The Universe inside

Maintaining the Master Drive Form sapped his strength but Vanitas will be damned to let anyone notice his weakness. Currently, he lowered his twin keyblades and tried not to gape at duel before him.

Braveheart in a firm, one handed grip, Nox lunged. The tip of his weapon cut across Barbarossa's ribs.

The Captain cursed and staggered back, his grotesque form illuminated by glowing moonbeams. A barrage of firaga flowed seamlessly and the pirate struggled to deal with the heavy fire. Riku, cloaked with crackling electricity, rushed at the reeling Captain and scored him with precise cuts. No blood landed on Riku, not even a stray speck as he came to a stop and flicked his blade clean.

Feigning disinterest, Vanitas straightened. Barbarossa hemorrhaged from a dozen wounds and Nox observed the Captain will cool, calculated detachment.

"We should kill him," Jack rasped from his position, seated on the raised street. An ugly bruise flowered on the side of his head. "He will only come back and use the heartless to terrorize the high seas."

Raising his Keyblade, Nox tilted his head. "As you wish," he intoned and disappeared into a blur. A set of vicious strikes forced Barbarossa to his knees, the Keyblade left delicate petals of darkness in the air.

"Hold up!" Vanitas bellowed and charged, trailing a warm, golden glow. "This is my mission too." He stopped short when the undead pirate's head rolled to his boot. "Agh!' he snarled and kicked the head away.

The Keyblades dissolved in flashes of dark light.

A fiddle played on deck, accompanied by an accordion squeezed passionately by a pirate with a wooden peg for a leg. The Captain brought down the finest wine caskets and sailors danced around each other, knocked themselves into masts, and draped over the taffrails, vomiting; before rejoining the rowdy festivities and tossing slurred congratulations to their Captain, pseudo-Captain, and the pretty dude with the ocean eyes holed up in the crow's nest.

In the middle of the chaos, a talking, two legged dog and duck joined in, shooting multicolored confetti and having a blast of a time.

Stringing his arm with a random sailor, Vanitas wheeled the man, trotting past Jack Sparrow cutting a hole in a barrel; and left him spinning near the helm. He grabbed a deckhand, desperately trying to do his job, and pulled the grimy teenager across the length of the Black Pearl, taking care not to smack him against the mast. The worker tripped over several inert bodies dropping on the deck and grabbing him by the shirt, Vanitas righted the boy and continued his merry, rhythm-less dance across the planks before leaving the poor worker quaking against a burly sailor drowning a frothing mug of beer.

Moonlight spilled over the ebony hulls and sails of the Black Pearl. The ship cut a stately swathe through the silver speckled water and sailed to Port Royal.

Kicking the mast did absolutely nothing apart from hurting Vanitas' already bruised toes.

Goddamn Nox!

Mayhem and merriment continued like a slow moving tornado around him. The flickers of flame dancing in glass hurricanes threw capering shadows across the deck. The accordion and fiddle tunes gyrated to the sky. No one cared if the music was hardly pleasing to the ear.

He admired the way the Grey Knight fought. No wasted movements. No split second decisions in the middle of battle. His weapon never missed. Stab and strike. The Keyblade moved hypnotically.

Stab, parry and strike.

"Riku!" Vanitas aggressively enunciated the syllables. "Get down here and dance with me you joyless pansy!" Like hell I'm gonna let him sit up there in peace. "I'll saw the mast off!" he threatened, voice rising above the cacophony.

Shutting his book with an irked sigh, Riku peeked over the crow's nest. Sure enough, Clavius stood at the foot of the main mast, shaking his gloved hand and gracelessly shoving a random sailor offering him a bite to eat. "I'm busy," Nox listlessly stated. "I'm tired Clavius," he despondently repeated when a vibration surged up the crow's nest.

Ignoring his fuming colleague, he returned to his book, unable to focus. Laughter bubbled to his ears and the drunken glee only added to the mounting, unwelcome sense of misery. The darkness of the night, the glint of it on the seas coiled around his mind. Darkness.

He loved the darkness so much it scared him. Only the light offered a semblance of peace.

A muted pop of air revealed the Black Saint tumbling into the crow's nest. Clavius righted his skewed hat and grinned like a shark spotting prey.

