Taking Back the Crown

by JCMorrigan

Mozenrath. Archibald Snatcher. Roman Torchwick. Mad Madam Mim. Yzma. The Huntsman. Wuya. Ayam Aghoul. Their mission: take over the multiverse, or look fabulous trying. Rated M for swearing, steamy implications and VERY bloody battles. Contains slash and het shipping.

64. Dance With Me

64. Dance With Me

A/N: I will, starting with this chapter, be incorporating DanganRonpa into this mythos! I intend to intercept canon immediately after the ending of DanganRonpa 2 (I only intend to use Hope's Peak stuff for now, but V3 is more than likely coming!). However, it is important to note that as I hated the DanganRonpa 3 anime, it will not be considered canon. Neither the Despair arc nor the Future arc. Future arc never happened, and things at that time period will play out completely differently. Despair arc will be completely AU; I have my own ideas of how the characters that part concerns got from point A to point B, and it doesn't involve a cheap plot device. My version of events will be explained within this story. The most canon we might get from the anime is that Class 77 had a teacher named Chisa Yukizome. Finally, I'm pulling the opposite approach I used on Wakfu and using the NISA English translation as my basis for spellings, speech patterns, and certain character behaviors strictly relegated to the localization. That includes everyone calling each other by their first names. With that out of the way, let us proceed!

...

Vexen, the Huntsman, Snatcher, and Firefly spilled out of their Corridor in a rush, with Vexen closing it immediately to make sure no data projections followed them through.

"You really think that's gonna destroy 'em?" Firefly asked cynically.

"Why would it not?" Vexen asked. "It was a perfectly thought-out plan."

"Here's the thing," Firefly replied. "Every crook in Gotham has 'killed' the Batman at least once. And it has never EVER worked."

"I am more than a common Gotham crook," Vexen insisted. "All the same, I shall report back to Radiant Garden after sufficient time has passed to take a tally of the survivors. Hopefully, this should at least have weeded out enough of their forces to give us a higher probability of total annihilation later on."

"A chase I'm certain you'll enjoy," Snatcher said to the Huntsman.

The Huntsman, deep in thought, made no response. Snatcher wasn't sure what to make of that.

That was when the second Corridor opened, ejecting Wuya, Mozenrath, Yzma, Zevon, Irmaplotz, Demyx, Hans, and Roman.

"Ah, you've returned!" Snatcher greeted, approaching the party. "I take it that it…" His eyes traveled to the weary Mozenrath draped over Wuya. "…Did not go as well as expected."

"Well, we got the Fused Shadow," Wuya stated. "That's a victory at least."

"And…sabotaged Aladdin," Mozenrath insisted. "He won't…go back."

"And your mission?" Wuya asked.

"We've not left much for Aladdin to go back to," Snatcher said with a grin. "But, should our attempts to rid ourselves of our foes have failed – "

"I'm telling you, they ALWAYS find a way to not die when they should," Firefly insisted.

"…We've at least attained a good deal of information regarding what we are up against," Snatcher explained. "Now, would that we could do the same for Maleficent."

"She won't be so easy to fool," Vexen insisted.

"Mr. Vexen," Snatcher teased, "don't underestimate my ability."

"If you want to rely that heavily on Mozenrath's ability to necromance you from the agonizing death you will receive," Vexen said coldly, "then by all means."

"I would go into specifics," Snatcher concluded, "but I do believe that would be much better done when Lord Mozenrath is more…conscious."

Wuya nodded. "I'm sure he wants to tell our side of the story himself. We'll convene later."

"Over karaoke?" Yzma suggested.

"No – " Vexen and the Huntsman attempted.

"Over karaoke," Snatcher agreed, and Firefly backed him up with two thumbs up.

"Karaoke, huh?" Hans repeated. "So you're a singing crowd. That's a sign I joined the right team."

"Oh?" Snatcher regarded Hans with curiosity. "Made a friend, have we?"

"That's one word for it," Roman snorted.

"I think he fits right in," Irmaplotz commented. "Also, I'm pretty sure he and Mozenrath have a thing."

"Well, I'm not at liberty to talk about that," Hans stated. "That'll be something Mozenrath can decide once he wakes up."

Mozenrath, at the moment, had fallen completely asleep.

"Anyway," Hans continued, "I'm Prince Hans Westergard, formerly of the Southern Isles. I'm looking forward to meeting everyone here."

"Archibald Snatcher," Snatcher responded, "and likewise." Though Roman's obvious derision at Hans' existence didn't make for a good first impression at all as far as Snatcher was concerned.

"You think Mozenrath will mind if I put the Fused Shadow on the sigil?" Wuya asked. "I'm going to do it either way. I just want to know how much I'll have to put up a fight later."

"Ah, he got to strand his archnemesis on a backwater world," Yzma pointed out. "He'll be fine."

"I'm still hoping the ship just explosionates," Zevon commented.

"We'll meet up later," Wuya declared.

"That we shall," Snatcher agreed.

"So…is anyone going to show me around?" Hans asked. "Or am I just going to find my way on my own here?"

"I suppose I could handle a brief tour and an assignment of quarters," Yzma resolved. "Anyone else?"

"Nah, I'm gonna catch some Zs before the big karaoke party," Demyx declared.

"I'll come," Irmaplotz volunteered. "Now that I've spent some time out of the reading room, I want to socialize!"

"I won't be joining you," Zevon stated. "I have potions to brew and replacenish!"

"I still have to drop this one off and place the Fused Shadow," Wuya reminded everyone. "Then someone has to go find Mim, Aghoul, and the others and tell them we're throwing a bash."

"I wonder what misadventings the others got up to in our absention," Zevon mused.

"I've got stuff of my own to do," Firefly stated. "Should probably check in with Peter, first off."

"I have business of my own to tend to as well," Vexen said coldly. "Do not reserve a seat for me at your karaoke rendez-vous." He turned and stalked from the control room.

Without saying a word, the Huntsman followed right after him. And, had Snatcher not been convinced he'd made headway with the man and Yzma, Roman, and Wuya had enough time to simply let the matter go, they might have all been quite outraged. As it were, they simply shrugged him off.

"All right, team," Zevon said excitedly, "BREAK!"

Everyone went off in their separate ways save two. Snatcher and Roman remained in the control room, looking directly at each other.

"It went well?" Snatcher asked.

"You already asked that," Roman reminded him.

"I asked them," Snatcher clarified. "I want to hear it from you."

"I basically blew up the bitch queen," Roman said with a shrug. "That was a pretty good time. What about you?"

"I do believe I accomplished exactly what I set out to do," Snatcher told him. "Perhaps not to the degree I had hoped, but I expect to see results in time." He stepped a bit closer to Roman as he said that.

"I'm sure things are going EXACTLY the way you set them up," Roman said as he closed the distance.

Snatcher reached out to clutch at Roman's arms and pull him in close; Roman's lips met Snatcher's and remained there in a long, forceful kiss.

"Gods, I missed that," Roman said once their faces had parted.

"We've quite a bit to catch up on, haven't we?" Snatcher said coyly. He shifted so now one arm was draped over Roman's shoulders, and the pair began to walk toward their quarters.

"Damn right," Roman agreed.

"Shall we start with your account?" Snatcher asked. "What TRULY happened in Hyrule?"

"What happened is everyone underestimated me before I came through at crunch time," Roman began. "So we end up in this desert, right? And the mirror we're looking for is apparently at the top of this giant desert prison…"

They traded tales en route to more privacy.

Once she had deposited Mozenrath in his bed so he could sleep off his weariness, Wuya approached the twelve-pointed sigil with the Fused Shadow in hand. She knelt to lay the helmet on its appointed space; the sigil glowed brightly.

She noted rather proudly that only two points remained unoccupied: those meant for the elements of Life and Fire. The WHAM ARMY had come this far; Wuya had no doubt they would be able to complete the spell within a matter of days.

It was rather fulfilling to think that, given how when she had first met the others, she hadn't been sure what to expect; as a result, her standards had been somewhat low. She now knew how truly capable her friends were of getting what they wanted.

Satisfied, she rose to deliver the news of the upcoming party to Mim and Aghoul.

...

After settling Midna in bed and binding her wound, Zelda had requested time alone, which, given the situation, was quite understandable. Link had set his mind on staying by Midna's side while she recovered; Midna had grumbled about not needing so much pity, but in truth, she was more than happy for his company. Sora hadn't wanted to leave just yet, requiring a proper goodbye before doing so, and besides, he hadn't even seen the best this world had to offer in the light. So Zelda suggested that the visiting heroes explore Castle Town to their hearts' content: they would find much of interest now that its population was restored to humanity.

The group took her up on her offer, splitting up to cover different sectors of town. Jasmine and Aladdin almost immediately befriended a stray cat, Stork found himself taking tea within Agitha's palace of bugs, and Ruby was starry-eyed when confronted with the expensive wares presented at Malo Mart for combat.

Sora and Riku, however, simply strolled down the streets, taking time to point out this or that as things caught their eye.

"Look at that!" Sora pointed to the fountain in the town's Central Square, which bore the Hylian crest. Then, immediately noticing a band of performers at the square's edge, cried, "Hey! They're playing music! They're pretty good."

Riku smiled. "You know…I miss this."

"How could you miss Castle Town?" Sora asked. "This is only the second time you've been here."

"Not this place," Riku clarified. "Seeing new worlds through your eyes. You always find what's wonderful about every place you visit."

"It's really not hard," Sora said with a shrug.

"Sometimes I overlook it," Riku admitted. "That's what got me into trouble in the first place. I get so caught up in what could be that I don't stop to really look at what's there. I didn't look closely enough at our own islands. I just thought about getting off of them. But you always saw what made our home beautiful."

"Well, we just have different ways of looking at it," Sora told him. "I really like the way you think about what's out there. You don't just stop where you are and call it good. You have dreams about what could be better."

"Well, I appreciate it," Riku said with a nod, "but seeing things the way you do is the better way to go right now. I'm always thinking about the adventures that could be out there. But you find an adventure wherever you go!"

"What, like it's hard?" Sora teased. "It's nice to have a break from all the adventure, too. Like right now. We can just do whatever we want!" A thought occurred to him. "You know, this might be the first time we've had in a while to just hang out. You know, like on a date."

"I didn't know it was possible for us to even have a date without some villain crashing the party," Riku laughed.

"Sooooooo…" Sora turned around and stepped in Riku's path, facing him as they stood before the street musicians. "Wanna dance?"

"That depends," Riku teased. "Think you can keep up with me?"

Sora gave him a playful nudge, and Riku softened his approach; "I'd love to."

Sora clasped both of Riku's hands, and they spun in somewhat ungraceful circles in time to the music. A few passers-by noticed their dance and joined in with their own partners, creating a small gathering in Central Square.

"Maybe someday we can visit other worlds just to enjoy them like this," Riku suggested. "Without having to fight off some kind of danger."

"We will, one day," Sora promised. "We'll defeat all the villains that are causing trouble, and then we'll get a break! And if that doesn't happen…well, we'll just make time! But until then, helping people out isn't so bad, is it?"

"It isn't," Riku agreed. "It's tiring, but it's worth it."

Riku moved one arm around Sora to playfully dip him low and press a quick kiss to his lips before pulling Sora back to a standing position and resuming the dance. Sora paid him back later on, spinning him outward and pulling him close to initiate a kiss of his own. And, just because of all those who had come to dance, the street musicians played three more songs than they had originally planned to.

...

When Mozenrath groggily came to consciousness, he wondered for a moment how he had gotten back to his own room. It must have been Wuya, he realized, and he supposed he should be thankful that she had been disposed to place him in his own bed instead of leaving him somewhere hilariously embarrassing. He rubbed an eye with his left hand as he swung his legs out of bed, feet hitting the floor.

His tattered cape caught his eye as he twisted; Riku's Dark Firaga had done a number on it. He couldn't have that ruining his appearance. With a quick flick of his wrist, he soon had it repaired.

Standing up, he noticed a sheet of paper taped to the back of the closed door to his bedroom. Curious, he approached, taking it into hand and reading its declaration: "We are having a karaoke party at which we will go over our missions. Don't make me drag you there. –Wuya"

Mozenrath sighed as he folded the paper and lay it on his nightstand. Of course they'd decided on a karaoke party. So long as they didn't make him sing or dance, he could tolerate it.

He exited the bedroom, walking out into the apartment at large and making his way to the kitchen area. From there, he poured himself a tall glass of ice water for the purposes of rejuvenating his strength. While downing it, he suddenly became aware of a disturbance in his otherwise orderly apartment: another sheet of paper, this one shoved under his front door.

This one, upon closer inspection, read "SEE ME IMMEDIATELY. –Vexen"

Mozenrath rolled his eyes, muttering, "What does HE want?" His ire at Vexen had died down considerably, but he still didn't suppose this meeting was going to be a pleasant one. The tone of the note suggested Vexen had a complaint he wanted to bring to Mozenrath's attention, and Mozenrath didn't doubt that this complaint was about Mozenrath himself. Gearing up to insist that he hadn't done, said, or been anything wrong, and any arguments Vexen had otherwise were completely invalid, Mozenrath transported himself from his quarters to the laboratory space in a blink.

He was greeted by the sight of Vexen re-organizing the shelves over his workspace, muttering, "How much DID they relocate?"

"Is there some kind of problem?" Mozenrath asked stonily, arms folded.

