Aye, aye Captain!
Seagulls wheeled across the cloud specked sky and squawked a cacophony. The reek of fish guts permeated the port. Vanitas boisterously joined in yelling at the dockhands with the crude language he seamlessly picked up in the few hours since he landed at Port Royal. Palm trees dotted the horizon. A jagged cliff rose beyond the shore, dwarfing the seaside town.
Before the days of shipping containers, cargo went into sacks and wooden boxes. Stacks of them lined a pier, shadowed by a gigantic ship with an ebony hull and sails. In a nearby tavern, Sailors clashed frothing mugs and drank, their skin scarlet from sun and beer. The crash of breaking glass preceded raucous laughter; they spilled from the tavern, drunkenly ambled to the pier and picked a fight with the ragged dockhands trying their best to go unnoticed.
"Don't," Riku warned when Vanitas started for a sailor spitting on a boy. "You will only make things worse," he perched delicately on a railing, breeches puffing around his legs.
Silently grateful for his navy blue doublet jacket, Vanitas adjusted his hat. When the dark corridor ejected them to this salt stained port, he spent a good half an hour laughing his guts sore at Riku. "You're telling me to sit and watch?" Even now, Vanitas couldn't look at the Grey Knight without laughter bubbling in the pit of his stomach.
"I'm telling you not to make things worse," Nox retorted and eased from the railing. The woolen stockings irritated his calves. "Find something else to do," he added over his shoulder and disappeared, garnering a few appreciative stares from a nearby huddle of incoherent sailors.
Kicking a crack in a fruit crate, Vanitas extracted an apple. The shriveled fruit disgusted him. Tossing it to the sea, he wrenched the box apart, collected a few plump fruits and stuffed them in his pocket. A Captain Jack Sparrow was supposed to meet them, but according to the silver haired freak, the Captain operated on a wavelength of his own and would only show up when he wanted to show up. Tossing a glossy orange in his palm, Vanitas set off to explore.
Large cannons faced the ocean. They were bolted to the stone paved ground, with a brass plaque aiding aim. He tried to maneuver the cannons but age, rust and salt, froze them in position. Straw-thatched warehouses dotted the harbor and enormous, cotton white sails shaded the market, now teeming with people either wearing rags and oily hair; or dressed in fine cloth embroidered with silk and gold thread.
A bunch of children, cheeks scabbed with dirt, clustered around a behemoth cannon. The barrel's pitched surface gleamed under the sun and the scrawny kids took turns to stand on a haphazardly constructed stool and push their hands inside the muzzle. Vanitas climbed the steps to the lookout and they collectively turned to gape at him.
He ignored their hushed whispers and sauntered over. They looked like he was God's given gift to mankind.
"What are you lot gawking at?" Vanitas barked and scowled when a frazzled meow escaped from the barrel. "Is that a cat?" A child meekly nodded. "Did you put it in there?" he whirled, long doublet flaring impressively with his movements.
"No!" the children chorused and regarded him beadily. "We take turns feeding Kitty, but this morning, we found her stuck in there." An older girl pointed to the narrow mouth of the cannon. "Can you help us? Please?"
"Please?" another chorus of pitiful voices.
Weather-beaten faces pinched by hardness, little eyes glowering defiantly. Vanitas softened and tried to shove his hand down the barrel, his forearm got stuck.
"You're fat, mister."
"It's Captain you damn brat!" He pulled his arm out. "And I'm not fat," he hissed, indignant. "I'm muscular. You look like you could use a few fried steaks yourself!" Vanitas immediately regretted his words. He reached inside his pocket and doled the fruits to them, grimacing when they scrabbled with each other. "Stand back," he ordered and they timidly surged against the low wall built around the outcropping. "Will I get in trouble for breaking this?" he tapped the solid cannon.
Half the children shook their heads. The other half nodded.
Void Gear materialized in a shower of black light and Vanitas basked in the gasps of astonishment. He sawed the cannon in half, the Keyblade's teeth shearing effortlessly through metal. The kitten's distressed calls abruptly stopped, it crouched at the base of the cannon, a scrap of soot stained fur and shivered, before letting out another wail and puffing when Vanitas tried to reach for it.
He painstakingly coaxed the kitten in his palm and sent a boy to purchase a few cuts of meat.
Surrounded by a ring of mismatched children, he fed the kitten. Its needle sharp teeth sunk into his thumb the first few times, before it climbed on his lap and ravenously devoured the rest of the food.
