Mira should have paid more attention to her surroundings, should've noticed the shadows trailing behind her, should've been ready to defend herself at any time. But she never noticed the creatures trailing her, too preoccupied with her conversation with Gast...
As she passed by the reactor where she fought that large unversed, a small blue creature blocked her path, staring up at her with sad eyes. Mira stopped short. Another one? This one was so tiny and frail compared to the ones she encountered previously. She oughtn't to feel sympathy for it, but the markings on its face made it look like it was crying. Another one appeared, approaching slowly to stand by its fellow. Then a few more.
Since the small group remained docile, Mira took a chance to really study its features. It looked nothing like the creatures of darkness she was familiar with. Somehow, these creatures were wilder than the little, yellow-eyed shadows. Even so, did they share any similarities? It hadn't yet attacked her yet, so it was possible they were alike in some way.
Kneeling down, Mira held her hand out to the creature, like she would to an animal. The small thing stepped closer, hesitating. "I'm not gonna hurt you," she cooed. Her master would probably call her foolish for not exterminating it, but it seemed harmless enough. The creature came the rest of the way, placing its sharp little arm on her hand. It felt like holding a cool knife by the blade, painless, so long as it was handled with care. What could hurt someone so deeply for these pitiful creatures to appear in such numbers? Gently, Mira placed a hand atop the creature's head, heart melting when it leaned into her touch. Were they lonely?
She couldn't ponder that thought for long as a shadow loomed above them. The little unversed jerked away, and a hiss escaped her lips. There was a cut on her palm. To her alarm, the intruder was one of the larger, different breeds of unversed. Except this one inspired no pity or sympathy. It was angry and ready to inflict pain. It made to strike her with its large fists and Mira jumped back, scanning her surroundings for other threats. There were four others advancing toward her.
Everything after happened in a blur. In the span of a breath, the unversed rushed toward her swiping, punching, and scratching. One landed a nick on her arm, another slashed its claw across her chest – though the cut wasn't too deep, as far as she could tell. That didn't stop it from hurting, however.
In her distraction, the unversed that would later be called a bruiser, closed the distance between them, fist connecting solidly with her cheek. Mira's head snapped to the side, and she fell to the ground, tasting blood in her mouth. Dazed, she lay where she fell and the bruiser delivered a swift kick to her abdomen, throwing her on her back.
It loomed above her and her heart throbbed against her chest. Was it going to kill her? Even with her master's more dangerous training, she never felt like her life had truly been in danger. For all his talk, Mira was confident he'd help her if it came down to it. Time moved in slow motion as it pulled its arm back, ready to deliver a crushing blow; magic surged into her keyblade, emitting a clear, bright shield as she rasped, "Reflega!"
The bruiser's attack was turned back onto itself, vanquishing it instantly in a cloud of inky smoke. Mira lay there, breathing heavily. Emotions, no matter how they manifested, were complicated. She erupted into bubbling laugher, half giggles, half sobs.
Mira managed to return to the castle without further incident, though she stuck to the shadows to avoid explaining her injuries to any well-meaning, albeit nosy, people she may encounter. By some miracle, she didn't run into any of Ansem's apprentices either. That is, until she reached the hallway to her room.
"Hey – I thought you were gonna bring me something!" Braig called out from behind her.
She jumped in fright; she must've passed right by him in the dim light. Keeping her back to him, she retorted, "Hm, must've slipped my mind – you know, since you're a grown man and all." She hastened toward her room, but his footsteps echoed behind her, spurring her to move faster.
"Hey – wait! Where're you going, Princess?"
"My room. I'm-I'm really tired, Braig-"
"Wait up!" A hand grabbed her arm, spinning her around – "Wait, what happened?"
She refused to look at him. "It's been a long day."
"I'll say. You look horrible."
She bristled. "I don't want to hear that from you-" Mira paused, eyeing his face. "The bandages..."
"Yeah, Ansem said I could take 'em off." He stared down at her, wearing an indecipherable expression.
His injuries were extensive, so scarring was to be expected. However, because she accelerated the healing, it was severe and noticeable. Where there was once smooth skin, his left cheek was now marred by a long, jagged scar that nearly reached his eye. He was lucky not to have been left completely blind. She stared closer. She could've sworn his eye was brown just that morning… not that she spent a lot of time staring into his eyes. Since when was it golden? Another side effect of the healing? Her gaze drifted to the other one, covered by a black eyepatch.