Vexen turned his attention away from the shelves and focused on Mozenrath. "You received my communication," he said with a smile that came across as altogether rather blank.

"I did," Mozenrath affirmed. "What's wrong now?"

"You believe I have a complaint," Vexen identified. "Not an unreasonable assumption. Not a correct one, either." He took his place behind his counter, where a small square box sat unassumingly. "I have a request to make of you."

"We'll see if I feel like granting it," Mozenrath huffed.

"It will only require a moment of your time," Vexen promised. "The results, should all go well, will not impact you in any noticeable way."

"Now you have my curiosity," Mozenrath confessed. "What kind of request are you making?"

"You will recall how I instructed you to remove my heart when first we met," Vexen brought up. "It was your first time attempting such a process – "

"I've removed hearts before," Mozenrath lied, dismayed that he'd been seen through so easily on that front.

"I suppose you are also about to claim that you have replaced them," Vexen posed.

"Replaced them with what?" Mozenrath asked. "Blades? Toxins? This really sounds more like one of Mim's specialties – "

"You misunderstand," Vexen interrupted. "I am referring to replacing a heart that was removed back into the person from which it was taken."

Mozenrath was taken aback. "That can't be what you demanded I come down here for."

Vexen lifted the lid from the box, tilting it to show Mozenrath the ruby-red beating heart inside. "That is precisely why I demanded your presence," he confirmed flatly.

"You know, I really thought I understood you," Mozenrath said in confusion. "This…should be the LAST thing you would want."

"I am doing it to prove a point," Vexen said coldly. "It has been pointed out to me that I removed my heart as a measure to ensure I would not fall victim to emotions that I should have been able to control with or without a heart. I would like to make it very clear that I am capable of acting free of emotional influence even with the capacity to feel."

A sneaking suspicion grew inside Mozenrath's mind; was this part of Snatcher's game? "I suppose I can't really deny you that," he relented. "It's a simple enough request."

"You DO have the proper skill to carry it out, do you not?" Vexen asked skeptically.

"I removed it in the first place, didn't I?" Mozenrath reminded him. "I think I know where it goes."

"You will be responsible for whatever damages you cause," Vexen snapped.

"How about you let me do my job," Mozenrath countered, "and you don't complain about it no matter what the end result is, or you find someone else to do it for you?"

"There is no one else capable of that magic whom I trust enough to NOT replace my heart with something more dangerous," Vexen admitted. "That being the case, I shall let you proceed."

Mozenrath approached, dipping his hand into the box to pick up the heart; it throbbed uncomfortably against his fingers, threatening to dislodge itself from Mozenrath's grip. He fixed his gaze upon Vexen's chest, sizing up the target area.

"Well?" Vexen snapped. "What are you waiting for?"

That outburst prompted Mozenrath to abandon all caution and shove the heart into the area where he was sure it belonged. Vexen flinched at the suddenness of the movement; Mozenrath withdew his hand as casually as he could.

Vexen could find nothing wrong with the job Mozenrath had done. If he really paid attention, he could feel the pulse returning to his body. The heart was exactly where it was supposed to be. "That will be all," he stated.

"Good," Mozenrath told him. "I can't waste any more time here. Apparently I have a karaoke party to attend."

"I certainly don't," Vexen sniffed.

Without any further goodbye, Mozenrath vanished from view. Vexen returned to the shelves, trying to put back in order what Mim and Aghoul had turned into disorder. He finally had the beakers arranged by height, but several were missing. He supposed the next order of business would be to search for them in the other workstations of the lab; perhaps they had ended up on Yzma's or Herb's worktable.

The first missing piece of glassware was shoved in among Yzma's tools; its plain shape stood out against her more bizarrely crafted glass. Vexen wasted no time in replacing it. He thought to himself about the tasks he had yet to complete for the day. First would be the replacement of the missing beakers. Then, perhaps, he was free to set himself a new goal. He had no other loose ends that needed to be tied up.

Except, perhaps, one. It wasn't important, he told himself at first. Then he talked himself into believing it was merely a matter of logic; it was in his best interest to resolve it. Furthermore, it could wait until his glassware was organized.

He intended to thoroughly search Herb's counter for the next beaker and found himself instead crossing the hallway to Ravess' apartment at a fairly quick pace.

His hand quickly rapped upon the door thrice. After some time, he raised his fist to knock again, only for the door to open behind it. Ravess flinched, obviously not having expected to see Vexen. "What do YOU want?" she asked, bristling.

"I only wanted to make myself clear on a certain subject," Vexen stated.

Ravess considered closing the door on him. She couldn't imagine what he would have to say that would change her perspective of him. And yet the door remained open. She wanted to know where this was going. "Well?"

"I do not think you fully grasp why I did not want you to travel to the World of Four Nations after me," he began.

"I was under the impression you found me too incompetent to keep up my end of the work," Ravess stated. "That much, you made perfectly clear."

"It is not your competence I call into question," Vexen stated. "It is the liability you created."

"And how is that any different?" Ravess sighed.

Vexen knew he had to be careful with his wording, and he was ready. "You went into a situation for which I did not believe you were prepared."

"And why do YOU get to decide if I am prepared?" Ravess asked. "I seem to recall faring far better than you did. At least I avoided capture."

"Then you will also recall that I was coerced into signing away my soul by my traveling companions," Vexen reminded her. "Had I been allowed full control of the situation, it would have played out far differently."

"I really don't see why you came here," Ravess said sharply. "Was it just to reiterate how useless you think I am? Of course it was. Obviously it didn't sink in the first time, and you intend to keep at it until I admit that I was wrong and you are all-knowing always. I had half hoped you would at least just forget about the entire incident and choose to discuss other things, but no, you are bound and determined to make me see the picture you've painted in which I crossed a line you drew without ever knowing it. Has it occurred to you that I didn't know you would react that way at ALL to my arrival? When was I supposed to have learned not to follow you? WHEN did you make it clear what I was and wasn't supposed to do? I refuse to follow your orders blindly when I don't even know what you are trying to accomplish other than belittling one of the few people who can even tolerate your prese – "

Somewhere along the line, Vexen's resolve broke. No longer was he careful with his words. The truth simply came spilling out: "IT WAS BECAUSE I DIDN'T WANT YOU PUT IN DANGER!"

"YOU didn't want ME in danger?" Ravess countered. "WELL, IMAGINE HOW I FELT WHEN I LEARNED YOU'D BEEN TAKEN BY THE ENEMY!"

The ramifications of what they had both admitted slowly sank in, and neither was able to comment for quite some time. Then Vexen said, very simply, "You needn't have been concerned for me."

"Of course I needed to be!" Ravess snapped. "You are the closest friend I have on this ship! Do you think I wanted to LOSE you? But what is your excuse? You couldn't care about me. You can't care about anything."

"At the time, that was true," Vexen replied. "I had no emotional attachment to you. I did, however, know logically that it was within my best interest to preserve our alliance. And your survival is key to our alliance. Now that Mozenrath's memory and necromancing powers have been restored, I suppose I needn't factor survival into the equation. At the moment, however, you may be interested to know that my heart has in fact been restored to its original location within me."

"Why would you want to do a thing like that?" Ravess asked.

"In order to prove a point," Vexen stated. "Even with a heart, I am not one to fall prey to emotion, and I refuse to let it dictate my actions. Though I am strongly beginning to suspect this change is what brought me here at this moment. It is for the best, truly. There are few whose company does not irritate me, and you are the one whose presence I find most tolerable. In my current state, perhaps even enjoyable. Though our similar predilection to be the victor of any given argument causes inevitable friction, and will do so again, I am inclined to think we understand each other. And I did not wish an argument over something so trivial as the incident of the World of Four Nations to taint that understanding."

Ravess gave a slight "Hmph" before relenting, "I do believe you are right in that respect. However, I am not going to apologize for acting in the best interest of our organization, including Mozenrath and especially including you."

"Perhaps I should not expect such an apology," Vexen replied. "After all, you did come out of the ordeal unscathed."

"And striking a deal with Maleficent's ally wasn't your idea after all," Ravess relented. "I fail to see how you could make such an idiotic decision."

Their eyes met and held there for a brief moment without any more words passing.

"I…was about to head for the room designated as a dancefloor," Ravess said at last. "To join in the karaoke event. My intent, of course, is to clear the stage for at least one violin performance. Perhaps afterward, we can discuss what we've been through since we stopped speaking."

"Why afterward?" Vexen asked.

"I know you have no desire to attend a karaoke function," Ravess said with a smile.

"I was not going to," Vexen affirmed. "It does, however, provide us with a social venue in which to make conversation sooner rather than later. And perhaps it would be in my better interests to put in an appearance at a group function or two."

"I will be ready in a matter of minutes if you wait," Ravess stated.

"Then I will wait," Vexen agreed.

She eased the door closed, feeling quite happy with the way things had turned out.

Vexen, on the other side, was already cursing his heart, as he, too, felt happiness with having cleared up his conflict with Ravess. If he wasn't careful, he knew, he might come to care for her. The complication was that he liked feeling happiness. During the span in which he had possessed a heart after his defeat at Axel's hands and before meeting Mozenrath, he had felt it so rarely. It hadn't been able to balance the fears and angers he wished not to fall prey to. Perhaps, in an environment more suited to him, that could change.

He wasn't sure, yet, if that was a good thing or a bad thing. As with all conclusions, it required far more study and observation before it could be drawn.

...

The Radiant Garden castle library had once again become a meeting place, with everyone who had taken part in the great battle of the data Organization finding somewhere to claim territory. The wounds sustained had been minor and tended to. All in all, the victory had been complete. What remained was to see off the unexpected allies who had contributed to protecting the castle.

"We want to thank you all for helping us," Kairi told Lilo, Stitch, Jumba, and Pleakley on the library's lower level, where everyone could see. "Both with shutting down the data projections and making Disney Castle safe to live in again."

"Sorry I got taken hostage," Lilo said somberly. "That wasn't much help at all, was it?"

"Sadira told me you figured out a way to defeat the first data Demyx," Kairi reminded her. "But no matter what, we're grateful to have met you as a friend."

"You know," Lilo stated, "you don't seem like a princess."

"Lilo!" Pleakley admonished.

"I just mean you're not all egomaniacal and acting like you're above everyone else just because you're in a governmental position that you weren't voted into," Lilo explained. "Also, you seem a lot more relatable than the ones from fairy tales."

"Thank you," Kairi replied. "I haven't known you for that long at all, but I think you're a good-hearted person. I'm glad we could help your family reunite."

"Stitch go home now!" Stitch proclaimed proudly.

Kairi gave Jumba a mischievous look. "I hope helping us out didn't ruin your evil-genius reputation too much."

"Eh, will bounce back," Jumba resolved.

"You really weren't kidding about being a genius," Mickey commented. "We never woulda gotten this far without ya!"

"Well, Jumba may be a slob who doesn't pick up after himself," Pleakley volunteered, "but if you can rely on anyone to figure out a problem that needs smarts, it's him!"

"Though compliment was backhanded," Jumba told him, "still has feeling of flattery. I will accept." He put an arm around Pleakley. "And I am to understand your fascination with fashion trends actually helped save day? Is no one I would trust such matter with more than you."

Caught in the moment, Jumba and Pleakley shared one quick kiss. Stitch immediately put up a fit of groaning, complaining of "Mushy-gushy! Bllllech!"

"At least we could trust you when it mattered," Leon commented. "Knowing that our enemy could take advantage of our trust and infiltrate us so easily doesn't exactly put my mind at ease."

"I sure thought Nikolai was gonna be a good friend," Goofy mourned.

"They were horrible," Nick scoffed. "And that one of them pretending to be a woman. How low can you get?"

"Hey!" Pleakley snapped. "What's wrong with presenting as a woman?"

"It's just deceptive!" Nick insisted. "What if one of us had fallen for her?"

"Nick!" Vida smacked him on the upper arm. "You're focusing on the wrong thing!"

"I'll say he is!" Pleakley argued. "His gender identity is his business! And so is what he chooses to wear! Whether he's evil or not evil!"

"Why are you DEFENDING him?" Nick asked incredulously.

"Nick," Vida growled. "Shut. Up."

"I'm not defending HIM!" Pleakley clarified. "Well, okay, I am, but not because he betrayed us! I just…don't like everyone thinking him being bad was intrinsically connected to him wearing women's clothes and presenting as a woman!"

"Why do you even care?" Nick asked.

"Well, because…" Pleakley suddenly found it difficult to articulate the words. "Because I…I…"

"You do not owe rude boy explanation," Jumba insisted.

"No," Pleakley sighed. "They should know. I'm…not exactly…what you think."

"Wait," Jaune said suddenly. "Are…you a guy?"

"Well, it's…" Pleakley struggled for the proper words. "It's, uh…it's…complicated."

"This is why I wanted you to shut UP!" Vida snarled at Nick.

Nick was visibly embarrassed. "I didn't think – "

"No!" Pleakley confirmed. "You sure DIDN'T think!"

Realizing what he'd implied about a now trusted friend, Nick mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Pleakley was suddenly struck with worry; was his admission going to sour the others' view of him?

"Hey." Sadira stepped forward. "I said earlier I wouldn't judge you for anything." She looked Pleakley directly into his single eye. "And I meant it, okay? You're my friend no matter what."

