Wreckage

Milk steamed in a pot over the stove, iron grey clouds floated across the skies and Vanitas fumbled with the sheet around his legs before toppling off the sofa lounge. He reached for the remote on the coffee table, muted the television and grabbed a plushie before sauntering to the kitchen area.

Wisps of steam curled above the pot, toast and pats of butter piled in a tray and he blinked the vestiges of sleep while his brother made coffee.

Vanitas yawned and hugged his plushie. "You're standing at the edge of a beach." A tangerine tidal wave crashed into the kitchen, lapping at the folding screen and pulling away. Ocean suds dotted his twin's legs, a palm tree waved lazily in the breeze. "It's an island... I think," he continued, "the trees have this weird, star shaped fruit."

A piece of buttered toast on a plate slid to Vanitas and he munched on it.

"You could be a writer," Sora leisurely sipped his coffee, "you have a vivid imagination." Vanitas snorted. "Instead..." Sora's voice grew lower, "you joined some obscure military organization whose goals are questionable to date." He pulled a corner of his brother's shirt, exposing a lattice of fresh scars. "You are officially a member, no?" Sora demanded, "…what do you know about the KBWA?"

Opening his mouth, Vanitas mentally calculated his chances of winning an argument and considered the angry sparkle in his brother's eyes. "...Technically I'm a rookie," he said and burnt his tongue with coffee. "I do know they hunt heartless, they are creatures of darkness who steal hearts, leaving people mentally unstable and psychopathic-"

"I don't want you fighting things which turn people into mental psychopaths." Sora's fingers curled over the mug. "Find some other job to do...please. I get tired worrying about myself and I become sick whenever I think of you tangling with stuff I can't see."

Squishing the plushie Vanitas, lowered his eyes. "And you?" He toyed with his toast. "You can't stand people, so what are you doing in a courtroom where they gather and judge you based on how well you can argue?" Sora sat in a chair opposite him. "Your motivation to help people drives you; it's the same with me." Vanitas picked an empty plastic dish and hurled it in the corner of the kitchen. "Very few people can do this," he held his brother's gaze, "I'm one of the few, and I want to keep others safe."

The heartless in the kitchen vanished in a puff of darkness.

08:30 a.m

Wright and Co. Law offices

Library

A pile of notes idled on the wooden desk as Sora charted evidence and the plausible flow of arguments. Athena suggested he write his ideas down and read them off a page while facing off in court, to minimize the amount of time he spent facing people. He liked the notion and set to work immediately, stepping into the silent space of the library and plotting without interruption.

A statue of the Thinker doubled as a paperweight and he zoned on the bust before resuming his writing.

Anxiety simmered slowly in the area between his stomach and chest.

He spun a fountain pen in his hand and recalled the morning's events. His stubborn younger twin will stop at nothing to dash off, swinging, Sora's face crumpled, a red hilt katana and gathering a smattering of new scars on his skin. Military academy was bad, but the KBWA proved to be a worse place and he could not stop worrying. Ink stained his fingers, he absentmindedly wiped it on his charcoal grey suit and blanched, remembering he only had one suit and the rest of his clothes consisted of baggy shirts and pants.

While he agonized over the stain, Justice entered with a stack of leather bound books, he crossed to a shelf and slotted the volumes into place. The new attorney wrestled with his muffler and with a low groan, flopped over the table. Wedging a box on the shelf, Apollo approached him slowly.

"You can't agitate him!" Athena vehemently lectured them the day before Clavius joined, in the corner, Mr. Wright took notes, irises narrowed solemnly. "Also," she titled her head thoughtfully, "we should probably get him an office as fast as possible, the poor guy will have to shuttle back and forth whenever he wants to work."

Sora raised his head, tired despite the morning. A plastic folder lay open on the table.

"I like to do my Chords of Steel routine before I go to court," Justice explained, "it helps me focus and... I admit it makes me less tense."

A grateful smile spread across the newbie's face.

"I AM FINE!"

Phoenix nearly fell out of his chair when Sora's amplified voice rung through the building. He blinked confusedly at Trucy doing her assignment. She ignored everything and bopped to the music streaming through her headphones. Quickly closing a dossier on his desk, he returned it to the bookcase behind his table and leaned out of his office. Athena winked at him playfully and nodded in the direction of Apollo's chambers.

"Louder Clavius," Apollo instructed as Sora balled his hands into fists.

"I...am...FINE!"

