The control room was becoming too drab for his liking. It was always chilly, for one thing, and the continual hum of the computers stopped being soothing and relaxing a couple days ago. Occasionally there would be other noises, like the sound of typing on a keyboard, or a grunt or a sigh from the man he liked to call his employer, yet knew virtually nothing about.

However, there was no point in complaining. His aforementioned employer, a dark, cryptic man who kept to himself and never disclosed any information with him unless it was information that he had to know, wouldn't care what he had to say or feel about being uncomfortable.

To his surprise, his employer grunted and tilted his head away from the central monitor that he spent so much of his precious time at and looked at him directly in the eye once he arrived in the control room. It was rare that his employer ever made an effort to interact with him like this. "What do you want?" he asked curtly, his visible eye blinking impassively.

He straightened, cleared his throat, and took a few steps forward. He was dressed in a black robe, the hood covering his features and preventing his employer from getting a good look at his face.

"Sir, I think we may have a problem."

His employer continued to watch him impassively and almost with disinterest. "Go on."

"The memory witch is not within her quarters," the black-robed man announced, folding his hands behind his back and clasping them together. "Aren't you concerned?"

He could've sworn that his employer was starting to smirk. "Do you think that Naminé is going to betray us, is that your concern?"

The black-robed man frowned beneath his hood. "No, of course not. I am, however, concerned that she hasn't returned yet."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know, sir."

The black-robed man couldn't believe his ears as he heard his employer chuckle to himself and twist his head back towards the central monitor. "Fine. You have permission to retrieve the girl."

Startled, the black-robed man blinked beneath his hood. "Sir?"

"Did I stutter?" his employer asked, annoyance creeping into his hoarse voice. "Go and retrieve the girl."

The black-robed man's first instinct was to question his employer's sudden change of heart in regards to the memory witch, but quickly quieted his protest. If there was one thing he didn't need to do, it was invoke the wrath of his employer. "Yes, sir," he bowed, and left the control room without another word.

Meanwhile, his employer leaned back in his chair, allowing his golden eye to carefully watch the data presented by his computer. "So, Naminé, I wonder… what will you do next?" he asked, smirking to himself.

Memento
By Tetra Seleno

Disclaimer: Please refer to File 01.

File 02: What If

Roxas took a bite out of his hamburger, chewing thoughtfully while he watched Orette reprimand Hayner for belching at the table with an amused expression on his face. They were all enjoying their lunch just as Roxas hoped they would've, and nothing was making the blonde boy happier than to see his friends happy.

Pence sat beside him, an expression almost identical to Roxas' plastered onto his face. "They're like an old married couple, yeah?" He teased, nudging Roxas with his elbow.

Roxas smirked and swallowed his portion of hamburger. "I dunno. I mean, I can't say that about Orette, but Hayner's always struck me as a crotchey old man…"

Hayner folded his arms on the table and scowled. "Traitor."

"You know what they say. We hurt the ones we love," Pence joked, earning himself a swipe from Hayner. Both Roxas and Pence laughed at that, and even Orette couldn't help herself but join in on the poke-fun-at-Hayner jokes.

"Yeah, yeah," said Hayner, rolling his eyes, "make fun of the leader, why don't you."

"I'm just going to go and repeat what Pence said," said Roxas, clapping a hand on Hayner's shoulder. "We hurt the ones we love."

Hayner sighed again and, defeated, placed a fry into his mouth. "Right, right, whatever."

The four friends giggled, chuckled, and smiled at that again, even Hayner, and when their amusement subsided they all quietly returned to what remained of their food, enjoying it quietly. Roxas smiled, his blue eyes carefully watching his friends in comfortable silence.

He loved them. He really did. Roxas didn't know what he would do without them – Hayner had been the best friend Roxas could've ever asked for; Orette was like a big sister to him, always looking out for him; and Pence never, ever failed to make Roxas smile.