Pleakley could tell she meant it. And, looking around the room, he saw nothing but smiles of support and acceptance (if one factored out the still-embarrassed Nick). He had been afraid, after considering Garfield's charade, that the matter of gender presentation might be a sticky one among this group. But the looks he was being given said otherwise. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "You have…NO idea how much that means…" His voice quavered. He had found true acceptance among the Pelekai family to which he belonged, but very few other places.

"Will I see you again?" Sadira asked. "I'd seriously love to have another shopping date with you. Maybe trade more stories about our dark pasts."

"You know what?" Pleakley replied. "I usually make a point of not getting involved with dangerous inter-world drama. But I think in your case, I can make one very huge exception."

Sadira spread her arms out. "Can I also get a hug before you go?"

Pleakley didn't even resort to words, instead hurrying forth to wrap Sadira in his own arms and feel her grip tighten around him.

"We're definitely coming back here," Lilo resolved.

"Seems likely," Jumba agreed.

"Ih," Stitch confirmed.

Not long later, the castle denizens stood outside and waved up at the Pelekai ship as it departed for home, now having Stitch on board after missing him for months.

"I'm gonna miss them," Sadira sighed.

"Me too," Nora agreed.

"I sure ain't gonna miss that little shit stealin' my ship parts," Cid grumbled.

That got a good laugh out of everyone as they returned to the castle.

...

Mozenrath was one of the last to arrive in the karaoke room. The stage was already set up, bright lights raining their glory upon it to contrast the rest of the dimmed room, and Scarlet Overkill was belting out a hit from her homeworld – not half bad, Mozenrath thought, though her skill lay more in dancing than singing to be sure.

As soon as they saw him enter, Mim, Aghoul, Wuya, Yzma, Snatcher, and Roman waved Mozenrath down to one of the circular tables that had been dragged out to fill the floor. Mozenrath made his way to the appointed space, casting his gaze around the room. The Huntsman wasn't there, he noticed from a purely observational standpoint. He wasn't surprised. He bet neither Ravess nor Vexen would put in an appearance either, and from what he saw, he seemed to have been proven right.

As Mozenrath took his seat, Yzma proclaimed, "That's all of us! Now. Who should begin? And let's make this short. I have a show-stopping number I want to use to absolutely floor the audience." She'd come dressed for the occasion, departing from her usual purple to don a red number that sparkled even in the dim light. A feathered headdress of ridiculous proportions topped it off.

"That is nothing," Snatcher told her, "compared to what I've got in store." He had come to the occasion dressed as Frou Frou, now in a jet-black evening gown lined with sequins, his auburn wig topped with a small, off-center black hat adorned with an enormous feather. Staying true to form, he spoke in character, his voice high and bearing the accent Snatcher had missed getting to do while performing as Nikolai.

"Oh, really?" Yzma challenged. "I'll wipe the floor with you."

"Trash talking about singing isn't going to get our stories told any faster," Mozenrath grumbled.

"Why don't we report first?" Wuya suggested; she was decked out in a gown that, much like Snatcher's, was black, but differed in its lack of sequins, its lack of any sort of strap or sleeve, and its slit running up the length of the skirt. From what Mozenrath could tell, no one else at the table had bothered to wear anything different for the occasion.

"Let's hear it," Aghoul encouraged.

Wuya, Roman, Yzma, and Mozenrath took turns relating the events of their Hylian escapade, occasionally tripping over each other. It seemed that whenever Roman had control of the story, he edited it to give himself a bigger role in the battles at the springs; when Wuya corrected his version of events, Roman's story suddenly had a heavy focus on how much Wuya and Yzma had seemed to be flirting at the time. Yzma's version of events seemed to feature more Zevon than anyone else's, even when Mozenrath pointed out that all he'd done was throw a few potions. Mozenrath refused to disclose what had happened atop the Arbiter's Grounds when Wuya and Demyx were conducting reconnaissance, and by Wuya's description, Ganondorf was much uglier than anyone else had perceived. But when it came time to tell of how both Ganondorf and Midna were felled, the four agreed it had absolutely been a team effort.

"And did you ever find out how, exactly, Ganondorf changed the spirits?" Aghoul asked.

"Admittedly, no," Wuya confessed.

"It only seems like the sort of thing that would come back to bite you in the femur later if you didn't figure a way to stop it," Aghoul pointed out.

"Well, what are we supposed to do about it now?" Yzma asked exasperatedly.

"Get bitten in the femur, I guess," Aghoul told her.

"It is concerning," Wuya relented, "but in the end, it was ony a minor setback."

"Says the woman who WASN'T holding half the team's physical forms together at the expense of being able to cast literally any other spell," Mozenrath griped. "But there really isn't much we can do about it now unless anyone feels like conducting recon at Maleficent's base. Which I suppose we COULD make Demyx do – "

"Now, that's going just a bit too far," Yzma interrupted.

"That was supposed to be a joke," Mozenrath elaborated.

"Yeah, your whole 'sense of humor' thing still needs work," Roman pointed out.

Mozenrath shrugged. "That's YOUR opinion. Anyway, truth be told, it was a surmountable obstacle. If this mission proved anything, it's that we can handle anything Maleficent throws at us."

"Despite all the broken bones, resurrections, and stab wounds you received in eight-on-one fights," Mim said slyly.

"All of her generals were working with powerful spirits!" Mozenrath growled. "Any one of those people would have been dead within minutes otherwise!"

"Maybe if you'd had ME there," Mim huffed. "As it stands, there are more important things to discuss. Like your new boy-toy!"

"Don't be crude," Mozenrath snapped. "Hans isn't my boy-toy."

"Well, he's obviously your something," Wuya pointed out, "or you would have played dumb in regards to who she was talking about."

"Has our Lord Mozenrath gone starry-eyed?" Snatcher asked teasingly.

"I'm not going to pretend there isn't…something there," Mozenrath sighed, "but it's not as strong as you think it is."

"You don't know the nature of your relationship yourself, do you?" Snatcher realized.

"I'm working on it," Mozenrath grumbled. "I'm still weighing the pros and cons of giving him what he wants."

"Which we all know is also what YOU want," Yzma commented.

"If it benefits me," Mozenrath clarified. "And I have my doubts it will."

He shot a look over his shoulder to where Hans was sharing a table with the Smisses, telling them something that sent both brothers into stitches of laughter. Then, noticing Mozenrath's wandering eye, Hans made direct contact with it, waving playfully at Mozenrath.

This caught Mozenrath completely off guard. Hans probably thought he was being cute. Mozenrath, however, had never been into "cute." He turned back to his friends without giving Hans a response.

"If you decide you want help landing him," Aghoul suggested, "I'd be more than happy to share a few pointers."

"I'm not taking dating advice from you," Mozenrath said flatly. "I'm not even sure how you ended up with all the wives you have. Your relationship with Mim, I'm writing off as her being insane."

"I would be offended if you weren't technically right," Mim said with a shrug.

"Can we change the subject?" Mozenrath pleaded. "What happens next with Hans is my decision and mine alone. If you want to play matchmaker, go pick on Wuya and Yzma. Apparently there's something there now."

"And what ABOUT that?" Aghoul asked, putting his chin on his hands and his elbows on the table, looking at Wuya and Yzma coyly.

"Not your business," Wuya said sharply. "She and I have things to work out later."

"We do?" Yzma asked, her voice gone temporarily hoarse. When had her heartbeat become so noticeable?

"If you want," Wuya replied.

"Later," Yzma agreed. "After our show-stoppers."

"As intriguing as these romantic developments are," Snatcher pointed out, "we've still yet to go over the fruits of my own undertaking."

"Not to mention the Boogeyman incident," Mim added.

"The WHAT incident?" Yzma asked, flabbergasted.

"Did something seriously happen while we were all gone?" Roman added.

"We can't leave you alone for two minutes, can we?" Wuya sighed.

Snatcher was slightly miffed that his report was passed over in favor of Mim and Aghoul relating their misadventure cornering Pitch Black. However, he did finally give in to listening without judgment, awed that there was such a thing as the Boogeyman and more than a little unsettled that he had decided to target the WHAM ARMY.

"He won't be coming back again anytime soon, that's for sure," Mim insisted. "But all the same, we have another enemy on our hands."

"Because that's exactly what we needed," Mozenrath sighed. He was quite glad he'd missed out on that little adventure. While he was fairly certain he knew what his own worst fears were, he still didn't want to come face-to-face with them inside of a nightmare or outside of one. There was always the possibility that he could be surprised.

Roman, Wuya, Yzma, and Snatcher all felt more or less the same.

"So in Maleficent's corner, we don't know how she was able to alter an entire spiritual presence to the opposite side of its fundamental dichotomy," Mozenrath reiterated. "In a mystery corner, Pitch Black is working with an unknown ally. Do I even dare ask what's happening on the Radiant Garden front?"

Snatcher was about to take that opportunity to speak, but Aghoul cut him off; "Before we get to that, I have to know. Is there a connection between YOU using black sand and PITCH using it?"

"I made use of the sand my home offered," Mozenrath stated. "There's nothing more to it than that."

The silence that followed (among the table of seven, anyway; the room was quite loud with the sound of Xayide crooning a ballad, punctuated with the occasional cheer from the audience) let Mozenrath know his cohorts didn't exactly believe him.

"Can't you ever take anything I say at face value?" he asked.

"Not when I know it's a lie," Snatcher teased.

"So I admired Pitch's work a little!" Mozenrath groaned. "Is that a problem? I'm doing his schtick better than he ever could." He did find it more than a little grating that every villain he'd ever looked up to, from Jafar to Pitch, seemed to be ready to make an enemy out of him. There was at least one more powerful entity on his list of idols who he hoped wouldn't decide to attack the WHAM ARMY as well, but given the track record, he simply decided to assume they all would.

The conversation was hijacked when Wuya gave a soft "Wha – " and fixed her vision on a table at the back of the room, the direction in which her face had been pointed – otherwise she might not have noticed it at all.

"What?" Yzma asked her.

"I don't know what's stranger," Wuya replied. "That they're speaking again, or that they're here in the first place."

All eyes at the table of seven turned back to where Wuya indicated. Ravess and Vexen had just entered the room, claiming an unused table for themselves; each drew out their own chair before sitting and engaging in what looked to be an absolutely civil, friction-free conversation.

"You don't think THEY'RE together, do you?" Aghoul asked. "It would explain quite a few things, but Ravess going off the market is a little disappointing."

"I'm sure the first person to ask about their business gets either an arrow to the heart or a permanent brain freeze," Yzma theorized.

Snatcher's face was overtaken by a smirk of downright pride. "I see I at least managed to break through to him."

"What did you do?" Yzma asked derisively.

"What I set out to," Snatcher answered cryptically.

"I…think we'll hear your story now," Mozenrath said to Snatcher, eyes still glued on Ravess and Vexen.

"Oh, NOW you wish to hear my story!" Snatcher huffed. "Are you certain there's no other distraction you'd rather bring up at the last minute? Perhaps Miss Yzma went on a shopping trip to stock up for ingredients for her little brews before this soirée, and we absolutely MUST hear about her misadventures!"

"That reminds me," Yzma muttered, "I need to stock up on potion ingredients."

"I know at least ten hotspots for magical ingredients," Mim volunteered. "I can put you on the path to brewing some absolutely fatal concoctions."

"Let Snatcher talk," Wuya snapped.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle Wuya," Snatcher said haughtily. "Now, to start from the beginning…"

He gave a brief retelling of the events that had transpired since he, Garfield, Vexen, and the Huntsman had arrived in Radiant Garden. He omitted the gritty details of what he and Garfield had learned about their foes, promising that information at a later date ("Though we shan't need it, given the fate that befell them"). He finished the tale off by reiterating exactly how he had talked Vexen and the Huntsman through their points of conflict.

"And judging by how he is currently regarding Mademoiselle Ravess," Snatcher concluded, "I would venture to say a heart beats within our icy Monseiur Vexen's chest as we speak."

"Silver," Roman emphasized, "tongue."

"Maybe when it comes to Vexen," Wuya pointed out, "but the Huntsman is still nowhere to be found. If you'd really gotten through to him, he'd be asking to sit at this very table right now."

"At which point, we would have full discretion to turn him away and laugh like cheerleaders at a high school that had fallen victim to popularity hierarchy," Yzma said with a small rush of glee at the thought.

"He is not so cold as Monsieur Vexen," Snatcher retorted. "If I broke through to one, I have most certainly broken through to the other. And when he does come crawling back begging forgiveness, it would be in our best diplomatic interest NOT to throw him back to the gutter."

"It's really stopped mattering to me," Mozenrath remarked.

"Hey, I worked hard on our acronym!" Roman broke in. "And we're just gonna let the H drop out of it?"

"'WAM ARMY' still sounds the same without an H," Yzma informed him.

"Yeah, but it looks REALLY stupid on paper," Roman sighed.

"If that's our biggest concern," Wuya pointed out, "we really don't have much to worry about on that front."

"You know what else starts with an H?" Aghoul leaned over to elbow Mozenrath in the side. "'Hans.'"

"Even if I do decide to trade romantic favors with him," Mozenrath argued, "that doesn't elevate his rank to anywhere NEAR the founding members. If he wants the Huntsman's place, he'll have to earn it."

"Might I take a moment to remind the council that the Huntsman is PROFESSIONALLY still part of the founding circle?" Snatcher brought up.

"My acronym isn't fucked up after all," Roman muttered.

"I say we prolong any further discussion of the Huntsman's place in our order until such time has passed as we can see the effect I have had on him," Snatcher said slyly, certain that he had in fact had an effect.

