A red thread of stains

Four grey walls enclosed Vanitas like a box. The cold from the concrete floor seeped through his jeans, freezing his skin and his eyes ached in the dim light. The bed creaked and the airless cell suffocated him. Hunched on the floor, he wrapped his necklace around his fingers and waited.

A guard stopped at his cell and pushed a tray of food through the bars. Vanitas grimaced at the watery gruel and a single cup of water. Ignoring the warder, he gazed at the barred window in his cell, waiting for morning to break.

06:30 a.m.

Wright and Co. Law Offices

Phoenix's office

"Mr. Wright, I want that case."

Dark blue circles ringed Sora's eyes and the metal studded leather jacket he wore did little to flatter his scrawny stature.

The sun barely peeked over the horizon when he entered the office, nodded to the yawning receptionist and stumbled through the hallway to his boss' office. He clutched the edge of Wright's table and painfully forced the request lodged in his throat.

Phoenix cleared a space in the middle of his walnut table. He filed a newspaper clipping and tossed the binder to the floor where it landed in a muffled thump. "I don't think this case is a good one," he commented and frowned compassionately. "They flew in an international prosecutor to deal with it," he checked an e-mail on his computer, "and the scene of the crime shows the murder was done with an unconventional weapon. He rubbed the back of his head. "Authorities are calling it a Keyblade."

Concern crumpled his face when Sora breathed heavily, upending a glass penholder on its side.

"The nature of the murder is very mystical," Phoenix explained, "it has to do with magic and other things we don't really know about." He guided the young attorney to a divan along the wall and opened the blinds, flooding the previously dark room with natural light.

"He would never do it." Sora gripped his scarf tightly. "Vanitas is not capable of murder, he…he's my twin brother."

"You have a twin brother?" Trucy stepped inside the office with a watering can and fluffy slippers. "I'll come back later," she tactfully exited the chamber when Sora miserably lowered his head.

Wright picked several articles scattered messily over his desk. One showed a clear picture of the 'Keyblade' the murder weapon. Another document held information on Vanitas Clavius, including a college photograph and basic data. He sighed, none of this made sense, if Maya were here, she could at least explain the magic and mystery surrounding the Keyblade. Better yet, she could tell him what the blade functioned as.

Murdering someone with a giant, stylized key seemed highly inconvenient.

"Do you know what this is?" he showed a photograph of the Keyblade and a strangled gasp escaped Sora's throat. "So you know what this is?" Phoenix pressed.

"He... he said he summoned it," Sora moaned. "Vanitas works for the Keyblade Wielders Association, they use those types of weapons." Wringing his hands, Sora paced. "I need to see him," he pleaded. "I need to know if he's okay. He puts up this tough facade but he's really more like an angry kitten once you get to know him."

The glossy image in Wright's hand showed a menacingly grinning, black haired young man; Phoenix compared the two brothers and silently concluded Vanitas looked like more like trouble and less like an angry kitten.

08:05 a.m.

Police precinct

Detention Center

A guard stood ramrod straight in the corner of the room. Thick glass separated the visitors and Vanitas smiled tiredly at his brother. "You'd look good in my jacket if you'd put on some more muscle," he joked and lowered his eyes when Sora grasped the mike with both hands and furiously strangled it.

"You... can't you take this situation seriously?" Sora squeaked when the guard shifted. "You are giving me an ulcer!" Wright respectfully waited at the gate, giving the twins privacy. "Why were you arrested? The KBWA is far from the Organization XIII's headquarters. And didn't I tell you not to show that thing in public? Do you even understand what you are in?" The mike bent under Sora's wrath and he mopped his forehead with his scarf.

Waiting till his brother exhausted himself Vanitas leaned forward. "I was out hunting heartless-"

"Don't..." Sora warned with gritted teeth, "start spouting nonsense with me." Breathing deeply to control the stabbing pain in his stomach, he continued, "Tell me exactly what went on, and leave your asinine imagination out of it!"

