Grave dirt

10:50 a.m.

District Court

Courtroom no. 6

He wore a tailored suit, pinstriped tie pinned in place by a clip. The tangerine glow of flames lit his face like one of those classical paintings. When he placed his candle next to the portrait of a deceased, the weight of sadness crushed his small shoulders. Candle fire weaved like fireflies in the night sky.

What was he doing at the memorial?

"Mr. Clavius," the Judge sighed for the second time, "you may begin your cross-examination. Remember, unnecessary questions will count against your favor."

Shuffling notes, Sora focused on the summary written in neat script along the borders of his page. Try as he might, his mind kept on wandering to the previous night, see-sawing between his conversation with Trucy; and the abrupt presence of Ventus with no other KBWA escort in sight. In the middle of the sobbing, swirling crowd, Sora thought the boy appeared like an angel.

Angels don't murder people for selfish reasons.

Was it selfish though?

Organization XIII had their roots deep in clandestine research. Ventus probably did everyone a favor by wrecking the company. But... Sora doodled absentmindedly, did he kill Marluxia and Vexen with only safety reasons in mind?

Didn't he murder them because they held someone dear to him hostage?

He phoned the KBWA, only to be put on hold. For once, Nox did not pester him for training and when he screwed up enough courage and sent his mentor a text, the reply inflamed the embers of Sora's slow burning anger.

"I understand you are tired," Phoenix's reassuring voice teased the junior associate out of his reverie. "But focus on the trial. We need to prove our client's innocence, don't we?"

Instead of Arthur Trent taking the witness stand, the prosecution asked a bright eyed fan to take his place. She waved exuberantly at Demyx, slumped in his seat, and photographed Klavier, standing out like a purple peacock among the solemnly dressed gallery. Cece Cantabella twirled a lollipop in her mouth while she testified and swooned when Edgeworth harshly advised her to speak clearly.

"According to her, the sound was fine," Sora read from his page. "Her friend however, suffered from hemorrhage and is now hospitalized. Cece arrived late, but as an exclusive fan and the vice-president of Klavier's fan-club, a plain clothes guard escorted her to her front row place." He skimmed over the testimony once more. "I... uh... don't see anything wrong with-"

"If she is indeed an exclusive fan," Wright cut in smoothly, "why did she come late? The collaboration is a huge affair, a once in a lifetime stage. Strange she arrived half-way through."

Whoa! Sora's eyes glittered in admiration.

Clearing his throat, Sora bunched his blazer lapel, deriving comfort from his badge. "Ms. Cantabella, why were you late?" She opened her mouth to reply and he ploughed on, "Considering this is a special concert, no die-hard fan would miss it for the world."

The witness tossed three sticks of sugar-free gum in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "I had an appointment," she evasively replied, "and came late. Justine kept my place."

"What appointment?" Sora pressured, wary of Edgeworth on the other side of the courtroom. "Was it worth arriving half-way through the concert?"

Popping a bubble and getting gum stuck all over her chin, Cece wiped her mouth with a tissue. "I had to get my ear drum replaced," she conceded. "I'm hard of hearing in one ear so I went to the hospital with my Mum." Cantabella weaved a long fringe of highlight blue hair between her fingers. "All the concert going ruined my hearing," she added cheerfully.

"Witness," Miles growled through gritted teeth, "you testified the sound quality seemed swell to you, borrowing your words." He glared at the defense and co-counsel, stifling their giggles. The judge coughed in a closed fist. "How can it be swell when you can't hear properly?" he demanded agitatedly.

"It's loud enough!" Cece countered heatedly. "Dance water Dance Whoo!" She launched into an air-guitaring sequence and Klavier lowered his designer sunglasses to smirk appreciatively. "See? I know all the songs. Besides, my hearing is better now. I'm wearing an in-ear implant." The witness proudly flashed her ear. "You can't see it though," a sterling silver hoop danced on her earlobe, "it's really inside."

Patience wearing thin, Edgeworth subjected the girl to another hard stare before addressing the Judge. "Your honor, her statements clarify the nature of the sound. She is an avid concert goer and a self-professed expert when it comes to their music." He grinned triumphantly. "I believe if anyone is capable of discerning a change in tone, it is her."