"Probably smart," Yzma agreed.

"Meanwhile," Roman brought up, "did we just adopt Gar?"

"He did make more than a suitable partner in crime off of which to play our charade," Snatcher admitted. "I more than once caught myself thinking of him as a true daughter."

"Hey," Roman laughed, "if we're gonna adopt a kid, at least you had the sense to pick one who likes setting shit on fire."

Mozenrath cleared his throat loudly. "I really hate to be the bearer of bad news…"

"Oh, what is it?" Snatcher sighed.

Mozenrath looked him dead in the eye and said, "No one at Radiant Garden died."

"Of course they all perished!" Snatcher insisted, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as though he were offended beyond measure. "You think we were not thorough?"

"Did you SEE them die?" Mozenrath asked.

"There was no way to do so without perishing ourselves!" Snatcher reminded him.

"Let me put it to you another way," Mozenrath said coyly. "Everyone, raise your hand if at some point during your life, you thought you had eliminated at least one enemy via method that was inescapably fatal."

He put up his hand, as did Mim, Aghoul, Yzma, Wuya, and Roman.

"Now," Mozenrath went on, "if that enemy turned out to be alive later, no matter how impossible that was supposed to be, hands down."

Six hands slammed the tabletop.

"Strange that you of all people should bring up that logic," Snatcher mused. "After all, you did not see the consequences of your sabotage of Monsieur Aladdin's vessel. Or did you?"

Mozenrath flinched; Snatcher was right. "Then I'll get to kill him later in a more satisfying way. Though I'm fairly confident I managed to get the better of him. After all, being stranded on a backwater world for all eternity isn't the same as being dead. My rule only applies to death."

"We will find out the results later," Snatcher resolved, "after Monsieur Vexen takes reconnaissance."

"Is that all, then?" Yzma asked. "We've all reported in?"

"That SHOULD be everything," Mim answered.

Yzma rose. "Then I have a limelight to grace."

"Knock 'em dead!" Aghoul encouraged.

Yzma took her turn on the stage at the first available moment. Snatcher followed her up, and it was honestly difficult to say who had performed with greater talent and showmanship. (Aghoul described both performances as "killer.") The night descended into more casual conversation from there as performers rotated.

Mozenrath slowly let himself get forgotten about. Yzma had dropped a hint or two that he should perform a song that night, but the atmosphere in the room was still somewhat difficult to connect with. The other six at the table were concerned enough with their own performances, and each other's, that Mozenrath found it fairly easy to slip away from them without anyone protesting. It wasn't as though he hadn't enjoyed the night, but he still had his limits – albeit limits that were getting worn down the longer he spent with his companions.

He found himself on an outdoor balcony, watching the colors of interspace shift and undulate. He was still on the same level as the karaoke room, and could hear faint noise coming from the venue, but the atmosphere was much more tranquil here.

Mozenrath had lost track of exactly how much time he'd spent observing the various interdimensional hues mingle, thinking about what his next steps might be in his plans for conquest, when he heard a voice from behind him: "Nice night, huh?"

Mozenrath, startled, nearly fell off the edge of the balcony from flinching. He quickly turned, ready to chew out the person – most likely Roman, he had thought upon the basic realization that the voice was young and male – who had followed him out here for interrupting his reverie.

But when he came face-to-face with Hans, he was more confused than angry. Not to mention a little happily surprised.

"I've seen nicer," he said by way of trying to take the reins of the conversation. "Not to mention there's no guarantee this is actually night."

"That's right," Hans realized. "You wouldn't have days or nights out here, would you?"

"We make our own," Mozenrath answered. "Not that it matters, since most of us would rather stay up all night and sleep through the day anyway."

"You don't strike me as that kind of person," Hans commented. "I see you as more of an early riser."

"Well, I'm not 'most of us,'" Mozenrath told him with a smile.

"So what brings you all the way out here when everyone else is having the time of their lives in there?" Hans asked.

"As I said," Mozenrath reiterated, "I'm not 'most of us.' And I'm definitely not 'everyone else.' Their parties are fine, but I could deal with more intermissions."

"I noticed you haven't sang yet," Hans pointed out.

"And I'm not going to," Mozenrath insisted.

"What?" Hans was halfway between disappointed and teasing. "Really?"

"I don't sing for just anyone at any time," Mozenrath told him, deciding not to count anything he had done under the influence of coffee or anger.

"Not a singer," Hans identified. "At least tell me you dance."

"I definitely don't dance," Mozenrath said stonily. "You have a better chance of catching me singing than dancing."

"Seriously?" Hans replied.

"Why is this so hard for you to understand?" Mozenrath asked casually.

Hans shrugged. "I just think it's fun. Singing and dancing, I mean. I guess it's not for everyone. But then again, I wonder."

"I'm about to regret asking this, aren't I?" Mozenrath replied, noticing the very obvious bait Hans had laid. "What do you wonder?"

"If maybe you've just been singing and dancing to the wrong songs," Hans suggested. "Or with the wrong partner."

Mozenrath's smirk, for a moment, turned into an honest smile. "Why don't you tell me what YOU'RE doing out here?"

"Well, I guess I really can't lie about this one," Hans admitted. "I saw you leave and I noticed that you didn't come back. So I went looking for you."

"I interest you that much."

"Do I even need to say that at this point?" Hans shrugged. "You kind of like me…and I kind of like you. You REALLY impressed me back in Hyrule, you know. After you've spent your life flirting with empty-headed, shallow royals looking for marriage to magically solve all their problems, it's a refreshing breath of air to meet one with an actual brain in his head. Though, then again, I could be biased. I don't actually like flirting with women, and you are an INCREDIBLY handsome man."

"You'll get farther talking up my mind than you will my face," Mozenrath informed Hans.

"Then I'll say you're brilliant," Hans responded. "And it's true."

"I'm well aware," Mozenrath said, though it was still nice to hear. "Meanwhile, you might just be up my alley. You're a devious man. You don't just stop at the top; you aim for the stars. And there's something…charming about you. It's no wonder you fooled the princess so easily. You're the persuasive type."

"And yet I can't seem to talk you into a dance," Hans faux-lamented.

"Don't give up now," Mozenrath told him. "I didn't think you were the type who gave up so easily."

"I don't," Hans said point-blank. "But if you insist the answer is no, I'm not going to force your hand. I respect you too much for that."

Mozenrath gave a playful sigh. "And that's exactly how you wear me down. All right. I would humor you. Unfortunately, there's still one problem in the way."

"So now you want to dance," Hans said by way of clarification.

"I would," Mozenrath admitted, "if I could. The thing is…I can't actually dance." He tried to shrug it off, make it seem casual. "It must be the trade I made with the multiverse to be so intelligent."

"Everyone can dance," Hans argued.

"You've never seen me try," Mozenrath retorted, suddenly losing his air of confidence.

"Well, if you really wanted," Hans suggested, "I could show you."

"You. Show me how to dance."

"Overstepping?" Hans asked.

"No," Mozenrath responded. "Like I said…I'm ready to humor you. So how would we begin?"

"Well…" Hans stepped closer to him. "We could start with the slow dances I was taught growing up in court. But that involves getting a little close."

"Well, then," Mozenrath replied, his walls suddenly down, "come closer."

"Okay. It's like this." Hans gingerly placed his right hand on Mozenrath's shoulder. His left hand grasped Mozenrath's left. "First of all, this hand…" He brought it to his own waist, holding it there an inch away from making contact. "Goes here."

Mozenrath closed the distance, settling his hand over Hans' waist, which he noted had an aesthetically pleasing curve to it.

"Now use your free hand to take mine," Hans directed.

They clasped hands professionally at first, their grip softening into something more intimate.

"Now," Hans went on, "when I move my foot forward, you move yours back…"

Hans talked Mozenrath through a simple step at first, working up to a more complicated twist. Mozenrath's eyes were focused downward on his feet at first, making sure he got the movements down; dancing still seemed awkward and unnatural. Once his feet settled into a comfortable pattern, he looked up to meet Hans' eyes. Those eyes sparkled with merriment.

Hans, in turn, observed the side of Mozenrath that was being revealed: more unsure than usual, almost vulnerable. "So," he suggested, "are you ready to take this up a few steps?"

Back in the karaoke room, Yzma stepped off the stage after her fifth flashy performance number. "Now THAT'S how you SLAY!" Aghoul complimented, punctuating the comment with a whistle.

"You realize that at this point, some of us are going as long as we are to see how many different death-related metaphors you can make," Yzma informed him.

"Anyone else notice Righty disappeared?" Roman pointed out.

"Of course he did," Wuya sighed. "When has he ever gone a whole karaoke night without disappearing or complaining?"

"And here I was thinking he was actually enjoying himself," Snatcher sighed.

"He was for a minute there, wasn't he?" Roman agreed. "I think we would be just TERRIBLE friends to not give him the chance to do that again."

"We should MOST CERTAINLY go find him and drag him back into the room," Mim said wickedly.

"But would we truly be looking out for his best interests if we didn't coerce him into learning how freeing it is to sing a number or two?" Aghoul added. "It's for his own good."

"I do believe we have a quest before us," Snatcher remarked.

"Onward!" Yzma proclaimed.

The six left the room, only realizing after they'd gone a good distance down the hallway that searching a terra-sized warship for one person was going to be harder than they'd expected. However, a clue soon made its way through the air: the faint sound of two voices singing in concert.

"That…CAN'T be what I think it is," Wuya commented.

The six hurried their steps once it became clear what the audio they were receiving actually was. Bursting onto the balcony all at once, they had their suspicions confirmed: Mozenrath and Hans were singing a perky duet, dancing in time with each other with mile-wide smiles.

They were so wrapped up in their love song that they didn't notice, at first, that they had an audience. It was Mozenrath who was first to spot the six dropped jaws and astonished stares. And when he did, he abruptly tripped over his own feet, staggering a moment before regaining a position in which he stood absolutely still, hands flying off Hans, face flushing with color as he regarded his friends in an equally flabbergasted manner and wondered how much magic it would take to wipe this specific memory from all of their minds.

"This…wasn't what it looked like," he managed at last.

"Then what was it?" Wuya asked slyly, regaining her composure.

"Who told you to follow me?" Mozenrath barked, hoping to change the subject.

"What. Were. You. Doing?" Wuya insisted.

"DANCING!" Mozenrath cried. "AND SINGING! IS THAT A PROBLEM?"

"Well, I suppose not, if you declare it isn't," Snatcher replied, though his mouth was still upturned mischievously.

"Forget you saw this," Mozenrath growled.

"Never," Roman insisted.

"I will MAKE you forget you saw this," Mozenrath vowed.

"Good luck with that," Aghoul told him.

"Come on, Mozenrath." Hans set a hand gently on his shoulder. "Does it really matter to them if they know what we get up to in our alone time? They are your trusted friends. And it was pretty innocent. At least they know now you can actually dance if you want to."

"That…was actually better than the last time I saw you try to dance," Roman observed. "A lot better."

"What happened last time he tried to dance?" Mim asked.

"I'll show you the video evidence later," Roman told her.

"THERE'S VIDEO EVIDENCE?" Mozenrath roared.

"Which you have now proven you're better than," Hans reminded him.

"It really isn't THAT big of a deal," Yzma realized. "We were going to try and get him to sing for an audience anyway. What's worth commenting on here is how close those two have suddenly gotten."

"Can you still say he's not your boy-toy?" Mim teased.

"I can definitely still say that," Mozenrath grunted.

"Then what exactly ARE you?" Aghoul asked. "Engaged? Lovers?"

"That's actually a good question," Hans commented. "What exactly are we? I know we're not engaged. I ruled that one out."

"I…I don't think we decided on that," Mozenrath stated as he faced Hans. "It's obvious there's something between us. And we need to put a label on it."

"I know you've had guy troubles and all," Hans said, "but I'm not asking for any big commitment. Maybe just a few dances and the occasional kiss. I just know I want to mean something to you. You already mean a lot to me."

"You've gotten a remarkable distance under my skin for only knowing me as long as you have," Mozenrath admitted. "All right. We can be together. So long as it's on my terms."

"And what are your terms?" Hans asked.

"We dance," Mozenrath explained. "We kiss. We trade romantic favors. But we stay in separate rooms. For now, at least. And you absolutely do NOT have the same ranking as the WHAM ARMY founders until you've earned it."

"I can live with all that," Hans confirmed. "So I am officially your boyfriend now."

"You are," Mozenrath confirmed, feeling quite good about this decision. Then, addressing their audience of six, "It's actually better you find out like this. It saves me having to explain it to you."

"I'm really going to have to get to know the rest of you better," Hans added.

"Did he just take all the fun out of us teasing him about his boyfriend?" Roman mourned.

"Well, at least they're happy," Wuya said with a shrug. "So are you two coming back to the party or not?"

"If we feel like it," Mozenrath answered.

"That's good enough for me," Hans confirmed.

"Then we will return without you," Snatcher declared, turning to leave with a flourish. "I believe Mademoiselle Yzma has sung five songs to my four, and I intend to rise to her challenge."

Snatcher, Roman, Yzma, Wuya, Mim, and Aghoul filtered back into the ship, leaving Mozenrath and Hans to look each other in the eye once more.

"May I have another dance?" Hans asked, extending his hand.

Mozenrath settled into position around him, taking the lead. "Gladly." The smile he gave Hans was unfettered and sincere.