The flowers on the mantelpiece quivered and momentary beams of sunlight set the red themed office ablaze. Standing in front of a mike and a pair of speakers, Sora screamed louder till his voice grew hoarse and collapsed on a chair, his head buzzing. He loosened the scarf around his neck and gulped large amounts of air. A fuzziness spread throughout his body and for a few glorious seconds, he thought he could do anything.

Till the ink stain on his suit reminded him of the impending trial.

Gasping, Sora grabbed a glass of water from Apollo's desk and drowned it in one gulp. "Thanks Mr. Justice sir..." he rasped and touched his throat. "I nee-"

"Call me Apollo," Apollo interjected.

"...I need some alone time to think." Sora bowed politely. "I'm really happy you and the others..." he broke off, "take time for me." He straightened when Phoenix poked his head in the room; a comma shaped jewel, hanging around his neck, glowed with an emerald light and the words in Sora's head evaporated instantly. The lawyer wore an old fashioned grey tracksuit and scratched his unshaven chin laconically.

Extracting a clean waistcoat from a small wardrobe in the room, Apollo shifted the mike back into an unobtrusive space. "I think you scared him Mr. Wright," he stated as Phoenix chuckled. "I don't think anyone is prepared to see you like that." The magatama glowed brighter. "...Any black locks?"

Locks? Sora wondered.

"The jewel around my neck is a magatama," Wright explained and closed his fist around it, smothering the pale green light. "It allows me to gain a temporary version of the second sight."

Second sight? Sora gripped his scarf, bunching the cashmere into an unshapely mess.

"I will tell you about it later," Phoenix smiled. "Can't have you getting sick before the trial." He glanced at the clock and shifted when Sora barreled out. "...Everyone has black locks Polly," he addressed the figure shrugging on a waistcoat. Chains crisscrossed Apollo like an umbrella of fine lace and three unbreakable locks glittered ebony over the man's heart. "Do you think he'll be less anxious today?" Wright pondered.

Twisting the bangle on his wrist, Apollo removed a magic playing card from his table. "I hope so," he muttered. "He's going to need all his wits for the upcoming session."

The different worlds used to be separate, yet connected. Long ago, people lived attuned to magic and nature, therefore second sight was a common feature. People learnt to keep away from heartless type monsters and Keyblade Warriors were plentiful, they maintained the balance between light and darkness.

After the first Great Keyblade War, the balance swung in the favor of light and the micro-planets began congregating. After the second Great Keyblade War, the balance swung the opposite way and the planets drew closer still. Some of the planets vanished, scattering the inhabitants to other worlds and leaving them none the wiser.

Half snoozing through the history lesson, Vanitas exited the grand library in record time and went to his favorite place; Basement floor 3, the Special Assignment room. The horrible light did little to illuminate the hallways and he stumbled blindly, feeling his way across the corridor with its black walls, black floors and black rooms. Leaving the main, gigantic chamber, he cautiously inched to an adjacent cube and squinted at a neon light indicating the pod's use.

Brazenly, he pushed his weight against the door but it failed to budge. A cryptic nameplate hung above the door and he tried reading it. Frustrated, Vanitas touched the plate, the metal froze his fingertips and he traced a code on it. Underneath, pairs of lines crisscrossed each other and scowling, he tried his luck with the next cube.

This one baffled him further. Another code…a sickle shape. The third room's plate gave him an inverted triangle with a horizontal under his fingertips and the fourth chamber remained empty. At least Vanitas thought so.

"Puppy?" A voice bounced off the walls.

Vanitas gritted his teeth. "Puppy?" he snarled. "Really?" he twisted when Zack stood in front of him, eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

"My mentor used to call me Zack the puppy because he said I had too much energy," Fair wearily smiled at his pupil. "Are you going to leave this room of your own accord or should I carry you out of here?" he asked.

Grumbling under his breath, Vanitas slinked towards the teleportation moogle. "And stop calling me puppy!" he hissed. "Where is your mentor now?" he asked bitingly. "Bet he left you 'cause you're a real stick in the mud."

They arrived at Basement floor 1. Fair indicated to a space beyond the quiet hubbub of the dining hall and trailing him, Vanitas emerged in an elegant, quiet lounge. Water bubbled from a fake waterfall tumbling across a stone wall and granite tiles absorbed lingering noises. Gleefully throwing himself in a circular arm chair, Vanitas sunk in the cloudy softness and put his feet up on an accompanying ottoman.