The kitten purred contentedly in the crook of Vanitas' arm. A daring child snatched his hat and put it on, the rim dangled over his eyes and Vanitas pushed it back. The boys and younger girls grouped together to play, pretending to be a captain on the high seas. They took turns steering an imaginary ship, dodging the sea of people walking on the road and picking up cargo in form of stones and dried branches.
"Are... are you blind in one eye?" a girl timorously questioned and pointed to his eye-patch. Smirking, Vanitas removed it with a quick jerk and she gasped, horrified. "You're not blind," she stated, disappointed. "Is that a real gun?"
Another toddler girl, half-naked, dumped herself on his lap and pulled the sleeping kitten's whiskers.
"Yes it's a real gun and no you are not allowed to touch it, it's dangerous." He grabbed the leather holster before the girl reached for it. "You're can't touch the swords either," Vanitas reprimanded when she seized the jewel hilted cutlass, her irises shining. "Where are your parents?" he demanded and pointed to the rowdy children harassing an old man. "Where is everyone's parents?" He gently pushed the girl off his lap and put the kitten in her outstretched arms.
The girl warbled happily, rheumy tears leaking from her eyes.
"We don't have parents," the older girl replied. "We are on our own."
Dusting his breeches, Vanitas darted into the playing children and they shrieked. He grabbed the boy wearing his hat and tossed him to the air. The child screamed, glee echoing off the rough brick houses lining the walkway. Several people emerged from their homes, some shaking their heads and muttering good naturedly about the noise.
"My hat kiddo." Vanitas crouched, and the child carefully replaced the tri-cornered hat back on his unruly raven locks. Someone tugged a fistful of hair. "That hurts damn it!"
"It smells like limes. Do you put limes in your hair?" a child demanded
"Why are you so white?" another piped.
A kid slipped his fingers into Vanitas' pocket and stole a gold medallion. "Can you live with us?" He turned the shining coin over in his hands. "I won't steal, I promise." He crossed his fingers and held the coin up. "I'll work for you."
Brushing grime matted hair away from his forehead, Vanitas pressed the coin back into the kid's hand. "I can't." The child's face fell, eyes blanking like stoic stone. "Sorry kiddo. I don't belong here... and, I have a job to do." He did not mistake the silver glint of Nox's hair disappearing around a nondescript corner. Donald and Goofy followed the Grey Knight, as subtle as a two legged dog stumbling across loose mortar. "Take care of the kitten okay?" he reminded them.
The toddler girl wrapped her arms around his leg and howled when he pried her off.
Dark brown fishing nets hung from the rafters in the surf shack. His buckled boots echoed too loudly on the creaky floor planks and Riku approached the counter, stylized with an octopus figurehead crawling over the surface.
The KBWA branch in Port Royal operated out of an unassuming wooden shack lodged on a quiet beach. Sun bleached canoes beached on sand, tangling with the driftwood the sea unceremoniously tossed out. Captain Jack Sparrow, the leader of the KBWA, obstinately refused to step down from his position and instead, ran the Association members haggard with his harebrained schemes.
A lot of the people quit.
Dust lay thickly on the unsold bric-a-brac in the surf shack.
"Grey Knight," Riku introduced himself and the wizened old man manning the counter bowed deeply. "I'm here for the mission details for eliminating Barbarossa and his undead pirates. I'm told there is a heartless as well?"
The operative handed him a salt crusted scroll, nearly falling apart at the edges. Nox scanned through the data, his shoulder subtly aching from where Lockhart playfully punched him this morning. When he brought up the issue of his trainee skimping on training, the vice-chief graciously offered to fill in his role, her wine-red eyes faraway and ponderous. Riku worried. Tifa, for all her expertise, was notorious for not being able to regulate her strength.
His arm throbbed in agreement.
"I was told the Black Saint will be accompanying you?" The man eagerly craned his neck at the doors, where Goofy and Donald stood guard.
The green grey ocean roared in the distance and pounded the shore in foam crested waves.
Rolling the parchment and tucking it safely in his waist wrap, Riku adjusted the bandanna covering his hair. "He is currently busy exploring the town," he delicately stated. "The Black Saint is not required to sign in," he sighed through gritted teeth, "he is currently under my supervision."
The old man nodded, the expectation in his face dimming. Signing the guest book, Riku left the squalid shack for open sunshine, silently questioning if Clavius will ever cease to surprise him.
