The King has come
08:00 a.m.
Wright and Co. Law agency
Phoenix Wright's office
Detective Skye lectured about a well preserved crime scene.
And as she admonished Athena for accidentally stepping on the wrong square of carpet at the wrong time, Sora stretched a pair of gloves over his hands and ducking under the caution yellow tape, picked the fragments of glass strewn across the floor like a shiny jigsaw puzzle. He inspected them for fingerprints.
No oily residue decided to help him.
The plant at the window shriveled due to a lack of water and hauling the flapping length of rope dangling across the broken window, he examined it with a magnifying glass and fumbled when Ema stopped yelling Athena's ear off and crouched next to him.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, lips in a sour pout.
Is she mad because she doesn't have chocolate snackoos to munch on? "Examining evidence," Sora squeaked, piling his scarf like a fort before his face. "I'm checking if there are any hairs on the... rope..." he trailed off when the detective intensely stared at him.
She broke into a wide grin. "Science is always the best interpreter of evidence," Ema declared. Apollo dragged his feet in the office and dumped an empty cardboard box on the floor. "If you find fingerprints you know where to go," she chirped and waltzed out of the office in a noticeably better mood.
Resuming his quest for a decisive strand of hair, Sora checked the rope twice. He sighed. No hair.
A knobby little heartless surfaced in a patch of shadow adjacent to Wright's desk and promptly died as Athena unknowingly flattened it with her heel, she reached for a binder file on the oak wood shelf and yelped as it tumbled, sleeves and documents flooding her arms. The attorney slipped on a piece of plastic lodging underneath her shoe and pitched headfirst to the floor.
Her forehead banged against the table and Sora rushed to help her, waving his arms uselessly as Cykes moaned.
The file fell open to a photo of Apollo. He bent to pick it and froze at his data. Jaw clenched, he closed the folder, blanching angrily at the title.
Apollo Justice embossed in gold lettering. He viewed the other files while Sora mumbled comforting words to Athena. Sora Clavius, read another file, wedged carefully out of sight next to a legal book. Athena Cykes lay on the floor, a foot away from the human Athena and to Apollo's mounting dismay; Trucy Wright's binder file missed several sleeves. One ripped, a crumpled paper to the floor.
"Senior, I'd like to examine the files," Sora piped softly when Justice stuffed them in a cardboard box, he glowered at the timid attorney before nodding. "Uh... thanks-"
"You don't need to go through them." Phoenix appeared on the threshold and gestured to the table. "You'll probably find better evidence on my table, my papers are ruined thanks to the grape juice," he grumbled and crashed on the couch. "Apollo, pack the stuff up, I'll sort them later." Wright massaged his temples and closed his eyes to snatch a second of sleep.
Leaving the box, Sora rifled through the mess on the table. The computer whirred to life when he moved the mouse. Apparently, Mr. Wright conducted his own investigation. The internet browser revealed a staggering amount of open tabs; pages of past cases and the big corporations of Los Angeles. Briefly distracted by the Organization XIII webpage and the dark skinned, silver haired man serving as the current CEO, Sora's knuckle bopped against the grape juice bottle and it rolled across, spilling the last dregs of dark liquid across a pen, newspaper clippings and a file.
His mind paralyzed with fright as he attempted to soak the liquid with his sleeve. He only smudged it further. Agonizing and praying Mr. Wright keep his eyes shut, he shook the pages free from excess liquid and mentally berated himself as Phoenix woke.
"Ah..." He blinked and Sora gulped nervously. "It's okay; most of the stuff needs to be thrown anyway." Phoenix rose from the couch and rearranged the items on his desk. "Take the bottle," he said, "and don't worry about this, focus on the trial," he smiled indulgently.
Clutching the bottle with both hands, Sora miserably slunk out, latex gloves damp with cold sweat. He passed the door to the archive room and paused at a series of minute scratches on the lock. Bottle momentarily forgotten, he analyzed the door. The thief probably tried to enter the archives for more information. Curiously, he did not steal any vintage records from Athena's office, nor the gold leafed ornament from Apollo's mantelpiece.
