Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D
Huge apologies for that extra week's wait! What you are getting is the first half of what I thought was one chapter, that ended up...being more than that. I just finished the whole "chapter" today, and went back over it and...
Well, having it split will at least ensure that you get something ensured to read since things are getting hectic again, and I don't want anyone reading this to wait more than a month for an update.
Enjoy!
Chapter Forty-Four: Taking Stock
Three Days Ago—
When the sounds of swirling air around them had ceased, Bakura had looked up, just as he would do in the present, to find that the doom around them had disappeared. What surrounded them now read like a tale straight from one of his tabletop games. Bizarrely fortuitous.
Although…he was aware that the liminal space around them could lead to far more disastrous results than a pillar of spiraling destruction—which did dampen the welcomed sensation of safety. For what it was worth, he recognized that they would not have been so lucky as to have the eye of the storm envelop them (not with the way he had felt his body lift, his feet falter against the lack of resistance), and as such, they were at least safe for the moment.
Simon cracked open an eye, his vision obscured by the familiar fracture in his lens albeit more so by the deep darkness that surrounded them. Aware that Bakura seemed to be staring at something, he directed his attention to a wider scope of their surroundings and bit back an alarmed shout. It was best he kept his mouth clamped shut; for all around them, in the dark, in the distance, were things. Things he could not fully see or describe, but he knew instinctively meant danger. And the air. The air was heavy with something unpleasant and forsaken. Something dead, but not.
He had tasted hopelessness and despair before, but never in this measure. And when his thoughts began running in wild directions, he could almost believe that they had been transplanted into a bog of desolation; the gloom seeping into their very beings. A strained whimper of fear stuck in his throat. He cleared it to mask the unbecoming sound.
Simon's unusual response—being a person who normally would have been called brave—alerted Bakura to his untrained counterpart and reminded him what this darkness could mean for the others. Keeping a watchful eye on their current situation, he dragged them closer. His grip on them felt painful to his own joints, but better that than having them run off.
"Is everyone okay?" he asked. When Simon shifted away as an attempt to gather himself apart from the others, Bakura drew him back into his protective hold.
"Where the fuck are we?" Simon countered with a low hiss. Clearly embarrassed by his previous actions, he again attempted to stagger to his feet to get a better look—endeavoring to reassert his bravado—but Bakura yanked him back down. He fell flat on his ass, and what he felt beneath his backside was neither grass nor dirt nor anything else describable. The oddness did well in draining him of some of his restated assurance.
"A place I never wanted to go to again," croaked their captive. Their words could not be decoded by the man in glasses, but the message was plain enough. His initial instincts had been correct. This one scooted closer to Bakura, as if he knew that dark world offered nothing but pain and misery to the unexperienced. An action Simon clearly took offense to.
"Oh, Jounochi-kun," Bakura sighed, switching back to his native tongue. While it did omit Simon from their discussion, it provided ease for the other two to have a familiar welcome. "I'm so glad you're alive."
"Barely," Jounochi snarled, glaring daggers at the man still at their side.
"So, you two know each other or something?" Simon asked, his lip curling in bitter distaste.
"He's Jounochi-kun," Bakura explained. "My friend from the ship. Remember?"
"The ship? You mean the one you were held prisoner on?" Simon queried, trying to multi-task rationalizing the place they were in with what Bakura was saying. Based on what he had been told (even without this new hiccup), he struggled to pair the relief on Bakura's face with the circumstances of the unceremonious departure. "But I thought you said he stayed on the ship, though!?"
As Bakura nodded, Simon offered another question in quick succession. "Why the hell did he attack me?!"
"You startled me!" Jounochi fired back, surprising Bakura. It seemed necessity was always the best teacher. While heavily accented, Jounochi could respond to Simon's accusations, even with English being one of his weaker subjects in school. Bakura reflected absentmindedly that Anzu had always been the best at it, not that it helped the situation in any way.
"You snuck in and were picking through our shit!"
"How could I know it was yours? The place looked abandoned!"
"Stop it!" Bakura shouted. "The both of you!"
The two stopped their petulant bickering to gape at the young man who glared at them in disgust. His voice had held an edge that Simon had never experienced, not even in the direct threat to his life, but it was one Jounochi recalled from ages ago. Both silenced themselves, fully aware that neither of them could get them out of their current predicament. Best not to rock the boat—although the two of them looked ready to burst. Jounochi's eye twitched as he glared at the man who's jaw let off an audible creak, fixed shut. But for how long?
"We all should be thankful we are alive and well," Bakura replied, letting his bunched shoulders relax. Why aggression was the only way to get people to listen to him, he would never understand. He preferred following directions that did not feel demanding. "Let's focus on that good bit of news right now."
"But—"
"It was a misunderstanding," Bakura stated, giving Simon a pointed glare. "I'm sure that you both have great reasons to distrust each other—I wasn't there, I don't know the particulars—but I know the both of you well enough to tell each of you to Leave It Be."
"Well—"
"Leave. It. Be," he repeated, curving his head in Jounochi's direction. While his voice reached no higher than just above a whisper, the way he seemed to bristle into a stance ready to attack silenced Jounochi's attempt to argue at the moment.
Once satisfied that they were truly done with their previous spat, Bakura stood. As he did, he pulled them up, guiding them both to their feet. His own legs shook underneath him, but for the sake of appearances he steadied himself as he tugged both closer to his sides.
They all took a better look around. The shadows in the distance wavered like beasts waiting for their prey to move. Which even shadows were, in this world. Creatures waiting to devour. Every breath of theirs seemed different in their ears. First echoing, then almost imperceptible, as if the darkness was swallowing it up. Every member of their impromptu team felt miniscule in the never-ending vastness.
