The first thing the newly nonexistent boy saw as he opened his eyes was a blood red moon, shining all it's glorious horror down upon him.

He closed his eyes and waited for tomorrow.

- - -

He had been with the Organization for a short time now. That crimson moon still haunted his nightmares. It was a foreshadowing.

The second youngest member (Only to Zexion) of the newly forming Organization had taken to music like a fish had taken to water. And yet, none of the others were impressed.

"How did you lose your heart?" They would ask when he tried to play for them. He didn't know.

"How do you fight?" They would ask. He didn't know.

"Are you useful in the least?" They would ask. He didn't know.

"How do you feel about being incomplete?" They would ask. He still didn't know.

He simply closed his eyes and prayed that they would stop asking about his lost heart. Maybe tomorrow the haunting ache in his chest would go away. It was a lie. He still had his heart.

Tomorrow, he would wake up and be normal again.

- - -

The oddest thing had happened. After placing a few flowers for Marluxia in the scattered pots around the castle, he had gone to Lexaeus' garden to water the vegetables.

While he was sitting in the midst of the mud and water, he realized he was being watched. Standing abruptly, he discovered number III of the Organization. Such a high ranking member had never talked to him, let alone watched him.

"Uh, um, Number III, sir," the musician stammered nervously, "I was…. Umm. Just… I was…"

"It's alright, IX. I saw," the man interrupted. A flash of contemplation crossed the lancer's face, and then, what he believed to be a simple question followed.

"But why?"

Demyx was surprised. Where were the prying questions about his existence? Where were the inhumane stares? Where were the constant reminders of his own abnormalities? Glancing to the ground, a faint whisper of, "Why…?" escaped his lips as he thought. Why did he go through the trouble of continuing on things that were best left to wither? Why did he dust the library, even though Vexen would never return? Why did he smile while watching a lightning storm? Why did he buy puzzle books whenever he found them? Why? It was not a simple question.

An answer came to the boy. It was because his heart was telling him to.

"Why?" He repeated, looking back to the lancer. He felt confident and strong in his answer. The thrill of believing in his heart covered the dull ache of nothingness in his chest to the point of him not even realizing it was there. He could almost feel the beating.

"Because it seemed to mean so much to Lexaeus. He put his very heart into it. When he left, I didn't want all his work to be for nothing. So, I've been taking care of it." He stood confidently before number III.

The lancer looked doubtful, yet there seemed nothing he could do to argue.

"But, he's gone…" Number III's reply was weak. Demyx knew that he knew it too.

IX smiled. A victory for the heart, if you will. But knowing that his superior would be vexed for a time with the problem that the musician presented, he left him with an answer.

"You could say it's my way of honoring the man."

Xaldin seemed to digest this and excused himself. The fact that the man had questioned him proved the existence of his heart, Demyx believed. The Melodious Nocturne sighed, whispering after the lancer, "Maybe tomorrow you'll understand."

- - -

The newly forming Kingdom Hearts looked strangely like that first ominous moon he saw. It seemed to scream tragedy was in the near future. He felt as if he had to warm someone.

Tomorrow, he would.

- - -

Demyx had received his orders.

All that was said to him was a simple, "Get rid of the Keyblade's Chosen." Then, he had been dismissed.

Wandering the streets of their Dark City, he couldn't help but think this would be the last time he would ever see it. With a sigh, he summoned a portal to leave. But a familiar voice stopped his departure.

"Demyx!" The red-head called. The musician turned to regard him.

"It's a suicide mission. You do know that, right?"

Demyx smiled, "I wouldn't be so sure. All I have to do is defeat the keyblade master, right? Doesn't sound hard. He only beat me before because I was just playing around." He waved his hand in the air, as if to illustrate the amount of effort he would need to complete his task. Axel was startled.

Grabbing IX's shoulders, he stared straight into his eyes, attempting to convey the level of worry he held for the water mage. "You are going to die. Are you crazy?"

Demyx looked away, his eyes searching the ground for a glimmer of truth. After a few moments, he looked back to the fire mage before him. A forlorn expression graced his features.

Meeting his friend's stare, he responded, "Axel… I've been crazy since the day I died. This is my only chance… Our only chance." Taking Axel's hands from his shoulders, he backed up to the portal that had been waiting for him.

His façade returned, a cheery grin that shined in the city of nothing. As he was swallowed by the darkness, his voice rang out to send a final farewell to his only friend.

"Tomorrow, we'll have our hearts back for sure."

- - -

Finding the keyblade master had been easy. In fact, one might say that the keyblade master had found him. But it was not the time for technicalities. It was time for action.

Tomorrow, he thought bitterly as the keyblade master told him he did not have a heart.

Tomorrow, he thought as he summoned his instrument for the last time, the one thing that

had never let him down. The emotionless music poured forth, controlling his element to stop the powerful force before him.

Tomorrow, he thought as he called water from the skies to rain down their fury on the boy who stole away Roxas. Tears he could never shed.

Tomorrow,he thought as he felt the keyblade sink into his flesh, the spray of red reminding him of that first moon. How funny. The tragedy was his own.

Tomorrow, he thought, as he closed his eyes to the image of the boy who would kill him. The one who looked like someone he had once known.

Tomorrow, he would wake up and discover that all of this had just been a bad dream.

Feeling his sitar leave him, and his very essence rapidly following after, the truth finally sank in.

Tomorrow would never come.