A good man goes to war

An orange waterfall gurgled through the underground cavern. Spray dotted the rocks and the smell of damp earth rose in the air. The scent faded, replaced by the overpowering aroma of cinnamon and roasting peppers.

"Hey rookie," a girl hollered and bumped into Vanitas with a pearly smile. Scowling furiously at the teasing grin, his eyes dipped to her legs. Long, shapely; and clad in armored sneakers. "Don't look so lost." She flipped over a table, a food tray balanced elegantly in petite arms. "Zack's hunting for you."

A delicious aroma of spiced porridge wafted by and she disappeared into the throngs of people milling in the KBWA dining hall.

Older patrons crowded the bar, where vice-chief Lockhart mixed drinks and talked, her words a significant drone in the sea of shifting voices. Candle light illuminated the hall, casting overlapping pools of gold light. Fire danced in brackets bolted along the walls, glimmering on the surface of polished, oak wood benches and Vanitas thought he stepped into an inn coming straight out of the Dragon Quest games his brother liked to play.

Pleased by the mysterious atmosphere, he observed the crowd, most of them bore weapons; guns, swords and staves of different sizes. Squinting, he tried blocking the tangerine outlines of the other world, yes they were underground.

The goddamn waterfall was distracting.

Someone plopped a syrupy doughnut in his gloved hand and taking a bite out of it, he ambled to the round wooden tables where single persons sat, undisturbed by others. A vague feeling of being watched raised the delicate hairs at the back of his neck and Vanitas whipped around to spot the culprit. People passed him without a second glance. Lowering his head for another bite of the doughnut, he blinked at his empty hands.

"The doughnut's delicious," Fair muttered through a mouthful. "If you are searching for the Keyblade wielder, he's not here."

"I'm not searching for anyone," Vanitas snarled, wishing the doughnut to burst into flames. The scar on his mentor's cheek seemed to cut deep in the half light of the dining hall and he briefly wondered how Zack got it. "Are you going to drag me to the library for more theology again?" Vanitas crossed his arms over a ripped shirt. "You will have to knock me unconscious first."

The older man laughed, head titled back and the silver studs in his ears glittering. "Nope." Fair nodded to an arched door leading to the hall, "we're going to the reception, where you can accept assignments off a work board." Vanitas perked. "Since sitting in the desk is torture for you, I drew up a training mission, go check it."

Barely did Zack finish and Vanitas' combats boots thudded up the stairs, long leather jacket whirling out of sight. He emerged in the luxurious lobby, a world different from the dining hall below. Electric lights stung his eyes and he marched to a giant screen scrolling a constant stream of texts. No moogles operated aboveground and not in the mood to request assistance, Vanitas fiddled with the holographic keyboard displayed underneath the board and read the missions greedily.

"You will view the training missions screen," Zack firmly asserted and sipped from a steaming mug of coffee. "Coffee?" he indulgently inquired and smiled when his pupil's frown deepened. "You are not authorized to take work missions unless you complete the training one." A single assignment beeped on the monitor and Vanitas hovered over it, miffed. "Hey, you will be facing against me," Fair informed, "I'm pretty strong."

Glowering, Vanitas smashed his gloved hand on the button.

Training mission accepted, the message displayed across the screen.

The forest of rocky pillars shading the portal cast long shadows across the platform. Black vortices swirled in the enclosed space and the central pillar of light momentarily illuminated the corridors and the worlds beyond it. A thread of fear forced Vanitas to follow in Zack's footsteps and he eyed the giant sword on the latter's back. The KBWA did not offer him a weapon; and he forgot to purchase the crowbar needed to investigate the Special Assignment room.

Dark corridors opened and collapsed at a set pattern, a feature used to keep the KBWA branch both connected and isolated to the different worlds. The circular dais consisted of interlocking, levitating platforms and Vanitas covered his surprised yelp with a cough when a section of the floor lifted. The light threw his pale features into stark relief and Zack grinned widely at the embarrassed shade of red staining his tough as nails student.

