Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

Once again, thank you all for your patience. You know how irl things go.

Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter Sixty-Five: Preparation Part 2

Days flew by after that eventful night, each one full of new vigor that followed parallel to the thawing of winter. In an unexpected interruption of the duties that they had grown familiar with, Marta decided to surprise them all by showing her visitors how to prepare for a festival that she said she had not had the chance to practice for six years. Everyone was now subject to the lessons Claire had struggled with so, creating what the older woman called Martenitsi that they would offer to each other for good luck, amongst other things. After demonstrating her example, she pulled Amami's gift from her jumbled pile of belongings in her little alcove within the cave and requested the girl use it for one of the red bands that would be paired with the white. The girl gladly complied and was all too happy to return it as a completed present to the woman she considered a friend. In fact, the woman received a token of thanks from everyone in the cave in this fashion, thus gathering the most (if there were to be a competition) even as they all created more bracelets and doll figures for each other.

In other daily lulls, D and Bakura reviewed the written, sketched, and underlined work hidden amongst the little tales they occasionally read and reread to the party on particularly uneventful nights that seemed not to be just from the woman, but perhaps her husband, if the different pen weight and writing style spoke as much. Once cracked, the code presented coordinates and unique phrases that had to be deciphered to know what they represented. A possible settlement to stop at here, a cache rumored to be there, and all of it seeming to show that whoever did this thought highly of whoever these notes were meant for. The hints were not easy to puzzle out.

Bakura found himself mulling over a few of these messages late one afternoon, petting one of his needier wolf companions in an absentminded gesture while chewing on the thumbnail of his other hand. They had figured these ones out with ease, and it had not troubled the boy in the least to read, but one benign statement stuck as a barb in the tangles of Bakura's mind. And when your travels are through, feel free to return home…the thought made him shake even though the cold had dissipated into a mild but pleasant day.

He had thought little on Simon or the others that they had left throughout the duration of their stay, aside from the one hiccup that the woman had inspired. Yet the former's words began to sting, having left a belated wound now felt full force with the adrenaline finally gone from his system. It was not so much the man himself that left such disquiet, Bakura noted with bitter recognition, but the offer, and the sad stares of Graham and Zoe, and all of those that they had gotten somewhat close to and left behind. Was he wrong? Was this a mistake? Could he have ignored the calling of his despised fate, and made a safer life elsewhere?

No, his mind beat at him, it was impossible; but still he wondered—and in wondering questioned himself to the point of tears.

"What is this?" Marta probed, her usual bluntness alight in her cadence. Today, it seemed, she had chosen to wander the same path to the nearby still-water pool—useless for any of their purposes, but beautiful regardless. Her footfalls ejected one of the loosely held pebbles the mud surrounding it contained, and it plopped into the water with as sad little plunk to mirror the man's mood. Bakura watched it with void, red-rimmed eyes. The moss that grew on the submerged stones swayed in time with the minute current of the water, orange sunlight glinting like crystals along the new ripples.

"Maybe," his voice squeaked in his attempt to keep it still. He cleared his throat and tried again; his head hung low. "Maybe Simon was right, and I should just give up. I'm placing everyone in so much danger by moving forward. It isn't anyone's fight but mine—and maybe Yugi's—but mostly mine. But I…they…I…"

"Do you wish to stay?" Marta asked, dropping the usual uncompromising heat from her voice. She flopped a blanket beside him on the jutting rockface that he had designed as his seat and moved to block his view of the pond with her serious expression. The wolf decided at this time to lope away, following the quick call of one of its brethren.

The man did not respond, nor even blinked as she waved her hand in front of his face. So, she tried again with other questions. "Would leaving them here bring you any peace? Them any peace? Or would giving up your goal to remain here with everyone be your true happiness? Are you letting someone from your past—whoever this Simon is—have so much sway because they were right, or out of guilt?"

