Vanitas walks us back down the hallway of Block XIII, away from the group in the book chamber; away from Liseth. When we reach cell XIII-X, he keys in the numbered lock quickly, opening the door to reveal the light-flooded chamber. He shoves me inside first, and then walks Saïx inside personally; shoving him to the center of the floor and clamping the chains back over his wrists and ankles.
"Have fun, kids," he says sadistically. "Meals are three times a day, and if you don't eat what we give you, then you don't eat."
"What about the bathroom?" I ask him sarcastically.
He snickers. "Pick a corner, any corner."
"That's revolting."
"Well, look at it this way, sweetheart," he says, obviously not caring in the slightest how revolting it is. "You won't have to put up with it for very long once my Guildmaster starts pulling your Guildmates out one by one. Maybe it won't even smell that bad." With another smirk, he backs out and shuts the door on us.
I sigh heavily, sliding down against the wall with my head on my knees. I don't bother turning away from Saïx this time, but I don't speak to him either. My thoughts are completely occupied with my baby sister. I've found her, after six months of being without her. Even if it was only for a few minutes, I actually saw her face.
Thoughts of her face only drive me to rage, though; someone's scarred those perfect and innocent features. She'll bear the mark of battle forever, on her face and in those tired, ruined eyes that have seen far too much.
Quietly, I formulate another goal within my mind. I have to get Liseth out of this place, no matter what it takes. I will not let anyone else hurt her or scar her or change her.
"You seem rather protective of her."
His voice doesn't echo, seemingly eaten by the close walls, but it does carry.
I look up and glare at him. "Of course I am. She was my best friend up until six months ago. We did everything together. She was like… the other half of my heart."
I fail to clarify that he took that place for her until just yesterday.
"She is not still?" he asks quietly, seeming to sense my omission.
My eyes narrow further when I remember our mental connection.
"Stop reading my mind," I snap. "Just leave me alone and stop trying to mess with my head. You already expressed your true feelings, so quit trying to make me think you're interested in my existence or that you still want to be my friend."
His eyes are closed, but even behind his lids, I can sense him rolling them to heaven.
"I do still want to be your friend, Naxanz," he says, his syllables clipped with frustration. "You are the one who is not understanding my motivation for saying what I said."
"Well, you haven't exactly explained it," I reply sarcastically. "I pretty much accepted that when someone says 'I don't want you here,' it's one of the things you can take at face value. Unless you were lying, which would still suck because I thought I could trust you, and you kind of sent me through emotional Hades here. And pardon me for not being enough of a Diviner to figure it out myself. Sorry for failing. Again." I turn my back on him, my cheeks flushed with anger and shame and grief.
"Naxanz…" He trails off, sounding more sad than frustrated now.
"Just let it go." I shake my head. "Just stop. You can't take it back. It's said, and I know how you feel now. And, you know, maybe it's better like this. You can stop faking it, and I can stop worrying about you." I sigh. "And get out of my mind. I don't need you in there while I'm trying to figure out how to get out of here."
There is a slight, silent pause, and I feel a heaviness hanging on the air like I have never experienced before, filled with silent and unspoken emotion.
"Naxanz, I'm sorry."
The words take me slightly by surprise; I wasn't expecting him to apologize.
Quickly, though, my heart recovers and hardens again. He's only trying to play me for an emotional fool. Well, no more. I can't afford that if I'm going to get out of here and take my friends and my sister with me.
"Good for you," I reply evenly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some strategies to formulate."
I can hear his sharp intake of breath; clearly, that was not the response he was expecting. A surge of savage triumph, hot and bitter, floods my chest, and I smile painfully as I hear him sigh.
He does not attempt to speak to me again.
Hours begin to pass, and the scenery does not change. Time isn't a thing you can really measure down here in the Assassins' dungeon, surrounded by stone walls and bright lights. I make a routine out of standing and pacing the cell, setting up a route for myself where no matter which way I walk, I will not be facing Saïx. I quickly memorize the exact layout of the small chamber; ten steps across the door side, then twelve steps back, then ten steps across the back side, then twelve steps back, and then repeat the whole thing all over again.