"We are going to the Castle of Dreams," he announced as a corridor ripped apart. Fluid darkness lapped menacingly and Zack pulled a black coat over himself. "Put the coat on Vani, the-"

"No one," Vanitas cut in with a low growl, "corrupts my name." A loaded silence. "I don't need the jacket," he tossed the ankle length coat to the floor far below. "The darkness doesn't scare me."

The jacket lay in a mangled heap. "The darkness does not scare me either," Zack elaborated exasperatedly, "however, travelling through the dark corridors takes a physical and mental toll, even those who utilize darkness as their powers," he paused when a wisp of darkness smoldered off Vanitas and joined the corridor, "wear the coat for protection." Fair's eyes hardened. "But it's none of my business what you do." He smoothly stepped off the platform and into the churning corridor, "run after me."

Waves of darkness wrapped around Vanitas' legs, freezing cold and yet tepid warm. He sprinted after the cloaked figure ahead of him and the corridor spat him out on a tiled floor.

"What is THIS?" Vanitas bellowed as his teacher gently tipped him out of a bronze cage. A mouse perched on Zack's shoulder, it's beady, onyx eyes twinkling. "Why did I shrink?" he demanded and slid on a gloved palm. His mentor bent to study him closely and the next incensed shriek dissolved at the sight of Zack's sapphire eyes. "Your eyes glow?" Vanitas asked, momentarily mesmerized.

The color reminded him of the eerie, heart shaped moon.

The man smiled. "The ladies love it," he blinked slowly; "you want to take a closer look?"

"Hell no." Vanitas focused his glower at the mouse. An elegant ball room stretched on all sides, the space infinite. Swathes of red velvet draped a staircase, each step looming like a high plateau. "I'm the size of a mouse," Vanitas lamented and stomped on Zack's palm. "Do something!"

The mouse uttered a distinctly intelligible shriek and dashed away.

Transferring his fuming, mouse sized pupil to his shoulder, Zack tapped on his phone. "I'm working on it," he assured as Vanitas tried to read what he wrote. "Don't move, you are tickling me." The phone snapped shut and he uncovered a red-hilted katana strapped to his leg. "This is for you," he said. "Once you grow back to normal, I'll be testing you in basic and advanced combat and correcting a few of your stances along the way."

"I thought the KBWA didn't allow electronics," Vanitas petulantly muttered. "Why do you have a phone?"

"I noticed you are a huge fan of Organization XIII's products," Fair replied cryptically and grabbed Vanitas who scampered up his neck. "Do you see those heartless over there?" The shrunken human squirmed in his grasp. Shadows with golden, glowing eyes stretched off the floor and wandered closer to them, their movements jerky. "Here, get rid of them for me." Without warning, Zack tossed the miniscule Vanitas to the monsters below.

A high pitched squeaky scream morphed into an ear splitting howl of rage as Vanitas popped into full size and landed squarely on a heartless. The thing hissed and vanished into a puff of smoke. A blade whistled past his ear and Vanitas grabbed the katana, unsheathed it with a quick motion and lopped another heartless' head off.

The rest squealed and rushed, training their blank gazes at him and with a clean draw, he dispatched them all; catching his reflection in the grey steel before sheathing the sword.

"Are you out of your mind?" Vanitas hissed as Zack stepped back and withdrew the Buster sword over his head; the chandelier's thousand lights glimmered across the broad blade like bright specks of fire. "A subtle warning would be appreciated." Vanitas chucked the katana's lacquered sheath, it clattered on the floor. "How about, hey, I'm about to toss you to those giant shadow puffs so get ready!" he yelled as their swords clashed. "You idiot!" Vanitas ducked as the Buster sword whipped over his head and clobbered a pillar, cracking it in half. An orange outline pillar assumed its place immediately. "You are the worst…ah-" Vanitas gasped as Zack kicked him square in the abdomen and he soared.

