By The Book

By Snare-chan

Pairings: None
Ratings: K+
Category(ies): General
Warning(s): None
Status: Continuation, 1/2
Summary: A story about where Demyx lives, and how it can be a bit crazy, sometimes.

Notes: Written for an anniversary with my longtime friend, Cassandra Cassidy, who wanted Demyx-fic. :B I'm really impressed with this story, looking back on it. I've had the idea for over a year and a half now, and finished writing it two weeks prior to Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days being released in the US. Knowing what I know now, there was very little that needed to be altered. GO ME.

Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts; wish I did like everybody else. They should put KH in stock, then I'd buy it all!

Returning to The Castle That Never Was was the closest thing Demyx could relate to returning 'home.' Of course, it wasn't home – it didn't smell, look, sound, or even feel like a home – but when he went on an assignment off-site, the idea of going back wasn't so bad.

The others might claim that, what with no alternative existing, it wasn't a wonder that he didn't mind. None of them did, because no one had considered just leaving to see what options were available. But it wasn't completely awful; there was little maintenance – minor cleaning, zero need for security – and it was theirs, a place exactly like them.

Then again, sometimes there were unpleasant surprises. Demyx was encountering one that very minute. He'd exited the dark corridor in the foyer of the castle and, for no apparent reason, there was a book in the middle of the floor. It was sitting innocently there, cover closed and face down (or so he assumed, since the end facing up was blank).

Calling his musical weapon, the blue sitar that had yet to fail him, and clutching it protectively to his chest, he took one purposeful step towards the item. When the novel didn't snap at him, he took another. Heel to toe, heel to toe, he slowly closed the distance until he was an inch away and towering over the volume.

Unsure what to do next, he spent a solid five minutes fidgeting, working his bottom lip and thinking on it from different angles. At last, he determined a tentative course of action: he nudged it with his boot. As soon as he made contact, Demyx jumped back and his fingers instinctively went to their proper places on the sitar strings, but the defensive position was uncalled for. The novel had budged due to his actions and not under its own willpower, and he took that as an okay sign.

Approaching it again, he squatted and let his fingers brush the outside material, using his pointer to hook under and flip it over to examine it. He was pleased to see a title on its hard, navy blue surface. In elaborate, gold-leaf font were the words The Jungle Book, which on further speculation didn't really tell him much.

Opening it, he found 'Property of The Organization Library' written on the inside in delicate and precise handwriting, with the Nobody logo stamped beside it. He couldn't identify the owner of the book by that alone, presuming someone had laid claim to it, because he didn't recognize the style of script. He only knew it wasn't his, since he'd never seen it before.

Curious still, he turned to the first page of the story, the block of text that greeted him sucking him in – literally. As soon as his fingers touched the book and his eyes made contact, it issued a bright light and temporarily made him lose sight. When he could see again, he was inexplicably standing in a forest, who-knew-how-deep in wet flora and mosquitoes.

Two thoughts filtered through his consciousness then, the first about his immediate predicament, which went a little something like, 'Alright, this is weird.' The next, while not as demanding, was most worrisome of all, and that was, 'The Superior is going to butcher me if I'm not back before dinner.'

Looking around for clues, he didn't find any worth noting, and he decided to take up his sitar again and go exploring. Not like he could end up more lost than he already was.

Demyx was definitely, unquestionably, absolutely, without a doubt, positively, undeniably, certainly, totally, utterly, extremely, one-hundred percent more lost than he had been to begin with.

Spreading both arms out in his path, he shoved vines and branches aside and looked suspiciously from left to right. He wanted to make sure that the path was clear of indecisive buzzards, imitating orangutans or monkeys, and marching elephants. He'd had run-ins with such creatures and he now understood why wild animals were not permitted in The Castle That Never Was.

Carefully making his way through the foliage, none of which he recognized, he progressed deeper through the jungle. Marluxia might have enjoyed the scenery and stayed to identify the local plant life, but Demyx was too uncomfortable to care. He didn't mind the rain so much as the humidity, which was high, but the insects that were overly active in these parts were persistent. He'd pulled his hood up in an attempt to protect his neck from becoming a buffet.

He really, really wanted to go home. He'd tried teleporting, but not a single passage to the Corridor of Darkness would respond to his summons. His options were now: walk until he dropped in hopes of stumbling across an exit (not that he realized what an exit would look like) or wait for someone to notice he was missing, miraculously find the book he was in, assume he was stuck in it, and come retrieve him.

It was easy to figure out which choice he picked.

Pushing a large branch away, he took one step and walked face-first into a python. It flicked out its tongue, the tip of it nearly brushing his nose, and Demyx promptly screamed. The Nobody didn't even like water serpents, and that was saying something. He could appreciate them, but he didn't like them.

The snake let out a yell, too, and startled backwards in such a way that it's upper half smacked into a tree. Demyx did the same, although his was intentional – he flattened his body against the trunk, hands splayed and making a good attempt to become one with it.

"My, you're a jumpy fellow," the snake hissed, voice slurred.

"More talking animals…why did it have to be more talking animals…?" he whimpered.

"How rude!" the reptile baulked. "You're the unusssual talker, here. I don't even know what you are. You look like a man, but sssmell off."

Something poked into his shoulder, like an examining prod, and when he looked to see what it was, it turned out to be the tip of the other's tail.

"I'm, well…it's complicated."

"I'm lissstening."

"I'm a Nobody, but you can call me Number IX, I guess."