A pen dropped on the courtroom's white tiles and apologizing profusely, Sora picked his Level 6, fountain pen up and replaced it on the bench. "Did you hear that Cece?" he asked.

"Uhm... what?"

The court silenced at once. "Mr. Edgeworth, did you hear me drop my pen?" Please don't glare at me, Mr. Wright told me to do this experiment!

The prosecutor grudgingly answered, "Yes."

Faintly fascinated by the timid Clavius, the Judge banged his gavel unnecessarily. "Yes. Despite my advanced age, I heard it as well, though I'm not wearing outer ear implants."

In-ear implants!

"This... this," Sora mumbled, "establishes the witness' hearing credibility. Cantabella is unable to hear low sounds." He presented a page with a single musical notation. "This was found in the vanity room's wastepaper basket, these are low frequency-"

"Objection," Miles interjected, seamlessly ignoring the attorney's strangled squeak. "How do you know what is written on the sheet?" Sora opened and closed his mouth meekly. "And," the prosecutor carried on, voice a razor edged blade, "can you show us evidence this low frequency sound is mixed in with the collaboration song? How are the artists not aware of this?" His grey irises slid towards Demyx.

Take that! Sora slammed his palm on the bench and presented an audio clip. "This is a track of low frequency sound," he asserted and Edgeworth jerked back, glasses askew. "Your honor, let me play it and you will understand why no one is aware of it." Plugging his ears, Sora found the track on his phone and played it, his grin growing aggressively when the courtroom personnel frowned bewilderedly.

A low, barely perceptible hum vibrated from his phone. Phoenix clenched his teeth and grabbed his hair. Miles pressed his palm against his mouth, nauseous for no reason at all.

"I can barely hear anything," Edgeworth snapped and swallowed the bile rising at the back of his throat.

"But it makes you sick doesn't it? Sora unplugged his ears, listening to the last minute sound, like the distant roar of brontide. A trickle of blood escaped his nose and he wiped it with a thumb. "I'm not the only one with a bloody nose." He gestured to a bailiff, nose dripping scarlet and twitching on the floor. "Now," Sora calmly stacked his papers, "will you get Mr. Trent in here or should I play the track again?"

A barren land ringed by sheer cliffs and violent tornadoes of wind and darkness. Dust coated his tongue, seeped into his hair and slid into the seams of his clothes.

Amidst this arid planet, the cracked earth pin-cushioned by thousands of Keyblades; a living armor knelt in vigil. Its silk cape whirled in the breeze. When Vanitas first laid eyes on the burnished, bronze suit of armor reverently displayed in the KBWA library alcove, he longed to experience the power behind it.

Standing on the windswept plain, Vanitas shivered. The sheer power exuding from the armor excited him.

Finally a worthy opponent!

This battle will be legendary!

A howl of glee preceded the loud clang of metal meeting metal. Golden eyes shining, Vanitas cautiously hopped backwards, but the armor merely retracted its blade and became still.

"Why isn't it attacking me?" he heckled. The superior brought him here after Vanitas ransacked the grey area one night, dicing the couches and tearing the floor. He took a shot at the blast windows and marred the dusky view by stitching a series of pockmarks on the glass. "It's only standing there."

"It doesn't harm unless harmed," Xemnas intoned. An obscure memory pressed against his skull like a red-hot needle. "This is a Lingering Will." He hesitated. "Call out your darkness."

Resentful of being ordered around like a pet, Vanitas studied the armor for a few more seconds before darkness churned at his feet. Tendrils wrapped around his calves and solidified into the crimson and ebony suit. At this, the Lingering Will rose, blotting out the harsh sun. Its gauntlet hovered gently above the obsidian halo glimmering on Vanitas' hair.

"Interesting." The corners of Xehanort's mouth twisted. "Your darkness does not incite the Lingering Will. Fear not, I will coax it to action."

Barely did he finish and the Lingering Will lunged, the Earth Titan's Keyblade poised like a lance. It struck Vanitas' ribs and flung him against the cliff. Leaving him there, it spun for Xehanort, who teleported in record time to the top of a cliff.