"Nice view," Vanitas raised his eyebrows, "a blind person might enjoy it." he scathingly delivered. "Get down there." Surprisingly, his voice softened. "Everyone is holding hands and dancing," a mellow grin cut his face, "check out Donald and Goofy," he giggled and hollered at his companions.

The grip on his wrist could crush stone. Nox wondered why he let Clavius talk him into jigging haphazardly into a circle. He did not enjoy it and glanced at the grinning, raven haired devil. Vanitas probably wanted to crush Riku's hand or something, his vise grip certainly telegraphed the intention loud and clear.

Tearing free, Riku pulled the scarlet bandanna over his forehead. He slid through the throngs waltzing in his way and in a brazen display of rule breaking, tore open a dark corridor and disappeared, expression a mask of utter indifference. The frothing vortex collapsed behind him.

The moment he left, a gush of anger welled in Vanitas' chest and abated, leaving the bitter taste of defeat behind.

He thinks he's so perfect.

Vanitas rested his elbows on the taffrails.

No. That's the problem, he doesn't think he's perfect. The freaking fairy does everything effortlessly. Vanitas recalled the way his female classmates swooned for Nox, who did nothing but breathe and roam around, hands in his pockets. At the KBWA, the members referred to the Grey Knight with a measure of deep respect. Despite joining the High-tier rank recently, Nox enjoyed the favors of both the chief and vice-chief.

King Mickey, the unequivocal leader of the KBWA, treated the pansy with special attention.

The ship swayed, a soothing lull which did little to calm the green seeds of envy rooting in Vanitas' chest. How much training will it require to emulate the level of skill Riku displayed? Everyone agreed on Vanitas' potential. Whispered comments, trickling from the ruling members lauded his superior performance.

But for all his expertise, he constantly fell short.

"Ahyuck!" Goofy offered him a plate of steamed shrimp which stank like they would do better in a bin. "We will be arriving soon," he informed. Dawn bled across the sky in frosty tones and the stars lightened into invisibility. "Are you sure you don't want to eat?"

"A cat will be hard pressed to eat this junk." Vanitas wrinkled his nose delicately when Goofy chuckled. "I'll get some sleep, I'm tired."

Arranging a row of casks to give him a modicum of privacy, Vanitas ripped a sail cloth from a foremast, glaring at Sparrow to dare stop him. The Captain shrugged and pranced away. Folding the cloth on the deck, Vanitas softened the wood's abrasive quality and lay down, the noise harpooning in his ears. Grumbling, he stuffed his ears with scraps cut from his mutilated doublet and erected a barrier of mines around his temporary sleeping quarters.

If anyone blew a leg or arm apart while approaching him... they could always get a hook or a peg to replace it.

11:50 a.m.

Organization XIII

Front gate

"You didn't have to come with me," Sora said and kicked a pebble. It skipped across the asphalt and clanged against the guard's booth. He flinched.

Crime scene tape cordoned the huge compound. Trees bore their assault scars proudly and an easterly breeze whispered across the deep red, crinkly leaves.

The guard slurped his morning coffee and tried to appear alert when two individuals approached. He smoothed his uniform shirt and retrieved the statements he spent the morning perfecting.

"I can't let you go alone," Trucy protested and swung a golden cane she carried everywhere around these days. "Aunt Maya left his morning and Pearly said the KBWA summoned her." The cane cut the air. "Athena has a case and Polly is acting as co-counsel. Daddy went with them to court, so I'm the only one left who can escort you to the crime scene." She tilted her top hat modestly at an invisible crowd. "I'm okay." The towering, spindle shaped building came into view, across a road regulated tightly by police. "Organization XIII will be out of business if these attacks continue," she announced as they drew to a stop at the security booth.

Escorted to the crime scene by a peppy, self-styled magician who has a vague idea of monsters but paraded into their den anyway. Wish I had a little of her confidence. Sora flipped through his notebook, eye contact was a necessary evil when conducting investigations, to discern non-verbal cues a witness unintentionally portrayed.

Fortunately, Trucy could handle that aspect perfectly.

"What happened on the night of the crime?" Sora questioned, gaze glued to a line of ants marching on the sidewalk. He raised his head. "Tell me everything, even the... even the minor details," he stammered when the security guard stared at him expectantly.