...

When Clayton awoke on the hospital bed installed in the Villain's Vale medical bay, surrounded by curtains that kept the beds separate, his first instinct was to look to the place where his severed arm had once been. Mentally cursing Mozenrath for taking such a strong and perfect limb away from him, he sat up and shifted his eyes to the spot.

What he saw repulsed him. It was almost worse than the stump of a limb flailing before empty air. There was a growth extending from his shoulder there: a mockery of an arm. It was just as burly as the one he had lost, but blacker than a moonless night and coated in thick fur. It ended in five long, crooked fingers tipped with sharp claws.

"What IS this?" he yelled, using his human arm to grasp it and try to pull it away.

The man who had come to collect him at the spring stepped into view. "I believe the proper response is 'Thank you,'" Arthur Watts said dryly.

"What have you DONE TO ME?" Clayton roared. "What is this infernal THING?"

"That," Watts answered coolly, "would be your arm. You will find it is fully functional and will respond to you as smoothly as your previous arm did. It is also a good deal stronger, and comes with certain abilities that you did not possess when it was merely a human arm. But we can discuss that later when you feel less inclined to destroy me over giving you what any rational person would consider a gift."

He pulled back the curtains, revealing Clayton's presence to the inhabitants of three other beds; the rest of the bay was empty. "Go ahead and fantasize about tearing my head off," he encouraged. "By all means. Your new arm would allow you to do it if you wished. Just keep in mind that by taking on my role as medic, I have curried Maleficent's favor, while you have recently suffered a loss at the hands of a gaggle of pests." He gave a condescending look around the room at all four patients. "I would in fact stay out of Maleficent's way if I were you, and that goes for all four of you. I have no doubt she will forgive and forget if you toe the line, but right now, she doesn't need a reminder of what this…" He couldn't remember Mozenrath's name and he didn't care. "…upstart sorcerer did to her forces. What she needs is to focus on the fact that the sands worked."

"At least remove this IV," Cyclonis growled, referring to the device pumping fluid into her arm, "and let me leave before I decide to do it myself."

Watts reached for the hand of hers that wasn't attached to the IV, holding it up. It trembled slightly but constantly. "You don't get to leave until that subsides," he declared. "As for the IV, you were also horrendously dehydrated. Have you been drinking enough water? Silly me of asking; of course you haven't. I suppose I can't stop you from leaving. Just as I can't stop you from trembling involuntarily or collapsing in front of your esteemed allies if that is what you want."

Cyclonis gave Watts a glare that could almost kill, but remained in bed.

"And you," Watts reminded McLeach, "don't get to leave until the last of the scales have fallen off."

"How much longer?" McLeach groaned; he was mostly human, but his skin still retained a green hue, and the fins on his limbs had only just retreated back into his skin.

"Two hours at the longest," Watts promised. "It would have been much quicker had I been allowed access to some of the more magical supplies in this facility, but I am to understand there is a level of trust that must be gained first."

"Who would trust you after learning you were capable of turning them into beasts?" Clayton growled.

"Would you rather have NO arm?" Watts asked.

"This is a monstrosity!" Clayton raged, flailing the Grimm arm.

"Then you would rather have no arm," Watts mused. "Well, more's the pity. I'm not anesthetizing you again." He turned to face the fourth patient. "The offer still stands for you to have a similar treatment done to your legs, of course."

"I'll take a hard pass," Mercury said hurriedly. "If my legs are Grimm, what am I supposed to shoot people with?"

"A gun," Clayton volunteered. "Like a man. Why do YOU get a choice of what your limbs should be?"

"Because Maleficent finds you too valuable to outfit with mere mechanical parts," Watts answered, "and made that clear to me before I began my work. On the other hand, Salem knows Mercury well enough to recognize that he operates most smoothly with mechanical prosthetics. Everything I do is for a reason, you know."

"Who are you?" Cyclonis asked. "This is the first I've seen of you. How do I know you have the skill to act as our healer?"

"You may call me Dr. Watts," Watts answered. "I regret to inform you that my best reference in your case is that I work closely with Cinder Fall and Tyrian Callows. Shame you had to meet them first."

"I actually rather admire Cinder," Cyclonis argued. "I'm skeptical that you can place yourself that far above her."

"Oh, dear, you're more dehydrated than I thought," Watts replied. "Give the IV another hour and see if your head becomes clearer." He gave the room one last look. "Now, be good little boys and girls and stay in bed until I return to check your physical states." He strode away without any further warning.

"This is an outrage!" Clayton roared as he leapt out of bed. "I'll have his head for this!" Instinctively, he latched his new arm under the side of the bed, simply looking to destroy anything he could out of anger. "If he thinks he can make a monster of me – "

He effortlessly ripped the bed out of the floor with one arm and overturned it on top of the empty adjacent bed.

"Watch where you're throwing those things!" McLeach barked.

"Hmm," Clayton mused, looking at his work. "Perhaps there is a use for this blasphemy of nature after all…"

Watts, in the meantime, made a strict beeline for his destination. He rapped politely on the wooden double doors of the chamber he had been told to report to. A cold but soft female voice bade him, "Come in."

Watts entered the chamber, where Maleficent and Salem stood before him, speaking directly face-to-face. A burly man, bearing a short beard and donning dark clothes covered with a long olive-green coat, stood against the wall between them and the door, arms crossed as though he was keeping watch over the discussion.

"How are our patients?" Maleficent asked.

Watts knew she didn't mean the four generals. "Recovering," he answered. "Ursula more quickly than Cinder, though no one is surprised there. I will monitor their conditions, but they should both be back in working order in due time."

"Did you deem it necessary to make any replacements for either?" Salem asked.

"As a matter of fact, no," Watts related. "Ursula is astoundingly durable, and I do believe Cinder will just pull through with all limbs intact." He had been half tempted to swap one of Cinder's limbs out for a more powerful appendage just in the name of improving his co-worker, but he kept that to himself. He hadn't given into that temptation, anyhow. He wasn't reckless. "Though what surprises me most of all is Ganondorf. He arrived looking half on his deathbed, but absolutely resisted any and all treatment from me. I'm well aware the man could break me in his bare hands, so I acquiesced. Given enough time, his wounds simply healed over on their own. There will be some scarring, but nothing life-altering. A truly fascinating specimen. If he were willing to let me study him a little longer, I might be able to improve my own techniques."

"Do not make demands of Ganondorf," Maleficent ordered. "He is not your research subject. He is a valuable ally for the very reasons you have stated, and it would not do to bother one of his stature with annoyances."

"I hardly consider your newly-appointed chief medic an annoyance," Watts said indignantly.

"Are you talking back to our new benefactor?" Salem asked.

"Oh, good heavens, no." Watts put up his hands. "It was an idle comment. Ill-thought-out. Anyhow, that concludes my report. I shall continue my treatments and bring you updates."

"Only as necessary," Salem ordered. "Reduce your reports to every other hour."

"Of course," Watts said with a short bow. "Though if I may make one simple request?"

"Be brief," Maleficent warned him.

"Is there a library of any sort within this castle that is meant for public use?" Watts inquired. "I wish to have a sanctuary in which to pass the time between my care of the patients, and one suited to more intellectual pursuits would be preferable."

Maleficent nodded. "You may use the library on the second floor. Peruse the first room to your heart's content. Do not enter any of the other rooms beyond. Earn my trust, and you may well be granted access to those sections at a later time. Enter them without my permission, however, and I will know immediately. I do not take kindly to abuse of my hospitality."

"Of course," Watts confirmed.

"Hazel," Salem said, addressing the silent man who stood guard nearby.

Hazel Rainart gave a grunt and looked to her.

"Go with him," Salem ordered. "The rest of our conversation is to remain private."

"As you wish," Hazel acquiesced.

Upon departure, as soon as the wooden doors had closed behind them, Watts asked Hazel, "Were they discussing the relics?"

"Yes," Hazel confirmed. "It seems there may be some changes to the plan."

Once she was sure they were alone, Maleficent asked, "What steps did you intend to take to retrieve this relic?"

"I already have a contact at Haven," Salem explained. "No one we can trust, but someone who fears us enough to bow to our will. If any of Ozpin's forces remain active, he will keep them at bay long enough for us to reach the lantern. Where things get interesting is the role of the Spring Maiden. My contact has given me a tale regarding her, stating that she ran away from her responsibility and joined forces with a tribe of bandits. However, I have my doubts about this tale. It's almost too convenient."

"I can confirm the Maiden's whereabouts," Maleficent offered, "but for a price."

"A share of the relic's power," Salem confirmed. "I think that can be arranged."

"Your forces may not be adequate to even retrieve the lantern," Maleficent went on. "Lend me your Grimm, and in kind, I shall discern which of my forces will be best to dispatch to Remnant when the time comes."

"I think – "

Whatever Salem thought, it was cut off by the double doors slamming open. Without saying a word, Ganondorf strode into the chamber, eyes fixed upon Maleficent.

Maleficent put up a hand, palm outward, to Salem. "We will resume this discussion at another time," she stated. "For now, there is a far more important matter to attend to."

She faced Ganondorf next. "Am I to understand that the sands worked as intended?" she asked.

"They did," Ganondorf confirmed.

"Please, tell me all," Maleficent bade him.

Ganondorf gave her a brief nod before beginning to relate how he had warped Hyrule.

...

The structure, fashioned after the Sphinx in exterior and a temple inside, floated through interspace freely, unconnected to any world. Black sand pooled at the entryway, snaking inside over the floors.

The grainy earth made its way into the very heart of the sanctum, a room of sandstone walls lit by flaming torches. Once it reached its destination, it piled up, forming itself into a humanoid shape. By the end of the transformation, Pitch Black stood in the room, facing the two catlike people who had contacted him.

"Well?" Mirage asked. "Did you leave a mark?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Pitch answered. "The vast majority of them will have gruesome food for thought for weeks to come. I only pity I wasn't able to search the mind of the leader."

"The time for that will come," Mirage promised. "Soon, those pests will stand as a testament to the power that rests within true fear."

"My doubts are being erased," Sendak said with a grin.

"As they should have been the moment you allied with me," Pitch told him.

"When do we strike next?" Sendak asked.

"As powerful as we are," Mirage stated, "we still number only three. We could stand to bolster our numbers before making our next move. Luckily, I know just who to contact. I think you'll get along with them swimmingly."

...

The karaoke party eventually died when the majority of attendees simply got tired and headed off to bed, having collectively declared that it must be relatively late at what passed for night. Ravess did manage to get her violin performance in, and Vexen discovered that listening to her music with a heart present was an altogether different kind of splendor than listening passively with no emotional connection. Yzma and Snatcher became locked in a duel of alternating songs with no one in between for a good half hour, and at the end, had finally decided to just call it a tie. The night ended with everyone learning that Ayam Aghoul had a singing voice that was unconventional, but, when paired with the right sort of ballad, strangely scintillating.

As the crowd dispersed, Wuya approached Yzma and simply said, "Walk with me."

Yzma saw no reason not to, and found herself striding alongside Wuya on the way to the latter's quarters.

"So, remind me," Wuya said. "Are Mozenrath and the Huntsman the ONLY reason we aren't together?"

"Well, they did set a bad standard," Yzma pointed out.

"But now Mozenrath has just moved right on to Hans," Wuya pointed out. "They seem to be working out. Mim and Aghoul are still working out. I should hardly need to mention Snatcher and Roman. But I think what really brought home how pointless we're being about this is seeing Vexen show up with a date."

"We don't know it was a date," Yzma reminded Wuya. "We only have an incredibly solid theory that it was a date."

"I'm no scientist," Wuya concluded, "but there seem to be a lot more examples that dating one's partner in crime will go WELL than there are that it won't. Beyond that, think about it. We're compatible. We're each other's type. We understand each other. I want you, and I'm pretty sure you want me."

"Well, since you bring it up," Yzma admitted, "yes."

"So you know what it would make sense to do."

"Now hold on," Yzma brought up. "There is the matter of you being a known traitor. Did you have any sort of relationship with any of your Heylin associates?"

"Almost," Wuya answered. "Twice. But you…you are different. You are something neither of them could ever hope to be. If I end up betraying you, something has gone incredibly wrong."

"Well, then, let's do it," Yzma resolved. "Let's be together. Just don't expect me to get all sentimental about it."

"Do you really take me for the kind of person who wants sentiment?" Wuya asked.

"Good point," Yzma realized.

"I want to show you something," Wuya declared before stopping beside a door. "And here it is."

"Isn't this just your apartment?" Yzma asked.

"It's so much more than just my apartment," Wuya declared, opening the door. "See for yourself."

Yzma stepped inside what seemed to be a miniature palace. The space was definitely bigger on the inside than space would allow on the outside. The foyer had a vaulted ceiling; arched doorways led to a plethora of other rooms. The color scheme was quite dark, lit by torches of emerald-green flame.

Entranced, Yzma gave the entire place a look, peering through each of the doors. A dining room boasted a lengthy, polished wooden table with legs carved in the shape of dragons; a buffet spilled over with food of all sorts. A bathroom held an array of pastel-colored soaps and other liquids in intricately forged glass bottles shelved over a tub big enough to fit at least two. The bedroom's centerpiece was a bed of absolutely massive width and length, with a mattress that looked incredibly plush draped in green-and-black blankets with tassels and embroidery. Finally, several rock creatures stood at attention in what was clearly a miniature spa, holding hot towels out before massage beds.

