued on.
"So, they talk, and this guy says he'd be happy to help. He's been going around trying to make some sense of the world and what it is he can do to bring it back, yada yada yada. Not my words, but Aaron's. He apparently had some people who followed him around who'd listen to him, and after he heard everything he said he wanted to help—so long as we did something in return."
Bakura could not explain why it manifested, but there was a cold and sinking feeling forming in his gut.
"What was it that he asked of you?" he queried, his hands gripping each other in his lap.
"We were just supposed to send some people to deliver a letter."
"Deliver a letter?" Samuel scratched his head. "This guy expected someone to still be alive?"
"Apparently. So, Aaron agreed for us, but it wasn't like any of us were going to disagree, anyway. Delivering a letter in return for safety? It was a risk in the sense that we didn't know the guy, and that someone would have to travel, but it was that or maybe have someone else who seemed helpful change their mind and fight against us. That night, a bunch of people all dressed up like some kind of army came in…and sort of just took over the city?" He shrugged at their inquisitive glances. "I have no idea how else to explain it. It was like they had a plan in case they found anyone in our position. The whole place was all set up for defense in like no time, and all we had to do was wait."
As Bakura listened to the story of how the new enemies that came were soundly destroyed, he heard a slight bump come from behind him. It was deliberate. His gaze slid to where Samuel sat; if he had heard it, he was making no effort to show. Glancing back up at the storytellers before him, he could tell that they had heard nothing. Thanks to his new perceptive abilities, having been trained into him with Ewan's assistance, he was able to catch on that there was one particular child listening in, and much closer than they had been before. He would not question why D wanted to remain hidden, but he did find it odd that the boy had snuck down there when he could have just listened from above. A slight shift in the same direction indicated that Claire had somehow also managed to get down there without alerting the pair before him; D probably had assisted her in being quiet. Bakura had to restrain a grin. She still had much to learn when it came to stealth on the move.
D had indeed brought Claire along, and they both sat crouched in an area that only one adult in that room would have been able to guess at. Maybe two, but then again Samuel did say his peripheral vision was terrible thanks to the way his glasses were styled. The more that they had listened to the story, or D listened and relayed to Claire, the more he had become concerned. Concerned for the same reason that Bakura was. To confirm his suspicions, he wanted to see that letter.
Why else would these two be headed this way?
"After the fight was over, and the rest of our town was squirrelled away, the well-dressed man showed up again," Jessica said, now taking over the story. Albert drank from his cup, staring at its contents like it was an ambrosia fit for those far greater than he.
"What was his name?" Bakura asked. He wondered how forthcoming their savior had been.
"I was getting to that, but fine. He didn't say."
"Didn't say?"
She shrugged. "I'm sure it is written in the letter."
So, they were carrying the letter. Bakura's eyes shifted to D's location, who became visible just for an instant before returning into hiding. Their eyes had met in acknowledgement. It seemed they both had figured this was the case. Now, who was it for?
Bakura thought he knew, and the cold chill within him grew.
"I agreed to take it," Jessica said, sliding a bright white envelope out of her bag. She looked at it curiously before continuing. "But I was still pretty hurt so—"
"I went with her. The others weren't too keen on leaving a safe place."
"But you were?"
Both from the distant city looked to each other uncomfortably. "I dunno," Jessica began. "Sure, it was safer than what it had been before. And the people who helped out were kind to us, but…"
"You don't see people like that every day," Albert interjected. They all turned to him. "I mean, all of my life, I thought that shit was just stories."
"To be honest," Jessica added, "they give me the creeps."
"I was sort of hoping that whoever this belongs to was just someone normal, but…" Albert gave Samuel a scrutinizing gaze. "What was your name again?"
"Samuel Johnson?"
Albert frowned, flipping his hair over his shoulder. "Shit…And it's just you two and the kids upstairs right now, right?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, these guys that showed up were very strange looking. And when it became day, most of them disappeared. Is there anyone else here?"
Bakura and Samuel remained silent for a second, wondering which of them would speak up. Samuel decided it would be him. "My father-in-law is here. Who's the letter for?"
