All bronze and no bite

Predawn traffic slowly wound its way through the city. Steam whirled from two coffee mugs set on the glass table and on the television screen; an Archer avatar activated its noble phantasm. Sora's cheeks ached with the effort of suppressing his smug grin as the attack ripped the opposing Saber into shreds.

The health bar on top whittled slowly and Vanitas' knuckles grew white as he gripped his controller for dear life, praying under his breath for his character to tough it out.

His character went splat.

Sora hid his victorious smile over the rim of his coffee mug. "You can go back to decorating your virtual house to impress your animal friends," he snickered and rose, the half full mug warming his hands.

Another fight loaded on screen as he made his way to the modest kitchen and fired the stove, the aroma of vanilla stuffed the apartment; Vanitas grumbled, he tried a bunch of combinations, irritably tossed the controller and settled for breakfast.

Pancakes, lathered in melting butter and sugar, steamed on his plate and grabbing a fork, he munched on them pensively.

"What time do you have to leave?" Sora asked, cutting his pancake into messy cubes.

Ragged scars peeked from beneath his deep cut shirt and he self-consciously pulled the fabric backwards. He painstakingly ate half a pancake and with a resigned sigh, swallowed the array of prescribed tablets. They made his brain fuzzy. Winding a navy blue scarf around his neck, he rooted for the container of birdseed stashed in the kitchen cupboards.

"Do you have a date for the gala?" he questioned, "if you need any formal wear, my wardrobe is open."

Finishing the leftovers on Sora's plate, Vanitas replied, "I'll ask someone from the KBWA to go with me." He checked the mission details on his smartphone. "I'm not due till late evening and I got the suit you bought for me, it's a little tight, I'm sure no one minds though." He grinned. "You're going to work so early in the morning?"

"Vitamin Square," Sora distractedly responded and laced his sneakers. "I want some alone time, no one will be there at this hour," he quickly added when concern flickered over his brother's face. "Don't worry, I'll call you if anything happens and I've been practicing my magic." His hand hovered uncertainly at the door knob and taking a deep breath, Sora stepped out to the morning chill. Goosebumps rose on his skin and tucking his chin, he sedately made his way to the elevator.

09:15 a.m.

Los Angeles

Vitamin Square

A sea of bright yellow hard hats marched over the pedestrian crossing in unison, the preschool children chanted a song and exchanged infectious smiles as they bustled into the park and divided into neat groups. Some of the children veered for the swings, others swarmed over the monkey bars and yelled gleefully. A few played in the sand pit, tiny uniforms smirched with dirt. A small girl with perfectly bouncy pigtails stared in wonder as Sora climbed out of the plastic strawberry, trying to preserve his scraps of dignity.

He stiffly walked to the gate, the girl's stare bored twin holes in his back. On the way, he tripped over a rock, caught himself and wished for the earth to absorb him as a bunch of other children turned.

"Are you okay mister?" one asked.

Another offered him a fluffy white tissue.

"Never better," he squeaked and dashed before some responsible child brought a teacher to the scene.

A cab ride brought him closer to the agency and his stomach tied into knots. Invisible in the streets, Sora aimlessly paused at the ice-cream vendor. Often, Ventus bought ice-cream around this hour and he patiently waited for the boy to make an appearance. Sora did not know why he wanted to see the blonde, but the uncanny resemblance between Roxas and the child unnerved him.

Time marched, the sun rose and drew crooked shapes on the pavement. Uncomfortable with the muffler dampening around his neck, Sora idled on a bench, a cold latte sweating in his hands. He waited for the blonde boy to career around the corner, a wild breeze in this sea of normality.

He waited.

And waited.

The ice-cream cart rattled in front of him, the man hawking for customers. Drowning the tepid latte in a few long gulps, Sora crushed the plastic cup and nervously approached the vendor.

"Have... was the boy here today?" he queried, voice pitching louder when the man turned.

The vendor frowned in confusion. "Boy? I get a lot of customers young man."

Sora pretended to read the labels on the ice-cream cartons. "Blonde," he indicated below chest height, "a bit short, spiky hair. He's... he wears atypical clothes and a little armor piece on his shoulder?" Sora jogged the man's memory. "You yelled at him once because he didn't have enough munny for ice-cream."

"I don't think I've ever seen the boy you are describing," the ice-cream seller informed and scooped two serves of vanilla and mint-chocolate ice-cream. "Are you buying anything?"