The man rushed to an old newspaper lying in a drawer. "You're Clavius!" he exclaimed and Sora embarrassedly fidgeted with his hair. The front page news showed rookie attorney, Sora Clavius, defending a Gatewater Hotel pastry chef from false accusations of murder. "You inspired my daughter to pursue a career in law!" He offered the newspaper. "Could you autograph this please? She'll be delighted." Blushing, Sora uncapped his Level 6 fountain pain and awkwardly scrawled his signature on the photo. "I'll tell you everything you want!" the man excitedly said.

Please calm down, you're making me nervous.

"Hey!" Trucy chirped. "You're famous."

You're not helping.

The guard passed his statements, written neatly on a blank sheet of paper. "My name is Barton Forester by the way."

Thanks, I didn't ask.

According to the testimony, Barton noticed nothing out of the ordinary in the earlier part of the night. Later on, approximately around eleven, a strong gust of wind rushed through the trees. "It was really strong," he explained. "It roared through the trees and sent trashcans flipping over in the street." Forester gestured to where the police patrolled. "I thought it was a freak storm. No one came through here, I swear it on my job."

Nodding, Sora jotted the main points. No one showed on the security cameras either.

"What about afterwards?" Trucy strode to the building with Barton following behind. "It's a huge mess in there." A tornado ripped through the reception, upturning plush chairs and shattering the granite counter. Curiously, the doors remained intact. "Did it look like this in the morning?" she motioned to the chaotic lobby.

A man in a brown wool sweater shuffled aimlessly around the guard booth. Sora watched, ignoring the orange outlines titling across his vision.

Barton rubbed his chin. "A huge crowd with smartphones gathered here, all trying to snap photographs. Crowd control was a disaster, it's important to preserve the crime scene for forensics later on," he exasperatedly stated and turned. "...Him!" he shouted. "That guy was there, leaving the department store when I'm sure no one went in." Barton charged. "Hey! You. Stop!"

The man froze for a single, panicked second before spinning on his heel like a well-trained ballerina and weaseling away.

"He was there!" Forester drew to a halt at the edge of the road. Trucy and Sora sprinted after him. She came to a huffing, puffing stop and Sora inwardly congratulated himself on being only mildly out of breath. "He's the criminal. Don't perpetrators repeatedly visit the scene of the crime? I'm telling you Mr. Clavius, it's him!"

"What do you think?" Sora quietly asked Trucy once Barton resumed his station at the booth. They sprawled under the shade of grand maple tree. "Did you get a look at our mystery guy?" he brushed a withered leaf off Trucy's head.

She pondered with a finger on her chin, sky blue irises trained to the leafy canopy above. "He's jerky and untidy," she said. The autumn air carried the scent of earth and rain. "The autopsy photos showed they were killed neatly." Trucy tugged her glove, weak sunlight glimmered off her single, diamond shaped earring. "I don't think he's capable of committing such... clean kills. Hah, an oxymoron!"

She says the weirdest things.

"People can be contradictory-" he began.

"Like Vanitas for example," Trucy interjected.

"Yeah. Like him for example," Sora conceded. He knew his twin did not fare high on people's to befriend list. "He's like an angry little kitten," Sora professed. Better help him score points with Trucy.

Trucy giggled. "I think you are the only one who thinks of Vanitas as a kitten." Clouds amassed on the horizon, dark, white and looming. "If the mystery dude is our killer, why would he blatantly show himself? I'd sneak around."

"Probably to establish a psychological profile." Sora scribbled furiously on his notepad, recording his snapshot thoughts. "First of all he shows us he's nervous, we aren't known for steady hands." His grin wavered when Trucy grabbed his hands. "Err... what are you doing?"

She brushed her thumb across his palm. "You have nice hands," Trucy complimented and he quickly pulled them back. "Daddy too. He's got pianist fingers."

Calling Mr. Wright a pianist is an insult to all the pianists out there.

A squirrel scurried across a mutilated tree trunk, its tail flashing quicksilver. It darted through the grass and vanished.

"Anyway, the dude can claim he'd be too nervous to make those precise stabs on Vexen's chest." Pulling the photo on his phone, Sora and Trucy studied it with bent heads. "Secondly, his deliberate exposure will force people to question if he is really the murderer," Sora retrieved a packet of peanuts from his tracksuit pocket - emergency rations - and munched on them, "any murderer with a conscious will stay away. Or at least, be scarce.