"Sssounds, mm, tasssty. Never had one of you before," the python said, the words causing Demyx to look up in alarm. He caught sight of multi-colored, swirling orbs that served as the other's own eyes, and they were focused intently on him.

"Yesss, that'sss it. Look deep into my eyesss."

Whatever the animal was trying to accomplish, the trick wasn't working. That, or it hadn't kicked in yet. In either case, he was not sticking around to find out the results. Bidding his sitar into his hands, he struck a sour note, dew and muddy water conjoining to create a sloppy spout that drenched the reptile, breaking its concentration.

Then he broke into a run, reaching speeds he'd never achieved in his non-life, and nimbly leapt over fallen logs, raising his arms to protect his face as he ran right through the jungle. The sounds of a body gliding overhead could be made out over the sounds of his panting and frantic footsteps, and more than once he felt a slender, muscled form make a grab for his middle.

"I taste awful; you don't want to eat me!" he wailed. "I'm all bones and skin, barely any meat on me, and I'll give you food poisoning!"

"A risssk I'm willing to take," the voice of the snake glibly informed him.

Spotting an opening up ahead, Demyx darted for it, and consequently, headlong into Zexion. The clearing he'd expected was in fact a way back to Organization headquarters, and having been in the middle of a jump, he ended up barreling right towards Number VI. Not missing a beat, though, the shorter Nobody spread his arms wide and caught him, holding him bridal style.

"Nice catch," Demyx complimented, unable to suppress his awe.

"Hn," Zexion noted, possibly in thanks, but what he said was, "You're late for the Superior's meeting."

A blue blur trembled in Demyx's peripheral vision, and he craned his neck to see the novel that had trapped him skittering around in place, as if something was trying to escape. Zexion noticed it, too.

Pointing a wavering finger at it, Demyx yelled, "Bad literature! Get rid of it, get rid of it, get rid of it!"

Unlatching his arms from around the other's neck, he scrambled to hide behind his better – no easy accomplishment, due to their slight height difference. As soon as he was positioned out of the way, the volume slithered closer before bursting open, a snake made of black text and aged pages diving towards them. Its mouth was gaping open and it had the crazy eyes of the python.

Not batting an eye, Zexion raised a gloved hand – palm flat– and it stopped a breath away from his outstretched arm. Number VI tapped into his power, a glow overtaking him as he floated a couple inches off the floor, Demyx continuing to cling to his jacket, though not hard enough to pull him down. With a sweep of his hand, the paper reptile circled around them and broke apart, coming undone page-by-page, and after the other made a fist, the pages fluttered and disappeared back into the book. It snapped shut and drifted over to land in Zexion's waiting hands, at the same time as he returned to the floor.

"I'd wondered where this went off to," he murmured absentmindedly, turning the book over in his hands.

"It's yours, then?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said, and then promptly smacked Demyx in the arm with it, glowering at him. "What have we explicitly told you about touching strange and unusual objects?"

He winced, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit, and said, "…Uh, not to?"

"And what did you do?"

"I touched it…but I thought it was okay! I kicked it first and it didn't do anything. How was I supposed to know it was going to have me for dinner? Why do you even have that crazy thing?"

"Research," Zexion answered, in a tone of voice that added 'as if there would be any other reason.'

Demyx couldn't help but sulk at the response, pointing out, "That's what you higher-ups are always using as an excuse."

"Because it is fact, not fiction," Number VI said, and thankfully appeared to have calmed. Demyx admired that about the other Nobody – he could be impeccably patient with people, explaining things in great detail without getting bored. It was rare to see him frustrated, but rarer still that he held onto it. He wished he could be that cool and collected, sometimes.

"Now come, we are late enough as it is. We must hurry."

Nodding his head, he kept a pace that matched the other's. As a thought occurred to him, he hunched his shoulders and wrung his hands, nervously asking, "Do you think the Superior is going to be mad about me not showing up on time? What if I explain to him about the book?"

Zexion mulled it over, glancing at the novel in his hands, but instead of answering him right away, he asked him, "Depends. Were you able to convert Shere Khan into a Heartless?"

"…Who's Shere Khan?"

"You're busted," he confirmed.

"Come oooon, this wasn't even my fault! Can't you put in a good word for me?"

Zexion gave him a dull stare at the mere suggestion and kept walking.

"What if I wrote you a song?"

"No."

"Helped with your experiments?"

"No."

"Told you where Luxord hides all his winnings?"

"…Why do you even know that?"

"My Dancers can find anything!" he stated, proud and matter-of-fact.

"Anything?" Number VI repeated, finally ceasing in his parade to regard him seriously. He folded his arms over his chest and gave him his full attention.

"Sure can! They're not as awesome as Xigbar's Snipers, but they think a challenge is fun…until they get bored. They can be sort of flighty."

"Then maybe you and your followers can help me. I intend to organize my book collection, but have had to put it off, and matters are getting out of control, as you can imagine," he said, indicating The Jungle Book. "If you help me do it, I'll see what I can do to excuse your undue absence."

"Absolutely!" he agreed, so excited at the prospect that he hugged the other tightly and picked him up. "How much is there, anyway?"

"I've documented over one hundred and seven literature-based artifacts of known interest. There are more in the castle's library. We start tomorrow," he informed, nonchalant.

Demyx's mouth hung open in despair and he let the shorter Nobody drop from his hold.

"But…that's… Are there at least no more like the one you have in your hand?"

"Nonsense," Zexion said, dashing the other's optimism a moment later by elaborating, "There are worse ones."

For the first time, Demyx wondered why he'd come back home at all, not sure he wanted to live in a funhouse any longer.

To Be Continued…