"My mentor is an angel," Zack enigmatically said. "You stay here," he ordered and Vanitas opened his mouth to argue. "I'm going to Leon to draw up a payment for your mission." Fair crossed his arms. "You do want to get paid right?" he laughed when the latter scowled petulantly. "Sit tight," he leaned over and fluffed his pupil's hair, "if things go well, I could set up another training mission for you."

Vanitas obstinately turned his attention to the bamboo stem lights decorating the ceiling.

Slouching in the armchair with a mellow pool of light and the soothing whispers of water, he grew bored. The small glass table in the middle of the lounge displayed an impressive bust of a simple keyblade and intrigued, he studied the replica from all angles. If the Keyblade bust went missing...would people notice? He grinned mischievously and lifted the ornament. It weighed heavier than he thought. Made from an amalgamation of bronze, silver and a miniscule hilt of gold, the Keyblade exuded an air of importance and covering it with his jacket, Vanitas tossed it in his backpack.

Fatigue knitting his bones, Riku expertly navigated through the members milling in the dining hall, Lockhart's voice echoed from the bar and behind it, loomed a stained glass window, the bleeding colors lit by the magic lanterns in the hall. Riku marched purposefully to the lounge. He needed a break from the constant forays into different worlds.

As he entered the quiet lounge, the overwhelming stench of darkness stung his nose. "...It reeks," he remarked to no one in particular and mentally noted to inform Squall about the monsters escaping from the archives.

"You're saying I stink?!"

Riku paused, a hand lifted to draw his keyblade. The darkness speaks?

He drew Way to Dawn in a swift motion and poised the Keyblade to pierce.

The moment the stranger drew the Keyblade, a blue and black weapon with an angel's wing fluttering on the blade's edge, a motif materialized over his head. A pair of roads crossed each other and rotated, like an out of control weather vane; the roads led to a pitch black darkness, a dawning sun and a horizon in between where a tranquil dusk gave way to nightfall. The stranger lunged and Vanitas ducked, the tip of the blade scored a cut on his cheek.

For a person wearing a blindfold, the dude sure knew how to fight.

"Stop," Zack called from the lounge entrance. "Riku, it's good to have you back, and put the Keyblade away, you are scaring our rookie."

...Riku?

"I'm not scared," Vanitas asserted as the Keyblade disappeared in a shower of grey phosphenes. Something about the wielder seemed familiar. "Nox?" he asked and Riku raised his head, brushing long, silver hair away from his face. "Oh...if it isn't' the brooding chick magnet," Vanitas scoffed, "I wondered what happened to you when you dropped out in the middle of high school, I thought a truck ran you over."

His mentor sighed.

"What's with the blindfold?" Vanitas prompted as Riku collapsed in an armchair. "You into that sort of stuff?"

The man faced him. "He's giving me a headache," he complained to Zack. "And he reeks of darkness...what is he?"

"Hey!" barked Vanitas, "how dare a silver haired fairy like you-"

Fair placed himself between the two before Vanitas drew his sword. "He was scouted by Leon and although he is a bit of an anomaly-" Vanitas furiously reared on his teacher, "-he gets credit for awakening the Earth Titan's Keyblade...if only for a minute. The virtual training room changed...a lot of sand, like the Keyblade Graveyard." The waterfall gurgled. "Puppy, the boss summoned you. Your payment awaits."

Vindictively eyeing Riku pretending to be asleep, Vanitas stalked to the ambient atmosphere of the dining hall. Tifa acknowledged him with a curt nod and Jiminy rode on her shoulder, his features too small to discern from a distance. Exhaling angrily, Vanitas emerged in the foyer, questioned Leon's whereabouts from Belle and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

Like the reception, the second floor of the KBWA appeared perfectly mundane from the outside. The boardroom nestled in the middle of a chaotically arranged control room and through the glass walls; Leon slouched at the table and worked on his laptop. Vanitas stopped at the door, knocked three times and when Squall failed to notice him, barged noisily in the boardroom.

The control room sounds fell away.

A large portrait of the Elementals dominated one wall and again, Vanitas drew parallels between Roxas and the Wind Mage. The blonde in the painting wore a suit of armor and his rusty, golden cape whirled in a breeze. To the Mage's right, the Earth Titan towered over his companions. To the left stood the Sea Queen and a blush crept on Vanitas' face. He didn't think the lady would be so beautiful. A faded mark floated above their heads and he barely scrutinized a windstorm when Leon coughed to make his presence felt.