A commotion at the entrance stalled the conversation and Vanitas brightened when Zack strolled through the doors, the Buster sword clipped to its magnetic harness. Paling when his brother spun towards the newcomer, Vanitas impatiently motioned for his mentor to wait.

Unfortunately, Fair smiled reassuringly and offered his gloved hand to Sora for a handshake.

The latter mutely rose from his chair, panicked blue irises glued on the giant sword. He timidly shook Zack's hand and glanced at Vanitas for an explanation.

Scowling at his blithe mentor, Vanitas begrudgingly introduced them to each other. "Zack Fair, my mentor," he swallowed when Sora's irises hardened. "And this is my brother, Sora," he jerked his head irritably. "Why are you here?" he demanded. "Did you tell those guys it wasn't me? I found the woman face down in the alley, there was a bunch of heartless feeding off her. Big ones too." Vanitas described what he did before his arrest, "You told me to eliminate the heartless, so I started at the backstreets and worked my way outwards; I sensed a group of them in one area and when I got there, the woman was dead. I got rid of the monsters and the sirens started blaring when I finished. A few of the heartless melted together to make new ones..." he finished and crossed his arms defiantly, faltering when Sora glared at him.

The guard inside the detention center started when the accused unhooked a chain off his waist and whipped it under the table. He blinked confusedly when the young man rubbed his eyes and grumbled about oranges.

"Well," Zack plopped tiredly on the vacated chair, "it doesn't matter if you are found guilty or not, the KBWA is sorting things out with the police, you won't go to prison."

"Guilty?" Sora mutinously muttered. "He's innocent; I'm not going to let anyone find him guilty!"

"Of course he is innocent," Zack pacified and tilted his head, the stud in his ear winking. "But the prosecution and police are adamant he's the culprit, and it's really difficult to explain the intricacies of our world to them. Once they saw pictures of the Keyblade, they are convinced Vanitas committed the murder." He handed a small envelope to Sora. "The KBWA will take full responsibility for this, no matter the outcome, rest assured."

The keyblade...

Sora glowered at the mike, willing it to turn into a steaming puddle of metal and plastic. Mr. Wright waited patiently for him, outside, the faint voices of Trucy and his seniors wafted to the detention center.

The keyblade probably had a will of its own, it did have an eye, Sora turned the envelope over in his hands.

On the other side of the glass, Vanitas zoned on the camera above his head. He appeared paler than usual; dirt smudged his cheeks and bags hung under his eyes.

"I'm going to investigate the crime scene," Sora mumbled decisively, wary of the giant sword Fair carried like it weighed nothing. "I'm going to prove you innocent," he firmly announced to Vanitas, "and you, stay put and have the decency to appear apologetic!" he hissed softly when a smirk broke across his brother's face. Politely bowing to Zack, he scuttled out of the stifling detention center.

Alone in the room, Vanitas morosely picked the slashes in his jeans. "He's going to get sick," he lamented. "Sora blames the Keyblade, he believes it corrupted me." He rubbed his arms and his t-shirt sleeve tore neatly from the shoulder. "He's been worrying about me ever since I joined the KBWA and he thinks my queer... second sight is a part of my imaginative ramblings." Vanitas plopped his chin into cupped hands. "I'm scared he's going to go overboard, is my case really bad?"

"Your brother is quite skittish," Zack remarked and nodded to the guard.

The man gestured for Vanitas' wrists and he held them out, stomach flipping when a silver handcuff snapped shut. Bewildered, but not about to let anyone know his confusion, he stoically followed the guard through a set of corridors and looped back to the Detention room. Vanitas craned his neck for a glimpse of his brother, or a scarf, or the blue suited Mr. Wright; but the no visitors loitered near the door. Zack came out, stretching his arms and the handcuff fell away from Vanitas' raw wrists.

"They released you on one condition," Fair thanked the guard and marched to a sleek, heavy duty motorcycle parked on the curb, "you will accompany me at all times." He fussily jammed a helmet on his pupil's head and Vanitas snarled a derogatory phrase and strapped the helmet by himself. "Hold on tightly," Zack commanded and keyed the ignition, the bike started with a low purr. "I'm taking you for ice-cream."

