Utopia

by YaYugi

Well, Amane, I've really done it this time." Yu-Gi-Oh x Vampire Hunter D crossover.

46. Shadows

Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D. Also, I do not own that one line that shows up from "Ue O Muite Arukou" by Kyu Sakamoto. It's a good song though.

This was meant to come out yesterday, but life...always finds a way to be busy for me. So, I'm so sorry for the late upload. I'll try to be more timely with the next one (I intend on having it ready and on time. I intend it!)

Enjoy!

(And really, feel free to tell me the good and the bad because the leftover notes past me left are...hard for me to realize without some input...)

Chapter Forty-Five: Shadows

Two Days Ago—

The morning woke the three with magnified sunlight streaming through the unwashed windows. Bakura raised his groggy head from the discolored pleather seat, his neck popping uncomfortably from the position he had held it in as he did so. Bleary eyed, he caught sight of Jounochi raising from his own makeshift bed and gave him a little good morning wave. The blonde grinned back and offered his own greeting. Something about it lightened a little heaviness from Bakura's heart. It was good to have an old friend nearby.

After they finished their preparations for what Jounochi said would be a short journey, they set off, following to where his entourage had holed up for the night. As offerings of good will, they each carried a little of the remaining food and off-hand supplies that had not been relocated to the farmstead camp. The weight of carrying the heavy plastic box would have tired Bakura out only a half a year ago; but now as he told of his travels (coaxed into it by Jounochi's unrelenting pestering, being as candid as he had with Simon—no need to hide anything from someone who had been along for the ride) he felt only a slight strain in his arms. He restrained himself from discussing the voices—the singular entity as well as the disjointed cacophony—the only point of distrustful contention. Bakura aimed to be a trusting individual, a worthy friend, but not a stupid one. He knew the reunion alone would be filled with a great deal of suspicion. No need to add further complications to already shaky ground.

The excitement in seeing those he called his friends was only paired by his trepidation. This meeting felt too coincidental to be coincidence. The implications of finding each other so far from their last point of contact in a world without much in the way of reconnection worried him even as he rationalized the importance of their coming together again. No matter how he looked at it, something big was going to happen.

And the fallout would be catastrophic.

A glint of light caught Bakura's eye before he could explain their encounter with the city that fought with The Arid Sea. It lasted no more than a second, but the glimmer had been there, near-hidden amongst a wrecked vehicle in the path of their southerly trudge. With his words fading, Bakura let his face relax, and pulled out his most disarming smile, aware that they were being watched. Jounochi noted his pause and followed his friend's set gaze. What small sign he noticed in the otherwise ordinary scene made him laugh. Shifting the weight of his pallet into one arm, he waved in a distinct pattern. The glint appeared and then disappeared again, and from behind the broken-down truck came another familiar face.

"Anzu!" Bakura cried happily, recognizing her sweet but determined face. With the weapon put away, it was easier to express his excitement in seeing her again. Her own shocked but ecstatic expression was all he needed to know that he had been missed at least almost as much as he had missed them.

After swift (far more amicable) introductions, Anzu took it upon herself to round up the others on watch since the one they were looking for had returned. Even with fatigue drawing stress lines upon her face, she bounced from foot to foot with untapped energy that exhausted Bakura just looking at her; an expression that this world had not beaten her down yet. She directed Jounochi to take himself and the others to the main encampment so introductions—or reintroductions—could begin. He did so gladly.

The area chosen as this party's latest encampment situated itself around a rundown gas station. Whether the abysmal upkeep bespoke of a symptom of the past customers, employees, and weather, or a skirmish between factions that no longer existed, Bakura could not tell. Splintered windows and dust caked doorframes did little more than express the building had been through a time. The rounded sign no longer hung atop the large structure that once allowed it to be seen for miles; instead pieces of it lay about in the foliage beneath what the bushes covered of the pole's foundation. Some of it had been swept away, but most debris remained as a deterrent for those looking for a permanent place to stay. Tents coated with the grime of time and child's play dotted the perimeter of the decrepit store. Bakura disagreed with how open the campsite felt—there were too many places where one well-timed ambush could lay in wait—but a shelter was a shelter in this world.

Also, Bakura recognized temporary shelters when he saw them; as he passed Aoki speaking to a pair of strangers with a distracted wave and heard the shocked gasp of a familiar little girl, he wondered if this band of travelers' next plan would have taken them to the nearest functioning city. The obtuse denial of a welcome would have been a nasty surprise…perhaps it was good that the two groups had found each other now. While not in shambles, enervation carved its mark on every face he passed. Things would not last long continuing the way they were.

The impromptu procession continued further into the camp. Mokuba did a doubletake before he welcomed him with a sheepish wave, which Bakura returned; Wanatabe presented a cautious stare that was matched only with the glare of Bakura's self-proclaimed bodyguard. Yugi's mother had kind words for him whereas Etsu seemed disinterested, intent on plucking an eye from her doll's head. He could not blame her. He was not that interesting.

Just before the entrance to the store, with its neon lights dead in its lettered loops, Bakura spotted someone who slept under a structure constructed of a tarp. The blue synthetic canvas rippled side to side in lazy gestures by a puff of air barely considered a breeze, hooked into the cracked outer-wall of the greying establishment; a beat-up crutch rested just beside it. Bakura refrained from greeting them; the individual snored softly, their expression haggard even in their sleep. He was unsure of wat he would have said, anyway. His mouth would not even formulate the movement to call out a name, even if he knew which one to use. Biting the inside of his cheek, he wondered if there would be more people that he would recognize.

No, this did not bode well.

"Hey, wait!" A voice called out, and Bakura turned to watch Mokuba jog over. The sleeping form snorted as if surprised in their dreams but did not wake.

"What is it?" Jounochi asked, his voice respectfully low so as not to disturb the sleeping figure.

Mokuba motioned for them to turn away from the store. Rolling his eyes, Jounochi pointed for the others to do as the younger Kaiba asked. Bakura turned back to look at his former ally resting in the manmade shade and wondered what they thought about their current situation; having handed that letter off and journeying as far from the strangeness of their former city as they had only to be swept up in the tides of it again. He wondered if her other, friendlier counterpart was still with her, too.

"Don't go in there," Mokuba ordered, and Jounochi's face contorted in annoyance.

"I was just going to have him go see—"

"My brother, yeah. Why the hell would you do that? He can't know that he's around. We don't know if he's being followed."

"We both are," Bakura replied flatly. There was no use beating around that bush; nor was he in the mood to be treated like he was not present for the conversation. "Although, I think I've shaken him off a little better than some."

"Which is what I would like us to all talk about—away from him."

"If it makes you feel better."

"It does," Mokuba said, rubbing at his lips. Scars that mirrored the horrors of Jounochi's story lined his arms, only exemplifying the youth of the one that had to bear them. At that moment, he looked like the lost teenager he was, softening Bakura's attitude towards him.

"Then I'll respect your request," Bakura replied, half-smiling.

Mokuba returned it. "I figured you would. You might look a bit rough now, but you've always been a nice guy."

"Speak for yourself."

"Uh huh. Just gotta know, was that accidental," Mokuba added, tapping his cheek, "or did you not feel that you got enough attention for your looks?"

Bakura raised an eyebrow. "It was as intentional as your attempt to look like you tried to pet a tiger."

That made the dark-haired teen laugh. Simon looked in Jounochi's direction, searching for an explanation. The blonde only shrugged and shook his head, not about to comment on the two's dance around the subject. He just accepted it as a way for his friend to ease the conversation. Personally, if he considered his friendship with Honda, he would have just punched him.

Although, now with a good amount of time to reflect on his death, the thought depressed him.

"Shoulda said Blue Eyes," Mokuba said, nudging Bakura with his elbow. This was met with a chuckle and a nod in agreement. "Anyway, let's go to our 'Meeting Table' and really have our introductions. I'm sure Anzu will be coming with the others at any moment, if that's what Jounochi over here muttered half-assedly at me when you guys passed by."

The statement earned him a warning glare that held little malice behind it. "I didn't mutter," Jounochi grumbled as he crossed his arms. He did not hold the expression for long; he could see it was garnering the wrong impression for the one he saw as a stranger in their midst. If Bakura noticed anything amiss, he did not say it. He only looked off in the direction of which they came: the off-ramp of the highway framed by its horizon and the flat cloud-cover. Jounochi dismissed the distant stare as anything odd; Bakura had always been in his head, even during their school days.