He crashed through a window on the second floor. Silvers of glass sparkled in cold moonlight. A magnetic pull hauled Vanitas back in the ambient warmth of the ballroom and he raised his sword to counter Zack's blow.

"You must learn to obey orders," Fair voiced. His breath did not come in ragged gasps, a feat Vanitas silently applauded. "You think your repulsive attitude is going to work in the KBWA?" Zack cut the front of Vanitas' shirt into ribbons. "This isn't Military Academy kid," a fira bloomed in Zack's hand and he lobbed it, the curtains caught flame. Smoke choked the room. "Here, you follow rules or it will kill you."

The Buster sword gouged a section of the marble tiled floor and Vanitas thanked every god watching over him as he pulled his leg away in record time. Springing to his feet, he lunged into a feint and rolled across the floor, coming up behind Zack's unprotected back.

His mentor dropped into a kick. The boot caught the edge of Vanitas' chin and the beginnings of a bruise bloomed on his pallid cheek before air flung him backwards and he crashed at the base of a silver plated column.

A large sword tip hovered above his head.

Returning the Buster sword to its magnetic harness, Zack crinkled into a mellow smile and fondly rubbed Vanitas' head. "Geez, why do I always get the wayward ones?" he rhetorically questioned and fished a potion from his uniform pocket. "Drink this, it will stop the bleeding," he passed the bottle. "Are you okay? Your face and body is a mess."

Licking his lips free from potion, Vanitas examined himself. His jacket and shirt were scraps of cloth, lying among the torn ballroom floor and flying with the burning curtain's ashes. He shivered at the constellation of bruises, purple and angry red, mushrooming dully against his pale skin.

"He's gonna..." he mumbled before his eyes rolled back.

10:00 a.m.

District Court

Courtroom Lobby

The cornflower blue carpet in the courtroom lobby held a myriad of mysteries. Sora admired the machine weave and searched for dusty footprints when people entered and left the courthouse. Seated on a bright red couch, he bolstered his courage to look past his feet and to the woman next to him. Her electronic necklace glowed cyan and she read off a holographic screen.

He silently gasped as a picture of him rotated across the screen along with accompanying information.

"What kind of music do you like?" Athena asked without looking when Sora's noise level's spiked. The rookie played with the ends of his scarf.

He thought for a long time before replying. "I listen to whatever plays on the radio..." Sora muttered. "V-" he stopped when Phoenix breezed in with Trucy. Both Athena and Sora rose to the feet and his gaze reverted back to his shoes.

"Here." Phoenix pinned a brand new, shiny attorney's badge on Sora's lapel while he gaped. "I got this very late yesterday, the University was reluctant to part with it," he explained with a smile. "But now you are ready." He pressed Sora's shoulder comfortingly. "Remember we don't have enough evidence to completely get your client a non-guilty verdict," Wright informed, "and you simply have to draw out the trial so we have an extra day." He tipped his head to a passerby. "By the way, I checked the trial's prosecutor," he grinned sardonically, "it's the Rookie crusher, Winston Payne."

The who? Sora fretfully wondered and Athena groaned exaggeratedly.

He still could not believe the Phoenix Wright stood in front of him. At school, Sora obsessively read the cases handled by the defense attorney in a blue suit and kept newspaper clippings of his favorite trials. Like the one where Phoenix cross-examined a parrot, or when he defended himself when accused for murdering someone. When Wright retook the Bar Examination, Sora remembered leeching confidence from the article.

He felt like he could to anything.

Maybe become a defense attorney himself.

"Mr... Mr. Wright," he stammered and absentmindedly brushed his thumb across the badge, the emblem's minute details pressed delicately into his skin. "It's an honor to meet you sir..." Sora whispered into his scarf when Phoenix turned to acknowledge him.

"He's not that impressive," Apollo deadpanned and Sora stifled a scream.

When did he get here?

"Just now," he answered and tightened the bandage wrapping his arm. Trucy straightened Apollo's shirt collar and berated him for dressing slovenly. "My chords of steel routine made me late," he confessed, voice raspy, "and I misplaced my bandages."