"Zack told me you did very well on your first training mission," Squall droned and handed Vanitas an envelope. "Your payment, congratulations on not dying."

Taking the fat envelope skeptically, Vanitas silently gasped. "All of it?" he asked disbelievingly. "This my payment for a training mission?" he dazedly counted the crisp notes.

"Considering the members put their lives on the line, I made a policy of extravagant pay. Munny can't buy a life, but you need lots of it for potions, elixirs, camps and whatever to keep yourself safe on assignments." Squall gazed out the boardroom's transparent walls and through the window. A guard patrolled the far gate and beyond it, the occasional car zipped across the street.

"Cool," Vanitas cheered and stuffed the envelope in the pockets of his jet black jeans. "I'll make sure to do lots of missions from now on." His statement drew a tepid smile from the chief. "By the way..." he hesitated, "Nox...Riku Nox," he clarified, "is he the Keyblade wielder?" Vanitas probed. "When he drew the weapon I noticed a weird symbol on top of his head like," he stabbed his pale finger above the Wind Mage's unruly blonde locks, "this watermark thing here. No one else has it, not Zack..." he trailed off thoughtfully.

Shutting the laptop, Leon regarded Vanitas. An individual spun entirely from darkness, although the young man failed to show any corrupting influence. "Every keyblade wielder has a defining sigil," Squall said and joined Vanitas in studying the painting. "It never changes, your past, your transition and your future is all encapsulated in the single image." A barely seen ball of waves crashed above the Sea Queen's head. "Has Zack told you about the KBWA's mission?"

"No one tells me anything apart from boring old history," Vanitas snapped.

"We are searching for a King," Leon muttered. "No, not really a King, a Keyblade worthy for a King." The diagonal scar across his face crinkled, "apparently his defining sigil is a golden crown on his head." Squall looked at the portrait again and a commotion brewed outside the boardroom's soundproof walls. "I will see you when you next need to be paid," he did not smile, "in the meantime, do your best."

He squeezed Vanitas' shoulder and left; and Vanitas wondered why he found the gesture so comforting.

10:30 a.m.

District Court

Courtroom no 3

"The prosecution is ready, your honor," Winston Payne informed and adjusted his glasses.

"The... the defense is ready your honor," Sora squeaked and grabbed his notes.

"If I may remind everyone," when Wright spoke, the courtroom ceased all activity to listen, "in order to accommodate the defense, the trial may not be prolonged." He nodded to the judge meaningfully. "The new attorney is in a delicate situation while in the courtroom but it does not mean his judgment is clouded," Phoenix raised his voice when Payne started protesting.

The judge banged his gavel and called for order. Outside the windows, clouds amassed, mirroring the tension inside the chamber.

"Prosecutor Payne, your statements please."

"Yesterday, the defense showed a shoddy example of how he defended his client," Payne chuckled and indicated the dock, where the defendant glared at him. "Today, I brought in a witness, Rosie Jones, to testify how she found the body. I believe this will clear any doubts as to who murdered Minella."

Sora squeezed his scarf rebelliously and waited for Rosie Jones to take the stand.

The concierge waltzed in and graced everyone with a heartfelt service smile. She stood with an air of grace and the gallery bubbled. "My name is Rosie Jones and I am concierge for the Gatewater Hotel," she replied to Winston's question.

"Now your testimony, please," Payne entreated.

Rosie smiled again and smoothed her spotless, figure hugging uniform. "When the hotel manager heard of Mr. Minella's visit," she began and beamed at Wright, "he wanted to welcome such a prominent figure with a service." She paused and fixed her hair. "Ms. Madeleine joined the kitchen staff about one month ago," Sora scribbled frantically on his papers, "and her desserts were well received by everyone. Taking this in consideration, the manager commissioned her to create the perfect English Trifle." Rosie brushed a curl of caramel hair behind her ear and continued, "The trifle was served at dinner and Mr. Clark requested room service approximately an hour after dinner ended..." She smiled at Sora who avoided her gaze. "When I came up with a complimentary bowl of fresh fruit and the wine he ordered, I found him slumped at the table, his body cold."

"Cold?" questioned Phoenix.

The concierge frowned and nodded in affirmative. "Yes, cold; Mr. Wright."

"What do you think?" Wright asked as Sora drew a diagram over the case notes.