"Before we say anything else," Bakura said, biting his lip in confession, "I might have messed up; just a little bit."
"No shit," Jounochi said, albeit more affable than what most would have been.
"This doesn't strike me as an on-purpose thing," Simon added, shifting a little to place his hand over where Bakura's fingers dug into his flesh. Based on the tales, and the facts before him, the man was on edge; but that did not mean he would refuse to offer what comfort he could. A minute smile budded upon his lips when it was not pushed away. With his shoulder he readjusted his glasses before asking, "But where is this place? Why this place?"
Bakura shrugged. "I…just thought that I needed—we needed—to get out of there, and then, well, we were here."
'Fascinating, really,' the young man thought to himself, amazed that he could call forth something of this nature, and without the items' assistance. It seemed so awe-inducing, so impossible, and so dangerous. Memories of his dreams came to him stronger than the hazy ones marred by possession, and he involuntarily shuddered at their clarity. Desperate, he looked for something else to focus on, afraid in his inexperience that he would call upon the very being he wanted as far away from them as possible. He found it was easiest to return to the subjects of the logistics of how and why they were there—far more compelling (and less frightening) topics than what was in that unending mind-melding world. He forced his mind to stay on them.
"Great. Great…" Jounochi muttered. "Now how do we get out of this creepy place? This does still use our souls to sort of let us 'be' here, right?"
"What?" Simon snapped to attention. His hand left Bakura's in an old tic that Bakura noticed he did from time to time. The man would start, and then his hand would fall to his side; much like it did now. Only, this time, it searched for Bakura's again, and dug into the half-circles where his fingers met his knuckles.
"Based on prior experience, I wouldn't see why that would change," Bakura murmured in response.
"What!?" Simon exclaimed, louder.
"How long do tornadoes usually last?" Bakura asked, ignoring the broader blonde's floundering. Jounochi shrugged. It was not very faith-inspiring; nor was Bakura's own personal admission that while he could get them there, he had no idea how to get them out. It was not like he had challenged the tornado to a penalty game or anything. That statement received a good-natured chuckle from his old friend.
"Maybe if you concentrate really hard then, you could, I'm not sure…Wish us out?"
"Are you guys all for real, right now?!" Simon agonized.
Explained or not, this nonsensical turn of events was hard enough to swallow, never mind the absurd method offered to get them out. The man's legs shook under his weight; part in fear, but mostly from the way that the surrounding area pulled all hope from the invaders. For the first time since they met, Jounochi offered him a compassionate grin.
"Yeah, it's really shitty, I know," he laughed. Simon stared at him much in the way Bakura had previously, when all their worries had been but a jumping spider or two. "But it comes with the territory of hanging out with Yugi and this guy, I guess."
"It's some hot bullshit."
"It could be worse. We could be stuck in an endless ma—"
"You know," Bakura interjected, his head bowed as he held the pair close, "I just love how you told me to concentrate and you two are just going on and on with this loud conversation."
"It's not that loud!"
"In here, with no other sounds, it is!"
Bakura closed his eyes, signaling that their conversation was over. With a power he was slowly coming to understand, he searched for the feeling; that instant of need that had rescued them from what probably would have been a painful end. Diabound manifested twice on accident, frightening the others, before phasing into the darkness once again. The two waited with bated breath while Bakura mentally searched for a way out. Both longed to help, but knew they were unable. They sat in an uncomfortable silence until they began to see shapes moving in the darkness. These dark mounds seemed to be sloughing toward them. Inching closer. And closer. And closer—
"Hey, Bakura?"
"Shush." The young man's eyes remained closed, fixated on some unseen point behind his eyelids. He could not exactly ask for help. For as much assistance as that voice was with this supernatural gift, he could not risk it sliding back into old, bad habits. There was also the problem of attracting the shrouded figure: the potential liar. The one whose appearance led to the other voices. He could only rely on himself. Therefore, he needed to concentrate.
He focused his mind on the world around him, envisioning it like a sphere, a pocket into a different dimension. What had his other half mentioned about this world in the last dream they had interacted in? Unable to recall, Bakura instead homed in on finding the seam where the two worlds split from one another. If he could just hold the image of the three of them, and imagine pulling them back into that plane of reality, then…
"Bakura…" Simon urged along with Jounochi. The shadows were taking on tangible forms, horrible and monstrous. All were familiar in one way or another: images of monstrous demons and kas stolen for a card game, or demons from their own mind, molded from their own respective fears and revulsions. And they promised death for them all.
"I said be quiet!"
"Bakura!"
"…"
"Bakura!"
"Damn it all, shut up!"
And as the creatures closed in on their half-circle (frightening Jounochi and Simon to high pitched shrieks when their bestial forms lurched forward, the hunger evident from their dripping maws) the three vanished from the spot—
To plummet in open air.
Thankfully, the fall was only five or six feet; the amount they had been lifted unceremoniously from the ground before vanishing from that plane of existence. Still, the tumble left them all tangled: shoulders bumping into backs, elbows dinging others in the eye and nose, limbs twisting uncomfortably around another's. When the dust settled, they crawled out of the mass of limbs they created, bruised not from the weather, but from each other. They struggled for their own plot of land to fall upon as they felt the first real wave of exhaustion from that other world hit them.
Bakura flopped onto his back and stared up into a dark night sky, the moon no more than a hazy obscured blob of light behind a gray curtain of clouds. He sighed in relief—with the oppressive weight gone, the darkness of the real world was a comfort he could find solace in. The others groaned from their positions, one definitely unused to the exertions required to maintain themselves in that realm. Bakura reflected that aside from the strange heaviness that he felt in that world, he was beginning to tolerate it.