"Uh huh. Anyway…" he looked around with an expression like a someone had flicked a light switch, and what had been shrouded in darkness was now visible, "Where's D?"

"Safe," Bakura replied, tearing his eyes away from the road. "I'll tell you more when we can all catch up."

"Alright," Mokuba said. He motioned for them to follow him to their convening area. "Let's get started, then."

Unlike the Counsel, with their grand makeshift room, the "Meeting Table" was pretty much just as it sounded like. Set up even further away than their discussion on the opposite side of the camp, the foldable table sat with an array of crude, mismatched picnic chairs. Some rested low to the ground, offering a great view of the underside of the table, while the others would allow most to participate in regular conversations across it. A covered trailer that no doubt carried the equipment (and probably someone else on occasion) rested beside it. Its black paint shone in the filtered sun, while a canvas pulled tight around the top of it created a wagon-like experience. The front tilted down with the attachment bar laden with accessories for some type of pack animal to tow it. Bakura's eyes lit up, thinking of the children's delight, as he spotted a pair of horses grazing upon the grasses that littered the side of the road. He wondered how they managed to feed and water them during the harsher months and climes.

A question best left for a later time, he figured, as the rest gathered at the designated meeting spot. The two children rested in the shorter seats as the group communed; Amami keeping an attentive eye on Etsu while the adults spoke. There was a pattern as to who sat where, but if there was any hint to what seat held the person in charge, Bakura could not tell. While he kept his face calm; inwardly he berated himself. He needed to know who had the most sway, and if he could perhaps convince them that they could help each other out. Especially with Jounochi's previous words expressing how difficult it was to come to a consensus. Otherwise, what was to point of worrying the others with their absence?

Pulling himself back to the scene before him, he noticed that three seats by the already crowded table were empty. Bakura turned to Anzu, his only friend not already embroiled in a bitter hissing match with Wanatabe and an individual he was not familiar with. He was not ready to look the former sleeping figure directly; her cautious eyeing of him was enough. While she was not privy to all of his situation (or D's), the delicate information she did possess was enough to possibly derail the conversation out of his favor.

Not that he was going to blatantly lie…but timing was everything.

"They're coming," Anzu said, answering Bakura's silent question and giving him one of her charming smiles. "They just don't want any surprises."

"Like he isn't a surprise, enough," Wanatabe grumbled, breaking out of his argument with the others. The stranger beside him raised a heavy brow at his compatriot's attitude, while Bakura could see Amami biting her lip in his peripheral. Bakura shifted, casually placing his heel in front of Simon's foot; a quiet blockade for his already bristling companion. He appreciated the protectiveness, but now was not the time.

"Seriously? Enough," Jounochi said, cutting off Wanatabe's attempt to start something with his own aggravated response. "At least wait for Yugi and the others; and wait for Bakura's story before you go pointing fingers and digging up any old grudge."

"Old grudge?" The familiar woman sitting beside Aoki murmured, staring at Bakura even harder. It took everything within him to refrain from signaling her with begging eyes to stop while she was ahead. The pair of strangers who had been speaking with the former teacher earlier, positioned on her other side, gave each other cautious glances. Bakura hoped that the discerning looks were meant to show disgust for the beginnings of an argument, instead of a predetermined opinion of himself. Relief washed over him when their current conversation topic fell silent, interrupted by the arrival of the other three.

Another unfamiliar face greeted the two outsiders with a friendly nod. She rubbed sweat from her brow, leaving a streak of dirt in its wake. The second individual was familiar. Albert had made it; although he was looking worse for wear. His nose was tinged red, while tears leaked around the corner of his eyes. He sniffled, coughed, and took a step back, giving a short wave of hello. Bakura mirrored the action, hoping it was just a case of allergies rather than some cold. Summer illnesses were the worst. In a world like this? It would no doubt be awful.

And then there was Yugi.

"Bakura-kun!" he exclaimed, his body practically vibrating with excitement. Although his shout had been measured enough to not let it carry very far—lest unwelcome ears were listening—the rest of him appeared even more ready for celebration than even Anzu had greeted them with. Unlike the others, who took their respective seats, Yugi dashed to Bakura and wrapped him in a huge, back-cracking hug. Something flared within him, an anger of being deserted and a resurfacing of past grievances, and Bakura forced his arms around the messy-haired adult to return the gesture to spite his inner turmoil. 'My feelings are mine', he thought to himself, happily holding close someone he had worried for constantly throughout the past year. 'I can be mad…but it wasn't his fault. And the rest is just in the past.'

The roiling hatred subsided.

"I'm glad you're all okay," Bakura said softly, meaning it.

"You too! To be honest though, you look like you were put…through…" Yugi's eyes widened before reaching for the side of Bakura's face. His touch was full of unexpected fear, as much as it was with his brand of tenderness. "How…?"

"Crazy, right?" Jounochi interjected. "Not that he'd know."

"Know?" It was Bakura's turn to look baffled. Yugi opened his mouth to respond, but it was the woman Bakura knew that provided a reply.

"It was one of the guys from that city we told you about," she said, looking to Albert for confirmation. Her voice was gentle. Jessica, then. "I recognize Bakura—he helped us out. Got that as a thank you present from one of our enemies."

That had been the tale told to her. A little inaccurate, but the one who had seen through that during another vital time remained silent. It appeared they had their own secrets to keep, and Bakura was not about to divulge anything that could have gotten them kicked out of their new place in the world. These two had helped him and his in the end.

"What luck…" Yugi said, tracing the scar again. Bakura raised an eyebrow at that, and Yugi shook his head. "Sorry, not the right words. It's just crazy."

"You're telling me," Bakura replied, letting Yugi find his seat. Then he took his own spot in standing next to Simon, feeling the questioning look from the taller man directed his way. "It itched like crazy."

"That and knowing these people."

"Not all of them."

"I suppose we will see what other coincidences there are when you tell us your story," Mokuba said. "I'm sure Jounochi filled you in on our end?"

"Yes, but I'm more than happy to hear everyone's perspective if you'd all like to share it."

There was a snort from Wanatabe, derisive and loud enough for all to hear. All turned their attentions on him. Internalizing a sigh, Bakura recalled not long ago when the man had been friendly to him; had even wished him well. While it was painful to be the target of such loathing, (for even frustrated, Bakura hoped for nothing but the best for him) he did little more than idly shift his weight, playing it as cool as the morning air that had swiftly departed once the sun shone in full force. This only made the older man scowl harder, leading the others in an unspoken disagreement. The newcomers looked lost, trapped in the tense atmosphere, while those originally from Domino dug up quiet resentments. Bitter masks of growing distaste for one another plastered their faces and Bakura wondered for the first time if he had not ended up better off for having been deserted. A dark silence overtook the table.

Within that silence, the children sat upon their designated chairs below table level. Etsu babbled at a fluttering foxtail happily in the seat at her parents' feet, patting her sneakers against the earth until minor puffs of beige dust lifted into the air, while Amami refused to participate in the impromptu staring contest that had begun. Her uncharacteristically sullen face reflected in the metal of the table leg, almost mirroring her former friend's comportment in her silence. Bakura tried to catch her eye and offer her a reassuring smile, but she also refused to look his way. Yet, even for that, the girl's discomfort clearly came from the fact there was something unsaid between the adults she traveled with, as she kept Etsu occupied without a fuss and her lip trended upward when the toddler shrieked in triumphant glee at the little house she made in the packed earth. Was this type of behavior normal for the others, then?

Before he could ask, Aoki cleared her throat, breaking the others out of the repressive spell that had befallen the group, and allowed for one of the strangers to intercede before the strain became too great.

"Name's Kay," she said, her owlish stare making her seem years younger than what her voice denoted, "Kay Danvers. If you have a story to tell, let's hear it first."

"I'm Lewis Morten," another of the unknown shared, taking the free moment to also make their introduction. He then pointed to the person beside him, who offered Bakura a quick smile that did not quite reach the eyes when she turned her attention back to the others at the table. "That's Josseline, my sister."

"Nice to meet you all," Bakura said, giving them all a small nod of appreciation. Relief washed over him as the antagonistic mood faltered. An argument was the last thing he wished to start or be a part of right at that moment.

"D?" Amami asked almost in a whisper, finally bringing herself to speak. Her father's head snapped to her direction, and she busied herself playing with the toddler again.