"It's pretty horrible, isn't it?" He looked her over. "But I'm more concerned about how you got all roughed up."
"I'll be fine."
"Uh-huh." He eyed her skeptically. "C'mon, let's get you cleaned up." He pulled her towards her room, ignoring her squawks of indignation.
"What are you-? Braig!"
Pushing the door open, he pulled her inside, flipping the switch. A tense moment lapsed as they appraised one another in the light. His scars didn't seem quite so heavy now that she could see them clearly. But she was right about one thing: his remaining eye was most definitely golden.
"What the hell happened to you?"
She waved him off. "I was observing the unversed and got careless. No big deal-"
He gripped her wrist and pulled her into the bathroom. "Take a look in the mirror and say that again," he snapped.
The face that stared back hardly resembled her. Purple blossomed over half of one cheek and her shirt was torn and covered in blood, though no wound remained since she'd healed it on the way back. If she wasn't so drained, she would have healed the rest, but risking another blackout from magical exhaustion so soon would have been dangerous. Mira dreaded to think of what might have happened if she had encountered anyone in the castle. She was ghastly. A ring of deep purple spread around her eye and cheek, tender to the touch. She didn't often put an overwhelming amount of effort into her appearance, but this was hideous. For once, she hoped her master wouldn't return for a while. She dreaded his censure. The more she thought about it, the more she kicked herself for being so foolish.
Braig's scarred refection joined hers. "Let me patch you up. It's the least I can do."
"Do what you want," she mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall. His hands grasped her waist, lifting her to sit on the counter. Her cheeks reddened. It occurred to her that she probably smelled disgusting, to her embarrassment, but he gave no indication that he was repulsed. With a gentleness that surprised her, Braig applied ointment to her cuts and bruises. The cooling sensation was a relief to her inflamed skin. He cupped her cheek, tilting her head to the side, and her pulse quickened. His scent was heady – like fresh laundry and something else.
"Looks like you'll be fine, but this is one nasty bruise, Princess. Be more careful, you might not be so lucky next time."
"You'd know, wouldn't you?"
He huffed and rolled his eye. "Exactly. What was so interesting about the unversed, anyway? Just kill 'em and be done with it."
"Not all of us strike first and ask questions later," Mira sniffed. "Besides, the ones I was watching never attacked me; they were docile, if a bit sad looking. I was ambushed by a different one."
"That's interesting but," Braig placed his hands on her shoulders, "they're dark monsters, Mira. Don't forget that. They don't deserve your mercy or pity."
Didn't they though? The nature of the unversed was different than that of other dark creatures; who was hurting so much that their emotions took shape? Surely, someone in that much pain deserved a little consideration, right? Not that she wouldn't defend herself if the creatures attacked her, but what if they could be pacified at the source? She'd have to ask Master Xehanort when he returned...
A dark figure stood above her, clutching a sheet of paper. She didn't wake even as he crouched beside her bed, staring at her, yellow eyes narrowed in angry confusion.
After a beating like that, a little soreness was to be expected; however, the reality of the throbbing agony stemming from her bruised cheek exceeded those expectations tenfold. Given that Mira normally had access to healing magic, she never endured pain or injuries for long. Her eyes cracked open, sliding to her bedside table to read the clock. Only, there was something blocking the hands. Reaching for the crumpled paper, she blinked at the contents. There was only a simple 'X' written in familiar scrawl on it. But when had that gotten there?
Her heart lurched. What if she had missed a meeting with her master?! Mira sat up quickly, ignoring her remaining injuries as best she could, and scrambled out of bed. The one time she wanted him to stay away, he was back. According to the clock, it was already the afternoon. Was it possible to use the Lanes to teleport like Braig? She shook her head. This wasn't the time for experimentation! What if she ended up somewhere even her master couldn't find her?
Mira arrived to the clearing a half an hour later, a little sweaty and out of breath. The afternoon sun and humidity threatening to do her in. Master Xehanort was already waiting for her, hands clasped behind his back. Mira gulped. She was so late. "Master?"
He turned, his light expression darkening instantly. "What has happened to you?" He approached her, tilting her face back with gloved hands, scrutinizing her injuries.
Her tired mind supplied that both he and Braig wore white gloves and fussed over her like hens. Laughter threatened to burst from her, but she quashed the feeling. "I was sparring," she lied.