"Lastly," Trucy inadvertently claimed the lion's share of his peanuts, "his actions will make for a compelling argument for the prosecutor." Thinking of the prosecutor brought a wave of fluttering butterflies in his stomach. "Who's prosecuting?" Sora wondered. "Senior Apollo didn't tell me anything... I hope it's not von Karma." He shivered. "I'd rather dig myself a grave than face her again in court." He frowned reproachfully.

To his concern, Trucy silently stared at Organization XIII.

"Do you think the KBWA has a hand in these murders?" she murmured. "Mr. Xemnas thinks they are to blame. The KBWA does some sneaky things don't they?"

Sora shook his head. "It's too messy, the crime scene," he stated factually. "And if were them, Nox would know, he's part of the upper crust now and he's currently on a mission." Supervising Vanitas or something. "If, theoretically speaking, if it's the KBWA," Sora entertained the notion, "then I bet only Lockhart or Leon would be responsible." Trucy listened, her attentiveness encouraging. "Do you remember what the vice-chief said?"

When Leon does assignments, you don't find the bodies.

Sun bathed Port Royal, illuminating its grimy streets and stained piers in full glory. Slightly disappointed when no one tried to interrupt his nap and get their legs blown off, Vanitas tossed the black sailcloth to a worker, who thanked him profusely for not spitting on his face, and ambled down the gangplank to the harbor reeking of fish guts. A merchant vessel docked before the Black Pearl and the dock hands and uppity traders conducted a verbal assault which put Vanitas' vocabulary to shame.

"Uncle Vanitas!" a gaggle of children burst from a thatched warehouse and bowled him into an embrace.

He ruffled their filthy heads. "Uncle?" he barked. "Who the heck called me uncle? I'll rip your ear off! It's Captain to you!"

"You're still alive!" an older girl regarded him with a measure of awe and squeezed his forearm. "With all of your arms and legs. I was scared the Kraken got you," she said solemnly.

"Like a stupid Kraken is gonna best me," Vanitas scoffed. A neatly dressed sailor tapped him on the shoulder and he detangled himself from the clawing children. The man passed him a letter for Leon and the beginnings of Vanitas' good mood whiplashed when he recalled the Grey Knight's bodacious exit. If he tried such a move…

He imagined Tifa breaking all of his bones.

Worse yet, Zack's despondent frown would haunt him.

"Kiddos." He emptied his pockets of the fresh fruit he pilfered from the kitchen and the handful of gold coins some careless pirate left in a cabin. "I have to go home." The children's faces fell and a hardness gleamed in their eyes. Weaning. Weaning themselves from stray glimmers of hope and the kindness of random, never to visit again strangers. "Take care of the kitten alright?"

They nodded collectively. "His name is Vanitas," a toothless child offered.

Vanitas chuckled. "Take care of Vanitas," he added and straightened his pirate's hat. "And don't get into trouble with those people." He pointed to the rowdy sailors screaming and swearing at each other. "Keep to yourselves."

The children accompanied him till the pier and he boarded the small, single sail boat waiting for him. They stood on the rickety quay, waving till the boat disappeared around the curve of the hill.

05:00 p.m.

Wright and Co. Law offices

Library

Libraries enjoyed a reputation for being quiet and scholarly.

This analogy did not apply to the library at the law agency.

Swallowing a sigh, Sora cleared the table he worked on. When will I get my own office? He privately grumbled and ferried the antique brass lamp to another empty desk. The crystal lamp became a constant work companion and he often explained his arguments to it. The Lamp never interrupted his ramblings, unlike people, nor did it give him social anxiety.

He patted the delicate lamp shade and returned to his plush seat.

His senior co-workers and Ms. Fey swarmed his table. Apollo's frowns scored deep lines on his forehead while Cykes activated Widget and played the video files on the holographic, floating screen.

"You think the man wearing the woolen brown sweater might be a suspect?" Maya questioned and sipped tea. Sora nodded. "I understand why you suspect him, but doesn't the wind bother you?" She passed the teacup to Athena and the two women watched the video.

Gale force winds roared through trees and sheared past buildings.

"It's not a freak, regional storm." Justice pressed a finger between his eyebrows. "I checked the weather reports and even if it was the weather," he pointed to a photo showing deep gashes in the walls, "it doesn't explain the windstorm in the corridors."