'I'm getting the hang of it!' he cheered inwardly. Sure, he had no solid idea of how he ejected them back into reality, but the point was that he did it. There would be plenty of time to investigate it further later. For now, he intended on appreciating his survival.
As he joyfully played out his internal victory lap, a feeling of pride that was not quite his own filled him as he stood—like a sip of warm tea on a rainy day—further putting him at ease. He beamed at the unspoken praise. Reinvigorated with its provided confidence, Bakura dusted himself off and turned to the duo still sprawled on the ground. He clicked his tongue in empathy as he observed his companions. Jounochi looked shaken, Simon looked horrified—but both were unharmed.
"Thank goodness," he breathed in relief as he let his eyes drift to the wreckage that was the airport. "We're all okay."
"Define okay?" Simon asked as he hoisted himself from his seat on the weed-spattered dirt, cautiously offering a hand to Jounochi. The other eyed him with a guarded search for his intentions, but still took his hand in a grateful gesture. Both had visible bruises forming where Bakura had held onto them. Yet, bruises were a small price to pay for their lives.
"Alive," Bakura said, bringing that fact to light. He pointed to the destroyed hangars. "Not that."
"Fair point."
Bakura tittered at Simon's response as he pulled both of his allies into a grateful hug. The tension between all of them began to melt, like the icy edges of a creek in early spring. Surviving strange happenings together tended to do that to people.
"Okay," he said, slightly muffled from being the center of the embrace. "Now's time for questions. I'll go first: tell us, Jounochi. How did you get here? Just like Simon said, the last time I saw you, you were all on a ship that went the opposite direction I went in."
"Sure, but only if you tell me what happened to you," Jounochi countered. "And what happened to D?"
"As Claire would put it," Bakura mimicked with a grin, "Duh."
"…who is Claire?"
"No, no. Your story first."
"Why do you get to decide?"
"Because…I asked first."
That childish response got everyone laughing, putting them in an even better mood and leaving an opening for Jounochi to start without feeling interrogated.
Although Bakura was itching to return home (for what was his group but home) he felt it prudent to figure out how and why Jounochi had managed to find the same spot that they had and find out who was left—and if they had been followed. As it stood, Jounochi did not know the latter, but told them the bulk of what they needed to know about the former. Although, as he told it, some of the distrust returned as a watchful stare directed at the one sitting beside Bakura. In turn, Simon huddled closer to Bakura, positioned almost protectively beside him. Protecting him from what, Bakura did not know. Toying with an errant strand of his white bangs, the young man rolled his eyes to the sky at the situation before continuing to listen to the tale.
After Bakura and D had been banished from the ship, things had spiraled out of control. Not because of them; although some attributed the dissolution of their silent societal agreement to the undeclared feelings that were left behind from their abrupt departure. The truth was more like they had finally lost their original scapegoat and were ready to turn on each other. This led to two opposing sides forming in the madness, no matter how much Kaiba insisted that everyone was on the same side.
'It was inevitable, then,' Bakura thought as he listened to Jounochi's story. 'It's not like we were instigating anything from our position on the ship.'
Tensions grew worse as days went on without land in sight. The arguments compounded then. There should have been land, it made no sense that they could not find any, they should have docked sooner. No one dared question Kaiba's ability to sail, but all questioned if someone had tampered with their course as the bulk of the ship slept. Bakura was shocked to hear the details of the crew turning on each other; the bickering that lead to blows and how everyone but the Kaiba brothers (and Etsu) had to sit in the storage prison at least once to keep some semblance of peace. By the end of the major confrontation, it seemed that the boat was split evenly into two: Yugi versus Kaiba once again. Unfortunately, Yugi's side lacked the muscle that Kaiba's did; as such, they had to follow Kaiba's every word, at least until they reached land.
When they eventually did, the air between them had cleared for an instant. The survivors of Domino City had all celebrated their survival together, grateful that they had made it this far. In that brief reprieve, Aoki had made a suggestion—that when they found civilization they should split up. Even though numbers would assist them in unknown lands, too much bad blood lurked beneath the surface.
At first, it seemed a great idea. There were already two unspoken camps, and each side would have to care for one child each. They could divide their items evenly and wish each other good luck. Those "in charge" shook hands on it, and they left it at that.
That was, until Kaiba started having strange dreams.
On their trek to find the remnants of society, Jounochi noted that Kaiba would sometimes fall into a trance or fall asleep at inopportune times. Multiple times when the group rested during their break, he found the tall man propped against a tree or a wall, dazed or dozing while it was his turn to keep watch. His mouth would move, and he would mutter incoherently. Whenever Jounochi would wake him and ask what was going on, he would angrily shove him aside and dismiss that he had ever been asleep. Initially, those unaware of what Bakura had known assumed it was due to prior injuries (the most recent one tended by Yugi's mother without much to work with). The man himself admonished anyone for worrying about it, when more people began noticing his developing habit. It was probably nothing more than stress and bad dreams—an embarrassment enough for someone with an ego like Kaiba's. Yet, after that, he became sullen; and instead of holding his head up high, he started staring at the ground. No one could figure out why.
Then, one day, Kato and Nakano had gone off to forage as they were low on provisions for everyone. Nakano had thought he had seen some type of fruit tree in passing, and the two headed in that direction. Nothing had bothered them thus far.
They failed to return.
Kaiba had been pacing around their encampment, reasonably concerned, when he jerked forward, as if struck with something. Jounochi recalled he had clutched at his head before staggering, having lost his footing somehow. Then he had sat down and begun to shake as if wracked with a deadly fever. Yugi's mother, Mokuba, and Yugi himself had to hold him down when they realized an awful truth. And it took all of Jounochi's strength to hold back Kaiba's arms as the man tried to gouge out his own eyes.