Accepting a chocolate and caramel cone and forking over the respective pay, Sora dallied. "He frequents your shop," he agitatedly said. "Ventus sticks out of the crowd like a sore thumb, you know him," he quickly focused on his ice-cream when the man's brows furrowed.

"I tend to remember the brats who come here often." He smiled toothily at a pair of girls timidly approaching the cart and gave them a discount on their strawberry cones. "And if he is as strange as you say, I wouldn't forget, I don't think he's ever come here, perhaps you are confused."

I am not confused.

Thanking the vendor with a stiff, bewildered bow, Sora licked his ice-cream and wondered what to do next. He could head over to the agency, Mr. Wright or senior Apollo should already be there…

A group of teenagers passed, chatting loudly. Sora froze, one of them was acquainted with Ven. More than a bit intimidated by the guys and girls, he screwed every ounce of his courage, ignored the protesting bubbling of his stomach and shuffled to the group, waiting at a crossing for the light to change.

"Excuse me," he mumbled and they turned. Sora forced himself to hold their gazes and their faces swam. "There was a boy around here," fighting to keep his voice level, he ploughed on, "a blonde child wearing weird clothes and metal lined shoes. He... uhm... he eats a lot of ice-cream and smiles to everyone passing by."

The teens exchanged baffled looks. One impatiently glimpsed their watch. Another eyed at him with increased interest and Sora's tugged his scarf protectively over his face.

"Aren't you Clavius?" a girl excitedly chirped, "the lawyer, Clavius?" She grabbed her companion's forearm as the group stood straighter, politer. "You are with the Wright and Co. Lawyer agency. Can I get your Mr. Justice's autograph?"

"You're being impolite," her friend barked. "Sorry for her behavior," he apologized with a slight bow. "We," he glanced back to his friends, "haven't seen the boy you're talking about. Is he missing?" He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "if you want, we can help you-"

Clutching his muffler, Sora vehemently shook his head. "No thanks. It's nothing really." The crowd thickened around him. "I saw him around often and thought-," he muttered incoherently and the group nodded in understanding. "Thanks for the help, I'll uh," a loud insistent ring from his phone saved him from further embarrassment and mouthing an apology, he scurried to a secluded area to read the message.

Gym workout - one hour, the reminder from the KBWA read and he groaned. A young oak tree cast dappled shadows and Sora slipped his phone in his pocket. He jumped when a second beep echoed and irritably stabbed his finger on the screen.

Confirmation. Now. The message commanded and quivering, he hastily composed a reply

Maya gently brushed Trucy's hair from her forehead as the latter snored softly on her lap. She smiled to herself and her heart did the odd, jerking motion whenever she thought of Mia.

On the lounge floor, Pearly cleared a space, kicking paraphernalia under the couches and precariously balancing things on any open surface. Squares of colored paper littered the floor and she practiced origami, creating a thousand paper crane garland. She finished one, blew into it and it joined the little shapes amassed in neat rows on the carpet.

Loud footsteps heralded the approach of Polly with a steaming cup of tea. He stopped at the threshold when Trucy stirred and brought the cup to her. "Mr. Wright made this for you," he said and perched on the couch, "I know you won't touch the tea I make," he frowned good-naturedly.

"Your tea is un-drinkable," Trucy quipped and graciously accepted the cup. "I'm not an invalid you know!" she protested. "Stop treating me like I'm dying, it's a bad omen." She snuggled closer to Maya; the spirit medium's soothing aroma calmed her. "Where is Daddy? We have important things to discuss, like when I'm getting a Mommy."

On the floor, Pearl blushed and snuck a peek at mystic Maya. Her cousin's lack of response bothered her.

Cykes entered the lounge, her side ponytail whipping back and forth; she dumped a bunch of folders on the already loaded coffee table and transferred some of the plates on there to the tea cart. "Is Sora here yet?" Athena asked and munched on a croissant. "Isn't he supposed to come in today?"

Wondering if the lounge will ever be cleared of its mess, Phoenix balanced two bowls of noodles and immediately regretted his appearance when Maya grinned expectantly. His daughter straightened, to make more space and delicately pushing Athena's files to the very edge of a grimy coffee table, he placed the porcelain bowls of salty noodles at the center. A magician's body box lay open, half spilling with Trucy's old costumes and clothes he never had the heart to throw out. A few days ago, Apollo and Athena dug through the boxes to retrieve Trucy's favorite, rainbow spangled blanket and they neglected to clear the mess.