They were like a family to him, the family he never had. Roxas lived on his own – he had lived in Twilight Town all his life, yet he never knew who his parents were. This was accepted by many of Twilight Town's citizens to be a very odd occurrence, as they had all the information they needed on Roxas, but there was virtually nothing on his parents. He survived on the benevolence of neighbors, friends, and odd jobs he'd taken up throughout his life.

It seemed strange to some, but to Roxas, it was normal, and it was routine. It bothered him, yes, but he never said anything about it. For some reason he managed to accept it and move on with his life.

Which was why he was so glad to have friends like Hayner, Pence, and Orette. They were like a surrogate family to him, day-in and day-out, and he cherished all of them for it. They were always at his side, they were always there for him when he needed them, and he was always there for them and always at their side.

After all, Roxas mused, what were friends for?

He was snapped out of his reverie when Hayner clapped a hand to Roxas' shoulder, startling him. "Oy, Roxas, you're staring off into space here. Snap out of it!"

"Er, sorry," Roxas said sheepishly, his cheeks lightening with color. "Got lost in my thoughts, I guess."

"If you'll pardon the pun, it looked like you were out to lunch," Pence said nonchalantly, yawning and ignoring the "dude, that one was awful!" coming from Hayner, and the stocky boy pushed his plate away from him. "Man, I am stuffed."

"Here, here," Roxas agreed, gingerly patting his stomach. "I don't think I can move."

Orette giggled. "You're going to have to. Hayner wants to practice with you, remember?"

Roxas grimaced while Hayner grinned fiendishly. "No, I didn't." He watched Hayner jerk upright, pointing his finger at Roxas challengingly.

"Yeah, that's right, Roxas, you better get ready, because I'm about to beat your ass into the ground so hard that you're gonna wish you hadn't crawled out of bed today."

"… well then."

Orette sighed. The dark-haired girl tilted her head to the side and raised her hand at a nearby waiter. "Check, please."

When they arrived back at the park about twenty minutes later, the first thing Hayner did was pick up the bat he'd left behind and swung it around deftly, a proud smirk adorning his features. "So," he proclaimed, twirling the bat expertly in his palm and setting it professionally on his shoulder, "ready to be my next victim, Roxas?"

"You could say that," Roxas shrugged, his lips tugged into a small smile. Hayner picked up the other bat he'd brought with him to the park and tossed it over to Roxas, who caught it rather effortlessly.

"Alright…" Hayner took a deep breath and entered his fighting stance: he crouched himself ever so slightly and held the bat out before him like it was a sword of some sort. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Roxas murmured, entering his own stance. Roxas' stance took a different approach to the game called "Struggle" then Hayner's did. Hayner's style showed exactly what kind of game Hayner played – swift and offensive. Roxas, on the other hand, held his weapon like it was a tennis racket, both hands clutching the hilt. His style was more focused on defense – a counter to Hayner's offensive style.

"Good," Hayner grinned, "because you'll need to be!" And in the blink of an eye, Hayner leapt forward, swinging his bat down in a powerful downward slash. Roxas reacted quickly – he swiftly blocked Hayner's attack with his bat's handguard. Hayner growled and jumped backwards.

"Not bad," Hayner admitted, "not bad at all. Your reaction time's improved a lot. Have you been practicing without me, or somethin'?"

Roxas smiled, but kept the bat raised. "Maybe, maybe not."

Hayner stepped forward and swept with his bat a second time, aiming for Roxas' ankles. Roxas winced and leapt to the side, collapsing to the ground, but narrowly managing to escape Hayner's attack. "Not bad!" he heard Hayner say, "not bad at all!"

Then he felt Hayner smack the bat against his back. "Except you're lying on the ground like an idiot. C'mon, Roxas, get up! You won't win the Struggle like that."

Roxas sighed, stood up, and dusted himself off. "Sorry," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Got distracted, I guess."

"Just don't let it happen again," Hayner advised. Roxas nodded and the two boys squared each other up once more, sizing each other up and staring at each other blankly.