The salty, coppery tang of blood flecked Vanitas' tongue and he pulled upright. An ominous blob of darkness snagged his shadow and he rolled out of the way when the Lingering Will descended, streaking like a bronze comet through the dusty air. Blades of rock erupted from the ground, tearing through Vanitas' boots and hissing in pain, he cast cure and scorched the earth with a roaring inferno.

Cutting the capering curtain of fire apart, the Lingering Will honed on Vanitas, disarming pale yellow mines with a blasé flick of its wrist. The earth rolled and the armor hooked its Keyblade on Vanitas' jacket and hurled him. It immediately jerked back and slammed against an oncoming boulder, inert for a precious few seconds.

Targeting its helm, arms, legs and a dozen areas on its chest-plate and abdomen, Vanitas let the shotlock rip. Dazzling bursts of black light exploded on the armor as it struggled upright and crashed back down. Wiping the blood oozing from a vicious cut to his forehead, Vanitas imagined Goofy and Donald lending him power and charged, Void Gear wrapped in petals of velvet darkness.

The keyblades met in a shrieking embrace. Petals fluttered to the ground, trampled under two sets of boots.

Arms aching, Vanitas dodge-rolled away, kicking up when the Lingering Will followed him. His foot met the armor's chin with a deafening crack.

The bronze Keyblade pierced downwards, through Vanitas' thigh and pinned him there.

Fingers tight around Ends of the Earth, he blasted his ice-coated blade at the armor, forcing it back. Groaning, he pulled the giant keyblade from his numb thigh and wobbled to his feet. Icy dust sparkled under the oppressive heat of a noonday sun and Vanitas gasped in pain when tiny stalactites, like thorns on a rose vine, sprang underfoot, shredding his already shredded boots.

Scarlet drops of blood bloomed like flowers on the desert sand. The only color breaking the monotony of grey brown cliffs and slate tornadoes of dust.

The world spun like a washing machine when a blow connected to Vanitas' head. His forehead met the ground and he flopped to the base of a tall spire of rock. Panting, he fended off jabs to the middle of his chest, his grip slackening with each shuddering impact.

He missed.

The Lingering Will sliced his abdomen open, bloody starbursts decorated the polished armor.

A curaga prevented Vanitas from keeling into unconsciousness. He huddled against a cliff, suit materializing and sealing his wounds with sticky fluid. The helmet of smoky glass shielded his face and the cliff blasted apart, sharp silvers of rock spearing everywhere. Switching Keyblades, Vanitas used the dust storm as cover and drove Two become One in the chinks of the bronze armor.

Wrapping a gauntlet around the silver and black keyblade, the Lingering Will hefted it high in the air, Vanitas dangled on it dear life.

It hesitated.

And Vanitas gathered all his energy and kicked, landing nimbly on the ground when the armor soared backwards.

Teleporting, he angled the liquid darkness flowing around him to absorb the impact of the incoming blows. Lightning struck the Lingering Will and skirted apart. Glacier ice glued it to the ground and when the armor cracked the ice and broke into a run, it skidded across the frosty ground and dove head first into raging pillars of fire.

It walked out relatively unscathed.

"I can't make a dent on him," Vanitas muttered. He squinted at the silver haired figure of Xemnas, observing the fight from a lofty perch. Spitting a glob of pinkish saliva, Vanitas crept up on the Lingering Will and clenched his Keyblade, knuckles white.

The old fart wants to use me, like heck I'm gonna let him.

Time slowed. The tornadoes spun lazily. Individual particles of dust flash froze in the air. Bursting out of a portal, Vanitas plunged his blade in the Lingering Will and teleported away when the armor sluggishly brought up its weapon to deflect. Large, superficial gashes accumulated on the armor over time. Dents, tiny stab points; flashes of darkness, too fast for the eye to comprehend, blinked in and out of the air.

The Lingering Will crashed on its knees, leaking nothing from the dozens of wounds. It waited.

A blur of black and crimson, and it lashed out, catching the darkness on the edge of its blade. The opponent flogged to the ground, leaving a dark stain of blood and automatically sprang to his feet, slugging against the armor again.

