Irashai: or Welcome. This is the second book of Kingdom Hearts Memorandum. I feel it may be the shortest of the three. But then, MoN was kind of short too. Who knows. Anyway, I finally have all the character design pictures done, and it's just a matter of photographing them and posting them on my homepage, accessible from my profile, for those who didn't know. I'll have to find time to steal my dad's camera at some point. Could be a while. On with the story. Let me know what you like, don't like, or think in general by reviewing, OK, bai-bai.

Chapter 1: Awakening
He was not exactly a large man, but fairly tall. He had steely grey eyes that peered out from under long, uncut brown bangs. His hair was fairly long, trailing down to his shoulders in rough-cut locks. His solemn expression was made even more intimidating by the X-shaped scar between his eyes, an old battle-wound he'd picked up a while ago.

The long hooded black cloak he'd once worn as a member of the Organization had been replaced by a sturdy leather jacket of short cut with long sleeves over a tight-fitting white shirt and loose black pants with buckles and straps on the legs, tucked into worn combat boots.

As of currently, he was staring at the imposing figure of the looming castle before him. It stood at the edge of the abyss, where the beaten dirt path had led him. Squared towers stuck out at odd angles, some pointing straight sideways. Additionally, something just felt wrong to him.

But something also told him that what he sought was inside. Ignoring his feelings of foreboding, he pushed open the tall double doors and walked inside.

As opposed to the brown and green outside design, the castle's insides were completely white. Everything shined brightly, all made from the same gleaming white material that was too pure to be marble. Even the roses that decorated the long halls were carved from it, hanging in vases that sprouted from the pillars lining the walls or atop the large cube pedestals that bordered the center path. Down at the other end of the hallway was a small set of stairs leading up to gleaming white double doors.

In the center of the hall was something that was not carved of the gleaming white material. It was a teenage boy, lying upon the cold alabaster ground. He looked to be unconscious.

Walking up, the man knelt down beside the prone body to take a closer look. The boy had spiky blonde hair that twisted off to the right over the smooth contours of his young face. He wore a black shirt bordered in white designs under a long sleeveless white trench coat with an interesting design embroidered on each side at the chest. It was a cross with pointed tips and a circle for the center. The rest of his ensemble was the white arm guards in matching design to the spiky swirls on his shirt, and the baggy tan pants that got baggier as they were replaced with black lower down above his black and white sneakers. The boy's eyes were closed, but he somehow knew they were a piercing blue. Somehow, the boy was familiar.

Suddenly, the boy gasped and sat up, eyes wide open. The man watched him with mild interest before standing up.

"You're… Daxtin," he said, watching as the boy looked around at his surroundings before standing up.

"Yeah," nodded the boy absently as he looked himself over. "I guess I am." He paused then and regarded the man before him. "I remember you. You're that man… Griever?"

"Not anymore," replied the man. "Griever was a man of the Organization. You can call me Rann."

"Rann," murmured Daxtin as he mulled it over. "That's what Okina called you. But what are you doing here?" He looked around again. "Where is here, anyway?"

"Not sure," said Rann shortly. "Some sort of castle."

"Castle Oblivion," supplied a smug female voice. Turning towards the front entrance, they spotted a small figure in a black cloak, maybe four foot six at most. The only visible feature was the lower half of her face, which bore a cocky grin. "The palace of memories."

"What do you mean?" demanded Daxtin, the aura blades Joiner and Divider flashing into existence in his hands. The two blades were each about three feet long with blunt ends, made of flat material about an inch thick that extended around the grips in hexagonal hand guards. Inset towards the ends of each were large luminescent blue-green orbs at the intersection of the stripes that ran down the length of the blade and that were perpendicular to them, forming a cross. One blade was white with black cross, the other was black with white cross. Both were dangerous weapons in his hands.

"She means 'Welcome!'" explained a cheery voice from behind them. Turning around, they spotted another short hooded figure standing upon the dais before the door leading further into the castle. This one revealed only a friendly smile on her young face. "Here you'll find what you seek and uncover mysterious secrets and, and…"

"Are you done being an idiot?" interrupted the first cloaked figure, appearing out of a swirl of shadows next to the second. "You're completely messing this up."

"Am not!" protested the other girl.

"Both of you, silence," came a third voice, this one quiet but firm. The owner of it appeared between the two bickering cloaked figures in a splash of darkness, identical to the other two but for the calm, solemn expression on what was revealed of her face. After checking over one shoulder and then the other to make sure her command had been followed, the newest arrival turned her attention on the two fighters standing before her. By now, Rann had also drawn his weapon, a wicked looking steel blade that was part gun, part sword, bent at the hilt to accompany its firing function. She looked from one armed warrior to the other, then sneered contemptuously, "Put those away."