Leaving the bottle at the forensics laboratory door, Sora swung to the lobby. The set of six prints hung on the wall behind the smiling receptionist missed an art print and he pointed to it, waiting for the correct question to filter through the storm of words and thoughts clouding his head.
"...The art," he finally spat out and lowered his finger when the receptionist blinked encouragingly. "The... there was six of them right?" She agreed. "One is missing," he flinched at his obvious statement and decided to keep quiet before his social battery depleted.
"The thief stole one," the receptionist clarified. "It's to be expected, they always target the valuable things."
No. The burglar wanted information only.
Dipping his head politely, he entered the laboratory. A contentedly munching Ema waved a container of fingerprint powder at him.
A pod on the Special Assignment floor hissed open. Nox navigated the short path to the gigantic cube in the center. It opened when he pressed his card against it and darkness swallowed the dim light whole.
Glowing flowers blooming on a counter barely illuminated the two individuals waiting in the chamber. Leon sat on a desk; legs dangling to the floor smothered in shadows and piles of paper. The King stood on a stack of documents and touched the glowing flowers, his smile pearly white in the soft, cyan light.
Riku materialized silently before the two and the King spun, nearly falling from his pedestal of pages. He righted himself with a fluttering laugh and the blossoms moved in the unexpected breeze.
"Your special assignment is complete," Leon droned and tapped on a screen. "I trust we won't have such a breach of conduct again?"
The Grey knight nodded solemnly.
"A report King Mickey?" Squall turned his head in the general direction of the King, "to confirm his results."
Mickey hopped from his demolished pedestal and warmly squeezed Riku's hand. "He did very well," the King praised. "He fought Maleficent from invading my castle and corrupting the cornerstone of light." Nox held his breath. "He also uncovered an unresponsive cornerstone of light in Hollow Bastion. When we tried to activate it, parts of the castle changed to Radiant Garden, but without proper maintenance, it will return to being Hollow Bastion once again."
Leon typed a summary on his tablet and set it down next to him. He could barely see Riku, only a head of silver hair betrayed the presence of the young man. "You have your darkness under control?"
The operative nodded and extended his hand. A brand new Keyblade flashed to existence.
"Oh yes," Mickey commented, "he managed to summon a third Keyblade."
"Braveheart," Riku supplied as if on cue.
Braveheart.
"You are hereby released from the Special Assignment rules," Leon prompted. "And I went through the effort of selecting another mission for you," he added in his monotone voice. "We found the King and he is in desperate need of training. You are to familiarize him in the art of combat, magic and anything he needs to know about wielding a Keyblade."
Nodding gravely, Riku untied his blindfold and for the first in a long time, he could see. King Mickey smiled graciously at him, Leon nodded, a kind grin on the corner of his mouth. The Grey knight peeled off his gloves, his skin hadn't felt sunlight for over a year. He unzipped the coat and let it fall, standing in the chamber in only a thin vest and a pair of shorts. The floor's chill seeped through his bare feet.
He felt alive.
"Your hair," Leon reminded.
Bunching his shock of silver hair, Riku raised his keyblade and lopped it off with a quick, precise strike.
"Not like that!" Squall agonized. "...Whatever," he leaned on his palms. "I want you back in the field as quick as possible."
In a rare display of affection, Riku hugged King Mickey to his chest. The King fondly patted his head, getting stray hairs stuck to his glove. "You can always visit," Mickey assured. "Make sure to come often." Riku muttered his gratitude and squeezed the King tighter. "Ahahaha," the King laughed, "it feels like I have a son now."
The Grey Knight reluctantly released him.
A dark corridor ripped apart in the chamber, disturbing long forgotten documents and fluttering glowing petals. Mickey stepped through the corridor and vanished, leaving an emptiness behind.
Languidly picking his fallen coat and boots, Riku wondered how he would survive without the light guiding him.
Water shimmered out of reach, an everlasting mirage. Heat steamed the roots of Vanitas' hair and he collapsed, fumbling his backpack for a bottle of water and drowning it instantly. Burning sand crusted his cheek; the crown necklace seared his throat and collarbones.