"He's okay," Bakura said, hoping to comfort her worries and appease her regrets. Whether it calmed her or not, he could not tell. But at Kay's insistent look, and Yugi's quick hand-motion, he had little time for anything other than relating what his side of the breakup had dealt with before the congregation at the table collapsed within itself.

Jounochi's pins and needles posture was all he needed to see that things were not holding up as well as his friend's story had previously suggested. Whatever was hiding in the shadows of this soundless quarrel, Bakura intended on figuring out—hopefully before he reintroduced everyone into one small community. The last thing he needed was more problems to deal with. Voices and an angry vampire with all the former world's advantages in his grasp were enough.

Thinking on it, he bit back the urge to laugh. After longing for the remains of their friendship for months, he now held the opinion of leaving them behind. That was not much like him.

As the afternoon sun baked them in their shade-less positions, the party considered the details of the painstakingly crafted account Bakura relayed. Each point needed its respective weight, but certain…concessions in fact…needed to be made. It took longer than he thought to retell his adventures because of this. He struggled trying to explain what mystic capabilities he had in a way that did not frighten the newest members while also trying not to give the delicate tidbits of information that could carry damaging truths in case any one of these people were captured…tortured…for it. Nervously wrapping his fingers over his collar, worrying over the warm metal that hid there, Bakura spoke of a little underground place that was doing well for itself, winding his words in a tapestry that kept them and their most recent interaction with D's father apart. Simon, having heard the true story, only gave him a cursory glance; his eyes flicking back with fierce focus to monitor those he clearly deemed as unfriendlies. A concept perhaps bolstered by the half-truths Bakura spouted to his supposed dear friends. Shifting his fidgeting to fussing with a strand of his white hair, the young man breathed in an imperceptible sigh of relief as a soothing thought occurred to him—he had not gotten this far in his story with Jounochi, meaning the man was safe, and had no need to cover for him (or unintentionally botch Bakura's attempt at keeping the rest of them secure). If there were any glaring discrepancies from what he had mentioned earlier, such as his first meeting with Jessica and Albert, Jounochi either failed to recall or understood the need for silence on those points, and that was more than enough to ask of him. Bakura offered his friend a quick and tentative smile for this. He received one back that partially reinstated his feeling of good fortune in finding them again.

When Mai's name came up—the part she played moved slightly from her actual point of reentry in his life—he got the response he expected. Anzu clapped a hand over her mouth to stop from shrieking in delight, her half-hidden expression glittering with elation—whereas Yugi bunched both fists just below his chin, lips curved in an impossibly bright beam only Yugi somehow managed. Bakura turned his attention to Jounochi, who leaned back in his seat, the synthetic fibers squeaking under his dumbfounded weight. A flame that had visibly petered out after the massive loss he had taken—the city, his sister, his oldest friend—seemed to spark up once again. Only those who did not know her had little to say.

"And now we're here," Bakura ended, after reporting on the group's expansion with the introduction of the trio Simon was a part of. The announced offered a two fingered wave before readjusting his glasses. The lines at the corners of his eyes could have been part of a squint, or part of the half-smile he offered. Friendly, but not too friendly. Uninterested in starting conflict with so many hot-heads at the table, Bakura glossed over the rest that could set anyone off. They already knew he could call upon an entity tied to his soul, better to keep the other dimension out of it. "After finding Jounochi at the airport, it seemed only logical that we came with him to say hello."

"He was supposed to be back yesterday," Wanatabe said, his posture straight and professional at this point. His previous pouting appeared unbecoming even to him. Bakura noted this; storing this tidbit away with other slight shifts in attitude. Mokuba's almost comical lean upon the table, Jessica's shaking leg, Anzu's constant glances at Yugi that almost overtook her monitoring of the children. Yes…something was being hidden.

"We ran into a snag," Jounochi replied, oddly calm in this undercurrent of pent up energy.

"A snag."

"Unless you think I should have hitched a ride on the damned tornado, yeah."

"I saw that," Anzu breathed. "Are you all okay?"

"We all did," Jessica corroborated, flicking her nose in an un-Jessica-like fashion. "Never thought we'd run into anything crazy like that. You know, natural disasters and stuff." As a half-thought she added, "I thought we'd be dead."

"I always wondered what they looked like up close," Kay said, patting at her short auburn bob, her face set with a far-away look. Another thrill-seeker. Lewis glanced at her; his nose wrinkled in disbelief.

"Considering how careful we have to be," Albert stated, responding to Jessica, "given our 'cargo', we could still die."

"How's that optimism treating you?" Bakura asked with a grin. Albert snorted through a sniffle and offered a quick, playfully rude gesture in return.

"That reminds me," the one stranger left in the party said. When he stood, he was perhaps only an inch taller than Yugi. His hazel gaze passed over everyone much in the way Jael's had, clever, missing nothing. "I'm going to go check on him. It's been a bit, and we don't know the place. Honestly, we should be getting back to our posts. Name's Theo, great to meet you 'n all."

"A pleasure to meet you as well," Bakura said, laying on the pleasantries. It was now or never. Something within him ached; intuition that something was amiss but not terribly wrong at "home" and he did not have time to waste for them to have to set up another meeting again. "Just please wait a moment before you go. I have a proposition to make, and I'd like everyone's input."

"Proposition?" Mokuba inquired, his voice laced with a hint of cynicism. Yugi shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning to look at his little girl still playing in the dirt. His tense jaw denoted there was something he wished to say but clearly did not want to stir the pot. Or perhaps he did not have the ability to? The sway? From the way he deferred (reminiscent of how he used to act—just before Duelist Kingdom came to mind), to the way no one aside from Anzu had even so much as glimpsed for his reaction, plainly…Yugi was not in charge. Bakura ticked off his name from the list in his mind. Not great news for him, but worse for the group and he knew it. It depressed him; his friend had lost some of that confidence and assured nature he had been so proud to gain. The realization also cleared Anzu or Jounochi from the position. Yugi would have been able to say anything if people (even quietly) followed them. Kaiba had to be monitored, and thus not an option. Whoever held what little authority there was in this mashup did not hold it well. At least within his own faction (a strange word to use, he felt, but one that fit) it was clear that it was a joint decision between Mai and himself. The children also got their say, most of the time…

Maybe that was what had gone awry. Even Mokuba, for the ease he tried to portray, had been given away by the furious hopelessness in his tone. He held reign over his brother's keeping, but not much else if his behavior said anything. Wanatabe seemed to start disagreements but did not end them well. The strangers felt too new to have the authority to control the others, and Aoki…she got along well with the newest recruits but had not said much in the great scheme of things. The children's position here was self-explanatory.

As Bakura took precaution to keep his steps confident, he endeavored to enter their circle fully, his aim to occupy the empty edge of the table. A final assessment as much as a show that he still felt he was a part of them. If there was order at this table, then someone who at least thought they controlled some aspect of it would surely argue that he had no place there, at least not yet. However, Jessica and Kay shifted their seats to allow him this spot to stand. No one balked. Not even Wanatabe.

The antithesis of the Counsel, then. Just as he had hypothesized to Simon the day before. No one led, all were lost—simply running from their problems because where else were they to go? Had they tried something before and failed? Something Jounochi had not mentioned?

If so, they would be easy to pick off if he ever appeared. Weak. Understandable in their aimlessness…but weak.

"Yes," Bakura said, once again trying his diplomacy. He held his hands before him in an offering gesture. "A proposition. Even far apart we all have had the same goal. To get away from him."

The only people that did not shudder at the inflection were the newest members and Simon; they had never met the despised creature that acted as a waking nightmare to the others. Even Jessica squirmed uncomfortably in her seat, and Albert's unnaturally patchy, flushed demeanor paled as they remembered their former duty. The letter, their hand in this mess; now with the knowledge of what had been in it.

"All I ask is that you keep an open mind. This was not my idea originally, but I have full faith that it can be achieved," Bakura paused and flashed a hopeful smile to a brooding Simon, who nodded in return. He even offered a spirited thumbs up, although his gaze quickly set upon those at the table. He probably sensed it, too. Weak, but angry. Weak, but still lacking that scapegoat that had nominally held them together on the ship. A group that could snap at any moment. Who dared point the finger at who now to solidify their impotent rage? Bakura wondered if he could talk them into zoning in on the "right" scapegoat. It might give them all a chance to survive.

But if he failed…

"We would all need to work together for it to work. But if we do, then we could escape from his grasp, and find a way to best him at his own game."

