AN: Man…I am SO fucking dizzy. Huzzah for no sleep and bloody-mucus (the latter, which I assume that you do not wish to hear about). groan. This fic was inspired by Acid-Rush's Home 3: No Man's Land. Though Kingdom Hearts is in its self, a crossover (and a rather large once at that), I have decided to cross it over (again!) with D.Gray. Man. Why? BECAUSE THE MILLENIUM EARL KICKS ASS!...among other reasons. Alas…one is out in the U.S. and…everything past three is out in Japan…(waii…wakarimasen…ite su mo…). And it's another centric AkuRoku (yaaaay…). This is also going to be slightly AU, because, just for the feel of how the fic is going, it almost seems like it should be placed in an alternate 19th century. Just think of GodChild, Howls Moving Castle, or D.Gray Man for possible backgrounds…

Like always Squizzy pwns, and let us not forget Shounen Jump Advanced for D.Gray Man.

Warnings: Language, Shounen-ai, Yaoi (later, later…), crossover (within a crossover…if that's possible)

Overture: The Millenium Earl and The Keyblade.

It had been exactly too long a time since the Auction had taken place, and I was rather relieved to find that two, insignificant parties had chosen to do so. It was always for the keyblade, the one weapon that managed to govern humans' fragile lives so dearly and closely. Surprising enough to find that we, whom create the Akuma, don't seem to carry such verbose power, however, we have our own ways. It was always within my feeble hope that, perhaps, one day, I could lay my hands on this god of weapons, that sudden, dare I say, desire, of such a powerful object. The ability to open and close worlds, as if one was leaving his own house for a dinner party, is quite favorable, if one intends on ruling said universe.

In the likeness of the universe, the keyblade is a fickle thing. I have waited too long to see it be passed from one youth to the next; choosing which path to take, and meeting their ends penultimately…at first, of course; their final fate being whom to turn to; the Nobodies and Heartless; each holding a darkness within, and, if one looked hard enough, a light as well.

Pity. Such lives were, and still are, wasted on quests said to be the "betterment of humanity" and all that rubbish, or said "betterment of one's self", which I do tend to take a greater liking to, yet, still pointless.

However, I am not at a complete loss. I do sound like quite the envious coveter when I speak of such a weapon. There was a slight paradox that had occurred; an interesting one at that. It would not be incorrect to say that the Keyblade has chosen me as its ultimate master, yet not in the form that many are used to.

The keyblade had chosen one to wield it, and one to watch it; The wielder, ever changing; the watcher ever lasting. And I am rather glad to have been the latter. Quests of such depth that the wielder can embark on can quickly become a rainy day on one's hard planned picnic, if you catch my drift.

I do not, however, shirk tasks on a wayward whim. I do have other tasks, you know, creating weapons to defeat God and all of that nonsense, yet, as the saying goes, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

And so…the matter of the Auction.

As I had mentioned afore, the Auction hadn't taken place in quite some time, and life had become dull. Alarmingly, I had run out of Excorsists, our sworn adversaries, to kill.

Now…I do wonder how that happened.

Forgiveness is implored for; tangents do seem to become me. Yes, the Auction. It was a strange "device", if you will, created in the back waters of time to decide which party would be graced with the wielder of the keyblade. Upon various occasions, those whom had won the keyblade did win the war. Yet, there are tales of bloodshed and betrayal, and

those graced with such a powerful weapon, will choose how to use it by their own means, and they choose their fate however they will.

Those keyblade wars had been far from few, until something very strange happened. Bodies and hearts likened to one another and, both became keepers of the peace.

This is when, yours truly, decided to step in, surpassing his overlooked role of the watcher.

The incident is a story within itself, so I shall spare you the details (other than it involved quite a number of deaths), yet the outcome was quite gleefully glorifying, to yours truly. Black turned against white, and, the keyblade's never tiring journey began again. They are to meet, on peaceable terms by certain stipulations, created by whomever has…"lost" the war last. They, then, after going through certain trials, decide who is to have ownership of the wielder. This very decision, that we speak of, rests not in the wielders hands, rarely in the watchers, but most verily (and terribly sometimes), the parties.

And how, might you ask, how can the watcher of the keyblade not have the final word in this decision? A better explanation might suit you best.

Yes, they must come to blows against one another, besting each other in strength, wit, and the mindlessness of human logic. I must confess, humans are rarely logical. They do very strange things, and have the absolutely, most odd mannerisms that have yet graced my eyes to this day.

At any rate, after said battle, more terms are to come under debate, etcetera, etcetera…you can imagine the forth coming chaos and battling minds.

Of course, I and my cohorts mediate this ridiculous, rambunctious, cacophony. And we always are expecting our pay…

I digress. Like I had said previously, tangents do become me.

There is one particular story that comes to mind when thinking about said "payment". This occurrence was several years ago, yet none too much time that will not impair my telling of it. This concerns the Heartless, and Organization Thirteen…and, a poor soul, who was to be named the keyblade wielder.

Keyblades seldom let their owners know whom they are, before they themselves are chosen. It is a very strange thing, the impulses of the keyblade, how it acts very much like the human heart; reckless, impugning, dare I say mercurial?

…Yet it chose a boy that did not possess a heart…

How bizarre that one should not possess a heart and gain a surrogate one, experienced by the eccentricities of fate. Perhaps what modern science calls opposite attraction is clear within this story. And what would said story be without romance that follows such tacit means?

So, if you wish to disregard this meeting, by all means, I shan't keep you, as I do have other businesses to attend to…

However, if you wish to hearken to this tale of high adventure, please, assume a seat. I shall recount in my best manners possible.

AN: Like I said…The Millennium Earl rocketh. I know…I should be working on Sushi XIII, but this plot bunny zipped into my head, and wouldn't let go (like the green bunnies in GaiaOnline…). I mean, I do have most of chapter five out for Sushi XIII (jeeze! I've never worked on a fic in that way…o.O;; oh well…it's all for you…the fans