"Her testimony is full of holes," he replied without looking up. "...I'm having trouble finding the holes," he admitted.

"What strikes you as odd?" Wright urgently whispered as the judge implored Sora to begin the cross-examining. "Think about it, why did she do that?

Do what?

"I'm sure there are other, senior pastry chefs working at the Gatewater Hotel?" Sora questioned and lowered his eyes when they met Rosie's, "why didn't the hotel manager think to use them for the service?"

A spell of silence claimed the court.

"Kairi displayed a flair of creativity which made her deserts the centerpiece of the table," Rosie answered smoothly. "The senior chefs were set in their ways and were told to draw inspiration from her."

So apart from Raven, another jealous chef could poison the trifle.

"I find it strange..." Sora mumbled, "you-"

"Mr. Clavius," the Judge whispered loudly, "it pains me to say this, but please speak up, I can barely hear you."

"...I find it strange," Sora chanted, "do you normally go ahead and touch corpses?"

Wright grinned aggressively at the sweating prosecutor.

"Objection!" Winston wheezed. "What do you mean? Of course she would want to investigate. A man was murdered!"

"Normally, the course of action would be to call security or management," Sora read off his documents. "Ms. Jones didn't touch him to confirm his lack of response; she touched him because Mr. Clark was still alive when she entered."

The gallery twittered, the judge blinked. Winston slammed his hand on the desk and called for an explanation and evidence.

"I don't have evidence." Sora carefully positioned the scarf around his neck. "I'm not accusing Rosie of anything, but I believe the events transpired differently." He glanced at the ceiling lights and closed his eyes. "She did indeed find Clark slumped over the table, by then, he was almost dying. She pushed him into a more comfortable position and by the time management arrived, Clark had died..." he turned to Rosie who nervously smoothed her skirt over and over again, "am I right Ms. Jones?"

"Yes." She swallowed. "Yes, what you said is right," she murmured and hung her head.

She kept her head bowed as the court bailiff escorted her back to the witness lounge.

"This changes nothing!" Payne irately declared when a smile crept on Phoenix' face. "The defendant is still on trial for murder, what did your novice attorney achieve? Absolutely nothing," Winston replied to his rhetorical question. "Your Honor, I see no need to further prolong the trial," he pleaded, "as the defense himself dismissed my witness, it's probable the defendant could have only done the deed-"

"Objection!" Sora mimicked Wright's pose and blushed when familiar cheers rang in the crowd. "I'm going to present evidence on why she couldn't have done it." He inhaled deeply. "I detected a certain other person's fingerprints on the tissue found in the trashcan." He hid his face when everyone observed him expectantly. "The fingerprint," the tissue beamed on the courtroom screens, "belongs to Raven Miller...he is a... he is a friend of the victim, Clark Minella," Sora stammered as the judge banged his gavel for order. "I request Raven be brought to the witness stand to testify the events occurring the night of the murder." He fisted the tissue. "This is decisive evidence!" he concluded meekly.

Prosecutor Payne paled at the incriminating evidence in the attorney's hands.

Clear fingerprints and a poison stain swarmed the tissue. Why did every new attorney turn a straight forward case on its head? He wondered venomously and glared at Wright. It was his fault, Phoenix Wright descended in court, bluffing his way through and brought the Rookie Crusher's crushing streak to a grinding halt.

"Your Honor," he wrung his hands, "we haven't processed the paperwork to bring Raven Miller as a witness." The Judge's eyebrows rose in surprise and Winston added, "I didn't think he would be dragged into this-"

"How do you explain the fingerprints on the poisoned tissue then prosecutor Payne?" the Judge questioned.

Winston doubled over. "...It will take some time to bring him in," he said and rubbed his temples. "Raven is currently indisposed, the murder of his friend came as a shock to him."

The gavel came down, a finality in the last three bangs. "Court is adjourned," the judge announced as the viewer's gallery emptied.

In the courtroom lobby, Sora admired a pot plant, the plant's glossy leaves shone under the light and despite the soil's arid quality, it thrived, breaking the lobby's formal atmosphere with a pop of viridian color. Phoenix and Payne discussed the case on the other corner while Athena eavesdropped. Apollo neared with Trucy bouncing along.

"How did you know the victim was alive when the concierge entered his room?" Sora blinked at the unexpected question. Justice patiently waited for an answer as the younger attorney gathered his thoughts.