Parroting the hopefulness that mimicked Yugi's past assurance, so much so that it seemed to wake the other from his unspoken surrender, Bakura laid out every detail he knew, hoping this would reach them and tear them from their aimless squabble. Failure would always be a concern, but better to fail than lay down and accept their fates at his hands.

If they chose not to listen, at least he had tried, and given his all for their sake.

Much later that day, as the twilight painted the shadowed landscape to mirror the currented depths of the ocean, illuminating the lights as if spearing the eyes with concentrated daylight, Bakura half-leaned against a yellow sun-stained exit sign, alone in his thoughts. With arms crossed, absentmindedly biting the inside of his bottom lip, he searched the horizon for nothing and everything. The air hummed with native insects having their final say for the day, and the distant conversation of the once again divided group undulated between near-silence and cacophonous banter.

Only when the sound of dried grass crunching under foot did Bakura bother to pry is gaze from the nearby RV lot. Behind that almost memorized scene, a myriad of trees made up a familiar line. A patch of foliage the young man could just imagine two children frolicking within, visualizing the best outcome for the rest of their days. The way the shadows danced that evening, however, left an uncomfortable unease in his gut. Something greater than the danger the small squabbling community provided nagged at him. His mind belted for vigilance even as he turned and gave Simon a flicker of a smile before turning back to the landscape before him.

"We've got sleeping arrangements," Simon said, from just behind his vigil. "They were able to calm down for a few seconds to give us that."

"Thank you," Bakura replied. He wondered if this sensation, being watched from nowhere and everywhere, would even let him sleep that night. It somehow felt worse than the voices. Bakura rubbed at his temple; appreciative of what he now considered true silence.

There was a shuffle behind him; Simon scuffing his feet on the ground as he no doubt searched for words to describe the situation. "They…seemed to listen?"

"It's all we could hope for."

"I guess you're right," Simon said, Bakura could have sworn he heard the shrug as the man took a place beside him. Removing his glasses, he rubbed out a smudge before resting them back on his nose. Glancing at Bakura, he followed his gaze once again in a search for some sign there was something worth watching for in the distance. Apparently seeing nothing, he shook his head. "Can I ask you a question?"

Bakura lifted a distracted shoulder. His observation did not falter; he had a better idea what to look for. "Go ahead."

"What's the word for tornado in Japanese?"

Bakura furrowed his brow, distracted momentarily. "…Tatsumaki."

"Hm. Kinda sounds like food."

Bakura dropped his arms to his sides and turned, resigned, to the man with an indescribable glint in his eyes. "Really?"

"Well, yeah. There's that octopus thing—"

"That's Takoyaki."

"Or that pork one. Y'know."

"That pork one?" Bakura slapped his forehead with force. "Like I'm supposed to know…There's a lot you can do with pork…Really Simon!" He shooed him away in aggravation. "You don't see me doing this with your language!"

The jokes would not have bothered him normally, but unable to shake off the feeling of dread paired with Simon's perceived lackadaisical air wore on his already thin patience. 'Be serious!' his mind fumed. 'We don't have time for your games! Not now! Can't you feel it?!'

"What?" Simon snickered, dancing away from a swipe before returning to his chosen post. "You could if you wanted. But…what do we have…Cheese steak for mistake?" Simon frowned. "No, that's stupid."

"This conversation is stupid," Bakura reflected, his face set with firm lines. "But I think Claire would have appreciated that one."

"We could go French with it, since I speak that, too. Uh, pissaladiere? You know, break it down and looks kind of like—"

"Please…stop. Stop while you're ahead."

"Fine. You aren't in the mood. I'll stop. But I demand one thing."

"Demand?"

"Tell me what's going on in that head of yours. That look on your face means you're worried about something."

"My face was your only clue?"

"No, but it's the most obvious. Thankfully, you've been known as someone nice enough to share out from time to time. Want to do some more sharing now?"

Bakura turned his attention to the earth beneath his feet and scanned the dried grass, weighing his options. Some feeble blades still clung to life, but only barely; patches of green lines among dozens of hay-like strands. Others had been choked out by weeds and even they looked parched at the moment. He fought the urge to pluck a leaning dandelion from its precarious place burrowed within a crack in the dirt. The thin tendril-offshoots of its roots clung for purchase, the fragile fibers reaching, clinging to what they could find. The middle bore uselessly into non-existent dirt, a poor foundation. Bakura could not help but get the impression it mirrored the current predicament.

"Let's start off with the question: What went wrong here?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. Straightening his posture as he pushed himself off the sign, he motioned off-handedly to where the other group had traveled to get to this point. "Why does a group that can manage to keep two horses alive look worse off than we did before we met you guys? Why do I have such a terrible, nagging feeling?"

"You think they're hiding something?"

"What an astute guess. Yes."

Simon pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Then why'd you offer them help?"

"Because they need help," Bakura explained. "We need help. And several of those people are my friends."

"Friends…Bakura, you didn't even tell them everything. It's sweet, I guess, and I can see you're trying your best, but even you don't trust them enough to give them the truth."

"I trust my friends," Bakura countered. "I will eventually tell them about the most recent 'development', if Jounochi hasn't already, but it's far better if I don't go telling everyone. Or tell everyone things that could damn the other cities we've been so far. To create an environment where the majority stays safe, everyone gets the fake story."

"And when they meet Mai? The kids?"

"Mai knows better than anyone else here that you have to play your cards close sometimes. She'll run with it if she hears a different version, but I doubt she's going to bring up the past much with all that's going on. She's trying to leave it behind her."

'Like I should,' Bakura thought to himself—reminded himself. Oh, but it was difficult, especially when the silhouettes of the trees in the distance seemed to glide across the ground of their own accord. Even now, he still could not tell if he was imagining it, or if he simply was not catching spurts of wind that shook the treetops. For him, the air seemed still.

He was pretty sure if there was something out there, it was not his fault.

"As for Claire and D? They're also used to coming up with excuses off the tops of their heads. I have full faith in them," he ended, kicking idly at the dirt. The scent of a campfire catching flame wafted over in their direction, and Bakura was hit with a powerful homesickness. A feeling he could almost taste in the bitter smoke.

"Glad you do," Simon said, bumping the other's shoulder. "I just hope you have faith in someone else, too."

"It scares me," Bakura said, taking ahold of Simon's hand and resting his dejected head against the man's shoulder. A hesitant smile formed on his lips when he felt Simon's rough fingers comb through his hair before pressing him closer still. "But I do."

"You won't regret it."

'I won't—but I'll miss him,' Bakura thought, surprising himself with the abruptness, the finality of the intrusive thought. Disconcerted with the assured force that feeling left him with, he chose instead to focus on the hand in his grasp, giving it a quick squeeze before gently pushing the man back toward the camp. "Get to bed. I'll be right there."

"Oh?"

With the lilting suggestion, Bakura's previously near-placated expression wavered and settled on a scowl so swiftly it set Simon off into a fit of laughter. Hurrying down the path they had created by trampling over the half dead vegetation like a youth gloating from a particularly good jibe, Simon hollered back another suggestive inflection, having deemed himself far enough away from any possible retaliation. Bakura shook his head and directed his attention to the cooling multicolored sky. He had caught sight of a familiar face passing by the jovially insufferable individual he enjoyed and had not wanted to have him hear the retort he had planned. An embarrassed chuckle did manage escape him, however.

"What was that all about?" Yugi asked, flicking his eyes toward the man nearly out of sight. Bakura shrugged, running his tongue along his teeth in thought. With his face burning hotter than the warmth left by the setting sun, however, keeping up a look of indifference was coming harder to him than he thought.

"That's just how Simon is."

Purple eyes blinked in surprise. "That's not the kind of guy I thought he'd be, from the way he acted before."

"He's on edge," Bakura explained, grateful for the course of the conversation. "As all of us are."

"I suppose…"

"Honestly, that went about as well as expected," Bakura mused, changing direction again as the renewed echoes of Wanatabe's panicked yelps added to the din within his mind. This outburst set off a new set of sounds from the distant camp, and Bakura wondered if Simon would have the sense to stay out of it. If anything, Bakura felt Wanatabe had taken it better than he had anticipated. So had the others. Let them hash out the particulars for themselves.

A crow croaked a gravelly refrain from its perch on a wooden telephone pole, the thick wires hung uselessly to the ground—torn asunder from one storm or another. With another caw, it lifted off, snatching a meal in the form of a moth before leaving the pair to their proper reunion. Bakura tilted his head as he watched the bird's flight; considered how calm the corvid seemed. Perhaps he was on edge for nothing.

