EDITED 6/28/2010
Author's Comments: Hope you enjoy reading this installment!
Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. I own Imani and Aden.
Tifa sighs, placing her hands on her hips as she surveys the aftermath of Xemnas' warning. "You still have to find Imani's other friends, right? You should go then," she tells Sora who stands next to her with a worried frown. "We can take care of this."
His eyebrows draw closer together. "We didn't even find everyone living here."
"I'll find them for you. Right now, I really think you should focus on finding Imani. You can search for her friends at the same time, but…"
Riku joins them on the other side of Sora, dusting off his hands. "But?"
Pearly white teeth bite down on her lip as she takes a moment to figure out how to word her uncertainty. "I just think Imani's the one who needs you the most."
Both boys glance at Tifa, their eyes darkened by the gravity of her confession.
"When Aerith came to me earlier after meeting you, she said she sensed something strange about Imani," Tifa murmurs, "like something was wrong with her."
"Wrong how?" Sora asks.
She shakes her head. "Like she's…keeping something…"
The boys hum to themselves thoughtfully. "Aerith's intuition's never been off." Riku crosses his arms. "Imani told us to stay away from her but she never said why. I kind of have to wonder…"
"Well even if she isn't," Tifa steps in front of them, placing a hand on either boy's shoulder, "you've got to find her."
Hunger claws at my stomach. All I can think about is the smell of dinner wafting in the cool night air from all the homes below me. I was never fond of Chinese food, but I can't bear to hear my bowels grumble again.
One question has been eating—ugh, eating—at my brain for the past four hours: How can I earn munny?
I could use my Hades-given invincibility and become a street performer. I could challenge the burliest men in town to try bruise, cut, or even kill me and all they'd be able to do is make me laugh with their tickling...but I'd draw too much attention.
My lips sink into a frown. How can I earn munny without blatantly proclaiming, 'I'm the one the guy who shoots red lasers to destroy everything is looking for'?
No matter what, I have to move to a different world. The whole city probably saw me scale that ten-foot wall. If anything, by tomorrow morning, the streets will be covered with palace guards seeking to place me in the imperial army as a secret weapon in case of any wars with other nations and I'll be trapped and Xemnas will find me eventually—
Stop! I jerk my head. Stop letting your hunger make you delirious!
My fingers massage my closed eyes. I'll draw attention if I want to get some spare change in my pocket. Going back to Twilight Town to snatch my coin purse would only end in Axel or Zexion cornering me and demanding answers. With a hopeless sigh I pull out my jacket and shrug it back on, the sleeves of my robes riding up my arms as I tug it on.
I stop mid-tug. What if I sold these robes?
A grimace twists my mouth as I inspect the thin material. They're cheaply-made and the colors aren't at all eye-catching. Even if I went to another world I doubt I'd get more than a hundred munny for this.
What if I gambled with these robes?
A blond-haired man with multiple piercings in his ears tosses a hand of cards onto the old wooden table with a flourish. "Royal flush," he announces, earning collective groans as he gathers the bids. "I win again, lads."
I groan aloud with the losers. The other gamblers may be too drunk to remember my face the next morning, but there's no way Luxord wouldn't recognize me. He'll wonder what I'm doing in Port Royal in the first place and why I'm gambling...but I don't have any better plans at the moment.
I stand up on the roof and open up a Dark Corridor. It would be nice if someone decides to bid their shoes.
Once I change back into my former clothes, I fold the robes (save the sash which I secure around my head to cover the lower half of my face and tie up my hair) as neatly as I can while hiding the smudges of dirt I'd gained when running away. I stow the robes in my rucksack and step lightly down the stairs of the rampart towards the town.
Even before I cross the bridge the stench of alcohol and sweat and who knows what else almost makes me turn around and reconsider this desperate plan. As I get closer the air becomes thicker with the ghastly fumes and though my temporary mask blocks out a lot of the smell, I purse my lips together to keep from openly gagging. Maybe it's a good thing I haven't eaten for hours—
I jump out of the way as a drunken man stumbles over himself and throws up into the bushes. Suddenly the ground beneath me feels like it's crawling. I start hopping along the ground to the nearest gambling house, thoughts of germs and disgusting substances on my feet nearly making me whimper.
The first bar I find—the Empty Bottle—booms with noise as I step in. Both stories of the building are crammed with people looking to drink away their troubles or try their luck at the cards. Several tables surrounded by gamblers litter the room. They all appear the same so I make my way towards the closest table.
As the men laugh and curse at the outcome of the round, I clear my throat loudly and stretch my vocal chords as low as I can. "Mind if I join?"
The noise ceases. All heads turn to me, menacing glares looking me up and down. "You?" a man snickers. "What do you have that's worth gambling?"
Resisting the urge to swallow nervously, I tug open my rucksack. "Robes from a far-off land." I display with a flourish. "They're made of the finest, most expensive material."