From their hiding place, the instant the letter had surfaced from Jessica's pack, D felt as if he could not breathe. The letter had provided a stroke of luck, but also brought a grim realization. If there was a letter, he would no doubt be coming for a visit soon. In writing so familiar that the untrained eye would have mistaken it for his own, lay the name that they wished to know, and no doubt had information or orders, addressed to…
Ewan Greylancer.
That had been all the boy had needed to see. He had rushed Claire back upstairs as Bakura and Samuel reacted far less concerned than the boy felt. If he had not been who he was, the door would have slammed shut behind them as they entered their shared room. If it were possible, D looked paler than usual. He could feel sweat beading against his brow as he tried to regulate his breathing. There was no way that he could know, no way! They had hardly left a trail of people who knew who he was, or even who they were! He grabbed his head, hyperventilating, as Claire watched on in confusion and concern.
"Is it that sunlight thingy?" she asked in a hushed whisper.
"No, no, no…" D could hardly respond. "He can't have. It's not possible. It's not. I don't want…I don't want to…"
"You don't want to what?" Claire grabbed his shoulders and shook him once. "Hey!" she hissed. "Pull it together! What's going on?"
"He…HE…is…my father is…"
"You're making less sense than your stupidly sad song right now. What about your dad?"
"He's nearby…" He whimpered.
"Oh," she said. "That's bad, right?"
"That's bad?!" D spun on her, his eyes full of livid fire. "The last time I was remotely near him, I had to run from what I considered my home, losing all the friends I had made in the process! Innocent people died! Innocent people lost their homes! And it was all my fault!"
Claire shook her head at the panicked boy. "You went and killed all those people? You?"
"No. That's not the point."
"You destroyed their homes?"
"No, but again that's not the point. It was indirect."
"Indirect…Indirect how?"
"I existed. I lived there. I made him mad before I left for that place."
"So, no matter what, no matter where you go, it will always be your fault?" She crossed her arms as she watched him rub furiously at his eyes. Even though his words were fear-filled, he had gone no further than a frantic whisper. At present, he was trying to hide his outburst, even though it would not matter. Claire had already been privy to it.
"I guess," D said in response, defeated.
"That sucks."
He looked at her, flabbergasted. "That sucks?"
"What?" She asked, pondering on her words. "It sucks that you feel that way. But it's more like his fault for being a crappy dad."
"That is an understatement," D reflected. Still, he was less calm than befuddled by her unconcerned nature. "Is it because you don't know him that you are this calm?"
"If he's anything like what Mr. Ewan was like, yeah. Probably. But that sort of doesn't matter." She reached out and pulled D into a hug. It was something the boy had not been expecting, and even though he could have shifted away, he did not. He just asked one question, and then listened.
"Why doesn't it matter?" he asked.
"I hate him," she said, holding him close. "I hate him because he is an Outie to the max. I hate him because he's gonna make us move from here, from a place I like. I hate him because he's a bad person who gets up into everyone's business. And of course, because he makes you miserable, and makes you act like how I feel sometimes."
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be," she said. "I know how you feel. Kinda. Being afraid I mean. I don't think anyone else will ever really know how alone this kind of alone, this kind of afraid feels like. Maybe Bakura, but he's like old, so I dunno. Maybe it gets better when you get older."
D simply shook his head in the crook of her neck. He felt so calm, so happy there. That was, until he heard the beating of her heart. His senses sharpened, and something he had not felt for so long, because of careful planning and careful monitoring, filled him. A want that was all consuming tore at him internally, and he struggled with it in agony, as he forcibly shoved her away. Covering his mouth, he attempted to still this obsessive feeling.
Claire was not immediately aware of the danger that had just passed, or that could arise again. She was simply miffed at being tossed aside. "Well if you wanted me to stop hugging you," she started before he held up a hand. Its countenance was practically beaming with amusement.
"Sorry kid," it said. "He's a little consumed by an urge."
"What?" she asked, still irritated.
"An urge to consume."
"Stop," D groaned, clenching the hand into a fist. It was still raised, but he did not want it speaking further. "Just stop, it's not funny."
"What happened?" She demanded before walking up to him. He skittered away on the carpet. It was oddly fast, and she blinked in confusion.
"Please, don't," he pleaded. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It might be his fault, but I have to live with it. I have to live with this."