Setting my body on auto-pilot, I begin to mull over strategies in my head as I walk, my legs carrying my torso mechanically around and around the room. I feel them beginning to grow heavy after a while, my blood feeling leaden within my veins, but I do not stop walking, running myself on toward tiredness with every passing moment. I do not remember the hour; I don't remember when I last slept or when I should be sleeping again. I don't know if it's night or day, cold or hot; I don't know if only a few hours have gone by or if a few millennia have passed in silence while I pace around the cell; I only know my own steps and my own heartbeat and my own breaths, and the thoughts tumbling like Freeshooter acrobats through my mind.
At some point, a small slot in the cell door slides open, and two trays are pushed through, one after the other. It takes me a few moments, lost in weighty distraction and a haze of sleepiness, to realize they are there; I stop only a moment before stepping on the first one, staring down at them foggily as my mind tries to register what is sitting atop them. Each tray contains a small cup and a slightly larger bowl, along with a single metal spoon. The cup contains some sort of dark bluish liquid, while the bowl is filled with a yellowish substance that I assume and fervently hope is some sort of soup.
Kneeling down, I lift one of the bowls with slightly shaking hands, moving it toward my face and inhaling slightly. The liquid within is apparently cold, and has a bitter and tangy smell, like forest herbs or medicine. I stick my tongue out slightly and set it back down, picking up the cup and swirling the blue liquid around experimentally. It leaves cyan stains on the sides of the cup as it sloshes around; I eventually set the cup down as well, standing and stepping gingerly away from the trays.
"Dinner," I say tonelessly, the first words I have spoken in a long while. They sound hollow and foreign to me, breaking the silence that consumes the cell. It is amazing how quickly one can forget the sound of one's own voice. "Or breakfast." I shrug. "I'm not really sure and I don't care. Are you eating?"
There is no reply from him; clearly, he is trying to pull the same technique on me that I did on him. Either that or he is asleep, and either way I do not care. I shrug and step over the trays, resuming my endless pacing, step after step after step. Some time later, a hand reaches in and pulls the untouched trays away, but I am not inclined to notice; I pay it only a cursory mind, continuing my pacing and planning. This continues until my legs absolutely refuse to move another step; with a great wobbling and shaking, they give out beneath me, and I collapse onto the ground, unmoving and uncaring, not even feeling the pain of my fall in my deep trance of lethargy. I blink my eyes closed once; twice…
I open my eyes, blink, and yawn. I am sitting on the couch in Saïx's room in Maison Etoile, back in the Diviners' Complex. Outside the window, the sky is an inky curtain, hung with diamond stars, and with only a sliver of bright moon to pierce the tapestry with its light. Beside me, he is asleep as well, his lips slightly parted as he breathes, blind eyes closed and face arranged peacefully. I smile slightly, reaching over to smooth a strand of hair away from his forehead, and then standing and stretching until I hear my vertebrae pop. We must have stayed up exceptionally early into yesterday, for him still to be asleep like this.
Going over to the balcony, I push open the doors and step outside, sighing as a light breeze ruffles my white hair. I walk out to the railing and lean on it carefully, looking up at the jewel-like night sky above me.
Slowly, my mind begins to recall my dream from the previous day; something about Saïx being kidnapped by the Assassins, and Mika being a traitor, and being captured, and Saïx hating me; and something else, about Saïx's sister being their Guildmaster and having some horrible master plan for my entire Guild…
I shake my head slowly, laughing a little. What a strange dream. I'll have to tell Saïx about it when he wakes up.
As if on cue, the door behind me slides open; I turn to see him walking out, his loose white shirt moving slightly in the soft breeze. I smile a little, about to greet him, when suddenly I notice that his eyes are still closed, even as he walks.
Sleepwalking? I'm confused; I've never known him to sleepwalk, and he's never mentioned anything about it to me before.
"Saïx?" I ask tentatively. "Are you okay? Are you awake?"
He does not answer, only continuing to approach me with his eyes shut tight.
I'm slightly afraid now; I don't know what his dreams are directing him to do, but whatever it is, I would rather not be involved if it happens to be violent.
I try to back up and away from him, but my back presses against the balcony railing; I'm trapped, and I know it. I have nowhere to go, and he's still coming closer.
I've heard that it's bad luck to wake a sleepwalker, but I wonder now if that wouldn't be the better option here.