"He's watching," Jounochi said, parroting Kaiba's words as he remembered them, and the gravity of the phrase made Bakura bite at his fingernails to quell the influx of nerves.
Yugi had questioned him to no avail, while Mokuba had tried to calm Kaiba with his brother's own logic (of course it was only bad dreams) when they were interrupted by a shuffling from the darkened, overgrown underbrush. They all waited with bated breath. They had been lucky so far, but with Kaiba's reaction, anything was possible.
First, they had seen Nakano's features appear between the leaves and had been relieved. A relief that was short lived when Amami had screamed in terror; Nakano's head was the only part of his features present. Below his head, blood dripped like a broken faucet from a grisly severed neck. Everyone had backed away, huddling to protect the children. Emerging from the foliage, Kato came, full-bodied, clutching the remains of the grocer in one tight fist.
Unholy eyes flashed red in the firelight. His grinning expression exposed two white rows of teeth. Two hungry rows, with two particularly sharp canines protruding down to his lower lip. Realization hit them all; but not before Kaiba had launched himself at the man in a preemptive attack.
The spectacle had been awful, and survival near impossible. It took the remainder of their group to protect the children and hide them safely away from the man (who suddenly had gained a super-strength in replacement of his past loyalty) as he thrashed about their camp in an attempt to annihilate their existence. Terrible was the task in trying to destroy him before he took anyone else out. Yugi had suffered a fractured wrist in the scuffle; a small price to pay for putting down what they could only assume was a vampire's thrall. Mokuba had taken claws to both sides of his arms and had to nurse those back to proper use throughout the recent months.
And Kaiba…Kaiba realized that regardless of what he had originally thought, he would be followed.
"It changed the whole dynamic," Jounochi said in retrospect, shaking his head. His own role in the fight had been to use his body as a weight to throw the man off his balance to leave an opening for the others to attack. It went without saying that he had been lucky not to receive further injuries as he had still been healing from the knife-wound he had gotten at the beginning of their travels. Running his fingers through his hair, he paused to collect his thoughts before adding, "It was crazy to hear Kaiba, of all people, give up on something. He told us all to leave, that it wasn't safe…that he would find us if we stayed. He told us to take Mokuba, to leave him there and let him 'do what was necessary.'"
"But we couldn't."
"Why didn't you, if it wasn't safe?" Simon asked.
"Yugi's not like that. I'm not like that. And Mokuba sure as hell wasn't going to ditch his brother."
"So, what did you do?" Bakura inquired. A sick part of him took comfort that Kaiba had not had an easy time of living after their muted quarrel on the ship, but mostly he felt awful for all of them. He, of all people, knew what it felt like to be constantly chased.
"We took him along of course. But, not without listening to at least a few of his requests."
"Such as?"
"Hang on, hang on, I'm getting to it."
The bulk of the leftover members were the same that would have tolerated D even for what he was. Nor was there a chance Mokuba would ever turn on his own brother. Thus, Kaiba found himself safe in his afflicted state with the company he kept. However, thanks to what he had deemed obnoxious questions, he had become keenly aware of the anomaly that prodded into his mind. And knowing this, Kaiba did not want to act as a beacon for whatever plans that man had.
As such, he made three requests. Well, demands, but Jounochi had not needed to elaborate this point to Bakura. The young man already had a disbelieving smirk growing as he listened.
One, wherever the group moved—as much as it pained Kaiba to say this—he wanted no part in it. They had to make these decisions on their own, and without his input. They could not talk to him at all about directions as too many hints could be given in a single address. Two, the person placed on watch needed to monitor him and make sure that he did not botch whatever plans they made by inadvertently stumbling upon some important landmark, at least until they found a place where they all felt safe enough. Finally, to ensure that there was never a chance he would become visibly aware of where they were, Kaiba demanded to be blinded.
"Holy shit, dude," Simon breathed. Bakura flinched. His long fingers hovered over his right eye, almost able to imagine half of that pain.
"We decided blindfolded was a better option," Jounochi elaborated. "Although, everyone wonders when or if we will ever be able to take the blindfold off…We also have to make sure that he isn't too aware of where he is in general. To the point that he can't even know what weather he's in. It's rough. But so far we've managed."
"Doing all of that? Seriously? That's amazing," Simon said.
"Yeah, I thought so, too," Jounochi returned with a grin. His cautious look finally faltered, a clear sign that he was warming up to the other. It never did take very long, Bakura remembered with a fond smile.
Traveling indeed became much harder for their patchwork group, and it fell to Mokuba to translate conversations with those that they did run into being the only other individual familiar with the foreign languages of the area. There were a few minor hiccups, but that came with the territory of translating without a dictionary to check. Most of the time an error was met with laughter, anyway, so that was the least of their worries.
They met many other people on their travels, some kind, some not. They found some small establishments, a village, a town, a few grand cities (grand as they could be as they continued to pick up the pieces) that were unfortunately still too close where they landed. A few times they had debated in their own impromptu version of a town hall—as far from Kaiba as possible—on whether or not to stick around. Every time there failed to be a consensus; whether it be that they wanted to get further away from their landing point, or that the debated spot was too near a community that seemed hostile to outsiders, or a disagreement about the surrounding weather, there was always at least two people who could not abide by the decision. Which meant that they moved on. Sticking around had to have the okay from every member, even the children. Well, every member except for Kaiba. Although, not a lot was passed this way.
Then, about halfway through their slow trek north-east (finding no point in staying in the west if they were being chased), they met another set of wanderers going south. They traded brief tales of the strangeness that they encountered and found that they all got along rather well. With a unanimous decision, they integrated the new group that consisted of six new people into the fold. This left them a far more substantial community—and a far better protected one—but as always, with more people came more problems.