Hesitating, Vanitas scowled. "I'd rather prefer holding on to vice-chief Tifa." He swung his leg over the padded seat. "And I don't want ice-cream...I wanna go home and take a shower." He sniffed himself. "And eat some real food." The bike accelerated with a jolt and he wrapped his arms around Zack, quietly marveling at his mentor's physique. "They serve crap in the holding cell," he complained loudly as trees and building whisked past, melting into a long, continuous blur as the bike sped faster.

The surroundings dissolved into a stream of colors, asphalt, blobs of buildings and viridian specks for trees.

Exhausted from worry and lack of sleep, Vanitas propped his head against Zack's back and closed his eyes. The wind whistled past his ears and stung his bare arms. People rushed on sidewalks and he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

Bent over a refuse bag, Sora wrestled with his nausea. The reek of blood and alcohol lay thick in the alleyway. Garbage choked the dumpsters and clouds of flies buzzed above overfilled cans. Approaching the bright yellow cordon tape, Sora ducked underneath it and sneezed when the acrid stench of urine stung his nostrils.

What business did Vanitas have in such a place?

The Organization XIII headquarters dwarfed all other domiciles in the vicinity. The white metal lattice encasing the building set it apart from other corporate headquarters and he dreamed of visiting the building one day, preferably with his twin in a tow so Vanitas could deal with the annoying business of interacting with people.

Police swarmed the scene, their foreheads pleated in grim lines. They set up stand lights in the darkest parts of the alley and Sora wrinkled his nose when a large, plump rat squealed and disappeared under a sewer grate. He spent as long as he could, studying the chalk outline on the floor and mustering courage, lifted his eyes to the brick walls surrounding the alley.

Blood. Flecks of blood. Spatters of every diameter soaked the walls.

The anxiety in his stomach stirred again. Tiny scratches littered the bricks and ran down the streets, like long nails dragged across the surface. Using his smartphone torch, he shone light on the marks; crosshatched scars littered the floor next to the victim. A small rectangle of blue sky peeked between the towering buildings and Sora contemplated the solitary cloud temporarily hiding the sun. He recalled features of the Keyblade, the teeth...

Were blunt.

The weapon could not make such fine scars on the brickwork or paved road. Holding the camera steady, he snapped a picture of the lines.

Detective Gumshoe arrived on scene and whipped the working policemen and forensics into a frenzy with his words. Sora stayed out of his way and unobtrusively conducted is own investigation, squatting in corners and squinting where walls met streets. He methodically surveyed the area and sweated when the Detective himself, clomped towards him.

"You again pal?" Gumshoe scowled and Sora gained a sudden interest in his shoes. "I hope you are not the defending lawyer." The detective retrieved a pencil behind his ear and jotted on his notepad. "You'll get whipped, we have a solid case," Gumshoe stated proudly.

You said that the last time, Sora thrust his hands in his pockets.

"The victim is Claudia Stone, she is a fashion magazine reporter, on the day of the murder, she visited Org XIII's headquarters for an exclusive interview with Larxene, the fashion model," Gumshoe explained and reluctantly handed the autopsy report. "Pal, she died from multiple cuts and stabs to her body," he smirked, "our guy used a weird weapon." Sora bristled. "It's called a...a-" the detective fumbled in his pockets, he brought out several candy wrappers smelling of strawberry, a broken magnifying glass and a piece of crumpled paper, "Key...sword," he finished lamely.

Keyblade.

"The suspect is your twin brother, right pal?" Gumshoe continued with a regretful frown. "Funny how members of the same family turn out to be different huh?" he scratched the back of his head.

"He's innocent," Sora mumbled and glared at the chalk outline. "My brother is innocent," he spoke loudly when Gumshoe turned away. "I'm going to make sure he walks free." Sora's blood boiled. "You won't be able to pin him with a crime he didn't do!"