The blanket, now too small for his daughter, lay over her shoulders.

"If he doesn't come in today, don't pester him to." Wright muttered a prayer before slurping his noodles. "We don't have burgers," he informed a distraught Maya, "you and Trucy share the noodles, I ordered a box of pastries from the cafe downstairs." He noticed Pearl on the olive carpeted floor, stringing the cranes together. "Pearls," he paused in his slurping, "have something to eat." He nodded to the single jam filled scone on the tea cart.

She hesitated. "I wanted to finish this before Sora arrived." Pearl smoothed her lilac kimono over her knees. The purple bauble threaded through her fringe glittered. "We can put it up in the reception," she beamed and he nodded in agreement. "It will invite good fortune to the agency."

Wright smiled at her pure intentions as Trucy slithered off the couch to join Pearl in finishing the cranes. Seeing her, Athena too, got down and helped her. The three bent over the colored squares and chattered among themselves while Apollo flipped through the papers his co-worker left on the table. They were old evidences to be catalogued and having nothing better to do, he filed the documents under the correct headings.

"Did Trucy make this?" Sora asked. "Can I have it?"

He reached for the scone in the middle of the floral plate and blinked when his senior screeched in surprise, papers sliding to the floor. Mr. Wright reacted less dramatically, he spilled salty broth all over Maya's flowing robes and she stared in dismay as the eggshell white fabric turned transparent. Meekly taking a seat on the far side of the couch, Sora nibbled on his scone while the agency sluggishly recovered from his abrupt presence.

"This scone is dry," he complained and sipped the extra cup of tea cooling on the cart.

Gathering the papers from the floor, Apollo placed them on the red couch. "Is it okay to be up and about?" He pretended not to see the expanses of ugly, blemished skin beneath Sora's scarf. "If you're feeling fine, Athena needs help with her old cases." Sora scooted next to him and skimmed through the files. "Her stuff is a mess," Justice grumbled and examined a piece of evidence.

"Ach!" Athena exclaimed as she squashed a crane, "I can't believe Pearl made all of this," she tried folding another crane and smirked proudly when it took shape. "My files aren't a mess," she crossly informed Apollo who muttered under his breath, "they are a bit disorganized. I know where goes what." She took a seat next to Sora, now sandwiched between his seniors. "This information goes here," she showed him where to place the appropriate documents, "and the evidence is in the archive, or the library," she mused with a hand on her hip, "I forgot."

Taking her file and escaping the jovial atmosphere of the overcrowded lounge, Sora entered the quiet library. A brass lamp and stray papers covered the table he normally worked at and he cleared it, making sure not to drop The Thinker statue-clock on his toes. Cykes followed him, dumping another load of papers on an adjacent oak wood desk and smacked her fist in her palm, determinedly.

Fringes of warm sunlight crawled through the blinds of a nearby window and glinted on the tips of his spiky hair. "I'll start with this," Sora mumbled and sunk in the plush arm chair. He thoughtfully chewed the end of this Level 6 pen and plugged his ears before beginning with work. "I'll let you know when I'm done," he said loudly.

"You're coming with me to the gala," Vanitas announced and grabbed Riku's collar.

The taller man screeched to a halt before his jersey tore. He needed to submit his Keyblade for routine testing at the research laboratory and planned to spend the afternoon researching for his assignment.

"I'm currently on a mission," he wearily stated, "and your brother needs to resume his training, therefore I need to make time for him." He tried to shift past the Black Saint, who wouldn't let go. "Take your hands off my collar," Riku hissed.

Vanitas clenched the fabric tighter in his fist. "I want a date for the gala and you happened to cross my line of vision." The Grey Knight exhaled through gritted teeth. "I need someone to remind me what I'm fighting for." Clavius let go of the collar and stood on tiptoes to bolster his height. "I don't trust myself to behave in their company." He paused as a pair of association members squeezed past them in the corridor. "Heck, me accepting this assignment is a favor for Leon." He regarded his boots, unpolished and scuffed. "Those people are the ones who nearly killed Sora," he fidgeted, "and it'll take a sickening amount of self-restraint not to claw out their throats. So come with me... please."