Deflating, Sora's ruminated on the information. He hoped no one would breach the subject of the unnatural wind but here they were. "It might be a wind generating mechanism," he squeaked when Maya raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

Disbelieving eyebrow from a lady who communicates with the dead for a living.

A wind generating mechanism. Only the KBWA and Organization XIII, not to mention certain clandestine government projects might have access to such cutting edge technology. "I," he hesitated, "I don't think the KBWA is responsible." Sora waited for a counter argument but his seniors respectfully kept silent, inviting more explanation. "I'm not vouching for them because I'm a part-time member. I don't agree with their-"

"Get to the point," Apollo bluntly disrupted. "We know," he blinked indulgently, "we aren't fans of the KBWA either. No offence Maya."

She shoved half a burger in her mouth. "None taken." The spiritual medium gave a thumbs up and divided the other half of the burger for Athena. Sora's stomach used this opportunity to growl.

"We can't rule out the possibility that an Organization XIII member might be the murderer." Sora munched on a piece of a burger. Cheese and beef crumbled in his mouth. "They are... they have magical powers like us. At least Roxas did."

Two Keyblades, one of light and dark.

"Others might possess abilities. Or, if not, they have outstanding engineers." Sora tucked his chin in a pale muffler. "A level manager, say Levels 3 or 5, might be able to build such a device, probably a prototype for a new household appliance," he mumbled, growing increasingly quiet till he charted a flow diagram on a large sheet of blank paper. Sora only recovered from his reverie when he noticed a presence next to him. He involuntarily recoiled and Apollo stepped back.

A waft of perfume diffused from his senior.

"Marluxia's scents," Sora piped. "Isn't it?"

A faint, mortified blush surfaced on Apollo's cheeks. "I've seen fans," his thoughts turned to Trucy in her rabid, Gavinner's fan era, "and then there's you and your brother. You probably know the Organization XIII staff better than their CEO."

Stammering in disagreement, Sora scratched the back of his head. "Can you review these for me?" He handed a sheaf of papers. "I formulated arguments based on the evidence, tell me if they... uh... make sense."

The papers contained a spider web diagram of arguments and counter-arguments. A lot of them based on conjecture. Justice grinned. It's a shame Sora's anxiety prevented him from being articulate. His bluffing might give Mr. Wright a run for his money.

A faux waterfall gurgled across a stone wall. The boss did not have many opportunities to relax and no later did he escape to the lounge; did a researcher hunt him down. This triggered the appearance of more researchers and Leon groaned into an upright position as the overhead bamboo stem lights brightened.

"Sir, we have a problem," the lead scientist intoned gravely. The team of four maneuvered a table and screen inside the soundproof lounge. "It's a catastrophe."

Rubbing his neck, Leon motioned to the screen. "Whatever, get it done."

The monitor beamed with an abridged map of the cosmos. Twinkling stars and micro-planets existed side by side. The image zoomed in, showing a half planet.

"We checked the readings numerous times." The researcher fidgeted and Squall cupped his chin in a palm. "The data used was from eighteen years ago. Ten years ago and recently, two years ago, retrieved by Gainsborough... we are positive about the results."

Leon waited, impatience throbbing in his temples.

"Destiny Islands winked out of existence." The scientist swallowed. "It's no more."

Gifts

Morning

Nursery bedroom

Glitter...

Metal...

The crown necklace dangled a teasing centimeter out of reach and burbling, baby Vanitas closed his pudgy fist on it and tugged. A length of chain dropped gently on his chest and lifting it, he immediately whipped his twin.

Arms waving in the air, Sora uttered an ear splitting shriek and before their mother could lift him from their shared cradle, Vanitas rolled over and wrapping his chubby arms around his brother's neck, planted slobbery kisses along Sora's cheek. The twin quieted at the contact before whining again.

The parents forcibly separated them. Sora nursed contently on their mother's chest while Vanitas extracted gummy vengeance on his father's thumb. A shortened crown necklace glimmered on his chest and... the same one glistered on around Sora's neck. He looked at his dad.

And pointed to Sora. The parents sat together and Vanitas grabbed the necklace and strangled his twin.

Sora woke, screamed, cried.

Wrapping his arms around his twin, Vanitas leaned over and covered his twin in slippery, saliva streaked kisses.

A/N: Picture baby Vanitas chewing his father's thumb with all the gusto he could muster while glaring daggers at Sora. He was not happy to share his mother with a brown haired attention stealer.

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