"This is not an injury from sparring – I trained you better than that. Don't lie to me, girl."
She winced. He had trained her better – so why wasn't she good enough? "I-I'm sorry… Master. It was unversed. I was careless," she mumbled.
He adopted a dark expression. "Indeed. I sent you here to learn what the king has to offer, not to forget how to fight. Have you learned nothing?"
Master Xehanort rarely raised his voice, but he might as well have slapped her with his dissatisfaction. Disappointing him was the last thing she wanted, but she'd managed all on her own. The weight of his ire seemed to add to the pain, making her want to curl up and cry. She bowed her head, saying nothing.
"Although… I suppose I have neglected your training as of late," he murmured.
She was inclined to agree. "Master... when can I come home?"
"The time is not yet right, Mira. Come, tell me what you've been doing since we met last."
"Well..." Mira explained what she observed about the unversed and the dichotomy of their behavior toward her, as well as her concerns about the nature of such strong emotions. "...So I guess, I wanted to ask if you know anything about them or where they come from. They're not like the other dark creatures."
"Indeed, they are fundamentally different from the shadows that live in the dark. These creatures pose a real danger to you, Mira. Do not let your guard down again."
"Yes Master."
"Now, come here and let me fix those bruises." Mira felt more that saw the familiar glow of healing magic - like warm sunshine on her cheek, bringing blessed relief. "How did you determine that the unversed are fledgling emotions?" he asked, after the healing was done.
"Aqua told me."
Xehanort raised a brow. "Aqua was here?"
"Yes. Ven and Terra too."
"I'm surprised Eraqus allowed young Ventus to leave..." Despite his words, he didn't sound very surprised; then again, her master had a habit of being enigmatic and unreadable.
"I suspect he didn't. Aqua said something about him needing to go home and it escalated into a huge argument. I've never seen them like that before." The rest of the story burst from her like a dam – the giant unversed, Terra's anger, and her abandonment of Aqua to that masked boy. By the end, he was smirking. "What's so funny?! I know Aqua's okay, but I didn't think to ask about Terra or Ven – what if they're in some kind of trouble or need help?"
"Then it's not your concern. You are so tender-hearted, Mira. I can assure you that Terra is also well."
Her eyes widened. "Was that what you were doing here?" He tilted his head in question. "I was asking around about Aqua and someone described you."
"Ah." He nodded. "Yes, I was here. I came to speak with Terra."
Something unhappy and mean curled within her gut; why was her master spending his precious time with Terra? Wasn't she his apprentice? Why hadn't he called on her sooner? "May I be honest with you?" she asked stiffly.
"I'd prefer it."
It took her a moment to muster her nerve, but she squared her shoulders and stared him in the eyes. "You're hiding things from me. I know you don't have to tell me everything, but the least you could do, if not train me, is tell me what the hell I'm doing here. It's starting to feel like you dropped me off here to keep me out of the way. If-if you don't want to teach me anymore," she swallowed thickly, "then just... tell me. I'm tired of guessing."
"I have no intention of abandoning your training, Mira. But for the time being, you need to be patient. I hope to bring you home soon, but I need to take care of a few things first. That said," he placed a hand on her shoulder, "perhaps I can offer you some clarity. You are correct, there is not much point to you being here. Aside from the vast library, I placed you in this world to keep you safe."
His admission equal parts warmed her and rankled. "What do I need to be kept safe from?"
"The unversed."
Mira scowled. "In that case, they're already here, so there's little point to continuing this exercise, wouldn't you say?"
"Mind your tone. There are certain elements at play that I wanted you far away from. Unfortunately, as you said, keeping you separate has been unsuccessful."
"What do you-?"
"Vanitas."
A dark corridor opened beside her master and the masked boy strutted through. "You called…" his helmet turned toward her tilting to the side, "Master?"
She whipped around to glare at Xehanort. It was all starting to make sense – why he had precious little time to invest in her, his foisting her on others. He took on another apprentice. "You've got to be-"
"Silence," he said calmly. "Since I couldn't prevent the two of you from crossing paths, then you need to meet face to face."
"We've met," Mira growled.
The boy laughed. "Yeah, it was so funning watching you run away with your tail tucked between your-"
"Show some respect Vanitas." Xehanort regarded the boy coldly. "You stand in the presence of my apprentice, Mira. You are not to fight with her, in the event you cross paths again. That goes for you as well, Mira. Do I make myself clear?"