The two men looked at each other before relaxing, though they kept their weapons at the ready.

"Who are you people?" asked Daxtin. Despite their similarity in fashion sense, these three didn't appear to be from Organization XIII, unless the Organization had reformed while he was unconscious, which was somewhat likely, and had started taking in children and midgets, which was less likely. "What do you want?"

"We are but servants of the darkness," replied the quiet girl. "We want you to find what you seek."

"What are you talking about?" shouted Daxtin in frustration.

"What is this place?" interrupted Rann, knowing his companion's question wouldn't be answered, except with more riddles.

"I told you, it's Castle Oblivion," explained the first, pushy cloaked figure with a tired expression. "Don't you listen?" Giving an angry huff, she turned and disappeared in a flurry of twisting shadows.

"This is the place of secrets," said the second, cheerier hooded person. "The further you travel, the more memories you'll lose. But as you do, the true memories will be revealed." Giving a smile and little giggle, she struck a cutesy pose before disappearing in a swirl of darkness.

"In this castle, you must forget to remember," said the third girl solemnly. "Here, to find is to lose and to lose is to find." She turned around and began to walk away from them across the dais, swirling tendrils of darkness engulfing her. "Here you will meet people you know. People you miss."

"What do you mean… you mean Kairi? And Anya?" asked Daxtin hopefully. "Are they here too?"

"To find out, you'll have to travel within," she said quietly, looking over her shoulder at him through the churning shadows around her. "Go. To lose and claim anew, or to claim anew, only to lose…"

And then she was gone.

"What do they mean?" asked Daxtin, this time looking to Rann. The older man only shrugged and walked forwards, his boots clicking against the hard stone steps up to the doors that led inwards.

"Not sure," he replied shortly. "But I have this feeling… that I'll find what I seek here. I'll find her." Rather than ask the obvious question, Daxtin chose instead to comment on the feeling.

"Yeah, I feel the same way too," he said, stepping up next to him. "Just this feeling that I'll find what I'm looking for. Though, I'm not sure what it is I'm looking for."

"Isn't it the princess, Kairi?" asked Rann mildly, looking down at him as he placed his hand on one of the doors.

"Wh-what?" sputtered Daxtin, blushing. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," murmured Rann, tucking the thought away for future discussion as he placed his other hand on the opposite door. "Come on. We'll never find whatever it is if we just stand here."

He pushed the way open and they stepped into the light beyond.

"This is…Twilight Town?" said Daxtin in a stunned voice, looking around. Around them were houses in modern design basking the golden glow of the perpetual sunset of what Daxtin thought of as his home town. In truth, he had only ever lived in the town for a few months, kept there and implanted with false memories by the manipulative witch, Emeline, who had turned out to be Xenthora, a vessel of the being known as No Heart. Daxtin, with the help of his Other, Diant, had managed to seal No Heart away, though after that, the boy had disappeared, only to awaken just moments ago in Castle Oblivion, so he was unsure of how things had actually turned out. "How can we be in Twilight Town?"

"You aren't," replied a familiar calm voice. The third hooded girl, still calm and quiet, had appeared on a nearby flat rooftop, her legs dangling over the side. She held a smaller cloaked figure in her lap that was about two feet tall and chubby with stiff arms that stood out from its sides comically in a way that suggested it was an inanimate object. The little hood on it revealed nothing off its face, though the tall protrusions on top looked like horns, or maybe ears.. "This is but an illusion," she explained. "An image fabricated from your memories. The rooms in the castle react to your memories, revealing truths and insights. As you travel through, your memories will fall from you like discarded items of clothing, until they finally reveal the true memories beneath."

"The true memories?" asked Daxtin in a puzzled voice.

"To reveal what you truly want…" she murmured quietly before disappearing in a flurry of shadows, leaving them alone.

"Huh," grunted Rann noncommittally.

"What do you think she means?" wondered Daxtin, looking up to his quiet companion's scarred face. The man ignored him and instead walked onwards.

"Let's check around," he said authoritatively. "Maybe there's a clue around here as to what's going on."

In a large sandy lot, unoriginally named the Sandlot, the pair's investigations were halted as several slithering white figures appeared before them. The creatures had rubbery white bodies that seemed to move in all defiance of physics and physiology, with truncated blocky heads and zipper mouths that revealed jagged dark teeth inside the white suit.