10:30 a.m.
District Court
Courtroom no 4
"Court is now in session for the trial of Zef Hayler."
Winston Payne adjusted his glasses self-importantly. "The prosecutor is ready your honor," he announced.
"The defense is ready your honor," Apollo stopped shy of shouting, drowning the stray whispers from the viewing gallery.
Vibrating with excitement, Sora eagerly unloaded a sheaf of papers on the bench. He arranged his meticulously crafted flowcharts, kept the court records close at hand and grinned widely. His senior asked him to act as co-counsel and he'll be damned if he didn't do a good job at it.
In contrast, only a single sheaf of paper scrawled with a few headlines, lay before Apollo. His wide forehead shone under the courtroom's lights and he glowered at the prosecutor, summoning a witness to the stand.
A respectful silence descended in the wood paneled courtroom. The viewer's area consisted of people dressed prominently in tailored suits and silk ties. Nothing like the peanut gallery which came to watch Sora's trials. Nervous under the judging gazes, he focused his attention at the witness, a hand involuntarily grasping the lawyers badge pinned proudly on his lapel.
The witness introduced himself as Joe Fawles; husband of the murdered, a high browed lady by the name of Petunia Fawles. Blue bags hung under his eyes. The couple lived in the upper crust suburbs of Los Angeles and both worked. According to Joe, they often carved time for each other during weekends. He rubbed blood-shot eyes and leaned heavily on the witness stand. Nothing deterred them from this date on the weekend, the husband and wife dropped every other commitment to spend what the witness described as, intimate moments with each other. Fawles glassily attempted a smile and his disheveled appearance in court rose snide remarks. He constantly knotted and loosened his tie and ran his hands through greasy hair.
He slumped, stoically wiping the tears gathering at the edges of his eyes.
The Judge banged his gavel. "Ah, Mr. Clavius." His eyebrows rose in pleasant surprise. "You came prepared as a co-counsel," he stated and Sora buckled when the scrutiny shifted to him. "Mr. Justice, your cross-examination please." The prosecutor chose this moment to make a request. "And as Payne suggested, please refrain from badgering the witness, he is emotionally compromised."
"What can you tell me?" Apollo turned to Sora. "Find anything weird in his testimony?"
Huh?
Trying not to let the witness' emotional account affect him, Sora straightened. "He is really depressed after his wife's murder," he said and flushed when Apollo's upright fringe drooped in disbelief. "I mean, he's lying, right?"
"You don't sound too sure." Justice placed his hands on the bench, the thick gold bangle glittering on his wrist. "What kind of work did Ms. Fawles do?" he asked and received a languid reply. "So you and your wife would drop everything, even deadlines, to go on a date during the weekends?"
Sora scribbled furiously as the witness replied, deadened voice barely carrying across the gravely silent courtroom. "I noticed something," he triumphantly whispered. "The weekend dates, they aren't as regular as Mr. Fawles led us to believe."
"Objection!" the defense shouted and Sora squeaked in alarm. He wasn't the only one. Payne jerked back, glasses sliding down his nose. "Mr. Fawles, you said these outings of yours consisted of yourself and Petunia?" the bangle clamped his wrist, "you're lying." The prosecutor, witness and co-counsel frowned. "Can you not look so astonished?" Justice hissed under his breath and Sora schooled his facial expressions. "Ahem," Apollo slammed his hand on the bench. "Whenever you mention these 'intimate' dates of yours, you subconsciously look at your shoes, why?"
Whoa, I never noticed. Sora glanced at the witness' shoes and scrunched his nose. Disgusting.
"My wife bought them for me," Joe slurred. "They were a present. I don't understand why looking at my shoes is a cause of concern Mr. Justice."
"I believe Ms. Fawles is a fashion designer?" Apollo fired in return and the witness nodded. "I find it difficult to believe she selected such outdated fashion for you. I thought you picked them from a dumpster."
Sora clenched his teeth in sympathy when the witness clutched his chest in shock.
"Bizarre fashion tastes aside, you are lying about your dates." Apollo stared directly at the witness, dark brown eyes narrowed in hyper focus. "You and your wife put on a show of domestic bliss. The reality is the opposite isn't it?" he pressed and a low hum of voices gushed from the gallery. "You are unhappy, you are having an affair."