He steps closer again; one step, two steps, and his pale hand is reaching out for me. Scared now, I try to slap it away, but he grabs my wrist, his grip tight and unyielding as iron.
"Let go!" I exclaim, shocked. "Saïx, it's just me! Let me go!" I tug at my wrist, trying to free it from his hand, but his fingers seem locked in place.
Suddenly, his eyes shoot open, and I gasp, momentarily stunned when I see that they are the bright and cognizant gold that means he can see.
"Naxanz," he says, his voice sounding strange, hollow and echoing in the dark night.
"S-Sai?" I whisper, stuttering slightly with my fear. "Your eyes… but it's not a full moon…"
"This is a vision, Nax. What you see here is not real." He shakes his head, blinking, but still looking at me.
I can find no words to reply to that; if this is a vision, then that means that my dream, the one I remembered, was…
"Real," he says softly. "That is real enough."
"Th-then… but… what is this?" I stare up at him, feeling conflicting emotions now as my eyes meet his own, drawn unwillingly in by the captivating gold.
"A vision," he repeats. "The future. A prophecy."
"Why are we both here, then?" I murmur. "And how do you know it's a—"
"I have had a number of them in my time." His voice is wry. "There is a trick to recognizing these dreams."
"Well, then, let my wrist go, unless that's a symbol of something." Now that I know what this is, all my resentment has returned in full, and I glare at him.
His mouth quirks slightly upward and to the side. "I would love to tell you that it is a symbol of something, Nax, but interpretation will only come once we wake. For now, we can only observe." He does release my wrist, though, and I rub it, slightly dramatically, if I am being perfectly honest.
"Well, then, what's the use of knowing it's a prophecy?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Interpretation is sometimes simpler when you are assured that it is necessary."
I roll my eyes and turn my attention back to the seemingly unchanging night sky. I sense that he does the same beside me, but I do not look at him, only searching the stars purposefully for my answer.
"You know… I did say I was sorry," he says quietly.
"I heard," I reply flatly. "I don't much care."
He sighs. "Will you at least allow me an explanation?"
"No." I shut him down at a single word, not even sparing him a glance.
"Why?" he persists.
"Because I don't want to hear it." I actually do turn now, glaring at him violently.
"Why?" This is another game he plays with me often; the 'why' game. Asking me a series of questions consisting only of 'why,' in order to make me answer to the fullest detail that I can. It's one of his most annoying games, although I used to enjoy it when he challenged me so I could impress him. Now, though…
"Because I just don't," I say, turning back and not elaborating. "And if you say 'why' again, I'm only going to ignore you, so don't bother."
There is a silent pause, and I return to searching the sky, my eyes scanning the spaces between the stars carefully, trying to make out whatever symbol might be written there.
"You are afraid of trusting me," he says, almost too softly for me to hear.
I am completely taken aback, my mouth hanging open as the words register.
He doesn't wait for me to confirm or deny his statement, pressing on immediately. "You feel betrayed by Mika, and by your Elders, and by yourself, and the dilemma of the traitor has worn on your trust, and you resent me for my words, though I can sense with all of my heart that you do not want to believe them; you simply fear the dispensation of your trust because you are afraid that I will break it… again." He sighs.
My mouth finally closes, and I can feel myself quivering with anger and fresh grief, but I do not reply, only ignoring him again.
"Naxanz, I am sorry." I hear the fervent sincerity in his voice, but I close my heart to it immediately.
"I am so sorry for my words, my dear." He seems to almost be pleading with me, though it is different than true pleading, which is not his style. "When I said what I said, it was only a ploy to get you to leave, because I truly did not want you to be in the Assassins' Complex, where you could be harmed. If anyone were to be harmed, I would rather it were me, and not you. I would not be able to bear the guilt alive if you were killed trying to rescue me. So, yes, I intended to hurt you, but that was only to keep the Assassins from harming you. And I am sorry."
"Just stop." I whisper it harshly, feeling the tears dripping down my cheeks now. Still, the stupid prophecy hasn't come, and I feel my walls crumbling, my emotions beginning to slip through. "Stop trying to manipulate my emotions. It's not a game, and it's not funny. I don't like this, and you're just sick and twisted for keeping it up just to amuse yourself."