"Nobodies," hissed Rann, drawing his gunblade as Daxtin summoned his aura blades. People are made of heart, body and soul. When a person's heart was lost to the darkness, the heart becomes a mindless creature of the dark, called a Heartless. In most cases, the body and soul, without the heart, would lose cohesion and disappear. However, if a person was strong of will, their bodies and souls would continue living. These creatures, devoid of heart, and therefore emotion, were of neither darkness nor light, but of nothing, and called Nobodies. "I guess the castle recreates our enemies too."

"We can take 'em," said Daxtin confidently, lunging forwards at the nearest Dusk. His blades slammed into the white creature, knocking it away as it shook and warped from the blow, its limbs following with delayed timing after its body and stricken head. Dodging to the side as the creature twisted and counterattacked with a double-legged kick, the blonde fighter took advantage of the opening and smashed in the creature's face, destroying it in a flash of light.

"Watch it, kid," warned Rann, alerting Daxtin just as one of the other Nobodies leapt at him to attack. The boy blocked with one aura blade then struck back with the other, narrowly missing the twisting figure. He lunged forwards, jabbing out with one blade, then the other, driving the creature back as it pirouetted away just out of reach. Its light stepped dance was cut off as several feet of cold steel came down on it, splitting the white being in two before it disappeared in a pop of light and released energy.

"Is that it?" asked Daxtin cautiously, looking around.

Rann nodded.

Daxtin was impressed. There had been at least three other Dusks besides the ones he'd been fighting. But then, Daxtin had seen the man fight before, had fought against him; it was not an experience he cared to repeat.

"Can't you control them?" complained Daxtin. "I mean, you were in Organization XIII."

"Can't youcontrol them?" Rann replied calmly. "After all, you're the Nobody."

"Touché," replied the boy, falling silent after that. Looking around, he turned and started off towards the Tram Commons. "Come on, this way."

After a few winding streets and ups and downs, they came to the Orphanage where Daxtin had lived most his life, both in terms of his falsified memories and in actual percentage of the few months since he had first separated from Diant, his Other. Walking in to the reception area, he looked about before heading off to the kitchen and dining room with Rann in tow, sure that he would find the matron there. Sure enough, the motherly looking old woman was there, fixing up an afternoon snack for the younger children who lived here. She looked up in surprise at the entrance of the teenager and the tall man.

"Hey, Matron, I'm back," said Daxtin cheerfully, waving casually at her. Instead of her usual warm smile, all he received instead was a puzzled look.

"Excuse me?" she asked in confusion. "Do I know you?"

"What? Don't you recognize me?" replied Daxtin, his brow creasing in worry. "I'm the oldest kid at the Orphanage. I've only been gone a few days. Don't you remember?"

"Of course not," replied the matron simply. "I've never seen you before in my life."

"What? Is this some kind of joke?" said the boy, looking crestfallen at the lack of recognition. He looked to the kids at the table pleadingly. "Come on, guys, don't you recognize me?"

The orphans all shook their heads and continued to watch him with wide, wary eyes.

"Stop pestering the children, Daxtin," the matron admonished. "Now, if you have some business with me, I'd be glad to–"

"Hey, you just called me by name!" he exclaimed. "So it was a joke."

"What? No… I'm sure I don't know you," she replied uncertainly. "But I don't know why I know your name."

"Are you sure? You don't remember anything?" he asked helplessly. The matron only shook her head. When he looked to them, so did the children seated at the table.

"Let's go," interrupted Rann simply, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away. "I don't think we're going to find anything here."

"Um, sorry for bothering you," the boy called to the matron as he was ushered out the door. "Even if you don't remember me, thanks for all you've done."

Leaving the woman with a confused look on her face, the two exited and walked away down the street.

"That's strange," replied Daxtin. "She didn't remember me, but she knew my name…"
"Remember, this is just an illusion created from your memories," said Rann as they walked. "That wasn't really her. The illusion probably doesn't include them remembering you probably."

"Yeah, but that still doesn't explain her knowing my name," pouted Daxtin, finding no solace in the older man's explanation. To this, Rann had no answer.

They spent the rest of the day checking out various parts of town, talking with people who should remember who Daxtin was, but didn't. All of them saw him as a complete stranger, though occasionally they'd call him by name. At first, he'd catch them on it every time, pointing it out, but all it served to do was make them more confused. After a while, the boy gave up on pointing it out.

"We've checked the whole town, and not a clue as to what's going on," sighed Daxtin in frustration. "No one knows me, and no one knows why!"