"You are aware Agrabah is a desert right?" Zack fretted and gently tugged the lapels of Vanitas' leather trench coat. "And use blizzard type spells, fire is weak against cold."
The morning in the portal room happened an eternity ago, Vanitas found Fair waiting with a young girl, his 'partner' for his solo mission. Kisaragi's irises shone like she ate her cereals with Redbull, and pumped her fist in the air, loudly assuring the rookie's safety. Fair passed his pupil a small bag of essentials, neon green potions, bottles of water, elixir and a folded tent. All this fussing irritated Vanitas and brushing past his overbearing mentor, he crossed into a random dark corridor with Zack's warnings ringing in his ears. The swirling vortex of liquid darkness ejected him, his ever present companions and Yuffie in the middle of nowhere.
A desert of burning sand stretched as far as the horizon, a solitary cloud drifted across the shockingly blue sky and soon evaporated.
Rising from his prone position, Vanitas scraped the half melting jacket off his body. The light and heat cooked his brain into fluff. Kisaragi peered through a pair of binoculars and repeated her findings to him. Agrabah lay at the edge of the desert; she confidently said and hitched her bag securely on skinny shoulders.
Ignoring her, Vanitas summoned Void Gear, his vision blurred and he rubbed his eyes for focus. The silver studs on his coat burned his palm and with painstaking effort, he cut the long trench coat into a sleeveless short jacket. Donald and Goofy disappeared in search of who knew what; and Yuffie watched him, a suggestive smile curling up her lip.
"Nice body." She raised her thumb appreciatively when he wrung sweat out of his shirt.
"Thanks. It's not for sale." Vanitas retorted. One decision later, he fashioned a turban from the mutilated coat scraps and wrapped it around his head. The sun stopped frying his hair. Shakily, he got to his feet and dismally regarded his combat boots. "Is my feet going to blister if I walk bare feet?" he asked Yuffie, wearing lightweight sandals and long pants, a sensible outfit for this damning heat. "It'll blister," he blearily whispered and slogged through the sand. "Where are the heartless?" he croaked. "I want to kill something already!"
They continued in silence, Vanitas stole glances at Yuffie who powered ahead of him. She did not stop for water or rest and when they came across a prickly cactus, she drew a giant shuriken and inspected the plant for fruits.
Where she got her energy, he only wondered.
The heat sapped Goofy's strength more liberally than Donald's. Head drooped, the anthropomorphic dog lagged behind them, uncomplaining. Donald used his staff as a crutch, the beret on his head long slipped to the ground, half buried for some curious archeologist to find. The motely group inched forward, past sand dunes towering over their heads like miniature mountains and curious salamanders braving their arid homes for a glimpse of miserable strangers.
"We aren't lost, are we?" Vanitas suspiciously questioned. "The mission said to eliminate a bunch of heartless and unversed in the desert." He stomped the ground. "This is the desert," he grouched. "What about the city, how far is it? Do we have enough water and food?" Vanitas checked his useless cellphone. "I don't have service, how am I gonna tell my brother I won't be home for dinner? He needs to know I'm at another world." He crashed in the shade of a tiny dune, sand powdered his skin into a light tan, he coughed and Goofy settled beside him. "Heal me," Vanitas commanded to Donald, "I need energy and the sooner I finish the mission, the faster I can go home."
The bird scowled. "I'm not wasting my magic on you," he quacked flippantly and crossed his wings when Vanitas swore. "And it's your fault for not notifying your brother and wearing that heat sinking jacket." Donald perched on the surface of a jutting rock. "Before you set foot into a different world, you need to do research on it," he lectured. "Didn't the idiot soldier teach you anything?"
"Donald..." Goofy moaned and restrained Vanitas who leapt for the duck's throat.
"Besides," Donald disregarded the fuming keyblade wielder, "the monsters always show up when you least expect it."