Riku's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Did you-"

"Wipe the grin from your face or I'll wipe it off for you." Vanitas stomped to the teleporting moogle, situated around the bend. "Do you have formal clothes?" he tilted his head at Nox's physique, "I don't think Sora's stuff will fit you, he's on the skinnier side." Vanitas absentmindedly patted his pockets for his phone and cursed when his hands met nothing. "My assignment starts late in the evening, I'll meet you at the Organization headquarters." His voice grew smaller as he stalked past the moogle for the elevator box. "Don't be late."

The elevator doors closed, cutting his speech off.

Letting his grin grow, Nox massaged his cheek. At least the prickly Clavius trusted him more. A slender shoulder bumped into him.

"Whoa, scary!" Yuffie, a dangerously large shuriken strapped on her back, teased and deliberately pinched his cheeks. "I never thought I'd see the day grumpy old you would smile. Who's the lucky person eh? Did the King finally adopt you?" She grinned like a monkey and retreated lightning fast when he reached for her wrists. "Nope." She wagged her finger admonishingly and he reluctantly humored her. "First tell me what you were smiling about."

The Grey Knight ran a hand through his hair, ever since he messily chopped it short; he ran into the problem of Yuffie cornering him and demanding dates at odd times. "Nothing much," he fell in step with her, "somehow, Clavius believes I'm in prime position to act as a mental barrier to his homicidal tendencies." A small grin surfaced when Yuffie boisterously laughed. "I don't know if he's being friendly or antagonistic, both of them are difficult to read."

He parted ways with her as she headed for the archives and lazily raised his hand when she waved at him vigorously. Riku incinerated his schedule in his palm and retrieving an old fashioned phone from his pocket, he dialed a number.

"Nox," he replied to the caller as the armored guards flanking the entrance to the archives nodded in polite acknowledgement. "I need formal wear for this evening. Something that won't make me stand out."

The voice on the other end giggled. "Like it or not," static marred Shiki's words, "you've become real popular ever since you returned from Disney Castle. I'll see what I can do; check in at the lounge at five o'clock."

Blank walls. Blank floors.

The training complex's spacious, inner chamber changed according to the weapon wielded by the trainee on the day of the evaluation. Faint orange outlines seeped within the walls and withdrew and as Vanitas tinkered with the control panel and tried to initiate a testing sequence, the screen screamed a warning and asked for three confirmatory signatures. Two must be from the chief and vice-chief, the third one… a plug lodged in his throat.

Zack Fair stood in faded letters next to the list of eligible candidates. He irritably noticed King Mickey had the authority to launch a rookie evaluation all on his own.

The pneumatic doors hissed apart and he rubbed his eyes, summoning Void Gear in one smooth motion. Donald and Goofy assumed a triangular formation as digital green code flooded the slate walls before the chamber changed into a bastion preyed by metal. Lilac steam hung over an archway like gossamer lace and a grand staircase unfolded before their feet. A crop of low level, pureblood heartless surfaced and Vanitas single handedly tore through them all.

"How do I activate a Drive Form?" he asked, voice echoing strangely from niches decorated with stained glass. His companions explained the ability to utilize their powers by absorption, which granted Vanitas faculties he otherwise did not have. The ability to wield two Keyblades appealed to him greatly, he could eliminate heartless at twice the speed. "I have the clothes the fashionista girl tailored," he grimaced, "and I don't like them. Is it necessary for me to wear them?" he questioned for the umpteenth time. "Everyone will make fun of me."

Donald waved his staff impatiently and Vanitas' designer leather jacket, jeans and boots vanished, instantly replaced by his new clothes.

The Black Saint's face flushed in rage. "My… my clothes" he stuttered. "What the hell did you do to them?" A pile of intact clothing lay at his feet. "And you didn't have to strip me naked, stupid duck, what if someone was watching?" He gestured pointedly to the two way window. "My goddamn dignity is crumbling the more I stay with you."

"Stop being melodramatic!" Donald whacked Vanitas with his staff. "You wouldn't wear those clothes, we told you before, they are imbued with magic, one of us needs to willingly submit and fuse with your clothes, this gives you an increase in physical combat, based on Goofy, or magic, based on me. They are called Valor and Wisdom forms, and are the easiest to summon and master."