"You know in the old days, we'd probably duel for the answer," Yugi joked, rubbing at the back of his head a little too quickly. His posture shared his discomfort with the silence between them.

"Ha," Bakura inflected. "You have the cards?"

This seemed to deflate the young man. "No. Would have been fun to be a part of though."

"Yeah."

"I'd be rusty anyway."

"I very much doubt that."

Yugi chuckled but did not deny the claim. Instead, his mouth twisted in thought and he queried, "Bakura-kun, can I ask you something without you getting offended?"

"Only if I get to call you out on this question not originating from you."

His friend clammed up at the keen reply. The air between them was rife with unexpressed emotions; residual, in more ways than one. Bakura moved to break the silence this time, gently patting his friend on the back to alleviate any worries.

"We don't need to tiptoe around each other, Yugi-kun."

The shorter of the two let out a nervous laugh. "I know, I know. It's just been a while." Yugi paused, then took in a deep breath before asking, "You're on our side, right?"

"Yes," Bakura replied, taking no offense. The question was merely a formality.

'Ah, yes. Of course.'

With his reassuring smile frozen on his face, Bakura refrained from letting his sight wander back to the dying light of the horizon. The true silence had broken. The thought that had not been his—the voice—had let that thought waver, the tone of its candor off as it had once been in the past. He could almost hear a titter hiding at the edges of his mind, as if there was a colony of ants skittering along his brain, throughout his body, and he had to fight the urge to scratch at himself. That nagging suspicion raised two-fold, and for the first time in a long while, Bakura speculated that all that was offered was not what it seemed.

This thought brought with it an educated peace, a calm to the scuttling edges, the troublesome sensation. When had magic of this nature ever been that easy?

'I know you're hiding something from me,' Bakura replied internally, keeping his outward appearance as casual as possible. Yugi, for his part, failed to recognize anything was amiss; if anything, the stiffness in his posture had all but melted away. He clearly regarded Bakura as an ally once again, regardless of whatever had shaken him up when it came to his scar. Either Bakura was a better actor than his other half or, and it was a cruel thought, Yugi was denser than he had thought.

Either way, he would take it.

Before the voice could respond to confirm or deny his claim, Bakura added introspectively, 'It doesn't matter anyway; it doesn't change anything between you and me.'

'I'll figure it out on my own,' he thought, more to himself than anything. 'This time, I'll save you, too.'

He looked at the man who gave him the same smile he had offered the first day Bakura attended Domino High. He would find the source of that lack of confidence and help his friend back to the way things were. And then… 'We will be like Yugi.'

Why else had that cautious and fearful look angered him so; did he see something else within those friendly eyes? They were not their past—or past selves—he observed as he fumed within. They would do what the past could not.

"Yugi, I'm sorry for hiding this from you. But I need to explain something I couldn't to the others."

"What?" While there was surprise, Bakura noted that Yugi did not appear as shocked as he could have. He knew something of it, then.

"I've been having strange dreams."

"Have you?"

"Did Jounochi tell you about what really happened?"

Yugi shrugged and appeared to huddle closer to his friend to defend himself from the cooling night air before lowering his voice and saying, "He told me you'd tell me the specifics."

"I will. I trust you."

"And I trust you."

"Thank you," Bakura said, his heart feeling warm with those words. "But please, first tell me what you think is going on with everyone here. Why is everyone on edge?"

"Wouldn't you be?" Yugi grumbled, glancing back at his party. "You'd think taking care of Kaiba's condition would have brought us closer, made us trust each other a little more. Would have healed some of the wounds we placed on ourselves after we banished you and D. But it's like it's had the opposite effect. None of us can get a word in edge-wise without making someone else angry. I'm shocked that they actually listened to what you had to offer."

"In a way, it makes some sense. You're all looking for a solution—"

"Of course we a—"

"—to a problem you can't possibly fix. At least, not yet. Also, who better to blame if something goes wrong, than someone who you care nothing for?"

Yugi stared at him as if he had spit in his dinner. Bakura gave him a poorly-energized lift of his arm as if to say, am I wrong?

"I'm in the same position for the first half of that, and that exact person to them, Yugi-kun. Who better to show you your reflection?"

"I just don't get it. We all worked well enough together before. Why this change…why now?"

"Based on what Jounochi told us, this started long ago. There's some unfinished business between us all, and we have newcomers that don't know where they fit in all of this."

"Between us? We?"

"Should we really separate at a time like this?"

Yugi mussed his hair in frustration, taking to pacing around his friend like a caged animal. "You're right. We should stick together. But…even I'm a little skeptical about, well, flying. Being able to, really."

"If there's technology, and people to use it, there's really no reason why it can't work eventually. But that's not what's bothering you."

"Have you always been this sharp?" Yugi asked, slowing to a stop before his lanky companion.

"Ouch," Bakura said, the corner of his mouth lifting. He almost giggled at his friend's horrified expression.

"Sorry! That's not what I meant. It's just you're…everything you're saying is hitting close to home."

"Maybe tell me what the problem is before I guess it, then." Although, as he turned his attention back to the faraway shadows, he had an inkling on what to expect.

"It feels like—I don't know—like we're being followed. Some of them want to leave Kaiba."

"Some?"

"Wanatabe…even Aoki and my mom…"

"Why? It's gotten that bad?" Even his mother? Bakura wondered. That would definitely have an affect on what Yugi decided to do.

"They think it's his fault. But Mokuba would never. I would never."

"I know."

"And the new people who've joined us, they're nice and all, but they're cautious. They don't know what to expect. It doesn't help when the others keep acting like everything's his fault though!"

"What's his fault?"

"It started happening when we passed that state-line. That's why I don't think it was him," Yugi insisted. "We've been so careful. I don't even think he knows when it's day or night."

'How awful,' Bakura thought, memories of his own thrown schedule cropping up. D's reminder that his time had not been his own under the boy's father's care.

"We don't see anything," Yugi continued. "With all of our lookouts, with all of our precautions, we haven't seen a damn thing. But everyone is on edge. Everyone is worried about something, although we haven't really spoken about it. It's hard to look at shadows." He shivered, clinging to himself in that moment like a small child. "I know I've dealt with worse, but seeing those shadows…move…" In the real world, his expression screamed, verifying the necessity for Bakura's caution.

"So, they are moving?"

"You see it, too?" Yugi stared at him with wide, fearful, eyes. "Once, I asked Anzu about it, and she couldn't see anything. She's been watching for it, though. Jounochi hasn't seen anything either. We all can feel something is off, but I was starting to think that I was going crazy. They sneak closer every night, but when I go over to what I saw move, it's nothing but a shadow that I see. But I feel something's wrong. Something's following.

I haven't felt like myself lately. Getting paranoid about every little thing—afraid to say anything in case it set someone off and we lose what little protection we have with each other." His hands curled as if he had to be on the defensive. With lips pressed in a thin line, he looked to the same place where Bakura's eyes traveled. "But you see it—I can't tell if that's better or worse."

"Neither," Bakura replied truthfully. "Unfortunately, I'm not about to make it any easier on you. Based on everything that's happened to me: my dreams, the strange powers, the way things have been going…I think—" Bakura rubbed at his face, unsure of how to word the whirlwind of information that swirled in his mind. "I think that thing within the Millennium Items is back. Not that we needed another enemy."

"Zork?"

"Maybe. I couldn't say. Something's back at least."

'Something awful, that leads people astray,' Bakura mouthed to himself while hiding behind his hand, 'it's in the darkness; it hides and waits while I have to puzzle everything out with another entity who says it knows me—that speaks in riddles.'

Or was it even a separate entity? Thinking on it too hard made him feel nauseous.

The color drained from Yugi's face, but in contrast to the horror painted on his features, he let out a strange laugh. "What?"

"You heard me."

"How?!"

"Perhaps it was the war. Knocked things around and some poor unsuspecting soul got ahold of something they shouldn't have. Perhaps there's an errant vampire that opened what they weren't supposed to. I don't know. I do know they were buried under tons of rubble when you last faced your other half, but can they really be destroyed so easily? It would have helped if I had had more access to this information when we went through it the last time." Bakura gave Yugi a pointed side-eye and then added with a rueful chuckle, "Or the ability to ask. I'm aware a lot of things kept me from helping you guys before."