When Bakura only dejectedly shrugged his shoulders even her serious expression fell. She placed her hands behind his head and without so much as a warning, guided it to her chest, holding him close like a forlorn child who needed his mother. One arm held him there, while her other hand rubbed his back, much like he would have done for D or Claire, or any of the other children. She hummed a song he did not recognize but had no interest in interrupting. He just let her guide him side to side in a rocking motion of her own design.

"Hiding from the world is not the answer, boy," she said, now stroking Bakura's hair as he lay against her breast, listening to the sound of her heartbeat. It was a strange position he had never thought to be placed in, but soothing, nonetheless. "Although, hiding in plain sight from your enemy may be necessary for a time. I have faith you're clever enough for that."

"But they are—" he protested, attempting to lift his head only to have her press it back down with a vicelike grip.

"They are growing, and learning, much like you," she reasoned. "Every so often the world does something strange and we all must live with the consequences, regardless of who is at fault or how we came by it. And from what you have said, there is little you could do to stop this from happening. At least you are all together, words that you yourself have uttered, and the world did not decide you all would fall to a fate worse than what you face now. So many of them could have perished before arriving to my home. You could have died at any moment, as well.

"While it saddens me to see you feel so low, it does not surprise me. You came to me with such conviction, but I doubt you ever had much time to properly consider your place within this greater scheme. I cannot pretend to understand what it is you are going through, just that it is related to magic, has much to do with the child's father, and that you would have been willing to damn yourself to freezing to death just this last winter for whatever called you away. Now that you have tasted peace, questioning yourself would only be natural. But that is not your path."

"It is guilt," Bakura admitted finally.

"We can never be perfect," Marta said, cutting in before he could elaborate, and he could feel her smile as she planted a kiss on the top of his head. "But we can try to do right. There is never a perfect place, but we can make the best of a sorry situation. We can only appreciate and enjoy what we have, and we ought to, with the moments we can share together. Don't feel bad for leaving—just be ready when you do."

"I'll try," he said, finally able to move away to wipe his eyes.

"That is all we can do," she said, pinching his cheek. "So, let us enjoy the rest of this day. Spring seems to be blessing us early, thank goodness. I was one minute away from turning my back on the outside until it was properly contrite for being so cold."

Bakura could not help but laugh at that.

More time passed for the cave's occupants to the point they were hanging the remains of their gifts from the nearby tree that Marta designated as the month wore into somewhat warmer weather. Worn and well-loved, the red and white colored the tree with a brightness only matched by the blossoming beginnings of a proper spring. By this point, neither the children nor the adults flinched at the wolf pack that trotted by on occasion for an extra meal if needed, or if called for some scouting mission. Likewise, did they not balk at the exhaustive work to clean and prep and set up the preliminary storage for another winter, or mind Marta's occasionally antagonistic way of sharing her knowledge. For every barb, there was an even sweeter glowing remark when they did well. As their daily patterns molded into something into new seasonal expectations, so did they all grow as individuals.

In this time Claire gained a proficiency with a handmade bow the older woman had procured from somewhere in the recesses of her belongings—now able to save her rifle work for the most serious of ventures to ration the dwindling ammunition. Amami excelled in the patient and time-consuming processes of what herbal healing remedies the woman could relay and was placed in charge of any notes that the woman would write for them to pair with the gift D had received, knowing she could not teach all she knew in their short time together. Etsu not only reached the stage in life where she could comfortably be called a child herself, but due to the village-like atmosphere of their tightly knit sphere, was able to catch up on many of the skills she had been unable to learn before due to the hectic pace of her life. She even grew a fondness for the adults rather than bland acceptance that she be shepherded around; treating them all like favored uncles as the occasional tears for her parents subsided.

As for the others, they had their own parts to play. Theo spent many of his days trying to rest his arm while also trying to make sure that it retained its mobility. He was often spotted babysitting if Etsu could not participate in a particular activity with the other children and double checking the plants that the children brought back to ensure they were edible. A peaceful look graced a once cautious and pained face, the signs of relaxation finally returning to the man, as well as the others. Albert was placed in charge of monitoring the stores of items they had while also joining Jounochi and Bakura on their expeditions. He fell easily into place in managing their general wellbeing out in the wilderness, now once more comfortably harping on the constant pair he worked with to provide accuracy in even the smallest of measurements, much to their amusement.