Vanitas smirked. "Wisdom... you?" he cackled and dodged a fireball from Donald. "This sucks," he timorously complained and pulled his baggy pants. "Sora won't even were these." Accepting his life at the KBWA to be defaced by bad fashion, he assumed a fighting stance. "So how does this whole fusing thing work?" he fanned his face when a metal pipe blew steam. "Isn't it bad for you guys? I mean," he scratched the back of his head, "won't it be painful to melt?"

"Gawrsh." Goofy began glowing. "We've been doing Drive Forms with his majesty and Riku for a long time now." He smiled placidly at the telltale jealously tightening the edge of Vanitas' jaw. "You are the first one to ever espress...fess, err, express concern for us." Crimson light bathed the anthropomorphic dog and he diffused over Vanitas' threads.

Scarlet fire washed the clothes, turning them a passionate red. A secondary Keyblade, a black and silver weapon with spiked teeth, materialized above Vanitas' head and a thin spark of electricity joined the two weapons. Drunk on the rush of power, he expertly sent a blade cutting across the air to Donald who returned it with a powerful gust of wind.

"I summoned a new Keyblade!" Vanitas declared as a solitary heartless materialized to accommodate his growing levels of power. He dodged a blow skimming the top of his hair and stabbed the humanoid monster's shoulder. "I think I have more respect for Goofy." He leered appreciatively as the heartless howled in pain.

Leaving Two Become One embedded, he put some distance between himself and the monster, judging how far the dual Keyblades could be separated; when the arc of crimson electricity flickered, he yanked both blades back to him and held them in front of him.

"Huh?"

"I forgot," Donald drawled, "you can't use magic in Valor form."

04:30 p.m.

Wright and Co Law agency

Archive

The day progressed to an overcast sky as Sora ferried pieces of evidence from the archive to Cykes' bright, bold office. Situated opposite Mr. Wright's chamber, the archive contained boxes of evidence, some of them dating back to before Phoenix practiced law. A thin layer of dust dusted the cartons at the very top and while he and Athena rifled through them, she picked odd objects sealed in clear plastic bags an explained their significance to him.

Apparently Mr. Wright was once horribly tasered; Cykes dangled the gun in front of him.

Latex gloves damp from sweat and the humidity inside the cramped room, Sora frantically caught a box as it edged off the shelf. A packet of glass shards fell to the tiled floor and he blanched at a snippet of paper containing Maya's name in what appeared to be blood. Gulping nervously, he placed the box on the floor and picked the shards.

"I heard a noise," Wright appeared at the doorway, "is everything okay?" His blue irises landed on the bloody receipt.

Freezing like a deer caught in headlights when his boss entered the tiny, stuffy chamber, Sora hastily placed the broken glass back. "I nearly bumped this box off the shelf," his bumbled, "but I caught it before any... uh... permanent damage occurred." He quickly checked the contents. "Everything is intact, apart from the already broken glass."

Picking the receipt, Phoenix turned it over. Time bleached the other side into a blank strip of paper. "This was when Maya was accused of murdering my mentor," he explained and wistfulness clouded his eyes. "The prosecution, Edgeworth, then accused me of murdering Mia." He broke off with a sigh. "It was a really difficult time for me." Phoenix slotted the box back on the shelf. "Evidence are pieces of memory and history," Athena looked up from Widget's monitor, "you have to be careful with it and although it sounds odd, you must respect your evidence. They tell the truth. You can't always trust people."

He smiled lopsidedly at the younger attorneys' solemn expressions.

"He's so cool," Sora affirmed under his breath as the boss disappeared into his spacious office.

A more pressing thought surfaced in Sora's mind. This morning, how come no one recognized his description of Ventus? The boy frequented those streets, accepting balloons in shades of pastel blue and orange. A vendor once yelled at him for not having enough munny for a cone of fancy ice-cream, topped with a miniature, chocolate Keyblade.

Did the boy disappear from everyone's memories? Or, another unwelcome idea intruded on his internal musings, did I dream Ven up to cope with my crippling anxiety and lack of friends? I did find it extremely easy to talk to him.

Sora chuckled to himself. Concerned; Athena asked him a question and assessed his mental profile from his voice. Not good, her junior tethered on the edge of a breakdown.

"What are you thinking about?" She shattered his complicated contemplations. "You've been muttering to yourself."

Pulling his scarf, Sora mumbled, "There is a boy," he shook his head dismissively, "sorry, it's nothing important."

"It is important," Athena asserted. Dust streaked her cream yellow blouse at the ruffled edges. "If you are having trouble, you need to share it with us," she smiled, "we are your friends." He blushed gratefully. "We are your family."