The forensics scraped bricks for flakes of blood and recorded the spatter pattern. A team wore white suits and gloves and sorted through the nearest trash cans; Trucy squatted with them.

She snatched an object out of the bin, placed it in a clear plastic bag and bounced over with the evidence, a gleaming, wood handled pocketknife.

"The murder weapon," she said and ignored a forensic scientist yelling at her to return it. "It's covered in blood; you can dust the handle for fingerprints." The detective's shouting echoed from the other end of the street. "Did Detective Gumshoe give you the autopsy report?" she asked, "I requested him to show it to you." Sora motioned to the file tucked under his arm. "The crime scene," Trucy indicated all the blood and stains with a sweep of her hand, "it's very gruesome isn't it?" her eyes narrowed concernedly.

Lights congregated over the chalk outline and Sora examined shape. According to reports, the victim died face down and patches of velvet red stained the ground beneath her. The decay of death pressed like a shroud and dizzy, Sora noticed the way the victim pressed a palm on the stone and how her legs splayed behind her. More scratches under the body, some of them mere reddish lines.

Vanitas said something about monsters...heartless.

Trucy dragged him to the police van where the forensics bagged evidence and catalogued the material found. With her usual forward attitude, she sorted through the victim's belongings; a tattered peacoat drenched in blood. Frisking through the pockets revealed a glossy photo of renowned female model Larxene, a draft interview with her co-worker, Axel and a letter. Boldly holding the articles in gloved hands, Trucy requested permission from the police to examine them.

Breathing a sigh of relief when they consented, Sora and Trucy spread the evidence over a tarp sheet.

"She's really pretty," Trucy commented on the photograph of Larxene with honey blonde hair and piercing, electric blue eyes. "Since Ms. Stone is a fashion column writer, she probably interviewed Larxene before she was murdered."

In the photo, an evening, strapless dress hugged Larxene's figure, she smiled coyly at the camera and leaned across a plush, royal blue couch, sharply contrasting her golden dress. An ornate vase edged in the corner of the shot, bearing a bouquet of succulent dahlias.

Tossing the photo, Sora briefly scanned the draft interview with Axel and slowly read the letter squeezed in the jacket pocket. "A self-recommendation letter." He tucked the dangling ends of his scarf. "I think Claudia Stone wanted a promotion," he showed the blood botched letter to Trucy and she pondered with a finger on her chin, "so she set up two exclusive interviews with famous fashion models to secure her position."

The evidence inspected and photographed, they returned it to the forensics and left before Detective Gumshoe kicked them out of the scene; the metallic whiff of blood lingered in Sora's nostrils as they winded through the maze of backstreets and stumbled in the open.

Shop fronts lit the streets with dazzling signs and tempted the customers inside with cleverly worded slogans.

Intrigued by the giant building, Trucy marched to Organization XIII, her mouth parted in awe. Grinning at her reaction, Sora remembered Vanitas and wearily stood next to her.

"It's huge." She shaded her eyes and craned her neck upwards. A delivery scooter zipped past, a smear of blonde, white and navy blue. "This is the first time I've seen this building up close, Daddy isn't a big fan of technology," she shrugged playfully, "he has an ancient phone, you can knock someone out with it if you throw it hard enough." People milled in the complex lobby. A crystal chandelier winked in the noonday sun spilling through the transparent doors and a receptionist smiled invitingly towards them. "Should we go in?" Trucy asked, "I can feel the receptionist begging me to come in!" she stated factually and smoothed the ends of her silk cape.

A light blue van idled opposite Organization XIII and while Trucy prattled about meeting important models, Sora squinted at it, his stomach turning into knots.

The driver at the wheel glued his attention to the small space leading to the backstreets squeezed between two shops, several meters away from the headquarters.

Abruptly deciding to confront him, Sora stepped off the pavement, waited for a bus to pass and when the road cleared...

The car vanished.