"Rags, you mean?" They burst out in chuckles.
Don't glare. Don't growl. "You're welcome to feel them if you like. They're silkier than anything you've ever worn, I'm sure."
As if to amuse me, the nearest man reaches out and runs his fingertips across. His eyes light up and he arches an eyebrow. "Not bad. Are you willing to risk losing this? A girl like you thinks you can take us on?"
The words slip out in retaliation and I'm glad my clothes are genderless. "I'm not a girl, if that makes any difference to you."
A stunned moment passes before they laugh their heads off. "We got ourselves a cross-dressing girly man!" they sneer.
I'm tired. I'm hungry. I'm broke. My feet are covered in all sorts of crap. I think I'm justified when I say this is the last straw.
I allow myself to laugh stiffly along with them before I grab the back of a man's head and slam it into the wooden table, snatching both his wrists and holding them behind his back with my other hand. "Still think I'm a girl?" I hiss in his ear, reveling in his grunt of pain.
The remaining men pull out daggers and guns, pointing them all at me. I eye them easily.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," I warn. "If you start something, who's more likely to get kicked out: you drunkards who can't tell left from right or an innocent little girl, hm?"
"What's going on there?" the bartender shouts across the room. My skin tingles as several pairs of eyes land on our table.
I grin smugly beneath my sash. "I just wanna play, guys. What? Afraid you'll lose?"
Reluctantly they store away their weapons and plaster grins to their grimy faces. "Nothing's wrong!" a man shouts to the bartender. "What's everyone looking at?"
"Two pair."
"Flush."
I throw my cards down triumphantly. "Full house."
Groans burst out as I scoop my spoils towards my side of the table. Two hours since I started playing, I've won a couple of nice daggers, three revolvers, and enough munny to buy several months' worth of food. My head spins off my winning streak.
"I'm out." A few more drunks pull out, dragging their feet to the door and leaning on each other for support.
"Oh come on!" I call as they stumble out the door. "Is the challenge too much for you?"
"I'd like to challenge you."
A jolt of dread snaps my high. I steel my nerves and set my face in stone before turning to Luxord. "Hmm…" I bring a hand to my lips in feigned thoughtfulness as I eye him up and down as if to size up my opponent. "You look like you can stand a chance against me."
His simple cotton shirt ripples with his chuckles. "You're a cocky one."
"Cocky? No. Confident? Well, I've got reason to be."
That reason—my anonymity—is rapidly slipping through my fingers and shattering into a million pieces on the floor.
He quirks an eyebrow. "Are you confident enough to bet everything in one hand?"
"Why do that?" I ask to cover up my panic and the stickiness returning to my stomach. "You strike me more as the type to exert his finesse nice and slow."
Luxord shrugs offhandedly. "In this case, I feel such habits would be a waste of time. You understand, don't you?"
I grind my teeth. Damn.
"I just want to play," he smirks. "What? Afraid you'll lose?"
Damn.
"Fine," I decide in a final attempt to be deceptive. "One round, starting bets at ten-thousand munny."
He nods approvingly and takes a seat, turning to a bystander. "You there. Deal for us."
The bystander grabs the deck, shuffling silently and dealing five to each of us. After studying my hand, I pick out two cards and replace them with whatever the bystander gives me.
I curl my toes in my effort to not let my eyes light up. Ten, jack, queen, king, ace in diamonds.
I nibble on the tip of my tongue, glancing up at my lone challenger whose face is painted completely blank. Reaching into my rucksack, I pull out a random dagger and add it to the spoils. "Something on your mind, sir?"
"Let's change the stakes," Luxord declares.
Uh-oh. "To what?"
"Instead of munny or possessions," he grins, "let's bet with secrets."
Don't flinch! Don't you dare flinch, Imani!
"Secrets?" I scoff. "You assume I hold secrets worth betting?"
"Everyone holds a secret worth betting," he insists. "It's a matter of whether one is brave enough to risk it and cunning enough to keep it under wraps even while it sits in the open."
Asking to not bet with secrets at this point would cause suspicion and draw more attention to myself. A sense of doom clouds my head as I ask, "What secret must I bet with, then?"
"If I win, you must reveal what reasons you have for hiding half your face. If you win, I'll reveal my origins."
The statement earns a hush of interest. Luxord—and many of the other former Organization members—has divulged little to nothing about their pasts and how they came to exist again.
I've got a winning hand. I've made more munny than Axel's and Zexion's monthly paychecks combined. I'll escape the interrogation for sure. What have I got to lose?
"Deal." I throw my cards down, ignoring my uneasy gut. "Royal flush."
His eyes narrow and he smirks at the sight of my hand. He tosses his hand to the table. Ten, jack, queen, king, ace…in spades. "Royal flush."
My heart hits the pit of my sticky stomach with a sound thud. Damn.
Author's Afterthought: Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!