'Maybe even my own pride,' he thought bitterly, and then wondered if he was making the same mistake now. His chest ached with the recollection of being out of the know, and in turn, being led astray until he was unable to fight off what evil had overtaken them all. But he was stronger now, and—

"This time it will be different!" Yugi promised. He extended an eager hand to shake in good-faith. Bakura contemplated the outstretched offering, allowing himself the time to wade through the emotions that flooded him; to clear the garbage thoughts that were clearly not his before accepting the gesture, clasping it in his own. When he was certain of himself, he gripped the surprisingly calloused flesh with vigor—not to assess the strength or honesty behind it—but to let his ally know that the act meant to make amends for all prior baggage. It had to be different this time. This burning remnant of misplaced hatred within him had to stop, just as the anxiety in those determined eyes before him needed to go. Neither of them could be blamed for the sins of their past selves, nor should they have to suffer the same fate. They could forge a new future, together.

Let him spit in the eye of a god. What a thrill that would be!

Yugi beamed. Determination, excitement, and a healthy dose of dread radiated from him as he pulled Bakura in for a hug. Bakura welcomed the embrace, and while still fearful for their future, he felt less alone than he had in a long while.

"We're going to take them all down," Yugi said, his voice quavering. "Zork, that bastard that calls himself D's father…we'll beat them and find a place where we can live normally and be happy again!"

"Together, this time."

"Yes. Together!"

He no longer saw Yugi as a friend. It was true. He did quite a lot for his friends—he would even die for them. But his friendship with Yugi, as surface-friendly as it had been, had never been deep enough, or strong enough, to do what the others could. No life-flashing moments could have made him share the darkest moments he had felt, nor had he felt close enough to have a firmer understanding of Yugi's most hidden wishes, the things that hid under his obvious want for a friendship he could not provide. He just struggled to connect with people like that.

But oh, the things Bakura did for those he called family…

That night, the camp fell slowly into fitful slumbers, each member plagued by their own dreams and reservations for the future. Nothing had been set in stone—but with what little direction they had, following a risky plan rather than waiting out in the open surfaced as the favored option. That was if the hushed whispers of those unable to drop off were anything to note. One by one those voices faded, but even then, it was clear that something in the night left them all in that in-between of rest and wakefulness.

As Bakura tossed and turned on his borrowed sleeping bag, he listened to the frustrated grunts and groans of the adults trying to close their eyes on the world. It was as Yugi said. Everyone showed signs that something was amiss in the dark, in the shadowed depths of the dead-still night. Even Simon shifted restlessly; the crinkling of neutral-colored synthetic fibers sliding against each other a rhythmless beat in the night. His deep breathing acted as the only hint of the man's slumber. Perhaps he lay in the clutches of a particularly nasty nightmare.

For once, Bakura found it difficult to stay in his own head. The remnants of acrid smoke from the snuffed-out fire filled his nose; a loose ember's call, buried under ashes, breathing its last fire-red breath in the otherwise lightless earth. He stilled himself for the sake of others, for even those in fitful sleep were getting some needed rest. As he held the wraparound blanket close, he waited for a trace of what he hypothesized would appear.

The contrast of pitch against obsidian slithering like cursed waves made its way across the tarmac before him, near imperceptible. Yet to one searching for this change, only a flicker of contrast was necessary—much like an optical illusion: when shown both ways to view the image, one never forgets there's more that meets the eye. Bakura slid silently from under the fold of his padded cover and followed the intruding force. Not a breath stirred from his lips, and only one supernaturally attuned would have heard his steps.

Even before he saw it ooze with purpose, ever forward on his left, he had guessed its direction. Its trajectory placed its end-point at the doorway of the nearest building. Straight through to where an unsuspecting Kaiba rested. Letting his breath out slow as if finally reaching the peace of a dreamland, Bakura picked up the pace. The lone lookout of the night, Kay, paused in her tracks to fiddle with a loose button on her shirt-pocket as she faced the opposite direction. She would not have seen the mass anyway, Yugi's dismay rang clear in his mind. Nor had she seen Bakura, although he had wanted it that way. Troublesome information in the long run, but helpful now. He held his breath again as he crept up behind the unnamed thing, letting it enter the building. Better to dispose of such a thing out of sight.

Another breath out—the faintest puff of air. His lungs burned with the lack of oxygen, but Bakura wished to be as silent as the shifting matter before him. Only when he was certain, even though his soul-exhaustion still ached throughout his body with the pain like that of a sprained shoulder, did he call forth a hidden creature. Its hands wavered in the air much like Bakura's mimicked movements, and as he closed his hands, its hands sealed around the thing. Whatever sounds the shadowed creature made were muffled by the unseen, and leaving nothing to chance, Bakura clenched his fists and heard a strange resounding pop come from just in front of him. He sat there frozen by the noise, his ears assessing how loud the sound had been before he placed what he assumed was a corpse of sorts upon the ground. Not a peep came from outside; but the one from within startled him enough to let out a faint gasp.

"Hello?" A muted whisper echoed through the air, and Bakura's head snapped to the direction of the voice. Just beyond the emptied shelves where snacks had once rested for tired travelers, some prices still set in their plastic casings, sat an outline of a person surrounded by necessities at an arm's length away. Reaching out with hands that once ruled a city, majestic even with their searching nature, Kaiba felt around himself with care. Each time he touched outside what looked like a designated area it was only long enough for him to recognize there was no immediate danger or threat; a concept made clear when he folded his arms across his chest, sitting up straight and unafraid when nothing grabbed or attacked him. Even laid low he seemed to cling to that confidence; and Bakura found relief in that. While he ruled no one but himself now, he did so with the same snarky smirk that flashed in the dim remnant of flashlight that bobbed to the window and away, as if the watchperson was bored.

Bakura kept his mouth sealed shut at the question, pressing his betraying lips together enough to feel a slight quiver from the pressure. From the smirk, Kaiba could have been feigning a fearlessness, but when it sunk into a snarl, Bakura recognized his tone for what it was.

"Don't play games with me," the sitting figure warned. "Mokuba? No. If you were, you'd have said something by now. What was that sound? Did you take care of whatever that was sneaking in here? What did you do? Who are you?"

Questions. Ones he was not sure how to answer to ensure everyone's safety. Yet another thing…he had heard what his Ka had done and knew that something other than he had been in here, "sneaking" as he put it.

"Aren't you supposed to say, don't talk to me?" he tried, hoping that would be the end of it.

Kaiba's frown somehow deepened. "Someone prone to terrible jokes, then?"

"No one of consequence," Bakura breathed in response, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible.

"But you speak in a dialect I'm very familiar with," came a biting retort. "I'd say that is somewhat important. Yugi? The others would be too loud."

Should he say yes, or no? Bakura considered another option: backing away. He had only intended on helping everyone by saving Kaiba from whatever that thing he had killed was. Or something to that effect. There was a chance it still "lived". He shook as he looked down at the crumpled mass and reached his hand out to touch it. If it was not dead…

"No. Yugi would have responded by now."

And with that, inaction became an answer. Near invisible fingers in the darkness hovered over the intruder and without even touching it, Bakura knew it was incorporeal. Also, not as "dead" as he would have liked.

"Why are these things following you?" Bakura whispered, truly baffled by what lay before him, and what it all meant.

"Your guess is as good as mine, trespasser. I can't see, if you couldn't tell."

"But you know they've been here?"

A sigh echoed through the room. Feeling around again, Kaiba propped himself up against a cooler set behind him and shook his head in disgust.

"Glass behind me," he noted. "I need to forget that. There was no glass last time."

"Is it that bad?" Bakura wondered aloud and the question was received by a sardonic snort.

"You've been made aware of my situation, then. You must be important. You must be with them." Kaiba's head lurched forward into his propped-up hand, and even without seeing any more of his expression, Bakura knew he was deep in thought. "I'll need to stop asking these kinds of questions, then. Okay, person of no consequence, I'll humor you with a few answers. It's clear I'm bored enough to. I know they've been there, yes. They also leave just as quickly."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Recently."

"How recent?"

"What day is it?"

The question was asked with such a helping of sarcasm that Bakura almost forgot himself, nearly laughing aloud. Of course. "Recent" would be the only way he would be able to tell the passage of time. No one was hinting at what was day or night. Empathy filled him once more.

"Have they ever gotten near you?" Bakura continued. "Touched you?"

"Touched me?" Another snicker of humorless mirth. "No. I don't know why, but that's usually as close as they get."