Cursing under his breath, he followed the blue van as it crossed an intersection. More cars, bikes and vehicles obscured the van from view and despondently staring after it; Sora dragged his feet to the nearest bench and collapsed. He obsessively cycled through the evidence photos on his phone and scrutinized them for details. So many minute lines of blood. What did they mean?

"Do you...do you believe in things we can't see?" Sora stuttered when Trucy uncovered her vending machine meal. His stomach growled. "I'm asking for uh... scientific clarity," he flushed crimson when she held out an egg sandwich for him. "Thanks..." he mumbled, "I didn't have breakfast."

"Daddy has a dear friend," she began through a mouthful of food, "she lives in Kurain Village in the mountains." Trucy pointed to a fuzzy, snowcapped mountain in the distance. "She is a spirit medium and the head of the Fey Clan."

Spirit medium? Seriously?

"Uh huh," Trucy confirmed and Sora found her uncanny, people reading abilities disturbing. "Aunt Maya comes to visit sometimes, and we watch the Steel Samurai and go out for burgers." She uncovered another sandwich and divided it in half. "I wish she was here." Trucy righted her top hat, which slipped dangerously from her head. "She would know what your brother did." She finished lunch, dusted the crumbs from her lap and pointed to the corner of her mouth. "You have mayonnaise right here," she passed a serviette, "and I still have space for desert," Trucy declared confidently and eyed the vending machine. "Hmm... I don't have enough money." Her lips quirked into a pitiful pout.

Sora followed her to the row of humming vending machines selling everything from packets of chips and salted peanuts, to beef bowls and farm fresh eggs. Trucy pointed at a caramel covered pudding cup and eagerly dug in the wobbling desert as he agonized over what to eat. His appetite disappeared the moment of Vanitas' arrest and he quickly pored over the desert offers as more and more people spilled into the space and queued for lunch.

Selecting an individually wrapped slice of lemon cheesecake, he retreated into a people free corner and ate it slowly, feeling sad.

"Don't worry," Trucy diligently scraped the caramel from the plastic cup and the aroma of burnt sugar drifted in the air, "you will get Vanitas his non-guilty verdict." She smiled cheerfully. "I have full confidence in you."

Blinking, Sora shook his head. "I'm not worried about the case," he said. "This is..." he pointed to the cheesecake, "one of Vanitas' favorites, and I'm eating it without him."

The ice-cream numbed his mouth and Vanitas demolished it before deliberately flinging it on the table. The cup skidded across the smooth surface and stopped at Leon's hand.

Another flick, and it joined ten other identical cups.

Seething at the nonchalant boss, Vanitas groped into a shopping bag for another mini-tub of ice-cream and swore under his breath when his hand met empty air. He focused his laser intense glare at the KBWA chief.

Leon signed a thick sheet of paper and stamped a rune next to his signature using his griever pendant. The paper glowed with an orange outline and he stuffed it in an equally important envelope.

"We have already processed the paperwork requesting for your companions," he stated and ignored the fuming rookie. "You will be meeting them tomorrow, if everything goes accordingly."

Exploding out of his chair, Vanitas barked, "And why do you I need companions? You want to keep an eye on me?" Leon ignored him in favor viewing the mural in the boardroom; it showed Traverse Town awash in a sea of yellow lights. "Zack already keeps me on a leash!"

His mentor lifted a questioning eyebrow. "I do not keep you on a leash," he protested languidly. "I'm sad you think of it in such a way." His signature, along with Lockhart's damned Vanitas to be tailed by two, otherworldly people and the young man hated it. "With them around, you gain more independence," Fair said, eyes glowing sapphire in the dim room. "They are there to help you in missions," he raised a hand when Vanitas puffed indignantly, "not like you need help in missions. Think of them as your minions."

"They are there to balance your overwhelming force of darkness," Leon added bluntly as scarlet sunrays seeped on the floor. "I understand your darkness is unique," he paged through Void Gear's latest report, "but it never helps to be cautious, all those who use darkness, have succumbed to its eroding forces." His eyes landed on the gold gilt frame dominating the boardroom with its presence. "All of them," his voice carried the edge of finality.