A ball of flames barely missed him and smashed the side of the dune. Yuffie pulled to her feet in one smooth motion and threw her giant shuriken, it shredded a red nocturne. Dark whirlpools swirled under the ground and Vanitas jumped when several armored knights appeared.
He drew Void Gear and a giant heartless shrunk in fear.
The Keyblade cracked into the shield of a defender and flung him back. Staggering upright, Vanitas blitzed behind the cyan monster and blasted a blizzaga, the sheet of ice steamed under the sun. He swiveled as Kisaragi flew past him, burying her unconventional blade in the stomach of a fat heartless, its shadowy guts spilled in the air and it vanished, a magenta heart spinning to the sky.
A troop of neoshadows elongated from the sand and circled Vanitas, their long limbs lashing against his bare torso and chaining his legs. Void Gear glowed and spun, shredding the shadows. A cloud of smoky darkness enveloped him and he waved it away. Rivulets of blood ran from the shallow cuts on his skin.
Crops of plants rooted on the shifting sands of the desert and wiggled on fleshy stems. A crackling ball of fire erupted from one, aiming straight for Vanitas and deflected off a shield.
"Thanks," he gasped and Goofy's mouth parted in surprised. "What?" Vanitas barked, "I was taught to be polite." He pushed his companion down as a heartless soared above them on colorful wings.
Holding Void Gear out, he blasted a dark cannon, it nearly grazed Donald, unleashing a thundaga on a knot of unsuspecting shadows; and the stream of velvet black energy obliterated all the heartless in one shot.
Panting heavily, Vanitas stubbornly stayed upright when Yuffie congratulated him. Adrenaline buzzed at the back of his head and roared in his ears. Donald frowned fiercely but Goofy popped a potion and handed it to Vanitas. Despite the city of Agrabah remaining elusively out of reach, the victory over the band of heartless gave him an extra reason to trawl tirelessly to their destination.
Hitching a ride on Goofy, Donald shaded his eyes. "If I recall correctly, the mission was to get rid of heartless and unversed. Did anyone see any unversed?" he asked and Yuffie halted, her stance rigid. "Oh boy..." the duck trailed off as a storm of darkness flooded the horizon.
A team of dark blue floods seeped from the ground and Vanitas bared his teeth in a grin; Void Gear appeared in a flash of purple flames.
02:25 p.m.
Wright and Co Law offices
Library
The grape juice bottle contained a single clear fingerprint, not belonging to anyone on the databases Ema had. This irritated the detective and Sora spent the next hour listening to her rant. The scratches on the archive lock were inspected and apart from the burglar's motive to enter the room, it provided no new information.
His stomach growled and Sora checked his phone. His twin sent him a cryptic message, something about visiting a desert. He included a selfie, dressed in black leather, gloves and boots.
Is it okay to go in a desert wearing such warm clothes?
Unable to bear his hunger, Sora distractedly shuffled his notes. Pieces of evidence and photos littered the arguments he meticulously charted on paper. A thousand things could go wrong during a trial and he prepared well for it. As time trickled and the drizzle outside eased, he waited for a co-worker to pop in, preferably to invite him for lunch or even better, bring him lunch. Sora craved a burger.
He sulked and corrected a statement on a page; Maya started to influence him.
The quietude in the library occasionally broke for the sound of rain drumming the windows. Pressing his face to the glass, Sora observed people braving the wet streets, umbrellas creating a colorful mosaic on the pavements. Cars zoomed past, splashing dirty water in the air. Mist diffused between the spaces, bringing the smell of wet and dirt to his nose. Comfortably adjusting himself in the plush armchair, Sora let his eyes wander across the library. Shelves groaned under the weight of books, one attorney or the other always misplaced a piece of evidence in this thickly carpeted room and leaning over his mess, Sora tinkered with the statue of The Thinker; it startled him by stating the time.
"I think the time is two-forty-five..."
He dropped the heavy statue, it landed with a muffled thump on the floor.
Carefully placing it back and checking no one witnessed his embarrassing episode, Sora toughed another fifteen minutes on the chair, watching raindrops slide past each other, before venturing in the search of food.