"I am not trying to amuse myself!" I have finally reached his core; aroused his anger, and now it has flared all the way up, passion inflaming his voice. His hands reach out, gripping me by the shoulders and spinning me around violently to face him, and I see the same passion smoldering in his bright eyes. His fingers are a vice on my shoulders, and I gasp slightly, frightened again.
"Naxanz Aotora, you are possibly the most stubborn girl I have ever met," he growls, his voice trembling slightly. "You are headstrong and passionate and full of emotion. It is infuriating."
"So now you hate me again?" I manage, somehow, to keep my voice toneless and flat, even through my rising fear.
He growls again, and I can feel myself flinch unwillingly beneath his fingers.
"No, you silly, stubborn girl." He shakes his head vigorously. "You make me tired, but… I do not, and cannot, hate you."
"And why's that?" I retort flatly, staring up into his eyes, so inflamed with emotion now that it's almost painful to look at, like staring into a mirror of my own heart. How similar we are, even in hatred.
"Because… you…" He suddenly seems less sure of himself, though the emotion does not waver or die in the slightest, but he presses on. "Because you taught me to trust again, when trust was a luxury I did not readily hand out. You taught me to look at the world as a good place again; a redeemable place. You showed me… happiness, and peace."
I cannot speak. I cannot breathe. His eyes are still staring at me, and I'm trying to keep my rage at the forefront of my mind, fighting off the trance of the golden shimmer.
"Naxanz… you silly, stubborn, beautiful girl." He sighs again, and my eyes widen slightly, against my will. 'Beautiful' was not the adjective I was expecting. I stare at him, waiting for the next sentence.
"I have to… I…" He stutters for a moment, catches himself, and sighs. "I want… to…" He falters again, crossing his eyes in seeming frustration. The trance is wearing off, and I can feel the rage growing again, its strength returning as the fuzziness drains away.
Suddenly, he gives an exasperated huff. "Oh, to Hades with it all. Naxanz… I love you." And suddenly, I am much closer to him than before, and his lips are pressed against mine firmly, his hands still gripping my shoulders.
Several emotions run through my mind at once as soon as he kisses me; shock, bewilderment, resentment, anger… joy? This is the strangest vision I have ever had, and I can't say I really know what this is a symbol for, but… I've wanted this for so long…
Slowly, I begin to slide my arms around his waist, wanting to hold him back, to return the kiss and say I love him too; that I always have.
Suddenly, though, my rage returns with a ferocity. This is just another ploy. He's just toying with my emotions again. That's all that this is.
With a sudden jerk, I yank my arms out from around him and shove him away, separating his lips from mine with a jolt. He steps back, looking slightly dazed and a little confused.
"How dare you…" I can feel my own voice trembling, hot tears pricking at my eyes. "How dare you even think of doing that to me?! I already told you that my emotions aren't a toy for you to play with, you son of a Heartless! How dare you try to make me think that you… you…" I can't hold it in any more, turning away and putting my face in my hands as my tears discharge all at once.
I can hear the pain and hurt in his voice when he responds. "I was not lying... I do love you. I promise that I do."
"What are promises worth?" I spit. "Nothing, that's what. Liseth promised we'd be sisters, forever, and that's the only promise I'm holding onto."
There is a moment of silence, and then his arms are around me again, trying to pull me closer in comfort.
I almost kick him in the shins. "Let go!" I scream.
"Not until you believe me," he whispers raggedly.
"If you want me to believe that you love me, then holding me hostage isn't a great place to start," I hiss venomously.
He hesitates, but lets me go, standing back with his eyes rimmed in red.
I only stand and glare at him, tears still streaking my cheeks.
"This isn't even a vision, is it?" I whisper. When he doesn't reply, I prompt again, more viciously. "Is it?!"
"No," he mumbles, shame coating the one syllable thoroughly. "No… it is not."
My heart splits into even smaller pieces.
"I can't believe I ever trusted you." I shake my head, my heartbreak thorough and complete.
"I didn't mean…" He raises a hand, but I really slap him this time, leaving a red mark on his wrist.
"I'm leaving," I whisper. "Goodbye, Master."
I turn away, walking toward the door to the balcony.
Before I reach it, the dream shatters into tiny fragments, leaving me with nothing but darkness and a broken heart.