Twirling the end of the scarf, Sora replied, "I had a hunch... the witness, tried to smile reassuringly, but it had the opposite effect."

"Bluffing," Apollo muttered under his breath, "you are like Mr. Wright."

"Bluff?" Phoenix joined them, "I don't bluff," he insisted as Apollo rolled his eyes expressively. "More importantly, excellent job," Wright praised. "We all know Raven is the murderer." He trailed off, a faraway look in his mud blue eyes. "It is your job to convince the Judge and the viewers of his crime."

"No pressure," Trucy trilled and handed Sora another lunch box of small cakes. "Did you like them?" she asked and he nodded vigorously. "A close friend of Daddy's said food is a great motivator," she winked, "eat this and make sure you nail Raven in the head," she called while hurrying after Apollo. "Remember to come early tomorrow," she waved, "Polly and Thena wants to show you some tips..."

The street's chatter swallowed her words.

A sleek smartphone beeped to life and Vanitas tapped it excitedly. Half of his paycheck dried up for this new gadget and Organization XIII's stylish logo spun on screen. A smile split his face in half as he settled on the couch to explore his new toy. The phone's upgraded camera pleased him greatly and angling it to the window, he snapped a photograph. Scarlet curtains framed the windows and a collection of dark jeans and t-shirts littered the sofa-lounge serving as his bed. The small wardrobe hung open, a trench coat spilling from the inside.

The door opened and Sora stepped in.

Phone in hand, Vanitas puttered across the carpet and shoved it in his brother's face. "I got myself a new phone," he announced as Sora's eyes widened like twin moons. "The latest flagship model," Vanitas bragged, "I got paid today."

"How... much munny?" Sora peeled off his suit and sagged on the chaise lounge. He pored over the phone. His twin crashed on the sofa next to him, silver belt buckle digging in Sora's hip.

Grinning, Vanitas grabbed his brother and snapped a selfie. "Half my paycheck." He nodded to the envelope on the glass coffee table and Sora gingerly counted them, his anxiety mounting with each crisp note. "The training mission is for beginners, the pay increases with the difficulty of the assignment."

Pouting, Sora started on the cakes. "That's unfair." He wondered how much attorneys like Phoenix Wright and Apollo Justice got paid... not much, judging by their possessions. Although, the lavish decorations in the Wright and Co. Lawyers office must have racked quite a budget. "Not fair," he repeated, "I don't think I'll be getting half as much as you." He picked the game controller. "You wanna play?" he asked, already anticipating the answer when his brother shook his head. "Guess I'll play Silent Hill."

"Why do you even play such a game?" Vanitas questioned; his head on Sora's lap. "It's nasty. I can't believe you're okay with zombies but not real people." Sora smiled when the game loaded and music streamed from the speakers. "We're having take-out," Vanitas decided and opened an app, "I don't feel like cooking dinner."

Secrets

Late evening

Chief Prosecutor's office.

The steel samurai figurine commanded a significant space on Edgeworth's shelf. Heavy curtains draped the floor to ceiling length windows.

The magatama glowed eerily in Wright's palm and he turned it over.

"What are you here for?" Edgeworth demanded and sipped tea.

Phoenix did not reply right away, instead, he gazed at the curtains. Very few buildings rose at this height and no blooming pools of color seeped through the cracks in the fabric. "I haven't found a way to crack the black psyche-locks," he said.

"Perhaps the psycho-locks cannot be cracked?" Miles set his cup on a saucer. "It's best not to tinker with things of the spiritual realm." He frowned. The magatama confused him but his friend found liberal use of the strange artifact.

A slow, laconic smile spread over Phoenix's face. "It intrigues me," he admitted. "I wasn't this preoccupied by it..."

Lies, thought Edgeworth.

"But the new attorney I hired has quite a few of them and now I wonder what the black locks really guard. Secrets?" Wright turned the magatama over, "traumatic past? Or something so deep the person themself is not aware of? I'm worried about Sora."

Cleaning his glasses, Miles replaced them over his eyes. "You are not worried." he sighed when Phoenix grinned. "You are simply curious."

The attorney said nothing. He opened a folder on the desk and began reading; dull irises skipping over words.

A/N: The first meeting between Riku and Vanitas did not go well. As mentioned in this chapter, each Keyblade wielder has a symbol floating above their heads when they summon their weapon.

Please read and review. Questions and theories are welcome. Speculate and ask away!