Writer: Hoshiyuki

The proceedings were going on as usual. The subject was holding out better then some, but everyone cracked. A soft whimper could be heard through the thick walls surrounding the reeducation room.

The pair of dark cloaked figures stood behind the darkened glass and watched Bubbles deal with the newest inmate. The proceedings weren't cruel, but destroying memories was something that wasn't easy to watch.

"That's enough," one of the dark-cloaked figures said in a hushed whisper.

"Just a little longer and we'll be done for today," the answer was just as soft, green eyes glancing at the smaller figure leaning against the glass. "You should go back, it's not your turn to watch."

"I want to be here," the figure replied and crossed his arms against his chest. He bit his lip as he watched the silver haired boy fall. His hand was pushing the button for the intercom before the other had time to react. "Stop the treatment! We'll continue tomorrow for the rest."

Bubbles, who had catched the inmate before he had hit the ground, nodded towards the unseen speaker. After placing the bag securely over the silver head, he promptly threw the prone body over his shoulder.

The dark cloaked figures watched the man walk out of the room and the automatic door closed with an ominous thump behind him. The silence stretched for a moment and the green-eyed man pushed the hood off to reveal an abundance of red locks. He moved towards the smaller figure.

"Don't touch me," blue-eyes flared as the boy lashed out before the other could get close.

"Come on XIII, a small pat on the back for reassurance won't kill you."

"Leave me alone, VIII," the other sulked as he pulled his hood down and started for the door. "Do you know what they are making of the boy?"

Number VIII shrugged and flipped a strand of red hair across his shoulder, "It's really none of our concern, is it?"

Number XIII paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I heard him talking about it. They're going to make the boy go after the rebels. Putting one of their own to fight against them." He waited, but number VIII didn't respond so the blond glanced back with a deep frown. "It's not right."

"We don't have the luxury to think about such things. We do what we are told." Green eyes met blue in stern reprimand and blue faltered, a dark shadow passing through the depths before it fell.

"We don't have a heart between us to feel such things," was the echo of a voice he had heard before. XIII left the room to do his duty for the Organization.

It was quiet and peaceful when Riku opened his eyes to the darkness. He lifted his hand to his head and wondered how he had got there or where this was for the matter.

He leaned his head against the cool surface of the wall behind him and signed, feeling lethargy stealing over him. Closing his eyes he tried to summon the strength to think back. He remembered white light and blue and pain. But he wasn't hurt anywhere, he wasn't bleeding, he wasn't sore.

There was something he was forgetting, something important.

"Blue," he mumbled and tasted the word. The world inside his mind exploded into color and he was spiraling down into the vast blue that was so important that he must remember what it was. He simply must.

Riku's eyes snapped back open into the darkness before narrowing into slits.

"I can't forget," his voice was uneven and rough, making him wheeze. "Sora."