Distracted by the velveteen darkness cocooning the Black Saint, Xemnas teleported closer for a better view. Clavius impressed him, no one held out against the animated suit of armor for this long and lived to tell the tale. Each time Vanitas was kicked down or thrust away, he returned, trailing a stream of darkness and blood. He threw himself at the Lingering will, his cracked mask revealing a glazed, poisonously determined eye.

A sound investment. Xehanort crossed his arms, waiting for the Black Saint to show common sense and retreat while he could still walk. Instead, Vanitas dodged a one-draw strike, the Lingering Will's preferred killing blow, by a hair's breadth and staggered on skinned feet towards the armor.

"What are you doing?" Xemnas hissed. Ends of the Earth skewered through Vanitas' ribs. "Clavius!" The suit of armor callously tossed the body aside. "Get up!" The body only convulsed in response when the Lingering Will loomed over it, keyblade raised.

Vanitas scrabbled to his palms and sneered. "I win, old man," he coughed. The blade met the crest of his skull with a sickening crack.

He breathed the sterile air of Castle Oblivion, the blinding white walls a blur. His head exploded in pain with each step Xemnas took. The superior carried him to the infirmary and dumped him on couch softened with a black coat.

"You tried to kill yourself," Xemnas simply stated, rolling a couple of elixirs on the couch. "Drink," he commanded to Vanitas who refused to touch the bottles.

The Black Saint groggily picked a large scab running the length of his right arm and drops of dusky blood welled to the surface. "Tch, I'd rather die fifty times over than become a pawn in your stupid games," he spat.

"And your brother?"

What was he thinking, wanting to die, and leaving Sora practically helpless? Vanitas scratched his scalp, cleaning flakes of blood from his hair. "What do you care?" he snarled. "Sora will learn to live without me. He'll adapt. We all do."

A painful flicker crossed the superior's face, an emotion so out of place, Vanitas openly gaped. "Roxas was precious to me," the words struggled past his lips, "and Saix. I don't think I will ever get used to the emptiness they left behind." For a moment, the golden in his eyes seemed to recede, replaced by an honest blue. "Drink boy!" he barked and his golden irises blazed with uncharacteristic fury. "If I ever catch you doing anything unnecessary," Xehanort smirked cruelly, "I'll lock you in that bird cage."

Dizzy from the blood loss and the rare moment of humanity the temperamental boss displayed, Vanitas mutinously fired in return, "Good. I'll die of boredom. It's less painful!"

In a whirl of silver and black, Xemnas exited the spartan infirmary. Moodily sipping an elixir, Vanitas sat near the window, searching for something in the nothingness outside.

01:15 a.m.

District Court

Courtroom no 6

I know I'm supposed to be confident, but I feel worse when he's standing next to me. It's like, I have to show off my nonexistent cool side. Sora mirrored Phoenix Wright's confident stance and his boss smiled indulgently.

The witness dignifiedly stated his name and occupation when prompted by the prosecutor.

Privately relieved to have a normal testifier, Edgeworth pushed up his glasses. "Now, your testimony please," he requested.

Resting his hands neatly on the wooden rim, Arthur nodded gravely. "Demyx contacted me to act as a sound engineer for his gig. We go way back, we are good friends," he hesitantly explained and Sora noted his words with furious precision. "I decided to study sound engineering when Demyx signed for the Organization XIII label. I was really happy for him but I always believed the rising fame might corrupt him." Trent shrugged helplessly at his friend. "I guess it did something worse.

"As for the concert, both Gavin and Demyx asked me to improve the sound quality and I rewrote the music." He arranged a delicate necklace around his neck, briefly touching a musical notation locket. "The two sheets the attorney presented as evidence is mine; I am well aware of the effects of low frequency music." His plaid shirt lent him a friendly demeanor. "I handed the sheets to the concert master for the final selection and I have a vague idea on which one he used."

Quiet debating began in the courtroom. Wright fixated on the witness, who met his gaze with a composed smile.

"No heartless," Sora lamented. The Judge banged the gavel, commencing the cross-examinations. "And his manner, it's uh... clean. Like he has nothing to hide." The longer the trial wore on, the more it exhausted him. Around an hour ago, a sinking, horrible sensation in his stomach dragged him into the depths of despair and Sora sat in the courtroom lobby, trying hard not to cry. "Mr. Wright?" he called and his boss placed the magatama in his palms.