The judge's mouth parted in disbelief, he raised his gavel to call for order and let it hang. Sora checked his notes, affair? He had a haunch Fawles spouted lies, but he never thought the situation could be this dire. The viewing gallery twittered, stray compliments floated to the defense's bench but Apollo did not smile in approval. He simply glowered disapprovingly at the witness, sweating on the stand.
"Care to amend your testimony?" Justice prompted acidly and the judge remembered to bang the gavel.
Winston bent double over the prosecutor's bench. His hatred for Justice spiked to unimaginable levels. "Your honor," he gasped, "this is a serious accusation." He adjusted his glasses, desperately wrestling for a modicum of control. Sweat bloomed under his armpits. He'd rather face Wright than this predatory, horned demon. "He is accusing the witness of adultery!" Payne exclaimed. "Surely you have something to say?"
Calming himself, the Judge balanced his gavel in both hands. "Mr. Justice, you are making a grave accusation-"
"Him having an affair isn't the only accusation," Apollo interjected quickly.
"-I believe you understand that your words from now one will carry an additional penalty?" The lawyer acknowledged the Judge with a curt, respectful nod. "You may not pester the witness. Baseless accusations will count against your favor," the Judge listed the conditions in a grim tone. He banged his gavel decisively, "you may continue." He sat straighter. The atmosphere in the courtroom sharpened.
Seated above, Phoenix grinned like a shark.
A familiar stirring of anxiety gusted in Sora's chest. Despite the warnings, his senior merely skimmed the mostly blank sheet and listened while the witness corrected his testimony. While Fawles faltered through his words, virtually weeping at some statements, Justice scowled, the corner of his mouth tightening when he grabbed his bangle.
"Anything you want to add?" Apollo inquired once the testimony finished.
"Does it matter?" Sora despondently shuffled his notes. "I'm not being any help." Trucy, with zero lawyer experience, did a better job of co-counseling. "You're doing more than fine without me adding unnecessary comments." His scarf hung loose, the tips of his pinstriped shirt collar peeking from beneath the fleecy material.
Apollo shook his head reassuringly. "You being here makes me confident. And your memos," he pulled a page buried under several others, "contain valid points. I read them last night and used the notes as a basis for my cross-examining." The bracelet on his wrist eased, prolonged perception gave him an almighty headache and he worried about going grey before his time. "So, did you notice anything unusual?"
Glowing at the praise, Sora furrowed his eyebrows. "There are a lot of shadows around him," he tentatively supplied. "This testimony of his is phonier than the last." The senior attorney waited with forced patience, index finger tapping his forehead as Sora gathered the words floating in his mind.
He shut the gallery out.
The Judge and his varnished gavel, the prosecutor and his flashing glasses receded into the background. No one was there in the courtroom, apart from him and his thoughts.
"Those dates are the problem. He claims he spent time with Ms. Fawles, but did he really?" Sora emerged from deep underwater, the surrounding sounds and voices filtered slowly to him. He tucked his chin into his scarf when Apollo smiled like an accomplished parent.
Bang.
Bang.
Bang.
The gavel sounded. "Mr. Justice," the Judge cut in, "as much as it is heartwarming to see you coaching Mr. Clavius so attentively, I don't think I need to remind you that we are in a middle of a trial here. I am penalizing you for taking too long."
The defense's composure crumbled. Apollo uttered a strangled rasp and banged his forehead on the bench. He quickly recovered, slicked his hair back and lifted his chin.
"Objection!" He pointed. A bottle of perfume showed on the courtroom's dual monitors. "Let me explain how exactly the witness is lying..."
"Is he the same person?" Donald quacked when a fist smashed into a sailor's jaw, knocking the man to the ground. A loud, obscene cheer rose on the deck of the Black Pearl and Vanitas pompously paraded, arms raised to the air. "Less than an hour ago he was relating stories to a bunch of street children. Now look at him." The duck pointed with his wing to the figure swaying on deck.
The Black Saint snagged a burly crewman by the back of his neck and smashed his face through the wooden top of a water barrel. Bubbles rose on the surface and the Keyblade wielder grinned sadistically while the sailor thrashed, knocking his arms and fist against the side of the barrel.
At the helm, Captain Jack Sparrow smirked, mildly amused.
Refusing to be part of the chaos, Riku scanned the horizon with a spyglass. "Best not to think about it," he droned. A loud crack of splintered wood echoed from the mast. "Goofy, make sure Clavius isn't destroying the ship," he requested and resumed poring over the stained map.