Jounochi, on the other hand, faired far better as their muscle. If a tree needed to be felled for wood, snow to be shoveled away before it ran the risk of falling upon the smallest of their charges, or useful remains of a successful hunt to be carried, he was their man. Although he joked that he was the resident packhorse, everyone marveled at the thoughtfulness he put into his work. Never did he return with anything spoiled by being dragged upon the ground, no matter how heavy the burden, and on plenty of occasions the children sat in awe of seeing him trudge back to their cave with large jugs filled with water from a nearby icy stream, the water sloshing at the brim, but never spilling.

Bakura acted as their tracker and guide and was the only one aside from Marta that would venture out alone save for the company of a wolf or two. After familiarizing himself with the surrounding area, he had developed a map for the others to use, from the children and their daily duties to the longer forays of his venturing group. The young man also gained proficiency in a variety of ways to take down smaller prey that had been brave enough to surface into the early spring. Sometimes he brought the children to help and hone their own hunting skills, but mostly he used this silent time to meditate on their position and the knowledge he was gaining via his dreams. This peace, Marta had mentioned to him one night, was a wonderful time for reflection, and he cherished those moments alone to wander with his thoughts as much as he cherished being with everyone.

No one grew so much as D, however, who had shot up in literal height to the point one would have assumed he was a tall thirteen rather than the eleven-year-old he currently was save for the softness still prominent in his face. He had yet to gain much in the way of the angular and striking features he would be so well-known for in the future; still, he relished in agitating one particular friend by resting his elbow atop her faded dyed hair. Sure, he still had to slightly raise his shoulder and angle it up to do so, but the message that his growth spurt was not yet finished set her face into a rage that he found hilarious. He had also learned much—along with everyone else—about sustaining the self on everything but scavenging the remnants of the world that had been before, for which not much was around regardless. Yet, he found no wonder in this. Such topics were to be expected.

He did, however, find great pleasure in speaking to his newfound spirit-friend, who was ever so supportive in helping him understand his limitations so that he could press on with things he could actively affect within that world. Things were being explained to him. Explained!

And the more the duo spoke, the expression of the Darkness changed when mentioning the creature that called itself his friend. By going through all that he knew, the otherworldly boy could be caught recalling all the positive the thing had done that he could now share with his newfound ally. Smiles for the nameless thing returned. This was all well and good for D, who felt like he edged ever closer to his two goals at the same pace. D would often grin to himself in the waking world at the idea of being useful to Bakura and how it finally seemed to be within his grasp.

By the time it came to leave their shelter and resume their journey, the world was a brilliant green and the warmth of summer was just around the corner. Their team of eight faced Marta with appreciation, and without question, love. She had grown on many as a secondary parent, or even grandparent, child and adult alike. Her graying hair was swept up into an unkempt bun, her cheeks wrinkling rounded with the great smile she beamed at them, her words of acceptance for their leaving hitting them like the praise of being slapped on the back for a perfect game. For they had finally achieved the parameters of their unique agreement: she felt they were prepared. Bakura felt a pang in his chest as he saw the tears of pride in her eyes; he felt as if they had taken more than they had given, but she refused anything further than the set up that they had all worked upon to prepare for the next wintery season.

"Please won't you reconsider?" he voiced; his throat tight. Leaving this place felt more difficult than ever before—though, if he was honest with himself, it was not so much the place they were leaving that had him feeling this way.

"You are way past your time of flight, my little fledglings," Marta teased. "But at least now you aren't in such sorry states. Honestly, I'm surprised at this display. You were all prepared to leave in the dead of winter, but now you cling like the smell of wet dog. Go. I know you have a duty to attend to, you told me as much, and you ought to find the rest of your friends."

"We do need to go, but—"

"I've told you, I'm fine here. This is my home. You need to go." She shook her head and strode over to each one of them, giving them hugs strong enough to leave their ribs sore. As she wrapped her arms around Bakura, she leaned in close and muttered, "Before you are found by those who chase you, and before that darkness eats away at you any longer, you need to go."