She crossed her arms and nodded mutely. Vanitas jerked his head in the semblance of a nod. "Just stay out of my way."
"Or what?" she snarled. "Who do you think you are?!"
"I'm the one doing what you're too weak to-"
"Silence!" Xehanort bellowed, turning his frosty gaze on the boy. He'd never used that tone with her, and she was glad it was pointed in that interloper's direction. "You are dismissed."
Vanitas clenched his fists and stalked through a dark corridor, leaving them alone. As it ought to have been, from the start. "What was he going to say? What am I too weak to do?" The word was bitter on her tongue.
"I cannot answer your questions until the time is right."
"And when is that?" Tears pricked her eyes. "In a year? Five? How long do you expect me to-" her throat closed up, and she looked away as shameful tears streamed down her cheeks. Why couldn't she be of help to him? Surely that miscreant wasn't better than her... right? "What do I have to do to prove myself?"
"You don't need to prove yourself, Mira. You are a worthy apprentice and I'm proud of you."
She sniffled, bitterness bubbling out of her before she could stop it. "How would you know what to be proud of? You're never around..."
"I have my ways of keeping an eye on you."
Too bad she had no way of keeping track of him. Her master was the strongest, most powerful keyblade wielder she knew, but what if he never came back for her? What if something happened to him? Vanitas was causing trouble for her friends, so what if he did the same to her master? He told her to be patient, but how could she when she had such a bad feeling?
"I must attend to other matters, but I'll be back soon." He made to turn, but she caught the sleeve of his coat. "Yes?"
"I wish you'd rely on me more..." she mumbled. "You know I'd do anything for you, right Master?"
His adam's apple bobbed. "I know. Which is why I must keep you out of this. I have plans for you, but you must be patient."
With those parting words, he stepped through a dark corridor, the sight of his retreating back becoming an unfortunate familiarity. Mira shuffled back to the castle, no longer sore of body, but sore of heart. He always took a piece of her when he left.
Mira stepped through the threshold of the common room, eye's falling on the familiar sight of Braig lounged in a chair with his arms crossed. With the addition of the eyepatch, he was the picture of piracy. If only he lived on the high seas. "Hey," she mumbled.
"Where've you been? I came in to check on you, but you were gone." He looked her up and down.
She tried to ignore the fluttering in her belly from his appraisal. "Did you need something?"
"Well, no. I just thought I'd check on you, given your injuries." Shrugging, she inched toward their shared hallway. In a flash, he was at her side, leaning in. "Oh no you don't - we need to have a chat, Princess." He directed her unwilling feet toward a chair.
"Let me go – what's your problem?!" She swatted at him, but he caught her wrist before she hit his face.
"Why so aggressive? This is serious." His grip was firm, though not enough to cause discomfort. She could twist out of his hold, but she was too mentally drained to bother. Instead, she allowed him to steer her into a plush chair. He perched on the arm beside her.
"Braig, I'm not in the mood-"
He placed a gloved finger over her lips. "I need you need to listen, okay?" She rolled her eyes but nodded. "Good. You need to be more careful with your magic, alright?"
"Huh?" That threw her for a loop.
He sighed. "I can tell you're skilled – my continued existence proves that. But you nearly exhausted your reserve, and that can kill you."
"We already went over this. What's your point?" Mira closed her eyes and leaned back in the chair. It was comfortable. She could probably fall asleep if she tried.
"My point," he poked her forehead, eliciting a grumble, "is that your injuries are gone. I don't doubt they were painful, but you shouldn't have risked further exhaustion just to heal them faster."
She blinked up at him. "I'm sorry – I'll remember to be more careful." She squeezed his hand. "I didn't mean to make you worry." His lips parted then closed, and he stared back intently. If only she could've told him her master had healed her – that she hadn't risked herself... but he'd only have more questions she wasn't allowed to answer. He probably thought she was foolish, but even so, his concern was touching. She gazed at their clasped hands; he hadn't let go. For whatever reason, he was trying to be there for her. Her cheeks warmed.
That old coot... if only he knew who he was dealing with – then he wouldn't be so smug. To think, he'd threatened him! To be on the receiving end of that keyblade was maddening. But he needed it; he couldn't risk everything out of anger. No, he needed to focus; the task was at hand and the battle fast approaching.
He looked down at the girl lost in her thoughts. When was the last time someone held his hand like this? He couldn't remember.