"This is my sanctuary," Wuya explained, "in which I do whatever I want. Don't you dare tell anyone else, or else they'll all want me to make their rooms over exactly the same way, and doing this takes a lot of energy. I only do it when I know I have nothing better to spend my magic on for the next few hours."

"Didn't you only have to put this together once?" Yzma asked incredulously.

Wuya shrugged. "Sometimes I get bored and change the architecture of the entire place. If you want to move in, I'm going to have to add a lot more purple and take some design cues from your empire."

"Me?" Yzma repeated. "Move in here?" A smile broke out over her face and her eyes positively glittered. "When can I begin?"

"Well, you can spend tonight here," Wuya suggested, "then we can work on moving your things in when you wake up. Or, if you don't feel like doing the work, I can probably create you a new wardrobe from scratch. After all, you and I deserve only the best, don't we?"

"Finally, someone who gets it," Yzma remarked.

"What catches your eye?" Wuya asked. "Shall we put the rock creatures to work giving a proper massage? Or did you want to talk over a bite to eat first? Or something you didn't see here? Remember, this is where you can do WHATEVER you want. Oh, and the best part is it's enchanted so Mozenrath can't teleport in."

"Good," Yzma snorted. "That man wouldn't know the definition of 'privacy' if someone turned him into a dictionary. Specifically a dictionary that was two thousand pages of the definition of 'privacy,' repeated. As for all this…" Yzma suddenly appeared unsure. "Hmm. I don't know…"

"You've been given everything you could ask for," Wuya prodded, "and you don't know what you want? That doesn't seem very like you."

"Well," Yzma sputtered, "this is just…so sudden! And I've…been feeling sick. With Kaminaljuyu Influenza. Which isn't contagious, but causes indecisiveness. That's the first symptom. Being uncharacteristically indecisive."

"Really." Wuya raised an eyebrow. She stepped closer to Yzma, raising her hands. "Then why don't we start with something simple?"

Wuya's palms slipped comfortably around the soft skin of Yzma's face, gently pulling her close. Yzma, knowing what was coming, leaned in with gusto, meeting Wuya's lips thirstily. It was a connection she hadn't known she needed so badly. Her own arms snaked their way around Wuya's back, drawing the latter in, finding and feeling the end of her silky red hair –

"I knew it," Wuya muttered as she pulled her lips away.

Yzma, suddenly aware she had been somehow tricked, backed away just enough to see Wuya's eyes sparkling knowingly. "You forgot I could read your thoughts through touch," Wuya announced, "didn't you?"

"WHAT DID YOU SEE?" Yzma asked in a sudden panic.

"You barely know how to acknowledge it," Wuya stated, "but you don't think you're good enough for me."

"What?" Yzma was taken aback. "How could that even be possible? Of course I'm good enough for you! I'm better than anyone else here!"

"You think I'm going to hold back because of your age," Wuya spelled out. "As though I'm not over a millennium old. Your lifespan only equates out to my rebellious younger years." She gave that statement some thought. "Which were a predecessor to my rebellious older years."

"It's not as if it SHOWS on you!" Yzma argued. "You still have the hair and skin of a thirty-year-old! Or maybe twenty-eight and five months, to be more accurate."

"And you really think it matters that you don't?" Wuya countered. She interlaced her hands with Yzma's, feeling each individual finger. "I thought I had established that you're steaming hot." She leaned in closer, practically draping herself on Yzma. "In fact, everything about you that betrays your age actually makes you hotter. You don't mind me getting a little closer, do you?"

"No, but now you're just lying," Yzma said dryly. "For the record, I blame the sun. Sun exposure does absolutely no good for the skin."

"I think it's been established that we all hate the sun," Wuya reminded her, walking the fingers of her left hand up Yzma's right arm. "And I'm not lying. I've been waiting for a while to do exactly this."

"I've been turned down by enough men and women back home to know that I haven't been wanted for several years," Yzma confessed, held back from enjoying the moment ever so slightly by her reservations.

"And yet, here I am, doing the opposite of turning you down," Wuya reminded her. "Why would I lie to you about this?"

"I…" Yzma had to admit she was at a loss. "I don't know."

"I'm not lying."

"Well…maybe you're not," Yzma finally relented. Wuya's touch was exhilarating; she had to pay it back, she knew, and her fingers slid up the back of Wuya's neck and embedded themselves in the roots of her hair at the base of her skull. Inspired by proximity, she leaned in to press a kiss to Wuya's forehead.

They'd been comfortable together for a while now, they both realized, and this was just the logical extension.

"We could just stand here all night," Wuya suggested. "But I'm guessing you have a taste for something more."

"Well, I wouldn't mind finding out how good of a massage your rock creatures can actually give," Yzma admitted.

Wuya lifted herself off Yzma, breaking out of her grip, and it was a mild disappointment that was soon resolved. "I've trained them incredibly well," Wuya stated. "If you have any other concerns, we can talk them over while they work out all our rough spots."

"That was the last concern," Yzma replied.

"You know I'll find out if you're lying," Wuya reminded her. She wished she could reverse the process for the express purpose of showing Yzma that she was serious about wanting their involvement despite the marks of time left on her body. But as of yet, she hadn't figured out a way to let anyone see into her own thoughts; only to peer into the minds of others. Perhaps this was the proper motivator for her to seek out such a reversal.

"I'm well aware," Yzma stated. "But even so, we have better things to talk about."

"Such as?"

"How next time, you're going to be my karaoke partner and help me put Mr. Snatcher in his place."

The pair moved toward the spa room as Wuya responded, "That would hardly be a fair fight. Roman can't sing a note on key. It would be two against one."

"That's exactly why we're going to do it," Yzma affirmed.

"How fiendish," Wuya complimented. "You're only proving I made the right choice tonight."

Within moments, they lay on their stomachs gossiping away as the rock creatures delivered them a surprisingly gentle massage given their solid composition.

...

Sora, Riku, Aladdin, Jasmine, Ruby, Stork, Papyrus, and Katara gathered before their Gummi ship; they were faced by Link, Zelda, and the newly healed Midna.

"You're SURE you're going to be okay if we leave," Katara said with doubt.

"We will be," Zelda confirmed.

"We can take care of ourselves," Midna asserted. "But you need to go out there, track down that bratty sorcerer, and bring back my Fused Shadow!"

"You could come along if you wanted," Sora offered.

"I thought about it," Midna admitted, "but I think I better stay here for now. These two are going to need my help to put all the pieces back together. They can't get anything done without me, you know."

Zelda gave a polite giggle while Link admitted, "You always do help me through difficult times. I'm not sure I could have come half as far on my own as I do when I'm with you."

"But you can't go back home," Ruby lamented.

"Some way will show up eventually," Midna told her. "Besides, I have things I want to do here in Hyrule anyway. There are a lot of people I'd like to get to know better."

She lay a hand on Link's shoulder as she said this. Link turned to her to see a mischievous smile across her face. "You already do know me," he said contently.

"But I could still get to know you even better," Midna reminded him. "And there's plenty you don't know about me." She turned her focus back to the traveling heroes; "Now, when you find that brat, give him as much pain as you can for me!"

"We're not really a 'pain-giving' kind of group," Aladdin told her, "but when it comes to bringing him in to justice? I've already got plenty of reasons to give him some payback. Now I'm doing it for you and for me."

Stork found it hard to look Zelda in the eye. "You know, I…" He cast his gaze to the ground. "I'm sorry I was right. Deep down, I was hoping this was just another baseless accusation based on my natural instinct for distrust, you know?"

"I should have known better," Zelda responded. "I should have seen through his act."

"Nobody can blame you if he lied to you," Sora assured her. "You did everything you were supposed to do. You trusted him because he made it look like he loved you. There's nothing wrong with that. It's him who should have done better."

"And we're not just gonna let him get away with breaking your heart," Riku added.

"We're going to miss all of you," Link said sincerely. "I'm glad we all met."

"So am I!" Sora said proudly. "Maybe we'll get to see each other again someday!"

"I'd like that," Link confirmed.

"So would I," Zelda added.

"I wouldn't mind," Midna chimed in.

"Well, it looks like we have to part ways for now," Sora announced. "Mozenrath is still somewhere out there, and I don't think he'll be hanging around here now that he got what he wanted."

"Not to mention we now have to worry about Ganondorf working with Maleficent," Riku added. "They're not making things easy. We have to watch out for whatever world is in danger from them next."

"May the goddesses bless you," Zelda bade them.

The eight travelers boarded their ship, which lifted into the air and sailed away from Hyrule as Link, Zelda, and Midna watched from below. The instant it was out of sight, Midna told Link, "Don't you dare think about putting that sword back again."

The ship shuddered upon entering interspace; Stork patted the dashboard, muttering, "Eeeeeasy." Then, with growing dread, "She's never done that before…"

Papyrus took a seat next to Ruby, who was staring out the window at the world they were leaving behind. "ARE YOU OKAY?"

"Yeah," Ruby replied. "I just didn't get to finish what I started after all."

"WE CAN JUST ASK WHERE CINDER IS AGAIN WHEN WE GET HOME!" Papyrus assured her.

Ruby shook her head no. "We tried chasing Cinder, and all we found was that Mozenrath was getting in our way even more than she was. We need to focus on finding him and stopping him."

"That's gonna be hard if he keeps running away," Aladdin chimed in from the seat behind Ruby. "That coward."

"He has to be after something," Jasmine mused. "Now he's taken the Fused Shadow. What does that have in common with everything else he's taken? It's all magical, which makes sense for him. But it has to be building to something bigger, or else he would have used what he already has against us."

"But we asked the hourglass," Sora reminded the group, "and we didn't get an answer. Maybe he really doesn't have a plan."

"Oh, trust me," Aladdin confirmed, "Mozenrath has a plan. He doesn't just charge into things without thinking he knows what he's doing."

The entire ship rocked violently, causing everyone to grab onto support.

"What's happening?" Ruby cried.

"I don't know," Stork said nervously. "That has literally never happened before. This is bad. This is very, very bad."

"It might not be that bad," Katara tried to reassure. "As long as we're still flying – "

The ship trembled even more violently upon those words.

"YOU JUST HAD TO SAY SOMETHING," Stork growled.

The engine had given all it could in its state of disrepair. As its components fell apart from each other and jostled about, the ship of which it was the heart finally stopped shaking. That would have been a relief if it had not, immediately upon ceasing shaking, gone stone-still.

"We're not flying anymore," Stork announced in a panic as he frantically jerked at the steering wheel, punching every button on the dashboard. "We are NOT flying anymore! I have NO control over where we're going!"

"Everybody stay calm!" Sora yelled, standing up. "Everything's going to be okay – "

"YOU WANT TO TELL THAT TO THOSE?" Stork yelled, gesturing over the dashboard to where the ship was about to enter a field of debris with no way to steer.

The ship slammed into a large rock of Gummi, propelled at a sharp angle to its original course until it collided with another and was sent tumbling wing over wing. The debris field tossed and turned the ship, sending it every which way until it was finally knocked hard in one particular direction.

In interspace, there is no gravity. Therefore, it is impossible to fall. But at the speed at which the ship fell, in a direction that felt like straight down, it might as well have been truly falling, and none of its passengers onboard was certain that anyone would survive when it made impact.

And then, without warning, it hit solid ground and stopped.

...

Beneath the administrative building on the central island of the vacation destination known simply as Jabberwock Island, fifteen pods, each built to contain a human body, were arranged in a neat circle in a dark subterranean room. Computer monitors flashed on the walls around them, displaying vital signs for the ten bodies that were still held within them. Five of the pods' occupants had woken up two weeks prior; it was uncertain if the remaining ten would ever do the same.

Sonia Nevermind hadn't given up hope. Every day since she had exited her coma, she had visited this very room in order to keep one pod's inhabitant company. She knew he wasn't aware of her presence. In fact, he wasn't aware of anything. He was trapped in a deep coma, the computer systems that ran the room taking care of his bodily functions and making sure he still breathed. Sonia approached his pod as usual, brushing her fingers over the glass lid that sealed it. She looked over the restful face of Gundham Tanaka, taking in the false scar he'd tattooed over his left eye some time before she had met him, when they were still seventeen; the faded white streaks in his raven hair; his lanky frame, shrouded in black leather.

"Good afternoon," she said softly, as though he could hear her. "I hope you don't mind that I've come to visit you again." She nervously tucked a lock of her long blonde hair behind one ear. "It has not been a very exciting day. Akane invited me to go swimming, but I did not feel like joining her. I think she wanted to do something to take our minds off all that has happened." She sighed. "It was a very kind gesture on her part, but I do not see how such recreational activities can erase years of memories. Hajime made us all breakfast and lunch again. It was delicious as usual. He joked that if he can be grateful for anything about the time he spent as Izuru, it is the talent he has retained in cooking." A long pause before her next topic: "I thought I saw dolphins breaching on the horizon today. They made me think of you. I wish you could have seen them. I know you would have loved them." She wasn't able to stop the tears from filling her eyes at that point; she had suspected they would be unstoppable once she spoke of the animals she knew Gundham would love so much.

She kept talking through her tears, softly finding new minutiae to report on about the day. All the while, she was unaware that she was being watched.

Kazuichi Soda left the door to the room open only a crack through which he could see Sonia as she cried for Gundham. Two weeks, and every day, she had rushed to Gundham's pod at least once to talk to his unconscious body. Two weeks, and every day, Kazuichi had followed her and simply watched.