The court bailiff approached them and Sora tried to drown the methodical, muffled footsteps and focus on the lighthearted conversation playing before him. The file weighed heavily in his hands; he searched for an object to anchor him and desperately eyed a framed portrait displayed above the couch. The painting showed a wide open field, a row of sun ripened hay swaying under a clear blue sky.

His mind settled slowly, a calmness to his churning thoughts.

Someone touched his shoulder and time fast forwarded again.

"Don't be tense," Wright soothed, "you won't be alone." Trucy beamed at him. Apollo half glowered, half smiled while Athena meaningfully punched her fist into a palm and grinned predatorily. "I'll be your co-counsel," Phoenix continued and Sora nearly fainted with relief, "and I'll help you as much as I can."

The bailiff respectfully interjected, "Sir, court will now be in session," he indicated to the oak doors, "please make your way to the courtroom."

"Court is now in session for the trial of Kairi Madeleine." The judge banged his gavel to silence the twittering gallery. His imposing figure hovered above everyone else in the courtroom and the high backed chair peeked from behind him like a ceremonial throne. "Prosecutor Payne," the Judge said when silence reigned, "your opening statement please."

A pair of horn rimmed glasses obscured half of prosecutor Payne's face, his long hair hung in oiled strands and reached his chin. The Rookie crusher smirked nastily and regarded Sora over his spectacles. "The accused is found guilty of murder your honor," he announced haughtily. "She is a pastry chef of some repute," he paused for dramatic effect, "and she poisoned the trifle served that night for dessert-"

"Objection!"

Sora jumped while Wright triumphantly pointed with his index finger.

"...Mr. Wright," the Judge cut in, "I'm under the impression the young man next to you will be defending?" Wright straightened but his eyes never wavered from Payne. "Please give the new attorney a chance to shine."

"I request the prosecution not to agitate the attorney," Phoenix stressed. "Clavius is nervous and any pointless accusations," he waited for Payne to stop scowling, "will derail his train of thought." The gallery hushed. "That is all, thank you." He leaned back, crossing his arms when Sora blinked at him gratefully.

"The prosecution calls a detective to the witness stand to testify about his investigations," Winston nodded to Gumshoe. "Witness, state your name and occupation."

"Dick Gumshoe," the detective droned, "homicide detective pal," he saluted sloppily at the judge.

"Your findings please," Payne implored and pushed up his spectacles, they gleamed maliciously under the courtroom lights.

"The victim, Clark Minella, died of diethyl-mercury poisoning. It is slow acting, takes some time to work after ingestion or coming in contact with skin." The detective scratched his chin. "Traces of poison were found in the trifle..." he frowned thoughtfully and continued, "...and we found poisoned serviettes in the trash can at the kitchen." At this statement, Wright narrowed his eyes. "The victim was found dead in his room by Rosie Jones, a concierge who went to his room after he requested room service."

A quiet babble broke in the viewing gallery as they conferred with each other and whispered tidbits of the statements. The judge stroked his magnificent, greyish white beard and Winston Payne laughed eerily. Sora gulped, he listened to the entire testimony and frankly, he flipped through the case file, the Detective said nothing wrong.

"There is a contradiction in there," Wright commented after a lengthy pause.

Where? Sora inwardly demanded. Did we listen to the same testimony? Because I know the detective isn't lying!

"Well, not a contradiction per se..." Phoenix relented when Sora tucked his chin into his scarf, the signal of defeat. "But doesn't Gumshoe's testimony strike you as odd? Like he deliberately left information out?"

Oh...

Rifling through the court records, Sora extracted a plastic bag with a spoon. "Hold it..." he implored and everyone looked at him.

"Tsk," Wright tutted, "I need to teach you how to object properly."