"How would you know how close…" The smell of something akin to electricity doused the air like a battery perfume. The man before him sat still, unresponsive to the change, as if he did not smell or sense the cooling of the air around him. Bakura's eyes flickered up at an unnatural shift, a gliding movement above Kaiba's head. His mouth slid open, agape in sheer fascinated confusion. The room lay awash in a dim light, although the stunned man assessed that it would have been far brighter had the manifestation not been so weak. Bakura stood from his crouched position and marveled at a thing so ethereal, yet so cramped, that had filled the back end of the building, its berth somehow alerting no one outside.

"Kaiba…"

"I suppose I get lucky, I guess." Kaiba's illuminated face twisted in a wry smile. "Although, I've never been one to believe in surviving on luck."

"…you are so dense."

The familiar and disrespectful tone he took made Kaiba pause. A hand raised to his blindfold, trembled there, and fell back into his lap. He appeared at that moment as useless as the weight he was for the group that carried him. Then his hand raised again and touched the side of his covered neck. Then cradled his forehead—as he let out a shaky sigh of someone struggling to recall something important.

The beautiful soul-bound creature before them let out a brief snort before lowering its head to make a meal of sorts on the shadowed thing at Bakura's feet. The young man blinked; somewhat amused that he did not know such a thing possible. He glanced back up to his Ka, which hovered just beside him in a passive stance of defense. Its posture mirrored his thoughts; captivated, but cautious.

"Did you hear that?" Bakura asked, still in a whisper, but standing fully now in the lighted room. The protective creature eyed him and his own hovering entity with its discerning blue gaze, the act a silent warning in case he foolishly decided anything rash.

"Hear what?" Kaiba grumbled from his position. "That attitude? There are only a few people who would dare talk to me like that. This was a mistake. I think it best you leave, before I figure out who you are. For your sake." The disgust spat with the last three words made it clear that Kaiba wanted to say anything other than that.

"I'm no one of consequence," Bakura repeated, smiling to himself without realizing it. His mind whirled with excitement and ideas that could come to pass even as he felt the sinking notion that things were going to get worse. He pushed the negative thoughts aside like the clutter they were. Time to save his regret for the future. Necessity to take an active stance to change all their unfair fates took precedence. "But I am also someone who knows people who might be able to give you your life back."

"Don't be ridiculous." Kaiba's agitation held a tinge of hope, and Bakura intended to capitalize on it. Before, they had been separated by positions of power and opposing ideals to ensure the safety of those they defended. They had been so weak, so foolish to be at each other's throats at such an important time. Now, they met each other as equals, whether Kaiba would ever admit it or not. And this time, Bakura had something more to offer, something that could possibly ease the transition of rejoining the two parties. They needed safety, belonging, and someone they trusted who was not afraid to speak their mind. That was only possible if…

They just needed something…more…to fight back.

"In the end, it doesn't matter, does it? Does he look through your eyes every day? No," he quietly called, answering his own question. "He doesn't need to." The familiar thing hovering above them jerked forward in a warning, but Bakura stepped toward Kaiba's seated form anyway. Kneeling, he touched either side of Kaiba's head, felt the man tense as he resisted tearing away from his cool fingertips, and tilted his head up. He could feel the sweat already beading on Kaiba's skin, soaking into the edges of his short brown hair, and knew without much hindsight what he feared most. That they had finally been captured, and that all had been for naught. A worry that struck Bakura as funny as the idea of him ever being in charge. His fingers looped under the blindfold. It was time to awaken the heavy hitters. That was what he knew he could do. "You don't need to be blind any longer, to anything. Wake up, Kaiba-kun."

With the man's blue eyes tilted to the ceiling, Bakura flipped the cloth away from Kaiba's vision. At first, the eyes remained stubbornly shut and Bakura coaxed him, saying, "I'll put the damned thing back on for you until we reach the safe place, but for the love of all of the gods that ever were, are, and could be, look."

And he did. With that first, necessary, glance, the man's face flew through a gamut of reactions and emotions. Disbelief. Shock. Anger. Sadness. A deep depressive longing. Finally, a look of acceptance and faltering joy.

Bakura felt like it was the first time he had ever seen Kaiba cry. Silent tears slid down his face as he faced the beauty of a thing he had only seen in holograms. Even as grand as he had insisted they be made, it could not hold a candle to the entity before him. His arm reached up to touch the figure, and his fingers brushed against its mirror-like hide before it blinked out of existence, leaving them back in the dark. There they were, alone; Bakura's own Ka dissipated since the initial danger had passed and its host remained too weak at present to hold it much longer without causing damage to the soul. Bakura slid the blindfold back over the other man's eyes, aware that the other man's doggedness had a point. Until they reached safety, this method remained the best. He might not be looking, or learning, now—Kaiba had been too lucid for that—but better to be safe than sorry.

"You're among those like you," Bakura said, softly, soothingly. "I appreciate what you did for him, you know."

"D?" A question, that also acted as a response. Ah, it seemed he had finally figured it out.

"Maybe," Bakura replied with a wry grin, aware of the dangerous game he played. Once again, he forced the feelings of guilt away to save for a later time. There had to be a change somewhere. Since he was here, now, might as well make the best of it. "But even you knew back then the boy's a beacon for him to follow, isn't it?"

"Then why—?"

"Because we all have the same want. To live our lives, to put things back to normal. To get back at the one who did this…" Bakura toyed with the fabric resting around Kaiba's that hid his shame. The cold tile felt hard and unforgiving under his knees as he spoke, but Bakura still did not rise, not wanting to be interrupted by the lone guard. They would all come to know this conversation came to pass, one way or another. Right now, it was simply important to have it. "I'm hoping you learned something right now, Kaiba. I'm hoping Yugi-kun can pull it together, too. We don't have much time, not with unexplainable things like what just attacked you coming out of the woodworks."

"What was it?" Kaiba asked, deferring to Bakura's knowledge for once.

"I'm not sure," Bakura confessed. "Supernatural, obviously. I could feel it, but I couldn't get a hold on it with my own hands."

"But I'm sure it would have been able to do so with us."

"More than likely. Perhaps there's something to the rumors and superstitions of this land –there was nothing familiar feeling about them—but I don't know anything about what it could have been. I never read anything on this place and wouldn't know where to start. I'll have to ask my people."

"Your people?"

"The people I'm with," Bakura answered, trying to keep the information as vague as possible. "Well, they could be our people, but no one has really made the greatest impression here. If there's one thing I can say about you with full respect, you knew—know—how to get people to do what you want."

Kaiba cocked his head and Bakura watched a slow grin spread across his face. "For all your blundering before, you seem to grasp tact now."

"I know I've made my mistakes."

"Hm. Maybe I also made one."

Bakura blinked in surprise at the response. Kaiba nodded at the silence, pushing the hands still by his neck aside. Those long fingers tugged at the fabric; the nails still immaculate. A sign of Mokuba's great care for his brother. Underneath, the smallest of pinpricks still remained.

"These things itch like hell," Kaiba muttered. "The concept of an anti-coagulant isn't new to me, but scientifically there has to be another reason for a faulty healing process, right?"

"I think it's a little bit of both," Bakura offered. "Science and mysticism."

Kaiba's thin lips pursed at the thought. "Bearing that in mind, how long do you think I'd last if he didn't so call 'turn' me?"

"It depends on which myths hold real substance, but you aren't a real thrall yet or anything."

"Aren't I just thankful for that."

"Beats being one, or dead?"

"Hmph. Must mean he had some type of plan for me," Kaiba continued, rubbing at the wounds. "At worst, I suppose, was this. Keeping an eye on me. At best, he would have been able to see…but why destroy it? And why, out of anyone else, choose me for such nonsense?"

"I can't fathom half of the things that man tends to think." 'I just piss him off, occasionally,' Bakura added internally.

"Regardless of that fact, why do you think I can do," he waved his arms in a grand motion at the empty air above him. "That?"

"You had ties to the past, didn't you?" A priest, Bakura thought, knowing it was true, but who had told him? Yugi? Malik? He could not recall and thinking on Malik made him—

"I thought Yugi said that was all over," Kaiba said, interjecting his thoughts without meaning to. Before Bakura could respond, the man added as he wrapped his neck to shield it from the world, "Although, whether or not it was, it isn't now. And I'm sure with your reappearance it's supposed to 'mean' something. If it is, it's time to take charge."

A twitch of amusement flickered on Bakura's lips. "You going to go out there and demand something changes?"