His thoughts were complicated, to say the least. He, Sonia, and three others had been the only five to survive the simulation program that all fifteen minds had been placed into by order of a kind benefactor who had gone against the wishes of what stood for the world government to do so. When they had been placed in the simulation, the intent had been for them to rehabilitate from a state of despair, depression, and violence that had turned them to villainy. But things had gone wrong. Ten of those within the simulation had died in a circumstance that none of the five survivors liked to think about. Death in the simulation meant death of the mind in real life; the body survived, but the mind was left in limbo, with no one able to truly say for sure if the ten could be revived or if they had simply perished permanently.

The five survivors weren't supposed to remember the simulation. That had been their price for getting out alive. And at first, they hadn't. But slowly, over the course of the first week, the memories had come back to them from the recesses of their minds. Hajime Hinata, who the group considered their ringleader after remembering how he had rallied them against a fearsome foe in the simulation, had taken this as a sign of hope. If the five of them could retrieve memories they weren't supposed to have, then the ten others still had their minds locked somewhere within. But he still hadn't come up with a way to access them, despite having resolved to save them no matter the cost.

Technically, Gundham had sacrificed himself to save the rest. It had come at the cost of the mind of one other: Nekomaru Nidai, whom Kazuichi had considered a dear friend. Conversely, he had never liked Gundham. Gundham was bizarre and loud. Gundham was difficult to understand and had borne a massive ego. And, most aggravating of all, Sonia had grown almost inseparably close to Gundham. It made sense that she would still hold out hope for him above all others to wake.

That didn't mean Kazuichi had to like it. He had always wanted Sonia. He was convinced he loved her, and, furthermore, that he loved her more than anyone else ever could. He wondered, doubt growing in the pit of his stomach: if it had been him who had gone brain-dead in Gundham's place, would Sonia come to visit him every day?

She was beautiful even now. Her hair, though long and golden, was messy and tangled. She had been brought to the island wearing a wide-skirted gown of golden fabric, a souvenir from her reign of terror as the despotic princess of the Novoselic Kingdom, and as she had worn it across the islands, its impractical skirt had become soiled and tattered. Makoto Naegi, the representative of Future Foundation – the one last governing force in the world since the Tragedy – had promised to bring spare clothes for all of the five survivors when next he visited them, as well as more food for their supply. But as the very act of Makoto acknowledging the five's existence was a source of contention among Future Foundation, it was unsure when he would get the opportunity to sneak away and visit them again.

When the five had first awoken and Sonia had begun visiting Gundham, Kazuichi had followed and watched her out of pure anger and jealousy. He had wanted her to give up on Gundham and focus on Kazuichi himself. After all, he was the one who was still conscious for her to talk to. But something had held him back from marching in and demanding she stop. He just let her speak to Gundham, then left before she could notice he'd been watching.

After that, as his memories of what had happened in the Neo World simulation program had returned, reminding him of how they all had the capacity to be truly good people despite the atrocities they had committed post-Tragedy, his motivation had changed. He became less angry with Gundham's still body and vanished mind and watched Sonia simply to watch her. Everything she did and said hypnotized him, and as he listened to her recount each day's events, he was utterly charmed by the way she found something to report on even on the most mundane of days.

But as of late, he had found the action almost masochistic. He realized he hated watching Sonia be sad. He hated watching her cry. He wanted to stop her tears, and perhaps that should have been incentive for him to come out of hiding, but still he never moved, never let on to her that he had been following her each day. And that very day, a realization struck him. It wasn't the conclusion he had ever wanted to reach. But perhaps it was the only conclusion he could.

What if the only way to make Sonia happy again was to return Gundham to her?

She ran out of things to say and turned away from the pod. Kazuichi hustled back up the stairway before she could reach the door, and once again, she had no idea he had been there.

...

The real Jabberwock Island was far less of a cavalcade of amusements than the Neo World version. It also lacked many of the trappings that made it seem more like civilization. There was no amusement park filled with rollercoasters or a funhouse (much to Kazuichi's relief; rollercoasters were the bane of his existence, and after a particularly horrible incident in Neo World – the incident that had led to the deaths of Nekomaru and Gundham's minds – he never wanted to enter another funhouse in his life). There was no gray island crowded with such morbid things as a military base and a factory for death machines. There wasn't even a hospital or an alleyway filled with electronics shops. Instead, the six islands that formed the resort area contained the administrative building that housed the pods, a host of beach cabanas, a hotel facility, and simple trails for nature walks. The atmosphere was actually quite calming, which, for the five survivors of Neo World, seemed to be the most they could handle.

As the sun began to set, turning the sky over the west beaches pink, the five survivors made their rendez-vous in the hotel dining room for dinner. Hajime was once more in charge of cooking, having decided that it was the sort of night to try his hand at the art of karaage. The kitchen certainly stocked enough seafood for it. He had already spent most of the day taking his mind off more sordid things by whipping up a batch of taiyaki as a special treat, filling it with a sweet coconut custard – he remembered that Kazuichi loved coconuts and fellow survivor Fuyuhiko had a sweet tooth, and hoped the combination would be pleasing.

Sonia was the first to arrive at the table, as was customary; her royal breeding had engraved punctuality into her soul. After that, Kazuichi was the next to drag himself up the stairs, which was no mean feat for him, given the condition of his right leg. He sat down at the table across from Sonia, looking into her gloomy eyes.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hello, Kazuichi," Sonia replied morosely.

"So, uh…" Kazuichi said unsurely, "do anything interesting today?" Though he already knew the answer to that. He'd heard Sonia tell Gundham everything.

Sonia gave a short nod. "I spent some time on the beach. Akane invited me to go swimming, but I did not feel up to it. Perhaps another day."

"Well," Kazuichi suggested, "if you wanted to go swimming tomorrow, I'd be more than happy to – "

"Tomorrow will not be the day," Sonia said flatly.

Akane Owari, she of rumpled chestnut hair and muscular limbs, was the next to arrive at the table. "Hey," she greeted with a smile that was obviously forced. "You all missed some GREAT water out there. I'm planning on making a lap of the second island tomorrow you wanna come with, Sonia. It'll get some adrenaline in your veins!"

"I do not think I will join you," Sonia told her. "Kazuichi expressed interest in swimming tomorrow."

"You just wanna see me in a swimsuit, perv," Akane accused, though good-naturedly, as she plopped herself down in the chair next to Kazuichi.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Kazuichi replied sharply. "I'm not a perv!" Besides, he thought, Sonia was the one he really wanted to see in a swimsuit.

"Can you even swim with that leg of yours?" Akane asked.

"I can try!" Kazuichi insisted.

"All right," Akane resolved. "Meet me on the second island beach tomorrow. The pretty one. If you can't keep up, I'll leave you behind."

"Oh, I'll keep up!" Kazuichi promised, glad he could rely on Akane to at least fake being in good spirits.

"You just said you'd TRY," Akane pointed out, "and now you think you can keep up with me?" She flashed him a bright grin. "Well, you're on!"

By that time, the blond Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu had ascended the stairs; he was distinctly shorter than the others, and wore a patch over his right eye socket. "What're you being so fucking loud about?" he asked grumpily.

"Kazuichi thinks he can keep up with me in swimming," Akane announced. "But I warned him he better keep up, because I'm not waiting for him! I'm not even going back to save him if he starts drowning."

"Hey!" Kazuichi cried. "You never mentioned not saving me if I drowned!"

As Fuyuhiko settled down next to Sonia and across from Akane, Akane needled, "That's just the breaks of challenging a pro!"

"I'd save you if you drowned!" Kazuichi argued.

"Seriously?" Akane replied. "I think you'd be too – "

"PLEASE do not joke about people dying!" Sonia burst out suddenly.

Akane and Kazuichi were immediately rightly ashamed, hanging their heads.

"Insensitive bastards!" Fuyuhiko added. "Talking like that when we've lost enough people already!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Sonia," Kazuichi said remorsefully. "That was fucked up."

"I'm sorry, too," Akane mumbled sincerely.

Hajime, of average height and build with short brown hair that spiked up at the center of his scalp, turned up just in time to remedy the situation, bearing plates laden with fried seafood and dumplings. "Dinner's served," he announced as he passed out the plates before taking his seat at the head of the table.

All conversation was halted as the five tucked into their food with gusto; Hajime had kept up to his usual standard of quality.

The relationship between the five was long and complex. Akane, Fuyuhiko, Sonia, and Kazuichi had first met when they were enrolled in class 77 of Hope's Peak Academy, having been scouted for the prestigious institution due to their outstanding talents – Akane the Ultimate Gymnast, Fuyuhiko the Ultimate Yakuza, Sonia the Ultimate Princess, and Kazuichi the Ultimate Mechanic. The ten who lay in sleep beneath the islands had made up the rest of that class. It was difficult to say they had all been close at the time; each had suffered their own traumas and rocky backgrounds, and though they had made friends, the students of class 77 had not found it easy to open up to each other. Hajime, by contrast, had paid his way into the school's Reserve Course, where he was regarded as a lesser student by most of the others until he had become a guinea pig of the institution: a science experiment, operated on to be given the capacity for any and all ultimate talent at the expense of his human emotions. This shell hollowed out to house talents had been renamed "Izuru Kamukura" and released upon the world.

It was all the perfect recipe for disaster, one that culminated when the nefarious Junko Enoshima and her sister Mukuro Ikusaba enrolled in class 78 with a plan to bring down the entire world. Junko had preyed upon the human foibles of each of the students of 77 as well as the inhumanity of Izuru in order to recruit them to her side as the Ultimate Despair, convincing them that despair was the only true endgame for the world and their best course of action was to spread it further. She had molded them all into terrorists and dispatched them to wreak her wicked workings following the Tragedy, which was, simply put, the exact time Junko had tipped over the first domino in the chain that would eventually upend the world. Beyond the limits of Jabberwock Island, the rest of the world was beset by riots and consumed in fire, no longer having a stable economy or a reliable government beyond the Future Foundation. Hajime, Fuyuhiko, Akane, Sonia, and Kazuichi, along with the other ten "Remnants of Despair," had committed atrocities in order to make it that way. It was a truth they didn't have to look at so long as they remained on the island, but they all knew it was out there.

Junko eventually met her end, and when she had perished, the Remnants who had belovedly followed her teachings so closely were thrown into even deeper despair than before, retrieving what they could of her body and carving it up so that the most devoted could replace parts of their own with pieces of Junko. Fuyuhiko wore his patch because within that socket rested not his own eye but the dead, useless right eye of Junko Enoshima. Hajime, Akane, and Sonia had seen no need to mutilate themselves, but Kazuichi, having been hysterical over Junko's loss, had severed his entire right leg in order to sew hers in its place. It wasn't truly functional as a leg, and so had to be contained in a special brace Kazuichi had crafted, in the shape of a metal boot with extra support, in order for Kazuichi to be able to walk at all. He still moved with a pronounced limp.

Not too long after Junko's death, Makoto Naegi had stepped in. Upon seeing how young the Remnants were, close to his own age, he had pitied them, wanting to give them another chance at life. That was why, against Future Foundation's wishes, he had placed them in the Neo World program. There, they had all met again as though they had never met before, their memories of Junko and the Remnants erased and their mental age regressed to that of teenagers so they could start anew and learn to welcome hope and goodness back into their hearts.

Makoto hadn't counted on Junko being a step ahead of him and having a backup plan in place should she ever perish. With Izuru's help, she was uploaded into Neo World in AI form, and she came bearing the perfect way to kill off her former loyal servants.

Or, more accurately, the perfect way to convince them to kill each other.

But the five had escaped her. They had woken up. Hajime had returned as Hajime, not Izuru, though he still retained a good deal of Izuru's skills – the deliciousness of the karaage was a testament to that. They had regained their memories of Neo World. And now, living a life Future Foundation didn't want them to have, they were left wondering what to do next but knowing it absolutely was not going to be a return to doing Junko's wicked work.

After plates were cleared, Fuyuhiko asked, "So who's gonna bring up the elephant in the room?"

"You just did, man," Kazuichi pointed out.

"I know what you're going to ask," Hajime said with a nod. "You want to know if I thought of a way to help our friends."

No one replied, but this confirmed that had indeed been what they all wanted to know.

"I think I came up with something," Hajime said, but then, quickly, before anyone could get excited, "I'm not sure how it helps, though. Do you remember someone named Chiaki Nanami?"

"Chiaki…" Sonia turned the name over in her mouth. "Chiaki…" The memories of Neo World had not all flooded in at once, but gradually, and some pieces were still hazy.

"I get a pretty good vibe off that name," Akane stated.

"I know I know it from somewhere!" Fuyuhiko grunted.

"I'm pretty sure our class didn't have a Chiaki in it," Kazuichi added. "…Did it? I know that name too."

"I think she was added to our group in the program," Hajime explained. "She was an AI."

"Like Junko was?" Sonia asked.

"Sort of," Hajime went on. "She wasn't based on a real person, though. She was made up by…Makoto, I think. She was supposed to make sure we got along and stop us from turning back to despair. I only just remembered her today while I was cooking."

"Oh, CHIAKI!" Kazuichi suddenly cried. "I remember her now! She was cool! I was gonna fix up some old game consoles for her on Electric Avenue! We never did get to play too many games together. I was looking forward to that."

"Now I remember that chick!" Akane realized. "She was just a nice kid. I think everybody loved her. Like, how could you not?"