Inhaling deeply, Sora placed the poisoned spoon in full view of the court, "I think you are forgetting something," he gestured to the evidence, "traces of poison was found in the trifle, but we don't know if my client poisoned it, or if the victim poisoned himself with this spoon!"

The judge banged his gavel to control the excited chattering in the gallery. "Silence in the court!" he commanded.

"Objection your honor!" Payne wheezed. "Where did the spoon come from?" He pounded the prosecutor's bench, "I've never heard of this!" he shrilled.

"Pal, I may have accidentally handed said piece of evidence to the defense," Gumshoe sheepishly scratched the back of his head while Winston glared furiously at him. "But the spoon is a kitchen utensil, doesn't it mean the defendant could've also poisoned the spoon?" the detective reasoned.

Sora gasped and clutched his badge.

"N...No!" he countered frantically. "Kairi is a pastry chef, why would she poison the spoon?" The fog in his head cleared as a picture unfolded. "In such a case, it would make more sense to slip poison in the trifle-"

"Objection!" Payne interjected.

"Your honor please let the defense attorney speak!" Wright stated and slammed his hand on the desk, startling Sora. "He is on to something, pointless badgering will render his arguments obsolete."

"...Objection overruled," the Judge declared with a bang from his gavel, "Mr. Clavius was it?" the attorney nodded and Payne huffed, "you may continue."

In the viewer's gallery, Athena diligently tracked Sora's psychological condition; she visibly relaxed when the judge ruled in his favor and smiled. Trucy enthusiastically leaned forward and Apollo's piercing gaze drilled holes at the back of the rookie lawyer's head. The noise level fluctuated dangerously and the young man either stared at Wright, the courtroom's oak paneled walls, or his expensive dress shoes while he counter argued.

Two days of intense scrutinizing revealed nothing extraordinary about the spiky haired newbie squeaking on the defense's bench; the bracelet could crack him apart like a nut, exposing the hidden meanings behind why he tucked his face in his scarf, why he appeared visibly agitated when anyone noticed him and why, Apollo inhaled tiredly, Sora clutched his recently given attorney's badge while he argued with Gumshoe.

Agitatedly pulling the scratchy bandage over his eye, Apollo thought of untying it, instead, he tightened the linen and listened attentively.

"Take off your bandages," Athena said quietly. "I know what you thought about me... I didn't trust myself, but I think you can trust him," she watched the proceedings with a victorious smile. "I do and so does Trucy."

"I like him, Polly," she grinned.

The self-styled magician beamed at him, a soothing tranquility swirling in her blue eyes. Something about her reminded him of home, of a long time ago. For some inexplicable reason, he imagined her as more than an associate. Grumbling under his breath, Apollo pulled off the bandages and squinted as his pupil adjusted to the light. Trucy tossed him his bracelet and he frowned.

"I hope I don't find your magic panties in my desk drawer again," he grouched and she merely giggled.

Below, Sora desperately tried to calm his thudding heart. The gallery's stares stabbed him like spears. The seats and faces blurred together and panicking, he stole a peek at the defendant's dock. Kairi sat still, hands folded in her lap. The buttons on her duffle jacket reflected wooden beams and she gathered her long red hair in a ponytail and smiled pleadingly at him. Detective Gumshoe glowered, Sora turned towards Wright who waited patiently...

What was I talking about again?

"Calm down," Phoenix reached for Sora's arm, who jerked back. "You explained why Kairi could not poison the spoon," the attorney nodded vigorously, "tell me again." Wright instructed and Sora turned mechanically to the prosecutor's bench. "No," Phoenix gently spun him around, "tell me, there is no one else in the room, understand?"

Checking his meticulous notes, Sora began, "Kairi didn't poison it because the plating and serving is done by others. She couldn't have known which specific spoon would end up at the victim's table." He considered his words. "You could say dessert spoons are different," Wright nodded, "but it could get mixed up with the victim's guest and she might have accidentally killed him." Another thoughtful pause. "She has no motive."