"Food, proper shelter, and keeping up the thing with Kaiba without looking like a creepy band of weirdos—are—just a few of our concerns," Jounochi said, flicking a rock procured from their new position into the darkness of the broken lot. The clattering of the stone as it skipped across the pavement hailed as the best reminder that this world existed in the lightless night. "You try explaining why someone has to remain monitored at all times while blindfolded. Or that you can't really share much information with the guy. Or why he's an asshole and will constantly tell you, 'Don't talk to me.'"
They had decided to stay at the airport that night, although it was no secret that everyone in their makeshift party wished to return to where they called home. It felt too dangerous to shuffle about sightlessly in the dark where they could be mistaken for an enemy—or blindly run across an enemy that waited for them in the depths of the night. Thankfully, the diner somehow remained in-tact (although a foggy window in the far back had been smashed by debris), and thus usable for their makeshift camp. From their seats upon the smoothed pathway leading up to its entrance, everyone hoped the worst was over for now.
"How are you dealing with it?" Bakura asked.
"Most of it we can handle by finding things, which, for everyone's information here, was what I was doing." Jounochi offered a playful but poignant glare in Simon's vicinity. Bakura held in a giggle as Simon glared back in a similar fashion. The childishness just hit him as amusing.
"You jumped me!" The larger of the two accused while fighting a half-grin.
"You startled me!" Jounochi retorted without much venom.
"You both are ridiculous," Bakura noted, yawning out his exhaustion with a paired stretch. "Everyone's alive. I'm just grateful it didn't go as far as it could have."
The hilarity of the situation lost its edge when the two continued glaring at one another. Why their playful banter had set off the remnants of their previous spat was anyone's guess, but their tired bystander side-eyed them with an exasperated slow-blink, unamused. It appeared they were not done with the tough-guy contest they so wished to battle in. Even with a wave to garner their attention, the duo continued to stare daggers at one another. Bakura rolled his eyes so hard his eyelids fluttered. Give him children to tend to any day.
"Or just apologize for what you did wrong," he said, jabbing his fingers at them to silence their rebuttals, "because I'm sure you both did something. End it and let him finish his story. I'm tired."
"But—"
"Jounochi-kun."
"I—"
"I don't want to hear it. Apologize. The both of you."
After some hemming and hawing, the truce was remade. Bakura sat back against the dirt-filled planter that lined the restaurant with a smug expression that signaled his win. He motioned for Jounochi to continue. His smirk lingered throughout; he could not help it—there was something rewarding about silencing their squabble in a way he never would have imagined he could have done to anyone in the past.
Jounochi's group had not found the same city that Bakura and Mai had gone to (although Jounochi did not know that Mai was even around, Bakura reflected), but the others they did meet recently were about as friendly. In fact, many held little interest in carrying on a conversation, shooing them off to their aimless purpose. Bakura rubbed at his chin, speculating on just why everyone they met recently were so mistrustful of who they deemed "others". What had gone on here that made everyone so wary? Was it the usual hubris or something else? Would their possibly joined groups run into the same thing elsewhere, or fall victim to it themselves?
Had they all at least learned something from the tragedy that befell the survivors of Domino City?
Bakura had no answer. Neither did Jounochi or Simon when he asked. He could only mull the possibilities over until Jounochi asked him about what he had been up to for nearly a year.
"Traveling," Bakura replied. "I think the longer story should be saved for when we get you back to everyone else."
"Get me back?" Jounochi blinked in surprise at the suggestion.
"Shouldn't we be going back?" Simon added, just as stunned. "You know, to that one place?"
"Don't get me wrong. I want to go back," Bakura said, sighing at the other's vagueness and his own personal misgivings regarding his declaration. At least this time their separation was by his choice, he thought to himself, even as he regretted his line of thinking. The children would worry, just as he worried for them at this moment. His only shred of relief came from the fact he had no nagging sensation of impending doom hounding him.
"It's dangerous to travel alone," he continued. "So, I'd feel better if we traveled with you. Also, Simon—you guys have taken a few unfortunate steps back in your big plan, thanks to the weather…" He motioned again to the totaled hangar, no more than a black blob in the night, which in the day would appear as the demolished landfill it had become.
"Yeah, that sucks and all, but—"
"We need more people," Bakura returned in a sing-song voice. His words sufficiently silenced the man.
"More people?" Jounochi asked, interjecting into their conversation. Bakura smiled. His first line of defense; his old friend. He prayed the friendship would serve him well. What he was about to suggest could backfire on them all, and he would need people on their side if it did.
"Yes," Bakura said, choosing his words carefully. "We need more people in order to work together. To get off this continent…I think it would be a good idea for you all to come along."
"Come along? Get off the continent? I don't follow."
'How can you not follow?' Bakura thought in irritation but gave himself a second before responding. In fairness, flying would seem like a pipe dream to most, but logic would dictate that it was imperative to put a proper, jarring, distance between them and their pursuers. Bakura took in a breath to maintain his patience, a patience that seemed a bit more fragile since their most recent foray into that other realm. "Kaiba is being pursued, right? So far you have him disoriented, which is a great start, but there's no hiding where you landed—unless you took a boat from an island or something. There's also no way you could get off this main mass of land just by walking. No matter how hard you run, you'll be found."
Saying it out loud, and so assured he was correct, awoke a fear inside Bakura that he did not realize he nursed. Even if they left—by plane, by boat, by any other means their minds could fathom—there had to be others out there loyal to his cause. Not every errant vampire would be an Ewan, willing to hide the truth because of a friendship. Some might even be aware of who he'd be searching for. Would they be trapped in a cycle, forever running from this man? It was illogical. Impractical.
They needed to make a change, now. Both parties. Bakura clenched his fist in conviction, stilling the trembling that had run throughout it. The plan they were to set in motion would be the same, but the end result had to be reworked. Bakura refused to run forever. He would not play a victim for the rest of his life.