Bakura squeezed her to him, feeling tears fall from his cheeks. In that instant, memories of his father filled him, and he blinked back the flood that threatened—he could not recall the last time that he had been even this emotionally close to him. He did not want to lose this, did not want to leave another person he cared about behind.

"I know," his whispered voice shook, "but—"

"But nothing. You know, I know, and you have even more on your hands with that boy of yours. Watch over them all, but especially that one. He's too clever for his own good and it's yet to properly bite him in the behind, I can just tell. You are not leaving me alone and defenseless. Dare I remind you that you are the ones who needed the help, not me."

Bakura sniffed and nodded against her shoulder. Her beautifully embroidered shirt cooled his skin and smelled of a fresh wash in the stream. His mind marked this while she thumped his back a few times as if to beat out his sorrows. Then, knowing he was the one holding them up, he raised his head, wiped his eyes, and nodded to her once more.

"Be careful," the young man urged, aware that others were tearing up behind him. Hearing a soft hiccup coming from the children's direction warned him that he had to make the remainder of their goodbye short. If they did not leave soon, it would be twice as hard to leave. Moreover, there were others out there either lost or looking for them, and behind all of that was a destiny that he did not want and that he would fight against just as sure as he faced it.

"Hey," she said with a crooked grin, bopping under his chin with a curved finger, "your accent isn't half bad."

Bakura tilted his head a little in embarrassment. Then he grinned. "Thank you."

With their final waves, they had dived into the forest they knew, and away from the home that was Marta's.

After about thirty minutes of trekking and having some of the wolves follow their group in curiosity (for such a large number to be on the move was an oddity they were unaccustomed to), Bakura slowed his pace. Everyone followed suit until he came to a complete stop just before unknown territory. They faced south, toward their eventual destination, and where one set of coordinates from the decoded message suggested they stop at beforehand. Hopefully along the way they would also find their missing friends. All was going according to plan.

Yet, dissatisfaction nagged him. With a frustrated grunt, he gripped at the strap of his pack and worked to readjust its position, unable to work free the stress present in his stiffened shoulders. Unable to move forward.

"What's wrong?" Jounochi asked. He glanced back, swiping back a curtain of blonde hair from his eyes. Most of them (Bakura being the exception—he had been very careful to keep it the same length D had set it to) had not particularly worried over their hair during their stay and thus had gained a few inches in length. He looked almost like the old popular depiction of a knight aside from the period inappropriate wear.

"There's a feeling," Bakura began, gesturing in rapid succession before dropping his hands in frustration as if such actions explained it all. "Something just doesn't feel 'right'. I just…I'm not sure…Wait here." He unslung his bag and placed it at their feet, looking back the way they came. "I'm going to go get her."

"She said her goodbyes," Albert stepped in. "She won't come with us, no matter what we say. You know how she is. We should go."

"You're going to stress out the kids," Theo agreed. He motioned to the ones who now stared at them all with quirked brows.

"We're right here," Claire noted in annoyance.

"I have to offer once more," Bakura insisted, his voice rising a little, surprising even himself with its desperation. "It doesn't feel right to leave her there alone. Wait here."

"I don't think—"

"Be back soon," D said before anyone could continue the argument. "There are many things in this forest, as I'm sure you are aware." He walked to a nearby tree and slumped against it, crossing his arms, and closing his eyes. In mere moments it was clear to his allies that he was asleep, not that he looked it. Amami sighed before she busied herself with collecting small twigs and dried stuff that would be useful for future kindling. Claire looked between the two, then chose to flop down next to D and slowly read a passage from his story book to Etsu, whose distressed features in reaction to the sudden halt melted away into amusement as the older girl had to bite back her annoyance at her own reading pace. This left Jounochi, Albert, and Theo to glance amongst each other, their most solid argument against the move taking care of itself.

Bakura gave them all an apologetic wave, turned with a swift kick, and ran back the way they came.