Finding a suitably large box to sit on, Sora related the morning's events. "There is a child who looks a lot like... like Roxas." Somehow, saying the name out loud prickled his scars. "He's younger; I don't think he's from Los Angeles." He paused, lining the sentences properly in his head. "I saw him a few times; he used to hang out at the ice-cream vendor and the amusement park mascot near the intersection. I once bumped into him." Athena sneezed at the dust swirling in the room, but motioned him to carry on. "He invited me to sit on a bench," it dawned on Sora how bizarre it was to accept a total stranger's invitation, "and we talked. He seemed like a pretty good guy, if a bit naive.

"Today," Sora twisted the fringes of his scarf, greyed with dirt, "I waited for him. He never came." Cykes nodded sympathetically. "I asked the ice-cream vendor; the high-school bunch who are acquainted with him, the creepy mascot," he shuddered, "but no one knows him." He threw his hands exasperatedly in the air and it bumped against a glass object. "Ow." Sora shook his fingers. "It's like... he was erased from everyone's memories," his voice lowered, "and I'm the only one who remembers. I don't understand if I actually encountered him, or if I had an epic, ongoing hallucination."

Athena laughed softly at his discomfort and irritably tucked a strand of orange-red hair behind her ear. "What if he is one of those spezial people like you? Then it makes sense," she reasoned, "why he didn't want to leave traces behind. For all you know, Organization XIII or the KBWA might be hunting for him too." She straightened as Sora's eyes darkened thoughtfully. "Or, maybe he went back home? You did say he's not from around here."

She sneezed some more and pinched her nose, glaring at the trails of dust in the air.

"Maybe he did go home." Sora convinced himself, unable to stop smiling at his senior trying to waft the dust from the air, she only succeeded in making the situation worse. Following her out with a stack of boxes straining his biceps, he resolved to quit loosing hair over Ven's mysterious vanishing and focus on work.

Despite bobbing in the middle of a high profile, luxuriously dressed crowd, Vanitas still turned heads. He held a champagne flute, the pale gold liquid bubbled, and glowered at everyone over the rim of his glass.

The Level 10 area, situated on the twentieth floor of Organization XIII, doubled as a hybrid ballroom and gambling lounge. In one corner, Luxord, fetching in a tailored waistcoat, dealt cards and entertained guests while those who attended the function with lucrative deals in mind, gravitated towards Xemnas, seated in a padded armchair, long silver hair gathered in a low ponytail. The CEO commented listlessly and passively allowed the hounding media crew to take his pictures.

Cameras flashed blindingly, the air clashed with an atmosphere of festivity, laughter and an undercurrent of dangerous tension.

Snatching an appetizer off a passing waitress' silver tray, Vanitas examined the shrimp curled in the middle of the cheese smeared cracker and bit into it. He passed his half eaten food to Riku, standing a step behind him.

"No thank you." The silver haired man turned. "Give your leftovers to someone who'd want to eat them," he growled. The words lost in a tide of raucous laughter.

"I didn't hear you." Vanitas placed the appetizer back on another tray. The waiter sniffed at it disdainfully. "If you have a problem, complain to your boss over there." The Black Saint sneered savagely and apologizing profusely, the server scurried away.

A gold gilt, crystal chandelier distorted the guests' image into tiny, insignificant smudges. The ceiling swam with showers of bright, silver stars. A meteorite streaked across the shifting blue-black, momentarily transfixing the crowd and the moon drifted, shining its luminescent face in all corners of the animated sky.

The two piece suit seemed to shrink on him. Vanitas left the top few buttons of his crimson shirt open and tucked his necklace out of sight. He messily styled his hair, sent a selfie to Sora who couldn't care any less and found Riku waiting dignifiedly in the hallway. The double doors to the thickly carpeted lounge opened with a creak and immediately, the low voices of people bloomed in the room. Mellow lighting glimmered off strings of pearls and large signet rings.

A bartender wiped the gleaming counter, situated at the back. Rows of tinted bottles lined the shelf, bottle green and amber brown, their surfaces rippling with the shadows of the milling crowd.

"What am I doing here?" Vanitas snarled, not for the first time.

Riku side stepped a lumbering man. "You are here to observe," he unnecessarily replied.