No telltale aromas of cooking food greeted him in the lunch room, adjacent to the library and Athena worked in her chamber, head clamped by a pair of earphones and lost in a symphony of sound. Apollo labored in Wright's office, under the supervision of the sleeping boss. Sora wanted to ask about Trucy's whereabouts but the tight expression across the senior's face warned him to keep quiet.
He finally met Trucy in the hallway to the lounge. Pearls of rain strung her hair and for once, she missed her silk top hat. "I talked to the guy in the lobby." She showed him a grainy, security camera photograph of a well-dressed lady entering the Multiplan. "This is Lucy," she said, "she entered the lobby in the morning and went to the cafe." Trucy beamed. "We should investigate!"
I'm too hungry to investigate.
Brushing aside his internal monologue, she grabbed Sora's hand and pulled him to the elevator.
He swallowed at the crowd bustling in front of the rustic cafe and pulled his scarf over his chin when a couple of guys turned to smile invitingly, Trucy cut a swathe through them and paused when Sora's stomach growled.
Please don't let her hear that.
"You're hungry," she announced. "I'm hungry too." Trucy breezily navigated to a corner table, away from the prying eyes of people. The aroma of coffee and cinnamon wafted in the air. "I'll get something, what do you want?" She gestured to the menu and waited while he used an excruciatingly long time to arrive at a decision.
"There's only cake and coffee stuff here," he complained, "I want real food like... like rice or noodles or soup." He stammered when a nearby couple looked up. "...I'm fine with anything," Sora sighed.
Trucy returned with the owner in a tow and he blanched, unprepared to deal with a stranger.
"Plum Kitaki can tell us more about Lucy," she said. The broad lady set savory scones on a plate for him and a crepe stuffed with fresh fruit and cream for Trucy. Suddenly, Sora wanted the crepe and as if reading his mind, she pushed the filling dessert at him and munched on a scone. "Ms. Kitaki, did you see this lady in your cafe early this morning?" she asked the owner who maneuvered her bulk next to Sora.
He shrank against the window, wondering why the owner saw fit to sit next to him. The crepe melted in his mouth, all sugar and strawberry but Sora found it difficult to enjoy it through the woman's beady eyed glares.
Kitaki split into a smile. "Yes." She blew a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "She came in early, a minute after we opened and only ordered a coffee. The lady kept on checking her watch and I asked her if she waited for a date," Plum scowled, "the woman did not answer but after she finished the coffee, she left with an enormous tip."
Forks and spoons clinked. Palls of sweet smoke wafted from frothy mugs of coffee. Sora stuffed his face, licking powdered sugar off the tips of his fingers and froze when Trucy smiled warmly at him.
"So...so... she has an alibi." The words clawed out of his throat. "We can't dismiss her as a suspect," he gulped when Plum patted his shoulder and shoved a plate of walnut muffins at him. "Either she stole the documents, or she knows someone who did." Sora furtively searched for answers in the swirls of cream on his plate.
Don't look at me. Please.
The owner left after another five minutes of chatting and gesturing. Trucy wolfed the remaining pastries and thanking the clumsy waiter, she and Sora returned to the familiar surroundings of the Law offices. Phoenix puttered in the lunch room and Trucy hopped away to accommodate her father. Justice glowered at the wall and taking care not to step in his line of vision, Sora ferried his work from the library, to the pristine boardroom.
A blast of remote air erupted in his face as he placed the folders on the marble top and sat in an easy chair. The wood paneled wall lent the chamber an aristocratic quality and calmed by the lack of sounds, Sora formulated new arguments with the security photo in mind. He chewed the end of his pen thoughtfully, remembered it was his favorite, Level 6 pen and attempted to smooth the little ridges embedded in the metal.
His phone rang, strident tones shattering the serenity.
Cursing at the unknown number, Sora received the call, mentally preparing to engage in conversation.