When he finally made it back to the cavern he jerked to a sudden stop, his feet leaving long tracks in the dirt and exposing the old cement beneath it.

The cave was still there with its rusting green door, naturally difficult to see if snow obscured its tell-tale stairway or created a dangerous unseen drop if the white matter dumped across the unruly branches that had intertwined above it—a nonissue in the warmth of the spring day—but for all this familiarity something felt amiss. No, was.

A tired-looking lock hung from the aligned loops of a chain rusted beyond imagining, hanging from the middle bar in a way that denoted it had been there for years—but he had never seen it before. Bakura wrapped shaking fingers around one of the bars and licked his lips. He then let out a short whistle, leaving a familiar echo to rattle through the cave's entrance.

"Hello?" Bakura called. "Marta? Marta are you in there?" He was greeted with an unexpected silence. His brow furrowed. Had she left as well? But why? Everything she had requested and that they had made would only work as a stationary thing. He took a few tentative steps down the stairs that led into the cave, repeating his call until he reached the bottom.

At that moment a swarm of soft flying things pelted him.

Bakura yelped, diving to the ground he was familiar with, smelling the heavy scent of bats as they passed by him and out of the cave. He stayed crouched, shivering from the cool air of the cavern, hoping that the main occupants of the cave were not too cross with him for the disruption. Slightly disoriented by the lack of light and fuzzy onslaught, he waited until his knees hurt from the cold and the position he held before he stood and broke into a jog, launching himself deeper into the cave.

It was dark, but he had stumbled through the place enough during the nights where the fire had nearly burnt out to fenagle his way into their home-like chamber that made even the most ridiculous noise sound like music. His gasp became a breathy echo as he could tell, even with the lack of light, that everything that they had built, that they had made, was gone. He even stumbled over to the area where he knew their firepit had been, the one that they had used throughout the entire winter, and only found a twig probably brought in by some animal…but when?

He collected the twig and procured his flint and metal set that he had taken to keeping in his pocket. Then he felt around for anything, even animal bedding, and found something soft and hay-like in one of the corners. He quickly set the top of the twig on fire with the impromptu tinder and squinted past the light until he was certain that all they had created had gone missing. Convinced by what his little flame made visible, he looked for one other thing. The stairway leading to Marta's sleeping quarters.

If he went up those stairs, that was where Marta could always be found.

Refraining from running up the steps and risking the loss of his only light source, he walked with care, keeping the flame close to him until he reached the top.

Once, even in the dark, he had felt someone staring at him. Once, there had been a clear smell of someone living within. Piles of blankets, boxes of necessities, belongings that showed someone had made their place there. That had only been that past winter. He had been standing here only the other day, laughing at some sly remark Marta had shot his way.

Now, even with the light he had, he saw only a disused tourist area, void of any signs of life.

"Marta…" he breathed, and it rebounded off the walls, a spirit trapped within obsidian.

Bakura left the cave after that, shaking his head as he reached the entrance. The warmth of the day took the cold from his body, but his mind reeled from what he saw, or what he had not. Where had everything gone? Where had she gone?

How?

The young man blew out the remnants of flame from the twig in his hands and dropped it by the entrance. He crushed the tip underfoot, staring into the dark recesses of the opening before turning away for the last time. He then took another trail all too familiar to him and looked up in wonder as he saw the red and white remains of the chords from their bracelets fluttering in the faint wind on the branch of what the children had deemed "their tree". Bakura nodded to himself, satisfied he had not dreamed everything up, but that something strange had transpired.

"May you enjoy the rest of spring, Marta," he said, pointing a small smile to the air. "Wherever you are. I hope the next one is just as beautiful."

Questions were asked when Bakura returned alone, but he could only shake his head, unable to explain what he had seen. A rational response refused to form upon his lips. Only D took to his side without a word, holding onto his hand despite the growing lack of difference in their height making the visual awkward, and let the man guide them to their next destination. Whatever the answer was for what he had seen, Bakura did know one thing about the group he traveled with.

They were prepared.