"This?"
"Being a monster."
He might have been hiding his face, but she was a smart girl. He expected her to run once again. Like all of his friends before. But she stood there still. Just as she had stayed with him when he was at his most vulnerable. Here she was at her most vulnerable physically and knowing it. She stayed.
"You're so dumb," she chastised, sitting where she had been standing. This way they were at the same level, even if a distance apart. "So dumb and mopey."
"You'd be like this, too, if you were like me."
"Maybe?" She picked at the carpet. "I don't know. Maybe I'd be a bad person. All I know is you aren't. You're just a mopey kid who blames everything on himself, acts like an old person, and tells terrible jokes."
"I sound like such a great friend," he stated sarcastically.
"Eh," she made a hand motion, tilting it back and forth. "Then again, I doubt I'm the best friend anyone could have. Bakura's a weird dad-uncle-mother thingy that makes stuff worse before he makes it better. If you think about it, we're all weird and maybe bad at our jobs."
That made him laugh. "Really bad at our jobs."
She smiled at him, tilting her head to catch his eye. "Maybe no one else in the world will ever understand us. But we've got each other, for as long as each other lasts."
D nodded. He knew his life would be long, far longer than those he traveled with. Knowing that made him miss them prematurely. However, knowing that also made him cherish every moment he had with them. Something that he could carry with him in the loneliest moments and remember that there was something good that could grow amongst so much wrong that filled the world.
That night the duo from the town rested in a room near where the trio had housed themselves. However, the trio was downstairs, along with Samuel and Ewan, set to discuss what to do with the information provided in the letter.
"It's clear I'm being requested to lend aid," Ewan stated. "That's something I won't get to say no to. Not that I would."
"Aid for what?" Samuel asked. The others remained silent, simply waiting for information. The information that would seal their fate one way of the other.
"He wants to begin setting the world right again. Just…well I mean I've mentioned it before. With Nobility at the helm." He shrugged. "Who else has the technological know-how that won't automatically shoot at their allies. I think based on their story, and some of the information that you all," he motioned to Bakura, D, and Claire, "provided, that seems to be humanity's first instinct. Which will doom it to extinction, if I may be pragmatic. We could stop that. Especially with the Great One's fascination with them."
"But will all of the others treat humanity well?"
Ewan looked at Samuel. "I think you know the answer to that."
"So, what," Claire interjected. "We're supposed to just be happy with vampires taking over the world?"
Ewan gave her a look and she shrugged. "No offense," she continued, as her two compatriots remained silent. "But you're the only one I've met. You're nice. But I've heard stories. And my momma told me stories about demons and stuff, and I won't lie and say I'd be okay with it."
"But you're fine with D?"
"That's different," she replied, pooh-poohing Ewan's remark. "He feels bad all the time for even wanting to do what they'd do. You're different, too."
"You can't blame a kid for thinking that," Samuel said at her defense. "And considering what we know about D's past?"
"True," Ewan considered, and looked to the silent boy. "Would you not want to meet the Great One? I'd be glad to introduce you. He might be able to ascertain why you can—"
"No," Bakura cut the other off as D rapidly shook his head. The ferocity of the response from both parties perplexed the vampire and Samuel.
"May I ask why not?"
Bakura looked to D, his eyes searching for the okay to speak for the boy. D's eyes hardly shifted toward the man, but it was enough of a sign. The young man was content in being the boy's shield and letting him stare at the floor in contemplation. Lacing his fingers in his lap, Bakura sat up straight to provide a response.
"In our travels over the years," he began, "we really didn't see too many vampires. Obviously, we have no issues with people who wouldn't attack us. You can look to how well we all worked together over this winter as proof of that."
"But, that doesn't mean we didn't see vampires before you. That doesn't mean we haven't been negatively affected. Specifically affected by…him."
Ewan frowned, pursing his lips in thought. He crossed his legs before him on the seat and raised his hand to his chin as he considered what had been said. Samuel looked on at the group in surprise. The fact that they had met someone that Ewan spoke so well of and had had a negative interaction with him seemed to shake some sort of faith deep within the older man. His eyes darted nervously between Ewan and the trio that he had become so fond of.