An uneasy silence hung between the three. Squall did not bother turning on the lights and darkness slowly crept after the last fringes of sunshine lingering in the chamber. When blue light leaked in from the control room's monitors, Zack stretched in his seat and ruffled Vanitas' head, hesitating when the latter snored on the table, a pool of drool trickling from his mouth.

He jumped back in alarm when his student woke with an enraged snarl. "Easy there Puppy," Fair chuckled. "Want to blow off steam by sparring with me?" he suggested and Vanitas' scowl eased into an unhappy frown. Zack weaved through the chaotic control room and the reception. From there, they rode the elevator to the second floor training complex. "While I'm at it, I might as well evaluate your performance." The virtual training chamber's doors opened with a pneumatic hiss. "What are you in the mood for today?" he asked, fingers hovering over the room panel.

"Murder," Vanitas retorted and tore the other sleeve from his shirt. His mentor laughed and the surrounding bare, blank walls shimmered, revealing a warehouse area. A metal scaffolding ran over their heads, large, industrial fans whirred noisily, pumping air into the room. "After sparring, can I go home?" Vanitas pleaded and summoned Void Gear, he instinctively looked upwards, in a vain attempt to catch the halo above his head.

Raising his weapon, Zack replied, "Of course; and I'm coming with you."

Keyblade met sword in a flash of sparks. Vanitas sprang back, ignited a fireball on the teeth of his weapon and hurled it. The projectile missed its target and smashed into a barrel of oil, igniting it in a blazing inferno.

Capering flames danced against the walls and smoke rolled over the floor. Cutting the smoke, Vanitas spun, deflected a strike to his shoulder and lunged, smirking when Void Gear tore through Zack's shoulder pauldron.

"I live in a studio apartment!" Vanitas hissed and barely avoided the large sword. It crashed at his feet, stripping the floor of cement. "My brother sleeps in a tiny bedroom with glass walls, I sleep in the lounge on a sofa-bed, we don't have space for a freeloader!" he protested and ducked to avoid a blizzaga smashing his face.

Sword in a two-handed grip, Zack smirked when Vanitas searched for him, the poor puppy did not have mako enhanced vision and the smoke pouring from the flames obscured visibility. A figurative light bulb flashed on top his pupil's head as he sprinted towards the smoking barrel and raised his keyblade.

A gust of wind cleared the smoke and using it as cover, Zack charged across the floor. The Buster sword emerged from oily fog, aiming to cleave Vanitas' head and he spun, parrying the strike.

"I see you have mastered basic magic," Zack let go of his sword and electricity crackled between his gloved fingers.

Hair standing on end, Vanitas dodge rolled backwards and flung Void Gear; it sliced across the air like a Frisbee and banged Zack on the head.

Stunned by the tiny victory, Vanitas grabbed his returning keyblade and fired a fira. The ball of flames lost size as it hurtled at Zack.

Rubbing his head, he sliced the ball in half and a deafening roar echoed in the warehouse as the fire smashed into more barrels and ignited. Dancing flames raced over the floor and walls. A fan coughed and died, its blades coming to a leisurely standstill.

Aero fanned the fire towards Zack and he stepped backwards cautiously as Vanitas manipulated the flames. Tendrils of darkness snapped away from him and wisped upwards like reverse rain.

Walled all sides by hissing and crackling fire, Zack raised his sword to block when Vanitas dove into the narrow opening, his Keyblade shining in the golden light of flames.

A sharp whack to the wrists and Zack let his Buster Sword go, a grin stretching from ear to ear as Vanitas panted and the virtual training complex settled back into uniform, grey walls.

"You did good today," Fair praised and Vanitas bashfully scratched the back of his head. "It's late, time to go home," Zack announced and carefully rubbed his sword with a microfiber cloth.

His student's good humor evaporated instantly. "What do you mean go home?" he shouted. "You're not coming with me! I told you we don't have space."