"What about what we found in the trash can pal?" Gumshoe interjected in the deathly silent courtroom. His voice bounced off the tiles and he whispered, "we found a bunch of tissue with poison on it?"

"Yes..." Wiping his sweating palms on his suit, Sora picked up his file. "I did some investigating." His boss suppressed a smile when Winston wheezed. "There are traces of diethyl-mercury," he held the tissue in gloved hands and quickly focused on the floor when people muttered, "and there are fingerprints," the hushed conversation grew louder and the Judge expectantly straightened his robes, "but they are not Kairi's...I could not identify them, I didn't have the time," Sora mumbled in his scarf.

Phoenix Wright left as soon as court adjourned, he mentioned important work and disappeared with the masses exiting the courthouse.

When Apollo arrived in front of him without bandages and wearing a heavy, gold bangle on his wrist, Sora blinked, trying to understand what prompted the change. The hot blooded prosecutor's features softened considerably and a weight seemed to lift off his shoulders.

"You did good out there," Cykes gushed, her crescent moon earring swinging jubilantly with her movements. "Magnifique!" She clapped and Sora blushed, hiding his face from view. "But it's not over yet," she cautioned with a wag of her finger, "you still need to find the real culprit." A group of people passed, craning their necks, and Sora shrunk from view. "And bring him to justice. For this, you should go back to the scene and investigate." Her voice dropped into a somber murmur. "Although it's difficult for you," a scintilla of pain crossed her face, "you must interview the people involved with the case."

02:14 p.m.

Gatewater Hotel

Hotel room

Dust motes swirled technicolor in the sunbeams slanting through the windows. A vase of luscious, red roses sat on top of a built in wooden dresser and an outline in white tape indicated the place where Clark died. The corrosive smell of antiseptic hung in the air and as Sora tentatively entered the room, he glanced at the Wright and Co. Lawyers office, situated across the hotel. Trucy whirled to the table and immediately bent over a tiny bottle of liquid.

Fearing her curiosity, Sora joined her, they squinted at the bottle's label.

"Diethyl-mercury?" she asked, "what's the poison doing here in the victim's room?"

"Don't touch it," Sora warned and hunted in his pockets for a pair of gloves. When he found none, he carefully used his scarf edge to lift the opaque bottle and drop it in a plastic bag. "We can dust it for fingerprints," he clarified.

The two rooted around the bed. He lifted the chiffon white bedspread to search for clues and Trucy tackled the victim's belongings; stomach churning anxiously, Sora investigated whatever she threw out. Dark slacks, fancy silk ties in jewel tones. A sleek laptop; he kept it apart, intending to comb through the data later. Shirts, some crisp a few crumpled. An envelope, the kind used for sending bills.

With his companion hovering over him, Sora slit the envelope and a stack of official letters fell in his lap. They were addressed to a Raven Miller. The contents of the letter complained about an overblown budget and squandering of company funds.

Someone passed in the hallway. Exhaling heavily, Sora crumpled the letters in his pocket.

"Raven..." Trucy mused, a finger on her chin. "We need to find a Raven and confront him."

You confront him.

Sora initially resisted the thought of going through another person's things; but Trucy insisted they might not have a better chance and reluctantly, he let himself be dragged through the central hallway. They located Raven's room, diagonally across from Clark's one and looking very much like a thief about to embark on a heist, Trucy tried the doorknob, found it locked and with a flourish, pulled an intricate hairpin from her shoulder length, dark brown hair. She smiled connivingly, and while Sora sweated fearfully and fanned himself, she wiggled the pin in the lock and with an unnaturally loud click, the door gave way.

I'm going into hysteria. Sora entered the dark, musty room. My chest is squeezing tight and I'm finding it difficult to breathe and if I faint, Vanitas won't know because he's currently working for a bunch of psychopaths who hunt shadow puffs. Who in their right mind hunts shadows? He scrunched his nose at the mess on the bed. Dammit...he dropped in an oversized armchair near the window and loosed the scarf around his neck. Why is it so dark?