Jade light bathed Sora's sweating hands. He flinched at the crimson trick locks over the witness.

"He's got secrets he doesn't want to admit, but is crucial in unraveling the truth." A hard gleam entered Phoenix's irises and he slipped the comma shaped jewel into the safety of his pocket. "What did you notice?"

Anxiously tapping the pen against the bench when Edgeworth shifted impatiently, Sora related, "He hesitated when he called Demyx a friend... but isn't it because Demyx is accused of murder? Also, he's not lying when he says the final track selection was done by someone else. What if..." Sora irritably pulled his spiky locks of hair, "what if I accused Trent for no reason at all and Demyx is really the killer?"

"Do you think I'd make the mistake of letting you defend a guilty client?" Phoenix questioned, mind reeling to Apollo's distrustful glare. "We have a choice and I firmly believe our client is innocent. Always bear it in mind. Besides, the client has his fair share of shady sec-"

"The defense has been muttering by themselves for the last ten minutes," Miles cut in. "Your honor, I believe a penalty is in order for wasting time."

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The Judge agreed and issued a penalty. Sora gawped. A penalty? He grasped his badge, the tiled floor trembled under him. I think I'm getting a heart attack. It's beating so loud, the whole court can hear it. Where the hell is my anxiety medication? Why did I ever stop taking it?

"A penalty," Sora dejectedly mumbled.

"Yeah, and you'll get another one if you don't start your cross-examination," Wright drily stated.

Jolted into action, Sora seized his page. "Mr. Trent, can you please elaborate on your friendship with Demyx? I understand you may have second thoughts about him now, but... but what about the past?"

Neatening his collar, Trent said, "We both attended the same music club at University and after we graduated, just for fun," a faraway memory misted his irises, "we started a band and called it Muse. Demyx's idea." He chuckled. "Muse became a sensation and we did well, quite well," Arthur lapsed into a moment of silence, "before Organization XIII came along. I tried, I pleaded with Demyx to stay with Muse and he juggled his solo career and our band but, it's a lot of work." The witness retrieved a slim pair of glasses from a fancy case and put them on. "Eventually it did not work out and we separated."

The testimony unearthed nothing but more veiled secrets. Sora read and re-read the gist of the testimony, frantically searching for a lead. Arthur exuded resentment, carefully retained behind a polite facade.

I'm cross-examining the wrong part of his testimony. Sora reviewed the statements. He brazenly requested for more time and focused, the material of his scarf bunched in his hands. Trent is resentful, but returned to do his friend a favor by acting as a sound engineer. A favor?

The broken earpiece on Demyx's vanity table. Similar earpieces in Trent's luggage.

"Arthur, you are well aware of the effects of low frequency music." Sora peeked at the unflappable man. "How... why did you write it in? The selection of the final track is out of your hands, although-"

"Objection!" Edgeworth interrupted. "This line of questioning is irrelevant." His cravat fluttered. "Your honor, the attorney is resorting to illogical pestering-"

"Hold it!" Sora opposed. "My question is important. I will... I will prove how Arthur could be the culprit!" His words silenced the court and the Judge overruled the prosecution. "Please tell us why you wrote in the low frequency notation in the original sound track, was Mr. Demyx or Gavin aware? Did they approve?"

Trent adjusted his silver framed glasses. "Demyx trusts me not to botch his concert and gave me full authority to do what I want. Gavin trusts Demyx but he did want to check the musical score and I wasn't finished in time." The witness exhaled. "Mr. Clavius, Demyx and I had our differences, but please understand, I would never want to harm him, it won't advance my career-"

"Objection!" Sora interjected triumphantly as several heartless surfaced from the ground. I never thought I'd be glad to see them. "You never wanted to harm Demyx?" He slammed his desk. "You wanted to kill him," Sora stated to the horror of the audience.

Low, angry murmuring burbled in the gallery. Athena nodded sagely while Apollo alternated between proudly regarding his protégé and checking the holographic screen. He muttered the telltale, lying tics the witness exhibited and cheered when Sora teased out the truth.

"Evidence?" Edgeworth chillingly challenged. "I do hope you have substantial proof. Hmm..." he tapped his temple, "should you fail, a suitable penalty must be issued."