"No. Don't be stupid. You obviously know more about this than you let on, so when we're in whatever safe place you deem you have available, you teach me about it."

It was a wise choice. One he had already thought of. Having more awake to their latent abilities would protect the rest. Still, Bakura did not easily bow to demands he did not initially offer himself up for; at least, not anymore. "What do I receive in return?"

"My gratitude," Kaiba replied almost playfully. "Really? I hope you don't take me for a fool. While we are traveling, I want you to come back to me. I don't care if you have to come by sneaking in, or whatever means. I'm appreciative of their safety precautions but now isn't the time if what you mentioned off-handedly is true. You know as well as I do, I had these people working together even when they all hated each other. Was it the perfect scenario? No. But working together is better than becoming a fragmented mess. Mokuba might not be telling me anything but why else would he sound so stressed? Yugi's an easy one to maneuver, you two were close, right? With him, most follow, if he'd open his mouth and tell them what to do. The others—any new people—they'll be your biggest problem. I'll teach you how to get everyone on board if they aren't already for whatever stupid project you have that will give us our 'lives back'."

"Is it stupid if it works?" Bakura questioned, affronted.

"No. But it hasn't been proven yet," Kaiba chuckled softly, the sound almost a wheeze in their forced quiet. "I'm surprised you didn't mention anything about how I spoke of Yugi."

"He could lead—"

"If he wanted to," Kaiba replied, nodding. "But I think it's clear what he wants to lead."

"A normal life."

"Exactly. He's a natural-born leader, and a worthy rival, but he has little aspirations for more than that." A harsh wind passed through his lips, agitating the dust particles before him as much as his own words troubled him. "I find that obnoxious—Also, you didn't mention he could do what I just did, either. Which I find odd; I would have expected someone who had actual ties to all of that talk of magic to have it before someone as skeptical as myself, but it is an interesting turn of events, nonetheless."

Bakura opened his mouth and closed it just as quickly. 'He picks up on a lot with so little to go on,' Bakura reminded himself, 'Be careful with words. For his safety.' Now he understood why the younger sibling was so adamant about not allowing anyone new near him. Mokuba probably struggled relaying anything to him without Kaiba unintentionally figuring something out. The proof was in how confidently he spoke about a situation he should know nothing about. Under normal circumstances, he would have agreed with such caution. But with the memory of that cryptic shadowed creature beyond his knowledge still fresh and what it meant for someone isolated and in a practical sense defenseless, Bakura felt the other man may need more… "spiritual" assistance.

"Do we have an agreement?" Kaiba asked, readjusting his strange nest of sheets for maximum comfort, which would hopefully be supplanted by the next day.

Bakura weighed the benefits, recognized the dangers. He wondered why he did not ask why Mokuba was not in charge but figured it a question for a different time. For now, he had to think on what best might protect those who he would protect first. Letting out a deep breath he had not realized he had been holding, he realized any other answer would have worked against him and his plans.

"Yes."

"Then here's who you're really going to have to convince. Word it like this—"

Kaiba's suggestions faded like a distant conversation and once again his blurred vision refocused on the midmorning sky, his celebrating charges wrapped up in his arms. Their small, warm faces pressed against each shoulder just as he pressed his wetted cheek against the tops of their heads. He was happy to see he could trust his instincts, but happier still to have the children unharmed and physically present before him.

Finding Zoe and Graham on their way back had been a plus. Better first that they hear, rather than see, the demolished pieces of their work. Simon had taken the lead on that discussion, which Bakura had been grateful. He already had so much to explain and wanted time to be able to condense it without losing important content. None had been happy to hear him demand that they wait until they arrived at the new location for a proper introduction and update, but he was already so tired of repeating himself.

Glancing at the porch, he also felt a great pang of empathy for Mai, whose expression must have mirrored his own when he had first seen his once-lost friend (although thankfully, not in the throes of deoxygenated agony). Trying to move on when the past still clung to a person was a rough thing to handle. He raised one hand for a moment to wave awkwardly at her and watched her feeble wave back. Then he steeled himself for releasing Claire and D, and for the questions that would come from everywhere at once.

And hiding Kaiba from it all took quite some time.

In order to wrap up the painful realization they would be starting from scratch machinery-wise, Graham and his group agreed to stay another night with their new companions. It gave them time to mourn the loss of years of work and while also allowing them to motivate themselves with the realization that they were one step closer people-wise. In addition, this gave the new additions time to acclimate to the changes that binding two vastly different groups together would make, especially with the second group being a new fusion themselves. The circle of tents may have looked impressive to any new passersby; a small community appeared to have popped up out of thin air, encircling what once had been a sturdy farmhouse as if protecting the rattled structure.

In one larger, impeccably maintained, tent near the rear of the camp, the sound of loud snoring filled the air. Claire sept soundly within—her form akimbo, already half-wriggled out of her multicolor sleeping bag. Mai rested just beside her, the excitement of the day, release of bottled up anxieties, and happy reunions having drained her of her energy. The next morning would have her ready for anything, but the shock acted as the best sleep aid that night. A spell that swept up the whole camp. The feeling of doom was present, but distant; as if the things at the edges of their encampment feared of coming any nearer. For once in a long while, everyone would be at peace and sleep throughout the night in its entire.

Except for two individuals.

"Bakura?" D called quietly; his hands clasped in a similar fashion as when he had first met the man. Even though he had been left on a sleepless duty, Bakura offered the anxious looking boy a warm smile, and motioned for him to come closer. The night's breeze enveloped them with the scent of dust and dried grass as D took his place beside the man facing the unused farmland, his composed nature the actual key in recognizing his discomfort. The calm and uncaring stare into the distance watched as shadows played at the edges—never coming closer than the windbreaker trees in the distance.

"What's up?" The sweet and somehow roughly lyrical voice of Bakura made the boy's shoulders tensed in their correct posture drop a little, enough for the man who knew him to notice.

"I know you're busy, but may I stay here with you for a while? Please?"

"Is everything okay?" Bakura asked, pivoting slightly. A pebble under his foot crunched loudly into the dirt and he lifted it away in surprise at the sound. A nervous smile crept on D's face; for all his reflexive improvements, Bakura still remained somewhat clumsy. A clumsiness that could have killed him; the boy did not need the full tale to be told for him to realize all his fears had almost come to pass. His smile faded.

"I…"

"What?"

D sidled closer to Bakura and took ahold of his hand. The young man offered a comforting squeeze which D tried returning but offered a little too much force; Bakura's knuckles provided a painful sounding crack. Instead of hissing in pre-observed pain and snatching it away, Bakura held on while detecting the boy's apprehensive tics. D wished he could express his roiling emotions in words without sounding childish and without causing further guilt in a man he already knew felt a great deal of it. A strange hell to reside in—wishing to behave like an adult for the comfort of others and longing to remain a child for just a bit longer.

"Everything is going to be okay," Bakura soothed before turning his eyes back to the movement that interested him.

"When?"

"Soon."

The boy sat in silence again before resigning himself to their position. He wondered why the things that lay in hiding did not come closer and felt that the reason had something to do with him. Without experimentation, he would not know, but even he wished for a dull day to come upon them again. He felt his internal clock ticking the time away, and knew it was absurdly late to be awake since they had moved to day traveling again. "May I stay a little longer?" D requested, letting his discerning gaze travel to view the other's expression.

Bakura surprised him by sitting in a dusty patch of land and dragging the boy down to sit beside him. He pulled his head against his chest and began rocking back and forth, humming a tune that soothed the boy in some subconscious way he initially could not quite put a finger on. As he found himself drifting off, D wondered with a comforted wonder as to how Bakura knew what song his mother hummed to him at times. Thinking back, he had never once mentioned it.

It was not any ancient tune or anything, but just as "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" brought a safety blanket of relief and feelings of peace for some, such was this song for this self-proclaimed "strange" child. So what if it was just a song that had played when his mother ran the streets of her hometown, uncaring and unworried of what her future would bring? She had taken its jaunty but melancholic tune and fashioned it as a comfort song for the two of them, hazy as the memory was.

To hear such a melody that once came from someone so beloved on the lips of another just as special, coincidence or not, gladdened his heart and returned a calm he had been searching for. He hummed along with the man, slipping into an unforced sleep as his mind followed the tune and paired it to its words…

"Happiness lies beyond the clouds…happiness lies up above the sky…"

And for now—the boy hoping fortune smiled upon him for a little longer—he did not have to walk alone.

Yet.