"Pardon me for asking—I'm not saying I don't believe you—but how do you know you met Him?"
"I knew," D said finally. All eyes turned to him. His voice was as low as his young chords could muster, and this somehow brought the weight of truth to his words that Ewan would not even dismiss. "I knew by his eyes. By his frightening appearance and aura. I would have tried to fight you…" D pointed at Ewan, who did recall the boy's defensiveness on that cold night, months ago. "But I would never try to fight him. Not yet, anyway."
"Oh good!" Claire exclaimed in relief. "I thought you were going to be a weenie and say you'd never fight him ever."
Bakura rubbed at the bridge of his nose as Claire reached over him and patted D on the shoulder, trying to cheer him up. All he needed to do was look at Ewan to see he was beginning to regret the moments he had not asked for further clarification on the trio's position.
"Tell me," he started as he turned to Bakura. "Tell me, why do you wish to continue to travel, even though you know you are technically safe under my care, from normal threats."
"We want to see the world," Both Bakura and D replied in unison. Claire blinked at them, and Ewan's gaze fell onto her. She shrugged.
"What they said," she said and scratched at her nose. "I just hate being jinxed. Didn't wanna risk it."
He did not seem convinced. "Is that all?"
"I wanted to be able to defend them better," Bakura added.
"Anything else?"
"Does it really matter?" D asked. "Would it matter if I made him mad? Would it matter if Bakura made him mad? Or Claire? Or the people we were with before all of this? Does that sort of thing even matter anymore?"
"Are any of those things true?"
"I'm going to side with the younger generation here," Samuel said, standing. His interruption seemed to startle Ewan who took his prying gaze off D. The boy leaned on Bakura for support, who threw a protective arm around him. Claire took a more casual approach, scrunching up her body upon her seat and pressing her back against the other man's arm. He pulled her close as well. "Maybe they were running from him. I doubt that these three could do anything to someone as great as the guy you always go on about. Think about it!"
"I am," Ewan said. "Never in my life have I seen abilities quite like Bakura's over here. And we still don't have a satisfactory answer for that."
"I swear to you that I have been completely honest with it," Bakura countered. It was true. Never once had he hidden any of his abilities of the supernatural and mystical nature that it seemed to be comprised of if Ewan had asked of it. "You legitimately know all that I know."
"It's made up of magic and gods?"
"And sacrifices," he added. "It would be rude to forget the sacrifices."
"You say that as if it was almost a joke."
"Not a joke; that was something that not every user of the Millennium Items was aware of."
"Millennium—? Oh, the items that made no logical sense."
"Yeah," Bakura nodded in agreement.
"Well," Ewan said, relenting. "Regardless of any of your opinions on what's past is past—it does sort of matter. If I'm harboring possible fugitives, that won't bode well in the near future if he so deems it necessary to use this place as some sort of fortification. Or if he just decides that I'm worthy enough to visit."
"He wouldn't let you keep your home?"
"Samuel, I rightly don't know. I cannot fathom what goes on in the Great One's mind."
"So, we need to leave," Bakura said. It was an response that had been a long time coming.
"For your safety, considering you all still refuse to tell me what is going on, yes. I'd think that best." Ewan motioned for them to remain seated when he saw them begin shifting to stand. "Not now. You need to pack and prepare. We need to divvy up the food so our stockpile makes more sense. Things like that. I think we have more than enough time for that to happen."
"Plus," he seemed sad as he said it. "No matter what the case, I know Samuel and I will miss you all. Don't leave too soon, or without goodbyes."
"We won't!" the three chimed. They all looked to each other.
"Jinx," D said flatly to Claire, who seethed with rage. "You owe me a soda."
After the letter was delivered, Albert and Jessica said their goodbyes the next morning as they began to travel up the road, further away from the town they had left. Apparently, the change was too much for either of them to bear. Too much distrust in the unknown and the ease that Aaron had relinquished his control had confused the pair. Thus, they were offered food and water for their journey ahead, and good luck that they would reach somewhere they felt was safe.
"Maybe we will meet again one day," Albert said to Bakura, shaking his hand and giving him a hug. "Take care of those kids. You went through hell to get them someplace safe."
"I hope we do meet again," Bakura replied. "And I'm going to try."