"Can't you just feel the intensity?" Pence joked, elbowing Orette in the side. The remaining two members of the group were sitting comfortably in a patch of grass, each of them holding one of Twilight Town's famous sea-salt popsicles.

Hayner made the first move again. The older boy lunged forwards, striking down with his weapon. Roxas blocked in a single, swift motion and a flick of his wrist, bringing the two bats into collision a second time. However, this time Hayner struck again with his weapon, knocking Roxas off balance and providing Hayner with another opportunity to strike.

An opportunity Roxas wasn't going to give him without a fight.

Carefully, Roxas threw his weight forward to reclaim his balance. When he'd completed that he lurched his body to the side as fast as he could, sidestepping Hayner's strike – much to Hayner's surprise – and in another quick, fluid motion, skidded across the grass and brought himself right behind Hayner.

There was a silence between the four friends, the only sound coming from Roxas' heavy breathing. Hayner dropped his weapon and turned around to look at Roxas in the eye, shock evident in his face.

"Wow," said Orette.

Roxas scratched his head, embarrassment washing over him as his friends stared at him. "Um, I guess… game, set, and match?"

"Dude!" shouted Hayner, who wasted no time in bringing Roxas into a headlock and giving him a noogie. "Dude! That was sick! When'd you learn how to do that?"

That was the thing. Roxas didn't know how to do that. He just – he just did it, like the maneuver was second nature to him. "I got lucky, that's all," Roxas admitted, smiling sheepishly. That's all it was, right? Just a lot of luck; nothing more, nothing less than that.

Hayner released Roxas from his headlock of doom after Orette chastised him from suffocating Roxas longer than what some societies would consider fair. Pence agreed wholeheartedly with that statement, which earned him an eyeroll from Hayner.

The group's little moment was interrupted by the sound of clapping in the distance. Four heads turned around to gaze at a boy around Hayner's age, wearing baggy jeans, combat boots, a very short vest that exposed a well-built stomach, and a woolen black beanie perched on his head. Covering all of these clothes was a long, sweeping white trench coat. A large, glaring scar trailed down his face, stretching from his eyebrows to the bridge of his nose. All four teenagers knew and loathed this figure from the bottom of their hearts, and their expressions warped from joy to anger and discontent.

Seifer Almasy, local bully and resident asshole, applauded for them, grinning lazily at the group. "'Sup, kids," he greeted, breaking out of his applause into a mock salute, "what's new?"

"Go away, Seifer," Hayner growled, standing forward for the group and protectively outstretching his arms. "We haven't done nothing wrong."

"Sure you haven't. But, I can at least still say hi and check up on you guys, right?" The older boy smirked as Hayner glared at him and casually took steps forward towards the group. Roxas watched Hayner's jaw clench and muscles tense as Seifer came ever closer.

"Getting ready for the big competition, are we?" Seifer asked, tilting his head to the side. Roxas frowned and Hayner growled, and Seifer shrugged off their animosity with a laugh. "Good. I can't wait to face you punks in the ring."

"Neither can I," Hayner said darkly, flashing a dangerous smile at the older boy. This time, Seifer frowned.

"Yeah?" he asked, and immediately Seifer and Hayner began sizing each other up, looking for a weakness to exploit.

"Yeah," Hayner spat, grinning like a wolf. Roxas sincerely hoped Seifer wouldn't beat Hayner up too badly – but then, with Seifer outnumbered, it wasn't like Seifer would. He was an asshole, but he wasn't stupid.

"Well then," Seifer said slowly, regaining his smirk and haughty disposition. "I guess I've got something to look forward to this week after all."

"Guess so," Hayner growled in agreement.

Behind him, Roxas heard Orette sigh. "Alright, alright, can you guys stop being overly macho for a moment and just break it up?"