"Getting out of here until we can find the right kind of people to house us, at least until we are strong enough to stand our ground, is top priority. Since Kaiba and D-kun require the same 'type' of people to watch their backs, there's no point in separating ourselves again.
The answer to one of your problems is simple: Come with us. We're going to make a plane fly, and we're going to get the hell out of here."
"That…" Jounochi started, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, "is batshit insane. You know that, right?"
"It isn't."
"Who the hell, aside from Mokuba, who'd need help, and Kaiba, who is blindfolded, can fly a plane? Where are we even going to get one that can fly? How are we going to make it actually do it?"
"I can fly," Simon snapped, ready to come to Bakura's defense, "and so can my friend. We have a mechanic who has been studying how to fix up and maintain this shit. She can teach other people to help, if they're willing. The only thing we really need is to find someone who can make the plane 'go'—the rest is simple enough. Just find a fucking plane big enough to do it."
"Where?" Jounochi countered. "And how are you going to 'make it go'? You think it's going to be that easy?"
"Let's discuss the details when we get you back to everyone," Bakura said. "I get that you'll have to ask them all for their opinion anyway. I'm just offering a possible solution."
"Fair enough," Jounochi agreed with a slight bob of his head. Then it was his turn to yawn. He blinked wearily and rubbed a sleepy tear away, finally recognizing his fatigue. "Don't mean to cut this short…I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted."
"Same here," Simon said. Bakura tilted his head in a swift nod and turned his attention toward their homestead. He let out a soft sigh. It was only natural that he felt the same but wished he did not. Being separated from his little unit seemed harder than normal. His hand fussed with his collar before traveling to where the Ring used to lay.
"Ready to tell your story?" Jounochi asked, calling Bakura out of his ruminations.
"It's long. I'll tell it tomorrow."
"He also said he was going to wait until we got you got back to your people," Simon added, punctuating his point with crossed arms.
Jounochi waved his words off with a chuckle. "Can't blame me for being curious. Anyway, I'm going inside. Are you guys coming?"
"Soon," Bakura replied, his eyes still set on the distant horizon. "You can go on in. I just need to clear my head."
The others nodded, and Jounochi entered the diner to find a makeshift bed in one of the booths. Simon moved to follow, more to assess what Jounochi was doing, and then stopped halfway in the doorway. Backing up with a few swift steps and letting the door swing shut, he hung back with Bakura. Distrust formed on his features once again.
"Is this okay?" he asked. Bakura jumped, already so deep in his thoughts that he did not notice the man standing beside him. Simon rested a hand on his tensed shoulder, acting as an anchor to reality while also alleviating the unintended shock. He continued. "From your story before, he seemed an alright guy. And I suppose I can forgive him for attacking me. We were both jumpy, I guess, but…"
"You're more worried about the others?" Bakura inquired with a raised brow. The man nodded; the rest of his posture unintentionally poised as if ready for a fight. Bakura patted the sun-beaten hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. "Unless Yugi has taken the helm, and is acting as tyrant, or something equally bizarre, I'd say that they're probably at their weakest right now. I think it's safe, even if it's just the two of us."
"Are you okay with it?"
Bakura gave him a perplexed look. "I offered."
"I know," Simon said, and sighed. He smacked at his forehead as if to jog out the right words. Bakura fought back a laugh, knowing that Simon was trying being serious and he did appreciate the effort. "I mean are you okay? These people fucked you over before, regardless of who actually forced you guys off of the ship. It's not like they fought back against the decision or for your sake back then. I'd still be at least a little pissed at them."
"And you wouldn't want to trust them."
"That, too."
It was an understandable thought. Bakura mused over it as he covered his scarred cheek with a worrying hand; his long, thin fingers felt alien to him, but cooled what felt too hot to the touch. Or perhaps his hands were just cold, and he was falling back into his bad habit of being stuck in his own mind. There were plenty of reservations that cropped up due to this unexpected meeting. The young man was all too aware of worst-case scenarios. However, regardless of how he felt, waiting around for the right answer would not bring about anything other than more anxiety. Things were different now; this time, perhaps they all could find the benefits of working together with the way this new world was going. Surely, they did not need to be enemies. "I appreciate your concern. But I'm fine. Really."
"I'd feel better if I kept watch tonight or something. You know, just in case…"
"Don't be stupid," Bakura insisted with a grin that looked more like a grimace, pushing the other man toward the restaurant. "You need sleep. He's not going to do anything, there's no one else around, everything is fine. I need you ready for tomorrow—if there's any trouble."
"I'll be ready, whenever you need me," Simon replied, snickering quietly at Bakura persistence. He dug in his heels a little and faced Bakura who had stopped his shoving with a perturbed look. The laughing smile stayed upon his lips, but facing the unamused man softened his expression. The taller of the two shoved his hands in his pockets and then leaned upon his heels, his lips pursed in quiet thought. Bakura cocked his head to the side, wondering what was on his mind.
"Quick question, totally off-topic, but…" Simon craned his neck to peer into the diner, looking for any eavesdroppers. When he was certain Jounochi was not, for no one else would have been around to hear, he leaned in and whispered into Bakura's ear—
"He's not the guy, right?"
"Guy?" Bakura blinked in confusion, his cheeks already tingling with silenced laughter at how the other's breath tickled the side of his neck. He then flushed a brilliant but unnoticeable red in the dark when he realized what was being asked. "No," he said, "Oh no, no, no. He's just a friend. Always has been. A good friend."
"Great," Simon chuckled. "None of the others are either, right?"