Drowning his glass, Vanitas brusquely threw himself into a cozy arm chair arranged before a round, granite table. Colors blurred, soft and hard. Flashes of aquamarine and emerald glittered from necklaces and brooches. One matronly woman's skeletal finger staggered under the weight of a pigeon egg sized diamond.

He arched his eyebrows when another old man subtly threatened his companion by unsheathing a slim sword from his gold headed cane.

An arm wrapped around Vanitas' shoulder and he whipped around, ready to poke Nox's eyes out for daring to be this friendly. The words evaporated in his mouth as a familiar scarred man, long hair streaked in grey, crammed next to him on the velvet chair.

"Clavius," Xigbar hoarsely greeted. "Never thought I'd see you in one of these events." He smiled, his scar stretching the wrong way. "The Grey Knight is with you?" He patted the front of Vanitas' shirt.

Wishing he buttoned his shirt all the way, Vanitas agitatedly grabbed his loosely knotted tie and fixed it. He forced his mouth to co-operate. He forced his hands to remain busy, no matter how much they wanted to wrap around Xigbar's throat and slowly squeeze the life out of him.

"The KBWA sent me as a food critic and let me tell you," he lifted his chin, "your appetizers are disgusting." Xaldin loitered at the gambling corner, face devoid of emotion and Vanitas rudely showed his middle finger when the man glanced his way. "I asked Riku," Riku? "to accompany me, don't wanna get hounded by the ladies." Vanitas casually jerked his thumb at a posse of females circulating the crowd.

Light glinted off their two inch stiletto nails.

"Black and red suits you," Xigbar continued with a short laugh.

"I'd prefer the compliment if it came from some chick." Vanitas squirmed; the air-conditioned air did little to stop the cold sweat gathering under his collar bones. "Not an old pervert like you."

Xigbar crossed his legs, long trench coat hiding the arrow guns holstered to his slacks. A game of poker unfolded on the table and he watched the proceedings interestedly, arm loosely across Vanitas' shoulder. The Black Saint stopped wriggling and sat alarmingly still, golden eyes smoldering.

"Is work going well?"

Thick smoke curled from several cigarettes. Their tips lit in an orange glow. The oak wood doors opened to admit more guests, their forms gliding through the hazy veil blanketing the lounge.

"It's going slow," Vanitas carefully replied. "My brother was hospitalized, the murder turned out dead."

"Do you know who did it?" Xigbar whispered and abruptly pushed his face close to Vanitas'. He smelled obscene, yet pleasant. An odd combination of wood smoke and the rusty tang of blood.

"Axel," Vanitas unhesitatingly replied and both sensed Nox stiffen. The Level 2 manager smiled again, Vanitas' spiky hair silhouetted in his golden eyes. "I've haven't seen him at the KBWA, I suppose he is under tight security in case one of you gets any funny ideas." He leaned forward. "When I see Axel, I'll thank him. He should've finished you too," Vanitas hissed venomously, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth when Xigbar's normally infuriating expression tightened into something akin to anger. "You look good today, uncle," he jeered and leaned his entire weight on the arm around his shoulder.

Reality

Late night

Organization XIII, twenty second floor

Such pure darkness.

Xemnas ignored the reporter's efforts to snag his attention and instead, monitored the spiky haired young man leaning away from Xigbar's invasion of his personal space. Ever since Roxas' passing, a hollow sensation of weightlessness lodged firmly in the depths of Xemnas' chest and in spite of his best efforts, he could not shake the feeling off.

He cupped his chin, elbow on the armrest. At times his body disobeyed him, doing things he did not like. Feeling. Aching. Perhaps, he studied the young man again, perhaps... he needed someone new?

There was something sensually pleasing in the darkness diffusing from the young man; like waves of whispering silk. Tempting. Xehanort pulled his low ponytail loose, his skin flushing with heat; he could almost feel the darkness caressing him. The CEO tried to focus on the interviewer; his mind spun out of control with possibilities, the soft clinking of melting ice in his tumbler and the gauzy atmosphere of the party made it difficult to pin his thoughts on one thing.

Clavius... he mused.

His key.

A/N: Oh dear, the old fart has his eye on Vanitas. I had fun writing the scene with the pre-school children and Sora; and Sora appearing like a ghost and startling everyone was inspired by the character Nagisa from Assassination's Classroom.

It was an awesome anime.

Once again, please read and leave a comment; Xehanort needs some feeding.