Seifer seemed to consider Orette's offer; he looked over the four kids again ( without his gang to back him up, and, Roxas assumed, judging by the frowning expression on his face, he was outnumbered four-to-one, and those were not Seifer's kind of odds ), shrugged, and pushed Hayner away from him. "Fine, whatever. S'not like you kidlets were doing anything fun, anyway."

"Asshole," Pence mumbled under his breath as he and Roxas went to help Hayner off the ground.

Seifer stuffed his hands into his baggy pockets and strolled off away from the group. Hayner nearly tackled him, but Pence and Roxas managed to hold their friend back from embarrassing, but more importantly, hurting himself.

Unfortunately, Seifer got the last laugh. As he walked off, he paused, and reached down to one of the blue balls Hayner and Pence had been playing with before. With a smirk, Seifer hurled the ball towards some bushes in the distance, then chuckled to himself and started walking away again.

Hayner growled and his muscles visibly tensed. "Let me at him," he growled, "I'm going to kill him." Pence and Roxas did their best to restrain him again, wrapping their arms around Hayner's shoulders and holding him closely to their chests.

"Forget it, Hayner," Pence advised with a sigh, "it's not worth it."

"Yes it is!"

Pence sighed a second time. "Just save it for the ring, okay? Where, you know, beating the crap out of him is legal and you won't get in trouble for it?"

The older boy protested again as his muscles remained tense and he shot a pleading look at Roxas, who merely shook his head. Pence was right – it wasn't worth it. Defeated, Hayner slumped into the grip of his friends and inhaled very quick, very long breaths.

That particular crisis averted, Roxas gingerly released Hayner from his grip. "I'm going to go that ball back," said Roxas, "be right back." He jogged off, waving to Pence and Orette. He was fairly certain they could keep Hayner calm for a few moments.

Seifer definitely knew how to push someone's buttons, especially Hayner's. The competition may or may not run so smoothly if Hayner and Seifer try to kill each other during their match. Roxas sighed; maybe they wouldn't face off. Who knows?

The ball Seifer had so carelessly thrown away had rolled its way over to a bench on the other side of the park. It caught his eye, and Roxas sprinted towards the ball as fast as he could. When he got there, though, he noticed something about it he hadn't noticed before. Someone was sitting on the bench, someone who bent forward and picked the ball off the ground, setting it on her lap.

Roxas froze.

"It's you," he said numbly, eyes wide and mouth agape.

The strange blonde-haired girl from before smiled widely at him. "Hey, Roxas. It's nice to see you again." She outstretched her arms and offered the ball back to him. Roxas stared at it lamely, completely unsure of what to do. "Go on, take it."

He did. He tucked the ball safely under an arm and scratched his ear with the other one. "How do you know my name?"

She smiled again and her eyes – her expressive, intrusive eyes – locked with his, and suddenly Roxas did not feel very comfortable. "Well?" he asked, getting a little impatient with the strange girl. "How do you know my name?"

The girl tilted her head to the side. "You know… you really do look just like him," she said curiously, studying Roxas closely. This was incredibly odd, Roxas decided, and he did not like one bit of it.

"Like who?" he demanded, using his free arm to demonstrate his exasperation.

"An old friend of mine," the girl said wistfully, releasing a small sigh. "I miss him."

Roxas felt a pang of guilt. Even if the girl was a stranger, perhaps he shouldn't have been so antagonizing about the subject. It made him feel like he was Seifer, of all people. "… oh," Roxas said lamely, "I see."

"Oh, I'm not mad," the girl said, dismissing Roxas' fears with a wave of her hand. "Just reminiscent is all."

He smiled a little at that. "I can understand that feeling," he said wholeheartedly. It was true, though – Hayner always complained Roxas thought too much and that it was going to be his downfall someday.

The girl smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but the words turned into a gasp and she clapped her hands over her mouth. Her expressive eyes widened in – was it shock? Or perhaps, fear? Confused, Roxas turned his head around.