"You can't sleep in with your brother?" Fair returned the sword to the magnetic harness and rubbed the beginnings of a bruise on his head. "You whacked me pretty hard," he complained lightly.

"Hell no!" Vanitas clenched his fists angrily. "I don't want you there, I won't run away, why are you being difficult?" Sweat soaked the collar of his shirt and he greedily gulped a bottle of water.

Pausing in drinking his potion, Zack responded, "Rules are rules, I don't make them; and I've said this before," his grip on the bottle tightened, "the KBWA will kick you out if you don't follow rules. We live in a delicate world, one where the people we strive to keep safe, hates us with their guts. We are anomalies, freaks, weirdoes-" he took another sip of the luminous green potion and held the glass bottle to Vanitas who declined, "-we need to be vigilant with our reputation and how we act in public. Rules keep you safe." Fair's glowing gaze shifted to the wall and he somberly added, "Always obey the rules."

He tenderly bumped his fist against Vanitas' chest.

The eerily quiet apartment flooded with light when Sora flicked the switch. Kicking off his shoes, he stumbled to the lounge, halting at a brand new scarf draped on Vanitas' sofa bed. Frantic, he pulled the muffler and a note pinned to it read:

Vanitas is currently detained at headquarters and will be there for an indefinite amount of time. He will be present for the trial. As mentioned before, the Keyblade Wielders Association will take full responsibility in the event he is found guilty. Once the trial is over, he will be released.

Signed, Squall Leonhart.

Eyes bugging and close to fainting, Sora scanned the additional note scribbled at the bottom in handwriting:

PS: Vanitas said you like cashmere scarves - Zack Fair.

Stupidly running his fingers over the scarf, Sora dumbly read the card again. His heart hammered in his chest, the empty apartment with its drawn blinds and humming fridge roared in his ears. It felt like he missed an arm. The small closet against the wall was left open sometime this morning and an array of leather jackets spilled out the wardrobe. Sora wearily closed the door and leaned against it, fingers tangling with his necklace.

Once upon a time, beyond the misty fields of memory, their parents gifted them these two, identical crown necklaces. As children, Vanitas liked to playfully throttle Sora with the chain. Now alone and with anxiety threatening to suffocate him, Sora pulled the crown emblem, he flopped on the bed, the metal edge digging painfully in his palm.

Dark King

Mid-evening

Hall of the Cornerstone

An aurora of light swirled in a crystal globe, perched delicately on an elaborately engraved marble pedestal. An ancient air billowed in the hidden chamber and the door leading to a distant past remained shut, chained with links of light and darkness.

The dazzling light bled through Riku's blindfolds and he shrunk from the Cornerstone of Light. King Mickey strode right up to it and placed a gloved hand on the surface of the glass.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

Riku nodded, head lowered.

"You don't have to be ashamed of yourself." The King marched to the door, his black coat gliding above the floor. "The KBWA branch in Los Angeles found a new wielder," he began. "A Clavius who wields darkness," Mickey mused. "Did you see him?"

Riku petrified like a statue, bathed in the fringes of light. He tensed whenever the King came into the hidden chamber. Easing when Mickey's coat rustled to a stop next to him, he respectfully replied, "Vanitas Clavius, he is an old classmate." He hesitated. "He's impudent and holds little regard for anyone but himself."

The King laughed. "He is being transported here," he chuckled louder when Riku's composure cracked. "Make sure the Castle greets him warmly when he arrives," he ordered and climbed the steps to the throne room.

Tightening the blindfold, Riku muttered, "Yes your majesty." He followed the King back to the surface.

A/N: Chaotic Zack mentoring Vanitas is surprisingly therapeutic to write. I like the relationship between Mickey and Riku, they work well together.

Please read and review, work those brains while in quarantine! I'm giving you an exercise!

No, I'm not dead; although, I had to bury my poor laptop as it spluttered and coughed its end after five years of grueling service; I hope it goes to some hardware heaven. Much thanks and virtual cookies to all.