Jessica said her goodbyes to the children, and it was a pleasant enough of an affair. There seemed to be more relief on D's face at her departure though, although Bakura was not sure why.
"I don't trust her much," D stated as if Bakura had asked. Bakura's head turned to the boy who looked up at him and shrugged. That was the end of that discussion.
One night, days after, when they were preparing for their own departure, Bakura was accosted by Ewan, who stormed in from the outside, cold still filling the night air. The door slammed shut behind him, something it had not really needed to do. Before the young man knew it, he was pulled from his collar and suspended high in the air, his back pressed against the wall. Fire filled Ewan's eyes, which showed signs of visible betrayal and sorrow. Bakura gasped as he clutched the area around his neck, but he did not try to pry the hand away. He knew there was no real point in fighting.
"Tell me," the vampire's voice seethed. "Who is D's father?"
Bakura pointed to his neck and was unceremoniously dropped. He coughed and gasped for air as he heard footsteps hurrying down the stairs. It seemed that at least one child had heard the commotion. It also seemed the time for omission was done.
"His." It was all he could reply. All he needed to reply.
"Why?!" Ewan lamented, pacing in front of him. Agony filled his face. "How could you be so stupid, boy?! So foolish?! Do you not know what it would mean, to steal away HIS son?"
"What's going on?" D asked, Claire hot on his heels. In his hand he held the katana he was so proud to own. He still viewed it as more of a decorative piece, even as he had learned a few moves to use it for lethal means. He looked around, wondering who had come to attack, but he only saw the two. He gasped at Bakura's kneeling form. Claire held him back from moving forward. D's eyes, full of rage and his own betrayal, glared up at the vampire.
"Don't give me that look," Ewan chastised. "I just had a dealing with your father, and I have half a mind to solve this issue once and for all. So, you will tell me everything, starting from the top!"
At that, the whole room was frozen. Only when Samuel came down the stairs, his hair frazzled and his glasses askew on his face, did the spell seem to break. Much of the truth was told that night.
Daylight threatened to rise the moment that Ewan was satisfied with the response he had received. The sadness upon Ewan's visage was pure anguish to look upon. He had truly come to love these people before him. He knew what he would have to do.
"I can lie for you once," he replied defeatedly. Samuel, who had listened to it all, was holding back tears. Anyone with a parental bone in their body would have understood. It was clear any blame wished to be laid, after hearing that story, had been eradicated.
"We wouldn't ask that of you," Bakura said. "Just give us some time to escape."
"Let me rephrase," Ewan stated. "I will lie for you once. I will say I saw some travelers come through the pass before I saw the pair with the letter. I know not where any of them left to. That will be true enough."
"Thank you," Bakura said, trying to maintain his composure. "We will always remember your help."
"Yeah," Claire said. "If we could, I'd have stayed forever."
"I'm sorry for being such trouble," D said.
Ewan shook his head and turned to Samuel. "You should go with them," he said. "I think they'd benefit from your help."
Samuel looked between his father-in-law and the trio, visibly torn. "I…don't ask me to leave you. This is my home. You need my help!"
"They might need your help more than me."
Samuel looked to Bakura who only nodded at him. It was his decision. He took in a deep breath and responded. It was something that sealed all their fates.
"I'm staying," he replied. "I'm sorry. I…I'm sorry. This is my home, though. He's my family. My wife is buried here. I want to…I want…"
"I understand," Bakura replied. "If I could, I would have liked to be near my sister as well."
With that, the preparation became a full-force operation, and they left the next morning. Claire carried her gun and guitar, slung over opposing shoulders. She was tougher and more assured than when they had found her alone in her deserted hometown. Bakura carried the gift from Matt in its holster, and a familiar blade slid between his belt on the opposite side. He felt more prepared than ever to uphold his promise, and to ensure that the children who followed him could lead a life they would be proud to live. D followed the pace of his family, the family brought together by bonds rather than blood. A little shadow trailing along in the early morning sun. A katana was strapped to his back, completely bizarre in it's position, making the shadow mirror the formidable force that hid in his mild temperament. They walked on, ready for the challenges that would face them on their renewed journey. A journey that always, it seemed, to follow the sunrise.