"Have we checked everywhere?" asked Rann clinically. While Daxtin had jumped from idea to idea, it was his thought to go through the entirety of Twilight Town on a systematic search.

"Well…everywhere but the Old Mansion," said Daxtin. He shrugged at the thought. "There's nothing there, just an old abandoned house. Nobody's going to be there."

"Maybe we're not looking for a person to give us a clue as to how to proceed, but a place," suggested Rann rationally. His deep sounding thought was only greeted by a raised eyebrow that questioned his sanity. "Besides, it's the only place we haven't checked."

Daxtin watched him a moment more, trying to ascertain if the man was going to try to sound cool again, and then, satisfied that he wasn't, turned and led the way out of the Tram Commons and through the forest to the Old Mansion.

The dilapidated brick building was still in surprisingly good shape for having no one care for it and being overgrown with a veritable army of ivy. Broken pillars littered the yard that stood between the front door and the black iron gate that kept everyone out of the place. The setting sun cast the open area before the gates in golden hues of red and orange as it set the sky ablaze in similar fashion.

"I told you, there's nothing here," said Daxtin with gloomy defeatist triumph. Looking to see his quiet companion admit defeat, he instead found the man pointing off to one side. Following the proffered finger, his eyes went to a slight warping in the air that soon exploded into a roiling mass of shadows and darkness that hovered in the air before expanding and touching down and then solidifying into a dark gateway. Out of it tumbled a young boy. Taking a second look, Daxtin corrected himself; it was a young girl, only dressed in a boy's black suit and jacket. She looked up at him with pleading eyes before stumbling and falling to the ground, exhausted and bleeding from multiple wounds.

"Anya?" gasped Daxtin in surprise, running over to help the dark-haired girl up.

"Help me," she murmured. He helped her to her feet, then caught her again as she stumbled and fell against him. Before anything else could be said, dark portals opened all around them, and armored creatures, constructs of paper and magic created by the witch Emeline, poured forth from them. They moved with robotic grace, flowingly stiff in their fancy armor and carven blades. "Damn… she's caught up with me."

Before Daxtin could stop her, Anya pushed away from him and charged at the creatures, the black spar of darkness known as the Shadow Lance appearing in her hand. She ducked under the slow, predictable slash of the first armored enemy, dispatching the construct with a quick flick of her dark weapon, causing it to crumple and shred into the paper from which it was made. She continued on to the next one, but in her fatigue, she stumbled and fell, lying helplessly before the oncoming enemies.

"Anya, look out!" yelled Daxtin, lunging in after her, Rann just behind him. Joiner and Divider flashed into life in his hands, dispatching enemies left and right in a flurry of whirling blades and blue-green fire. While the boy attacked recklessly in his haste to get to his fallen friend, Rann waded into the battle calmly, easily dispatching the paper foes that got past Daxtin's wild swinging. It wasn't long until the area was cleared, and the last of the armored construct were retreating back into the dark portals from whence they came.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders and propping her up, Daxtin knelt beside the girl with a worried expression on his face.

"Anya, are you alright?" he asked anxiously as she wiped at the blood coming from the corner of her mouth.

"Yeah, I'm fine, Daxtin" she replied. Then she looked up at him. "But who are you?"

The two of them filled Anya in on the situation, Daxtin doing most of the talking with Rann only stepping in to point out things that the adolescent glossed over in his excitement. After a quick questioning of her memories, they found that she too didn't remember him, despite knowing his name.

"Not even when I rescued you from becoming your darkness?" he asked, prodding at specific events in hopes of jogging her memories. She shook her head. "You were trapped inside your darkness, and I used Divider to save you–"

"And you said, 'Anya, I hope this reaches you'," she finished for him. At his stunned expression she paused, and thought over what she had just said. "But… I'm sure I don't know you… how could I remember something like that?"

"Besides, wasn't she trapped inside her darkness when you said that?" pointed out Rann. "She wouldn't have actually heard you say that."

"Then why does she remember?" asked Daxtin, thoroughly confused.

"You say this is all inside a castle," the dark girl reiterated, indicating the surrounding forest and mansion, "and that it's all an illusion created from you memories. Daxtin, I think I'm one of those illusions."

"What? That can't be!" exclaimed Daxtin. "You're my friend!"

"What she says makes sense," mused Rann. "After all, just like the Matron and the others, she doesn't have any memories of you."

"But that still doesn't explain how she, or anyone else, knows my name," he pointed out. "Or how she remembers those other things."

"I think," started Anya, "it's because I'm made from your memories that I can know these things. I don't remember things that I should, and I remember things that I shouldn't, things that I couldn't. Daxtin, I think your heart is remembering for me."