They were due to land at the Isle de Muerta in the afternoon, but the Captain of the Black Pearl arrived ostentatiously late. By the time they reached the island, it would already be night. Riku groaned. Clouds shrouded the sky, moonlight will be scare tonight.
A pirate soared over his head and smashed against the captain's cabin door. The dazed man slid down. A trickle of blood smeared across his forehead and the corner of his lips. Staggering upright, the sailor lurched to Riku, vindictively eyeing the gold gilt cutlass sheathed at his waist.
"What'chu got there?" he leaned against the railing and vomited. Donald turned away in distaste, flapping to join Goofy in persuading Vanitas to behave. The man wiped his saliva on the corner of a tattered, filthy sleeve and Riku wondered why he accepted this mission, he might as well disappear in another Special Assignment. "Wanna dance?"
Another shadow tumbled from the sky and Vanitas landed on the upper deck with a loud thud. The gold piping on his doublet glimmered in the dusky rays of a sun struggling to shine through the ominous clouds. He fluidly unsheathed a sword, the eye-patch firmly covering his left eye.
The two clashed, metal rang on metal. A surge of crewmen tumbled on deck to watch the ensuing fight, toothless smiles blooming across the crowd.
"Clavius, I will not be responsible for any explanations if you end up with a cracked jaw or half a leg," Nox grouched and ducked to avoid a half broken bottle aimed at his head. "I'm not sure your brother would appreciate what you are doing." Riku dodged a stray dagger and it dug into the wood, centimeters from his head.
At his words, Vanitas paused for a split second and a jagged cut opened the skin from his cheek to his neck. Pearls of blood dripped, soaking his collar. "Who the hell cares?" His aggressive fighting tamed into one of precise strikes. "I'm free to do whatever I want."
"Gawrsh, whatever you do," Goofy braced a fervidly swearing sailor on his shield and the man toppled, disappearing in the frothing masses of tattooed arms and legs, "don't destroy the ship."
The last man of the crew ringing Vanitas soared outwards and smacked against the mast. He fell on a puffed sailcloth and tumbled painfully to the wooden deck.
"Next?" Vanitas roared, his cuff stained scarlet. The Black Pearl crewmen judged him warily, the stranger with unhealthy, pale skin and a lust for mischief rivaling their own. They promptly erupted in another lewd cheer and swarmed over the new captain, raising him on their shoulders. Someone tossed the tri-cornered hat to the sky and unable to resist, Jack Sparrow joined in the festivities as the more sensible members steered the ship to the foreboding isle materializing from the inky sea.
A horde of undead gathered on the pebbly shore, gleaming swords raised in a warm welcome.
A whiteboard materialized amidst the room's mess. Satin blue cape secured with a faux diamond brooch, Trucy lectured her modest audience on the key components required to be a magician. She spoke passionately about misdirection, effectively drew attention to Charley photosynthesizing near the window and a flock of pure white doves burst from under her cape and scattered in the lounge. Their feathers drizzled lazily to the ground and transformed to a deck of playing cards littering the pale green carpet.
One transformed to a drawing and landed at Vera Misham's feet. A fond smile unfolded on her lips and she lifted the picture, it showed a pencil sketch of Trucy and Mr. Hat.
The self-styled magician bowed, sweeping off her top hat when a smattering of applause began. "The main thing is to distract your audience." She twirled a plastic, golden crane. "Add a lot of props," she thoughtfully said, a finger to her chin, "and a willing assistant." Trucy's grin split her face when Apollo entered the lounge, his face set in the usual half-scowl.
05:05 p.m.
Wright and Co. Lawyer agency
Lounge
A bowl of Eldoon's noodles steamed on Sora's lap. He slurped the salty broth and mentally revisited the day's events.
He instinctively dodged when Trucy popped a cracker. The resulting confetti erupted over Apollo. Glitter landed on the senior's cheek and he irritably brushed it off, grumbling about long court sessions and Mr. Wright handing him difficult cases before Trucy whisked a velvet drape across the room and uncovered a willowy lady with azure hair. Sora seized and stepped back. Close. The strange girl mirrored the surprise etched in the arches of Apollo's brow before breaking into a dainty giggle.