"I think I know who you're talking about," Fuyuhiko realized. "She got killed in the fifth class trial. It wasn't fucking fair. She should've gotten to live."

"You had a special bond with her," Sonia recalled, "didn't you, Hajime?"

"I…I think I liked her a lot," Hajime admitted. "But the reason I brought her up is that I wonder if she might have contained our memories in her data. Including the memories of our sleeping friends. If we could get those memories back, we might have a chance. There's…one problem, though."

"When she got killed," Fuyuhiko realized, "that erased her, didn't it?"

"I don't know if we can get her back," Hajime sighed. "If we could, then we'd not only have a way to work on our friends' memories. We'd have Chiaki back, too. But she might be gone forever."

Kazuichi let out a loud sigh before asking, "What's even the point?"

"The point is we're trying to save our friends, dumbass!" Fuyuhiko insisted.

But upon having his hopes brought up and then let down again, Kazuichi had been forced to confront a mentality he had been struggling with ever since leaving Neo World. "Maybe there just isn't any hope," he groaned. "Everything we come up with is a dead end. Why do we even bother with anything?"

"Kazuichi…" Sonia said both sympathetically and warningly, knowing what was coming.

"I'm serious," Kazuichi insisted. "You all keep talking about hope, but look at us! We lost all our friends, the government doesn't even want us to fucking exist, we're trapped on this island, it doesn't even matter if we LEAVE the island because things are even MORE fucked up out there than they are here, and we can't take back anything we did to make it that way! Maybe Ju – "

"Don't you FUCKING say it!" Fuyuhiko growled.

"I'm not saying she was right to do what she did," Kazuichi argued. "I'm not saying we were right to do what we did. But maybe Junko was right about despair being all that matters. Because we keep coming back to it."

"BASTARD!" Fuyuhiko cried, slamming both hands on the table and standing up. "DON'T YOU EVER SAY THAT! I DON'T EVER WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY – "

"STOP!" Hajime interrupted. "We're all each other has, so we can't fight over stupid things!"

"It's not STUPID!" Fuyuhiko insisted. "If he keeps talking like that, he'll go right back to how things were!"

"Me?" Kazuichi replied. "How do I know you're not going to go back to how YOU were? You were the one raised in a family of professional killers!"

"How DARE you – "

"ENOUGH!" Sonia barked. "Hajime is right! We cannot fight like this! And we cannot afford to distrust one another! We have to have faith that none of us will return to being a Remnant of Despair!"

Fuyuhiko forced himself to calm down, sitting back in his seat. "Don't use my family against me like that again," he growled.

"Sorry," Kazuichi replied. "I'm just…tired. Tired of living like this and having hope dangled in front of our faces just to have it snatched away."

"What about our memories of the program?" Sonia asked. "What about the fact that we all survived? Is that not hope? Is that not something good that has happened to us?"

"Sonia's right!" Akane insisted. "And we got each other, don't we?"

When it was Sonia who said it, Kazuichi mused, it made sense. "I guess you're right about that." His tone was still despondent.

"We could still all be under Junko's control," Sonia insisted, "or we could all be dead right now! But we are here, and we are together! That is reason enough for me to hope that things will get better! And even if they do not, we should be grateful for what we have!"

"We could live like this if we had to," Fuyuhiko agreed. "It's not so bad. It could be a lot worse."

"At least we're trapped on an island paradise," Akane said with a grin. "Not many people out there can say that."

"We're not going to live here forever," Hajime insisted. "I'm going to figure out a way to get us off this island and into a better life. And I'm going to figure out how to wake up our friends."

"But is there even a better life out there to get to?" Kazuichi asked.

"There has to be," Hajime said sternly. "I know there is. It's the life Makoto is working so hard to make for us and for everyone else. And as long as he works hard, so will I. Can you believe me, Kazuichi? As your friend?" His mouth twitched into a smile as he recalled the pact they had made in Neo World; "How about as your…soul bro?"

"I guess it's hard to argue with 'soul bro,'" Kazuichi relented, finding himself almost smiling. "But you better keep your promise and keep working on it, okay?"

"Why don't you chip in with the work yourself, dumbass?" Fuyuhiko asked.

"Because I don't know what to do," Kazuichi said softly.

After some reflection, Fuyuhiko confessed, "I don't either. I guess I can't really get mad at you for something if I don't even know how to figure it out for myself. But as soon as we figure it out, I'm gonna give it my all. Are you gonna do that with me, or are you gonna leave me hanging?"

Kazuichi looked up to see Fuyuhiko smiling at him. "I'm gonna give it my all," he resolved, flashing Fuyuhiko a smile right back.

"That's the real Kazuichi I know!" Fuyuhiko proclaimed.

But even then, they all knew it was just a sticky plaster put over a gaping wound. Within some time, one of them would find themselves fallen into a state of hopelessness again, seeing their situation as wretched and inescapable. Perhaps it would be Kazuichi. Or perhaps it would be someone else.

But there was no use worrying about that until it happened. Hajime figured the best way to proceed was a change of subject. "I made a treat for everyone today," he announced as he got up from the table and moved to the kitchen.

"A treat?" Akane repeated. "Perfect timing! I'm still hungry!"

"You're always hungry," Kazuichi reminded her.

Hajime returned with the taiyaki, setting the platter down in the middle of the table. Almost immediately, his four friends had grabbed more than their share, heaping their plates high. "Hey, save some for me!" Hajime grumped.

Sonia put back a couple of the cakes for Hajime; Fuyuhiko begrudgingly did so next before stuffing a cake into his mouth.

"You know what gives me hope?" Akane said around a full mouth. "Food like this."

Fuyuhiko said something that wasn't understandable, as he wasn't as skilled at talking with his mouth full as Akane was, but its tone indicated that it was an agreement.

"Is that COCONUT?" Kazuichi identified. "Awwww yeahhh!"

Sonia smiled, quite pleased, as she delicately nibbled her taiyaki.

When the Corridor of Darkness opened up in the dining room, Fuyuhiko nearly choked. "The hell is THAT?" he cried after he swallowed what was in his mouth.

A tall, broad figure entered the room, clothed in a black leather cloak with the hood pulled up over his face. He strode toward the table confidently.

Fuyuhiko was the first to rise. "WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU AND HOW DID YOU GET HERE?" he demanded.

The stranger reached up to pull down his hood, revealing long black hair teased into rows and then bundled into a ponytail. Thick black sideburns bordered the sides of his face. His eyes sparkled with a glee that seemed born of ill intent; their irises were golden yellow.

"Is this where I am to find the Remnants of Despair?" Dilan asked.

By then, all five had stood, though Kazuichi was quick to place himself on the opposite side of the table from Dilan and back against the wall. "Why do you care?" Hajime snapped.

"I seek individuals whose hearts have known extreme Darkness for a great purpose," Dilan explained. "And who knows the Darkness better than those who ended the world?"

"We are not the enders of the world anymore!" Sonia insisted. "We have left that all behind us!"

"Have you, now?" Dilan asked skeptically. "Is there not a part of you that believes despair is the only truth? You have seen horror upon horror with so little hope in sight. Do you truly believe in the Light?"

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," Akane said, punching the fist of one hand into the palm of another, "but keep on talking about it and I'm gonna put your lights out!"

"A fighting spirit," Dilan observed. "That will serve you well in the Darkness to come."

"What do you WANT from us?" Hajime asked. "Did you seriously just show up to tell us about despair? Did you know Junko?"

"And what's all this Light and Darkness bullshit?" Kazuichi added, still backed up as far away from Dilan as he could get.

"I did not know her," Dilan answered, "but I have seen her effect on this world and the Darkness she has brought here. An entire world, brought to its knees by a teenage girl and her young cohorts. It is exactly what we seek."

"Who's 'we'?" Hajime asked.

"The one who plans to reunite the thirteen Darknesses with the seven Lights and bring a new order to the worlds," Dilan explained. "The one under whose orders I am allowed to truly be one with the Darkness again. I speak of Xehanort."

"What the hell kind of name is that?" Fuyuhiko barked.

"Come join Xehanort's organization," Dilan cajoled, "and you will no longer have to seek hope in a world that does not offer it. You will no longer have to lie to yourself and say that such a weak notion as friendship can overpower despair. All it will require is for you to give up your heart to Xehanort to make his own. It doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels quite freeing, and the knowledge it provides is enlightening."

"No one's going anywhere with you!" Hajime yelled, not sure what could possibly make any sense of Dilan's words other than some sort of mental disorder.

"I had a feeling you would say that, Izuru Kamukura," Dilan replied smugly. "And yet it is you who interests me the most."

He took two steps closer, standing directly before Hajime.

"My name," Hajime insisted, "is HAJIME HINATA!"

He drew back his fist to throw a punch on that word, but Dilan caught it. A rush of wind blew through the dining hall, tossing up everyone's hair; when it subsided, six violet-colored lances with angry sharp points hung suspended in the air, all aimed directly at Hajime.

"HAJIME!" Sonia cried.

"Do not attempt to come closer," Dilan warned, "or these weapons will all make their mark." He shot Akane a knowing glance. "That includes you."

"Dammit!" Akane growled.

"Such a curious case, Izuru," Dilan murmured. "You, more than anyone else, knew what it was like to be a Nobody without giving up your heart. You became a vessel for skills with no capacity for emotion. You practically invited the Darkness in through your front door. Xehanort will take a special interest in you. I can hardly think of anyone more qualified to become his vessel."

Hajime panicked, wide-eyed. Dilan seized the front of his white shirt, drawing the now-struggling Hajime up to meet him at eye level. "If you do not come of your own will," Dilan informed him, "I will take you by force."

"Leave me ALONE!" Hajime cried, squirming harder. He could now feel the points of the lances pressing into his back, just lightly enough not to break the surface.

"We will break you of that attitude, Izuru," Dilan insisted. "In time."

He turned to walk back toward the Corridor, Hajime in hand, the lances pivoting to remain trained on Hajime's body.

Akane twitched, ready to assault Dilan from behind, but Dilan stopped her with a mere word: "I wouldn't, Akane."

Sonia and Fuyuhiko looked to each other, stunned into silence, each hoping the other had a miracle up their sleeve that would save their friend. But neither knew what to do.

Dilan had almost reached the Corridor when he heard a voice suddenly yell, "YOU DON'T WANT HIM! YOU WANT ME!"

Curious, Dilan lowered Hajime to the ground, turning to look for the source of the sound. Sonia, Fuyuhiko, and Akane were just as flabbergasted. By process of elimination, they knew who had to have spoken up. They just never expected him to do so in a moment as desperate as this.

"I said you don't want him," Kazuichi repeated shakingly. "You want me!"

"And why are you more valuable to me than Izuru Kamukura?" Dilan asked.

"Because he doesn't want to go with you," Kazuichi insisted, "but I do! I don't wanna have to deal with figuring out hope and despair anymore! I'm sick and tired of it!"

Though he was repeating his earlier sentiment, it was a lie now. Kazuichi truly, more than anything else, wanted Dilan to let Hajime go and take him instead. Hajime was his friend, his "soul bro," and he knew he couldn't simply stand by and watch him be dragged into some sort of black hole. Furthermore, a small part of Kazuichi had realized that if he could save Hajime, Sonia would more than likely change the way she looked at him, even if she would only see him for mere moments more.

"Besides," Kazuichi continued, "you know about Junko's killing games, right? I built all the machines for the executions used at Hope's Peak! And I built most of the Monokumas that she used to attack people all over the world, including the big one! That's gotta mean a lot of Darkness, right?"

"You must be Kazuichi Soda, in that case," Dilan realized. "I must admit, your offer does intrigue me. The man responsible for the machines that ravaged the world and destroyed the last remnants of Hope's Peak. Yours is indeed a heart that has been steeped in Darkness. And if you are willing to come quietly…"

The lances swirled away from Hajime, coming to rest at Dilan's sides. "I accept your offer," Dilan confirmed.

"Kazuichi, NO!" Sonia cried as Kazuichi limped out from behind the table to stand by Dilan. "You can't go!"

Kazuichi looked back over his shoulder at Sonia. Her eyes were once more filled with those tears he hated so. He wished he could make her smile one last time before he bade her goodbye; it was obvious that wherever Dilan was taking him, there wasn't a good chance he would be coming back. But in the current circumstances, he knew there was no way to bring out the sparkle in her eye. He smiled at her anyway. "This is the best way for it to be," he told her. "I'll be okay."

"NO!" Sonia rushed forth to clutch at his arm –

The lances pointed toward her, keeping her back. "No more interruptions," Dilan said coldly.

Kazuichi stood by Dilan as Hajime returned to the table, where Akane and Fuyuhiko stood protectively before him. "Kazuichi…" Hajime said breathlessly.

"I'm ready to go," Kazuichi told Dilan. "Just get me out of here. I'm done with all this."

Just leave my friends alone, he thought. Just let them be safe.

Dilan gestured toward the portal. "After you."

Kazuichi still couldn't quite grasp the concept of the portal, despite having seen a man appear from it. It seemed like the sort of thing that should only be able to happen in a simulation like Neo World. All the same, he put his best foot forward, which is to say he used his best foot to propel his bad leg into the portal before limping the rest of the way through. Dilan followed him, quite pleased with his work.

The Corridor closed, leaving behind four distraught, heartbroken friends who feared they had just lost one of the few people they had left to care about.