Is there a flashing green bar on top of my head?

Determinedly scrunching a document, Sora grinned. The evidence flashed on the glossy, dual monitors mounted on the courtroom's oak paneled walls. A broken earphone type device rotated onscreen.

"What is the significance of this piece of evidence?" Miles demanded, cufflinks glinting maliciously.

Loosening his muffler, Sora replied, "It belongs to Demyx."

"And what does it..." Realization dawned on the prosecutor and grunting in disbelief, he bent over the bench. "Why is he using this inferior device?"

Why indeed? "Ashby is entitled to wear his own products," Sora informed. "Did he say anything to you?" he asked Trent. "Have you seen this particular earpiece before?"

The heartless frothed around the witness, morbidly excited. "He did not," Arthur evenly responded. "Although, I thought it was in solidarity for the fans who are not allowed to buy Level 9 products anymore." He touched his thin chain. "You did not speak with the defendant, Mr. Attorney?"

"Funny how you didn't answer my last question," the lawyer mumbled. "Whether I speak to my client or not is none of your concern Mr. Trent," he scathingly responded. "The detectives found an entire packet of similar devices in your luggage. Would you like to comment?"

The tube lights in the courtroom ceiling highlighted the cold drops of sweat cropping on the witness' hairline. "Demyx's earpieces broke before the concert began and I gave him one. It's not stellar quality," he neatly mopped the sweat with a silk handkerchief, "and it broke again. I keep an entire packet of those on hand for emergency cases," Arthur mildly stated.

Long shadows prowled the tiled floors and Sora imagined the darkness choking him. A vile taste clawed the back of his throat. "Organization XIII's earphones automatically filter low frequency sounds, static and background noises." He pressed on the crisp leaflet he never bothered reading once he laid his hands on the latest purchase of Level 6 earphones. "You broke Demyx's earphones and offered him yours; which, if I may remind everyone, does not block low frequency waves."

An uproar. Demyx's mouth hung open, as if he could not believe his friend would try murdering him. Both Klavier and Edgeworth arrived at the same, grim conclusion.

"Motive?" Miles quieted the gallery far effectively than the judge and gavel. "What is Arthur Trent's motive in this crime?"

Motive...

"I don't believe," Sora carefully selected his words, "I believe Mr. Trent had an accomplice." The testifier blanched. "I could say jealousy and resentment, but it is not enough for the scale of the murders caused." Organization XIII. The concert was a cover up for Vanitas' kidnapping. "Arthur probably wanted to target Demyx only, and according to uh... other sources," Sora fidgeted, "low frequency doesn't affect everyone the same way so there is a guarantee not everyone will suddenly drop dead." Fatigue crept in Sora's bones, he wanted to go home and crawl in bed, away from the expectant tide of voices. "There is an accomplice, isn't there?" the lawyer deduced.

Removing the glasses magnifying the fathomless regret swimming in pale, hazel eyes, Trent gripped the stand tightly, hoisting himself upright. "I exercise my right to remain silent." He bowed.

A somber thud of wood on wood shushed the stray whispers chasing between the four walls. The non-guilty verdict and the accompanying rain of glittering confetti did little to lift Sora's mood. Zipping his satchel, he strode out of the courthouse, expertly dodging the journalists hounding him along the way. One snatched the end of his charcoal blazer and growling, he wrenched out of the reporter's grasp.

The reminder on his phone burned underneath his eyelids. Meeting with the KBWA, it read. Find out about Vanitas.

05:45 p.m.

Keyblade Wielder's Association

Vice-chief's office

He steadied himself on the edge of the table. Twilight washed the open plan offices in melancholy hues of amber and pink. A photograph of his brother, napping and hair ruffled by Zack, lined the office wall, next to mementos of other KBWA operatives.

Cold wood. A penholder constructed out of a glowing material. "What... what..." Sora stuttered. "What do you mean you don't have a plan for retrieving Vanitas?" His voice cracked. "You know where Organization XIII is, Nox or... me. Me and Nox can fetch him. I'm sure Donald and Goofy will agree to rescue him." Sora's mind swam. "Isn't Vanitas," the words lodged in the pit of his throat, "isn't he important to the KBWA?"