"I would open the curtains," Trucy restlessly tugged her gloves, "but I think it's best to leave the room as is since we are tresspa..." she paused when Sora gulped for air, "...since we are investigating." He gazed at her glassily. "Maybe we should go home? I'll call Polly..."

Gathering comfort from his scarf, Sora studied the room, his eyes coming to a stop on a flashing laptop. He thought of Kairi. What will happen to her if I lose the trial? She would spend her life in a jail cell for sure. And if she served her years, what then? A scar marred her life. Her remaining smiles would be tinged by bitterness and a pain she did not deserve. How did his twin do it? Sora contemplatively regarded the blinking laptop.

How does Vanitas roll out of bed and decide, yeah, today, I'll be mixing with people. Greeting them, talking to them.

Interacting with them.

How did Trucy do it? She still held her phone but crouched and smoothed the ends of his scarf around his neck. A lock of her hair curled over her forehead and her pleasant face crinkled with concern.

"Are you alright?" she softly asked, afraid to shatter the tense silence blanketing the room.

"Hmm," Sora hummed. "I needed to focus my thoughts...when they get scattered, I get overwhelmed and...and..."

"You don't have to explain," she brought the laptop to him; "you wanted to check this?"

Waking the sleeping laptop, Sora moved the cursor to a file marked Clark Minella hidden on the desktop and opened it. He froze and blushed, crimson staining tanned cheeks. Trucy recoiled, an awkward smile static on her lips and whisked away, to dig through Raven's luggage.

Scandalous pictures of Clark flashed one after the other and growing sick of them; Sora extracted one and bemoaned the lack of a pen-drive. He saved the offending picture as an e-mail draft and wiped the history, setting the laptop back on the table and nearly knocking over a bottle of champagne.

"I found a pair of gloves," Trucy announced and lifted the limp, latex gloves with her forefingers. "They stink," she added. "Let's get out of here," and for the first time since he met her, fear crawled into her eyes. "I don't like it, and I think he's going to return soon."

06:00 p.m.

Wright and Co. Law offices

Forensic Laboratory

The frosted glass doors opened to gleaming, surgical steel tables and whirring equipment lining the back wall. A metallic whiff permeated the air and a woman sat on a high rise stool, wearing a pair of pale pink glasses. She held a bag of chocolate snacks and these she munched with great gusto as Sora hovered at the entrance and sought for Trucy to break the ice.

"Go in, she won't bite you." Justice waltzed past him with an armful of binder files.

Classical music bled from Athena's office, a piano and violin dancing together. Clutching pieces of evidence, Sora paced, taking extra care to stay out of sight.

Half an hour later Apollo strode past him again, this time, he carried a box.

"I know you can probably hear her chewing those snackoos like a horse," he titled his head at the lab coat clad lady, "but she'll be delighted to dust fingerprints for you. Go in," Justice urged, "I'll be here if anything happens."

Rolling his courage into a ball, Sora shuffled in and sneezed when the overbearing tint of chemicals hit his nose. The munching stopped and detective Ema Skye appraised him curiously, her irises narrowing at the plastic bag in his hands. She smiled brightly; it did little to lessen the knot in Sora's stomach, and patted the stool next to her.

"Time for Science!" she exclaimed and Apollo left, shaking his head. "What have you got for me?"

Ema taught him how to view evidence with a 'scientific lens'. Placing the gloves retrieved from Raven's room, under a scope, she increased the magnification till the rubber became pixelated squares. The worn fingertips and palms appeared lighter than the denser material at the back of the glove. Taking a bottle of white fingerprint powder, she watched Sora lift clean fingerprints off the tissue, glove and spoon. Skye searched the shelves for a poison detector and sprayed the entire glove with it.