"Show's how much you listened," Bakura muttered, partly-annoyed, partly-amused. He had not divulged the other's name but had mentioned about a previous "possible" interest. Of course, that had been in passing, hardly a few seconds spent on sharing that detail. There were so many more frightening and fascinating pieces of the story that encompassed his life, and for some reason that was what everyone seemed to worry on. Personally, he would have been more enthralled by the fact there were actual vampires out there. A pity he had such a terrible experience with them. "I told you already, he wasn't even anywhere near me when it happened."
"Just checking."
"Just checking…you're as bad as Mai with these questions," Bakura said, pushing past the man with the retort. A play at being haughty came to bite him in the ass as he grasped the door handle, trying to think on anything that would take his mind off the feeling of a broad chest beneath his fingers. That heartbeat that had quickened at his touch. It was that heartbeat more than anything that gave him pause. Why could that man not be sensibly afraid, or stay sensibly afraid, like the others would be? Disgust at his own curiosity filled him; his mind should remain on his own responsibilities, and this new piqued interest aggravated him. These kinds of feelings had never bothered him much before. Once, and not for long. Why now?
"I just want to know that there's still a chance." Bakura could hear that sly grin in his voice as an arm snaked around Bakura to spin him back into the conversation he wanted no part of. The expression of fright he once held when Bakura first explained his situation could not have been more opposite to the one behind the glasses now. A thrill seeker, then? But as he was held closer still, Bakura could not deny the man had a tenderness about him that struck a chord in the more obstinate one. Amused, touched, exasperated—Bakura felt these all, but also felt a heady sleepiness that dulled his interest in pushing people away for their safety.
"Only you'd be so concerned about something so inconsequential," Bakura sighed, leaning against the other's embrace to alleviate some of the exhaustion. If given the chance, he might have fallen asleep standing up. That dark world always took something, and it was so difficult to get it back. Thankfully, he was not on the brink of death this time. He cocked his head while looking up at the unfamiliar expression Simon wore before adding, "You'd think your mind would focus on the important tasks like the plane, or educating the kids on proper protocol in the air, or what we should pack or—"
Bakura jerked his head back as Simon's swept forward. An act of instinct. With his heart in his throat, he bit his lip in secondhand embarrassment as he observed the mortification that spread upon the other man's face. Deterring him was one thing; outright being inconsiderate to another's feelings was not what he had planned.
"Do you really not want this?" Simon asked, crestfallen.
"It's not that," Bakura replied quickly, and then cursed at himself for his word choice. "It's not like that. Remember, I've just had some rough experiences…I just…"
"So, you'd rather take it slow?"
"No!" he snapped in annoyance. "I want you to realize that this isn't what you think it is. You're not taking the situation seriously. Why would you want someone who's so stuck in the damned past, anyway? Why would you want to deal with any of this?" He motioned to himself before resting his hands on either side of Simon's forearms. "I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I like you, sure. But think about it. Really think. We barely know each other, I've taken on what most would call an insurmountable responsibility, and…"
He paused to readjust the skewed glasses on the man's face. The sharp angle of the top of the frame poked into his fingers, much like a pointed earring into a careless palm. The shadow of his hand boldened the outline of a strong jaw, set and stubborn; reminiscent of a man used to getting what he wanted. A familiar stubbornness that once had made Bakura laugh. This night evoked so many memories—could one be unfaithful to a memory, one that had not held much weight until a moment like this?
"…you make me think of him. That's unfair to you."
"Unfair," the other repeated. "You mean if we meet him, somehow."
"Take it in whatever way you want."
Simon did not release him, but his hold slackened enough that Bakura once again carried the bulk of his own weight. The clouded face before him screwed up with an array of emotions, but when Simon spoke, he did not reply with anything Bakura had expected.
"I've spent most of my life doing shit I didn't want to do," Simon said, chewing at the side of his cheek. "Parents, you know?"
Bakura shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean? What does this have to do with what I said?"
"I'm getting to it. We both like games, you and I, and I guess your other buddies, but that's just a hobby. So was flying a plane, and so was looking up spooky shit."
"You mean the supernatural?"
"Yeah."
"I'm still not following."
"Hobbies were sort of all I had that were 'me'. My parents had certain expectations; I'm sure your dad might have too, for you, but you've never really mentioned it. I was supposed to study law, and get married, or study theology and become a priest. My two options, if I didn't want to be kicked to the curb. Two options enforced by a fucking plethora of family. All dead, rest their souls and all that good stuff."
Bakura tilted his head as he listened quietly. He could not imagine someone like Simon following something he did not want to do.
"They knew, of course, and knew it was a shit decision for me, but they had to uphold their good name," Simon spat, low and with venom in his words. "Not my grandma though; she was a sweet lady. I took on her maiden name as my last name to show her respect while I spat in the rest of my family's faces. But even she couldn't persuade anyone else to think otherwise. So, I chose priest. Gave me a chance to argue the finer points of our faith, and they left me to my own machinations, meaning I could pick whatever hobbies I wanted. In their minds, I was going to be celibate anyway.
"Well, that or find a lovely young woman and settle down and stop all 'my nonsense'."
He laughed joylessly before falling into silence. The sounds of crickets, braving the crawl out from their burrows, created a lonely song for the two souls that made up their audience. The two only half-listened as Simon drew his lips in a thin line before continuing.