Standing in the distance was a very tall man, dressed completely in black. The black ensemble was derived of black boots, black gloves, and a black cloak that covered his entire body, with a hood that shrouded his face in shadows. There was some silver adorning the cloak in a long zipper that trailed the front of the cloak and two clasps by the neck, but the outfit was predominately black.

"I – I have to go," the girl said hastily, standing up from the bench and dusting herself off quickly.

"Um, okay," Roxas said, confused. "It was, er, nice talking to you."

"Yes, it was," said the girl. "Have a nice day, Roxas." She leaned forward on her toes and planted a kiss on his forehead.

And that was when his head began to throb.

Roxas fell to his knees. "Wh-what?" he asked shakily and his hands clutched his head, forgetting about the ball. "Wh-what's happening?"

But the blonde girl had disappeared again, and for that matter, so had the man clad in black. Roxas groaned in pain. What in the world did she do to him?

His mind raced with images. In his mind's eye, he could see two different figures. The first one was shorter than the second, with chin-length red hair and violet eyes. Roxas determined she was female – she was wearing a pink skirt and white tanktop.

The second figure was much taller than the first, and very well built. Silver hair was the first thing Roxas noticed about him, silver hair that fell down to his shoulders. He had striking blue-green eyes to complement it. He was dressed in baggy purple pants and a sleeveless yellow t-shirt.

Who were these people?

The pain resided, disappearing as quickly as it came. Roxas gingerly lifted his head up. The girl and the man in black were nowhere to be seen. He removed his hands from his hand and stared at them in confusion. What in the world was happening to him?

He sighed and stood up. There was no sense in brooding over it now, especially with his friends just around the corner. Roxas picked the ball back up off the ground and jogged across the park towards his friends. He didn't need them worrying over him – not when he was worrying over himself.

When it was time for everyone to split up and go home, Roxas walked over to the train station by his lonesome. Hayner protested, but Roxas said he just wanted some time to himself. That was enough to get Hayner to back off – his friends understood that when Roxas needed to be alone, he just needed to be alone.

Though that didn't stop Orette from switching back into "Big Sister Mode" and fussing over him. Roxas smiled – at least he could always count on his friends to just be there.

Roxas looked at his watch as he walked through the streets of Twilight Town. The train to the Residential District wouldn't be arriving for at least a half-hour, so Roxas figured he had some time to kill. He decided to make a quick pass over by the group's "hideout".

In truthfulness, it wasn't exactly a hideout so much as a hangout. Though, they were young and foolish at the time and thought a hideout sounded so much cooler, and the name stuck. The hideout was in actuality an old alleyway that the train traveled over. Over time, the four friends had made the hideout a more than suitable place for them to just, well, hang out, replacing the worn out furniture with newer furniture.

It was, in a way, a second home for Roxas.

As he passed the steel fence protecting the hideout, Roxas froze as he made his way into the hideout. Someone was in their hideout, lying down on the grand.

Alarmed, he dashed forward towards the person. Roxas bent down on the ground and gently nudged the person, who was unconscious. "Excuse me, are you alright?" he asked.

The someone groggily opened her eyes, making some incoherent noises. "Just relax, miss," Roxas advised. "Here, let me help you." Roxas gently ( albeit with some embarrassment ) adjusted the girl's body so that she was lying on her back instead of her side.

The girl smiled weakly at him. "Um, thank you." Roxas merely nodded a response. It wasn't any trouble at all – he was glad to help.

Still, he couldn't help but notice that the girl was dressed rather… oddly. For starters, she wasn't wearing clothes one normally found in Twilight Town. The girl wore a white blouse, a blue-and-white checkered tie, and a pleated skirt to match the patterns of her tie. Kneesocks and loafers adorned her feet. Unless she was going to some party, those were not the clothes a teenager in Twilight Town wore.

When he got to studying her face, though, Roxas went numb and his heartbeat pounded in his ears. He knew this girl. It was as if he'd remembered her in a sudden moment, and the scary part was – she looked like the girl he'd seen in the images from before.

"Kairi?"