"Different poisons are detected by different chemicals," she explained as Sora liberally spritzed the tissue and spoon with the solution. "Atroquinine is only traceable by one compound and this, diethyl-mercury," she indicated to the saturated glove, "is fairly easy to trace." She put the spray bottle away. "Seems like this person planted the poison in the victim's room." Her eyes sparkled behind the pink glasses while Sora gathered the evidence in front of him. "Do you see why science is important?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," Sora mumbled and half listened as Ema went off on a tangent about the wonders of forensic science. Who was Raven Miller? What relationship did he have with the victim? The poisoned glove sat on the steel table, slowly drying.

What motive did he have for murdering Clark Minella?

The Level 8 clothing store offered an array of coats and shirts to choose from. Irritably picking the woolen jumper scratching his skin, Vanitas experimentally sniffed it and smirked disgustedly. Zack Fair smelled nice, but the stuff he wore...

"Old man," Vanitas hissed under his breath and examined an ebony jacket. "Tch, colorful." He dismissed it and pulled another, black-hole black trench coat off the racks. He compared it to the one the model exhibited on the window; a hood mostly covered the model's flame red hair and face, leaving one bright, emerald green eye and his teardrop tattoo peeking suavely from underneath. He wore boots. Vanitas groaned at his scruffy ones and his hand automatically slipped into a pocket to answer his vibrating phone.

"Where are you?" His older twin's voice bled exhaustedly through the earpiece.

"Shopping for clothes," Vanitas replied and replaced the jacket, "why? You need me to fetch you?"

"No..." Sora's exhale cackled like static. "I can see you." Vanitas turned and lifted an eyebrow at his brother at the windows. "Hurry up, I'm not going inside."

In the end, he purchased an outfit identical to the one the model sported and grinned at the high definition poster before joining his brother outside.

"What are you wearing?" Sora frowned delicately, "it's not yours is it?" The sleeveless jumper exposed Vanitas' sculpted arms and he shifted the paper bags to better cover a reddish streak. Sora's stomach growled unceasingly and pausing at an intersection, he fished a cupcake from a lunch box. "I'm about to die from hunger," he muttered and greedily stuffed the cake in his mouth. "This... this is really good."

Before Sora could ask about his clothes again, Vanitas implored for a cupcake and ate it gratefully. The buttercream and fluffy cake melted in his mouth. "Whoa...where did you buy these?" he asked and quickly ushered his brother across a pedestrian crossing teeming with people.

"Trucy made them," Sora responded through a mouthful. "She's Mr. Wright's daughter," he explained when Vanitas cocked a questioning eyebrow.

A vampiric grin spread across his face as he selected another cupcake and munched it without pausing for breath. "You..." Vanitas swallowed as Sora graced him with a deplorable stare, "will introduce me to her won't you?"

Emotions

Morning

Organization XIII, Meeting room

The members read their missions and departed somberly. Outside, the world geared for business, cars zoomed across the road and droves of people spilled in the streets. Saix trained his smoldering glare at an unsuspecting Roxas. The blonde wore a new uniform today, gold piping a cream jacket and a pair of navy blue slacks. He absentmindedly twirled a hat on his gloved finger and read the mission's details.

"If you have any specifics to confirm, ask later, when I'm in my office," the words seeped through clenched teeth and Saix resumed writing on his clipboard. Roxas opened and closed his mouth and settled for pouting angrily instead.

Axel smiled widely. "Don't look so glum," he chided. "Do you like your new uniforms?" he asked and the E-mart owners nodded enthusiastically.

"You have a photo-shoot, don't you?" Saix cut in acidly. "And a fashion show to attend if I'm not mistaken?" The model's smile dimmed. "And wipe that smile off your face," Saix hissed when Axel got up and marched past, pulling Roxas and Xion along.

Alone in the meeting room, Saix watched Roxas' face light up in a smile.

A/N: I enjoy writing Zack losing patience with his grumpy, frumpy student. Axel is living out his model dreams in this fic. Rejoice picturing him in different clothing! I hope I did the court sequence similarly to the games; it was tricky to reconstruct all the quirkiness.

Virtual cupcakes to all the readers. Reviews and criticism are forever appreciated, please leave a comment