"I did try. What person doesn't at least try a little for their 'flesh and blood', even if they fucking hate it every step of the way. And I did agonize about myself for the longest time. Thought I was a worthless, 'sinful', mess. Never thought I'd find anyone or anything to make me happy. But when this all happened, I wondered…why? What was all of that shit for? Who was I going to really make happy by following a plan that I didn't even want to follow? Why am I holding onto any of that baggage, when it only hurt? That's why I agreed to follow Graham. Because it was my choice; to get out of the place that left a bad taste in my mouth, to do the things I wanted to do and be the person I wanted to be. And then you come along…"
Simon stared off in the same direction as Bakura, his shoulders bunched in frustration. The dim outlines of surviving wreckage loomed ominously around them. "I'm not afraid of what might happen in the future. It doesn't need you or me to tell it to happen. C'est la vie. I care about what I decide to do with the time I have in the present, and who I get to spend that time with. If that means if you need me—in any capacity—I'm here. I'm willing. I'll do it. Even if it's only for a day, or a week, or a year. Even if I die, or you die. Because one day, like I said, that's going to happen anyway.
"'Unfair' to me or not, I want to see where we could go with this. You're so smart, and clever, it baffles me that you can't accept what I see plastered on your face. I want you remain open and honest with me. Like, if it's a total no go, I get it. Just tell me. But don't hide behind this 'unfairness' or 'you'll think I'm crazy' bullshit. You told me about the truth of it, and I just saw it's gonna get weird—but as you can see, I'm not running."
Bakura had nothing to say in response. His throat seemed to be locked up, unable to voice his affirmation or denial. Unable to express how touched, but frightened he was by someone having as little care for their life as he supposed he had shown over the years. He could only rub his thumb against the man's bare arm, hoping that it felt like a soothing gesture, although he could not be sure who he was attempting to soothe. Unlike before, this attention was not unwanted. It was just unexpected.
Part of him was torn, as well. Mai's advice echoed in his mind, something he knew he should consider (if not for the benefit of the others) dueling with an unspoken insistence of the opposite, as if his heart was waiting for some sign of another better option. Then there was the forever pragmatic part of him that felt this whole scene was completely irrational. Tilting his head up, he stared into the other's eyes, drinking in every feature that showed him that there was no feigning dedication in mind. That this fool before him really did want to try for something impossible. Even as he leaned forward and willingly pressed his lips against Simon's, he wondered why.
Why did he care? Bakura wondered as Simon's restraint left him. Why did he, Bakura, allow this? This thought hounded him because this time, he was the initiator. He could not pass this off as something someone did to him. To what end? The way his fingers snaked in the other's short hair only meant future unnecessary heartache, needless physical attachment. Yet, there he was, trying to find a way to dull some incurable loneliness that plagued him by dragging down another.
But…if he thought like that, regardless of whether it was emotional or physical, how would he ever be able to open up to anyone?
When eager hands began to roam, he let out a muffled giggle and slapped them back. That really was too soon, 'post-apocalyptic world' or not. Simon retaliated by pulling him closer, enough that Bakura could tell just what type of romantic he was. Impatient. Bakura in turn took a step back, unable decide if he enjoyed the game of cat and mouse this was turning out to be. The other followed, and Bakura smiled before parting his lips in an invitation. Perhaps it was more akin to a spider toying with its prey before taking it on. He would have gone with snake, but he forced the thought to shut down before he began laughing. The last thing he wanted was for the other man to get the wrong impression.
Eventually, as he felt the doorway dig into his back and knock aside the rusted bell (which tinkled absently as it jingled against the window pane), he accepted his position as something to appreciate in the moment. What harm was a brief distraction when nothing else could be done that day? In his mind, there were few in this world that would tolerate the demands Bakura had for very long. Fewer that would accept the way he accepted responsibilities (such as raising two children with what meager parenting knowledge he had) or understand the questionable nature of his talents and be able to handle what could only lightly be called his quirks. If someone wanted to try, he supposed he could let them.
He only hoped this trust would not bring death in its wake.
Bakura pulled away from the man's insistent touch when he heard a playful whistle fill the air. Jounochi stood there in the dim with a wide grin, as if he had been more of an observer than the other two had originally thought. Bakura gasped in surprise which led Simon to look to where he did, instead of dragging Bakura's mouth back to his.
Jounochi snickered at the look of mortified surprise that beset his friend and gave him a wink and a thumbs up. Bakura's face burned as red as the plastic of the exit sign above him—the low chuckle that reverberated in Simon's chest an aid in fueling this internal flame.
Side-stepping out of his hold, Bakura danced away from the two, muttering something about going to bed. He ignored the witty and suggestive retort Simon gave him in response. He also ignored Jounochi's offer to find somewhere else to sleep. It seemed, in teasing, they could get along without question. Perfect. Regret for his previous decision hit him swiftly.
He found a booth as far from the other two as possible and flopped onto the lumpy seat. His head hit the faux leather, and his face twisted with disgust as he could already feel the material adhering to his face. Beneath the table, Bakura saw the remnants of what ill-mannered children (and some ill-mannered adults) left behind. Charming. Resigned to his fate, he scooted closer to the backing of his chosen seat and let out a disgruntled sigh.
As the cackling died down, the sounds of the night filled the otherwise empty diner. Snoring became the prevalent noise after a good thirty minutes passed, although there was one who struggled to join them. Unable to sleep, Bakura flopped onto his back to stare at the ceiling that was cracked with age and what he assumed was water damage. Having no other conversation to distract him, his mind wandered far enough to begin worrying on his party again. He hoped they were all okay; he was certain that D and Claire made it back to the farmhouse and took the absence of his usual intuitive nagging as a signal that they would be fine, but they did not have mystical powers to disappear on cue if that tornado ripped through their temporary homestead. Nor did Mai. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and let out a soft, distressed groan.
Rolling back onto his side, he left this thought for another time. Bakura forced his eyes closed and tried to think about anything other than his current situation. He imagined a peaceful snowy day, where instead of the lonesome chittering that came from the surrounding wildlife, laughter filled the air. The musty scent of the diner faded as he let his consciousness slip. With it, the memory slipped.
He dreamt of a dark world enshrouded in voices that night.