"What?" asked Daxtin. "What do you mean?"

"Even if I don't know you, you have so many memories of us together," she explained. "The memories must resonate in my heart too. Only, I remember them fromyour memories. That's why I remember what you said as you used Divider to save me, but I have no memories of what went on while I was trapped inside the darkness. I'm sorry, Daxtin, but I'm not the one you're looking for. I'm just another part of the castle."

"Don't say that!" shouted Daxtin in frustration. "Don't tell me I just found you, but I didn't!"

"Calm down, kid," said Rann firmly, grabbing him by the shoulder. "She's just telling you the truth. I'm sure if I tried, I could get her to remember things from the Organization, based on my memories."

"He's right," Anya admitted. She sighed then, and turned towards the Old Mansion. "This is where we first met. You remember that now, don't you?"

"Yeah," replied Daxtin distantly. Then it occurred to him, and he said, "Yeah, I do. But I didn't until just a few minutes ago. When I told Rann about the Old Mansion, I had completely forgotten that this was where it all started!" He paused and looked at the other two with worried eyes. "Is this what those girls meant? About forgetting?"

"It's possible," Rann admitted. "You've learned something about the castle, and you almost forgot something as important as the start of your journey."

"Then you need to hurry through here as fast as you can, before you forget anymore," said Anya. Summoning the Shadow Lance, she cut at the gate in two quick slashes, and the black iron fell before her in pieces. "The door to the mansion will lead to the next floor. You should go now."

"Sure," said Daxtin as Rann brushed past him, watching as she walked away down the path into the forest. He turned, and then, just as he was about to start out after Rann, stopped as a hand came down on his shoulder. Turning, he found himself facing Anya again. "What's up?"

"I won't claim to understand all of it, but there's something you need to know," she told him. "This town, it's all just an illusion, created by your memories. So am I."

"I know," he said quietly. "I know it's true, but it's still depressing. It's just, you seem so real…"

"That's exactly my point," said Anya solemnly. "Daxtin, beware you memories. In the journey to come, you'll be faced with more illusions. Sometimes the shadows of your memory will deceive you, try to lead you astray."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm just a creation of your memories," she replied. "The truth is beyond my reach."

"Hey, you coming or what?" shouted Rann from the mansion's porch.

"Just a second," Daxtin shouted over his shoulder. "Well, guess I have to get going…

When he had turned back, Anya was gone

"Where'd she go?"

"Where'd who go?" asked Rann, walking up to him. Daxtin looked to him, then back to the clearing, then back to him again with a flustered expression on his face.

"But she was just here! Anya was," he explained, waving his arms for emphasis.

"She left after she said we should go, remember?" said the steely eyed man. Taking one look at Daxtin's confused and unbelieving face, he sighed and shrugged. "…Whatever. Let's just go before you start forgetting anything else."

Rann walked back to the mansion doors, Daxtin following close behind, though not before looking back towards Twilight Town one last time.

"So this is what she meant," he murmured before following him through the door.

"So, did we do alright, Mistress?" asked the first hooded figure, her confidant grin absent as she waited for her master's answer. She sat on the edge of one of the many square pedestals that lined the castle walkways. Her cheery companion was sitting across from her on another pedestal, her legs swinging back and forth as she waited anxiously for their mistress's reply. The third cloaked figure sat on the steps of the raised dais that dominated the center of the room, absently chewing on one of the protrusions of the small cloaked body she held as she awaited an answer.

"I suppose," came the languid reply. It came from the curvaceous figure lounging on the throne. She wore a dark dress in strict contrast of her pale white skin, coming up to just above her bust, leaving her shoulders bare. Her arms were sleeved in skin-tight black gloves with long, slim pointed fingers, one hand resting upon the arm of her throne, the other caressing a glass of blood-red wine. Stark, black spikes protruded from her wrists, connected by a ring of the same dark metal. Her face, amid the mass of her inky black hair, was shrouded in darkness as she leaned back in her seat, revealing only her piercing eyes, yellow like a cat's. "Though try not to act so foolishly before our guests next time."

The first girl flushed angrily at the slight, while the second blushed in embarrassment. The third black cloaked child merely smirked.

"Well, I think it's about time to test him again," said the dark woman from her throne. "Any volunteers?"

"I'll do it," offered the first girl with a grin, jumping down off the pedestal and cracking her knuckles. "Let's see what this kid's made of."

"Don't break him," warned the quiet one as she walked by towards the stairs.

"Oh, I won't hurt him," replied the fighter flippantly, and then added, "much."