"This is Belle from the KBWA," a smooth, administrator voice bled from the speaker, "you have been selected to participate in a training regime two days for now, please prepare accordingly." He gaped while muted voices echoed from the other side. "Do you have any questions Mr. Clavius?" she asked. "We are open to training suggestions and schedule rearrangements, if the time is inconvenient for you, please contact your trainer. We will message you the details shortly." Belle waited for a response.
"I...um... no it's okay," he lamely stated and clutched his stomach. "...I'm busy with a case..."
"Please don't worry," Belle reassured, "your trainer will tailor the hours with you. The KBWA thanks you for your co-operation." Click.
The line died.
Sora gripped his phone with shaking hands. Two days from now? He checked his calendar and sighed in relief. The KBWA won't bother him on court days, the receptionist said so. He decided to discuss this training business with Vanitas; his brother can drag the Association off his back.
A moon hung low across the ebony sky sprinkled with pulsing stars. The ground crunched like ice and Vanitas shivered. He cursed the heat, cursed the moon and cursed the damning chill seeping into his bones. During the day the desert boiled flesh, at night, it turned him into a popsicle.
He poked the campfire, created after many tries and ringed by flat stones. The flames cackled. Goofy and Donald argued over the placement of the tent and he leaned against the trunk of a date palm, his entire body sore. Groups of heartless and unversed assaulted them in waves, Vanitas' grasp on Void Gear grew slick with blood pouring from superficial wounds. The anthropomorphic bird healed him only once and by nightfall, the exhausted group camped on the shores of an oasis.
From here, the city of Agrabah loomed a fathomless shadow on the horizon. Flat rooftops and clay brick buildings glowing with warm firelight. Vanitas threw a handful of dry sticks in the fire and screamed at his companions to get the tent upright. Yuffie returned with bottles of water and he grabbed one, teeth chattering due to the cold.
"We'll be in the city by tomorrow," she said and kicked the tree he leaned on. A shower of dried, wrinkled dates peppered his head and lap. "We can't eat this." Yuffie tossed the dates over her shoulder.
They bounced off Vanitas' forehead and hissing, he lopped them in the fire. Flames roared to the sky, the smell of burnt dates wafted to the air.
Kisaragi punched another tree and a shower of dates rolled to the ground. "Here you go; they are a bit unripe-"
"I'm not hungry," Vanitas interjected. He stalked past Goofy and threw himself on a bedroll inside the tent. A multitude of unsent messages mocked him when he tapped his phone.
Can't come home tonight.
I'm on a mission on a desert planet.
I'm fine by the way, don't worry.
Silhouettes capered across the cloth walls of the tent and burrowing in the thin sheets, he attempted to sleep off the pounding headache growing at the base of his skull.
Inadequate
Evening
Chief Prosecutor's office.
The heavy doors to Edgeworth's office swung apart on soundless hinges and Sebastian Debeste sailed in to guitar blues. Curtains draped the floor to ceiling length windows and a lamp shone on the desk.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
Klavier lay on the desk, stacking all of Edgeworth's paperwork on neat piles on the floor. The prosecutor strummed his guitar without answering and Sebastian bristled; desperately trying to control the tears threatening to leak from his eyes.
"I'm serenading the darkness inside of me, Herr Best," Gavin replied and smiled.
The smile irritated Debeste, it made Klavier look effortlessly confident. Though if anyone could see the glamorous prosecutor now...
"Mr. Edgeworth will be returning from a meeting soon." Sebastian arranged the files back on the desk. "He's instructing me on the upcoming case."
Gavin slid off and opted to sink on the couch in the middle of the room. "Of course," he hummed, "don't let me distract you, baby." He continued strumming his guitar, blue eyes despondently fixed on the coffee table.
"Get out!" Sebastian clenched his fists. "Your music is annoying."
To his surprise, the rock star prosecutor left the room without further arguments, dragging his guitar behind him.
A/N: If anyone remembers, the Kitaki, yakuza, family wanted to start a clean business, so here you have it. Plum Kitaki runs a café underneath the law offices along with her husband. It's a popular place which comes up with a creative pastries and cakes.
Once again, please read and review, Plum Kitaki is offering her fruit crepes.