A silk screen divided the chief's and vice-chief's offices. She pushed her laptop aside and rested gloved hands on top of a thick binder crawling with orange runes. Massaging her eyes, she motioned Sora to sit and he slumped into a chair like an untethered puppet.

"We believe the Black Saint is more than capable of taking care of himself," Lockhart tactfully reassured. "To be honest, we cannot spare a high ranking operative to go after him in what is one of the most dangerous micro-planets in the cosmos." Silver teardrops glittered on her ears and her expression remained guarded. "The Organization started a recruitment spree and Nox temporarily allied with headquarters to deal with the recent wave of attacks. Our branch acts as main support. I'm sorry," her wine-red eyes mellowed, "but I trust Vanitas' abilities. He is a gifted Keyblade wielder."

Easy for you to say, he isn't your brother.

"Can I talk to Leon?" Sora pulled his scarf upwards, panic threatening to drown him. "Is it possible for me to go?" The notion frightened him senseless. Traversing the cosmos, landing in an unfamiliar, dangerous terrain crawling with nobodies... people. Fighting through them with his sub-par skills. "Please?" he begged. "Is the chief in?"

The laptop dinged, Sora wanted to smash the lid downwards and toss it to the floor when the vice-chief switched her attention to the computer.

She tucked her luxurious, jet black fringe away from her face. "He's away on business."

Business? Huh?

"Business?" Sora repeated. It's a lie right? He rose, blue irises stormy, like a sea before a tsunami. "Vanitas is a hostage on a planet, surrounded by enemies who'd gladly rip him to pieces and the boss is away on business?" A fira danced in the confines of his palm and he doused it. "What are we? Pawns?" His tone turned acidic. "You can't spare a stupid operative to retrieve Vanitas from the ends of the world and you expect us to dance to your merry little tunes?" Sora grabbed the penholder, the texture pitted under his steaming fingertips and the object melted. "The KBWA isn't much different from Organization XIII is it?" he hissed. "You project this righteous aura, this... this world saving, world balancing persona; for the good of the people but you're just... like the scum of the earth," Sora spat, shoulders drooping as he wrung out his anger.

The vice-chief said nothing, she simply absorbed his quiet, burning fury. The melted remains of her penholder smeared across her files and she rubbed it off with her dress sleeve. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "There is nothing we can do. Our hands are full."

People are so disappointing. "No, I'm the one who should apologize," Sora dipped his head, "for losing my temper. I understand. Please give Donald and Goofy my regards."

He pressed the satchel to his chest, like he wanted to contain the sadness from bursting out of his ribcage. Sora dragged his feet towards the corridor, pausing for a second to glower forlornly at Squall's empty office.

Fear

Night

Keyblade Graveyard

Mist rolled over the fathomless cliffs of the Keyblade Graveyard. A cyan, heart shaped moon drifted between sheets of smoky clouds. Ventus dangled in the air, legs kicking. Frost crept over his skin, rendered his armor useless and froze his brain.

The ice in his nape cracked when he smashed to the floor. He clawed upright, dread wrapped him like a windstorm.

Xehanort grinned wickedly. His golden eyes shone like flames in a gaunt, wrinkled face.

Ventus quivered from the realization of failure. He raised Wayward Wind to parry, the Keyblade twisted out of his grasp and he backtracked, fighting against the memories beating a migraine in his skull.

Aqua stood protectively in front of him, her Keyblade in an iron grip. Further to the front, a lump formed in Ventus' throat, Terra faced off against the old man.

Don't leave me. Please.

Sparks flew between Keyblades. A motif, a pillar crawling with runes of fire, blazed above Terra's head as he fought. Suddenly the pillar cracked and greyed. Black fluid oozed between it and Terra turned, his expression one of grim determination.

He blinked; and his eyes flashed gold.

In the Chamber of Repose, Ventus sat on the floor, leaning against the suit of bronze armor. "I miss you Terra," he stated, eyes a sky blue. "I'll make sure the Organization pays for what they've done to you."

A/N: That horrible moment when you present a piece of evidence in court and Edgeworth looks so smug; you know you're doomed.

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