Another round of slow claps began in the lounge. Athena glowed in satisfaction. Phoenix leaned against the doorway, exasperatedly taking in the utter mess and wondering if the lounge will ever be clean again. He smiled softly at his daughter, wedging herself next to Polly and at Pearl, trying, and failing, to do a sleight of hand trick with Sora who searched for mystical treasures among the noodles swimming in soup.
"Trucy," he called and she beamed at him. Always beaming, always smiling. "I believe you have exams to study for?" Phoenix crossed his arms, going into stern Daddy mode. "You can show everyone your magic tricks after you finish writing exams."
She pouted unhappily. "But Daddy, magicians don't need to go to university and pass exams." She extracted a coin out of thin air. "Exams are not fun, and you are being a spoil sport," Trucy complained, unwilling to ditch amiable company to sit with thick text books and memorize the defining features of classical art. "I'll pull an all-nighter," she stuck her tongue out, "I promise."
Hardening his crumpling resolve, Wright shook his head. "No." His daughter gasped a bit too theatrically to be genuinely indignant. "Let's see," he scratched his chin, "if your results are above mediocre, I'll get Polly to ask prosecutor Gavin if you can do a collaboration with him. His songs with your magic show."
"Why me?" Apollo scathed.
Phoenix mellowed while his daughter weighed the offer in her head. She stood, her cape drooping behind her. "Okay, I'll go study now and make you proud!" He blinked indulgently and Apollo regarded the interaction with a satirical stare. "Can I get a crepe-cake on the morning of my exams?"
Wright nodded.
Anything for his darling daughter.
While father and daughter interacted in a manner similar to the family sitcoms on television, Sora could not help noticing his senior and Misham on the couch. Heat rose in his cheeks. Their hands brushed together and he focused on his half-eaten bowl of noodles when Apollo leaned on Vera's shoulder.
He flipped through her sketch book, his eyes uncharacteristically affectionate.
"Sora, help Trucy study." Mr. Wright shattered his wayward thoughts and he finished the rest of his now cold lunch.
Why me?
Mr. Wright's office often smelled of the leather bound books cramming the expansive shelf behind his table, sometimes the tang of ink. "You didn't know Polly had a girlfriend?" Trucy cleared her father's perpetually unkempt desk, she made a little island in the sea of newspaper articles and set her books down, listlessly turning the pages. "A long time ago, she was accused of murdering her father." Trucy's sapphire eyes misted with memory. "She wouldn't speak, was cooped up in her house and Mr. Gavin, prosecutor Klavier's older brother," she clarified, "slowly poisoned her to death."
Pretending to study the gold embossed legal books on the oak shelves, Sora patiently listened.
"She nearly died. It was Polly who helped her back on her feet. I was there too... sometimes." Trucy chewed the end of an expensive pen she found in the glass penholder. "Isn't it amazing how people come together?" she pondered and placed her head on folded arms. "Now Vera lives on her own and sometimes comes to visit and show me her sketchbook. Polly is currently encouraging her to be an artist, when she opens her gallery, I'll be the first one to visit!" Trucy declared confidentially and laughed.
Sinking in the divan, Sora tilted his head. "It is amazing," he echoed. Somehow, he couldn't get Apollo and Vera out of his mind.
Kisses
Late night
Bedroom
Confessions on pink, scented paper and gift boxes scattered around Sora. Age stained some of the envelopes into pastel yellow and in some letters, the ink bled, rendering the messages useless.
He pulled out a magenta tissue paper, once used to lovingly cradle home-made chocolates and gifts. Many times he found a single envelope under his desk, on his chair or stuffed in his shoe locker and read the words, his heart cracking inside his ribcage. He kept the letters which touched him the most and some of them still managed to elicit a blush from till today.
Like Kairi's confession.
Normally he refused the advances with a text, agonizing till his stomach ate itself. Some of the girls wanted a meeting in person and it made him sick with worry; Vanitas graciously went in his place.
Head bent low, he profusely apologized to those girls afterwards.
The chocolates tasted sweet and the scented letters diffused vanilla and musk in his bedroom long after Valentine's Day. With a heavy heart, Sora collected the confessions, his stash growing over the years.
Tonight he read them again, but he felt nothing; apart from his heart shattering in his ribcage.
A/N: I'm not a big fan of Apollo and Vera; I wanted to show a softer side of him and I didn't want Athena to the recipient of such affections. That being said, Pirate Vanitas was surprisingly therapeutic to write.
Read and review, help pirate Vanitas live out his dreams for finding One Piece!