It was just another day.

The Master of Masters was strolling through Chaldea's garden, humming a tune, when he stumbled across a peculiar sight—a young girl with gothic-themed clothes and ribbons in her hair.

"Ah, now this is interesting," he mused, cupping his chin in deep thought as he observed the Foreigner Servant, Abigail Williams, from a short distance.

Noticing the stranger's intense gaze, Abigail shifted uncomfortably. "Um… can I help you, mister?" she asked cautiously.

The Master of Masters didn't answer right away. He tilted his head, studying her as though she were the most fascinating puzzle he'd ever seen. After a long, awkward pause, he finally broke the silence.

"So," he began, "I heard you could wield weapons like keys in battle."

Abigail blinked in surprise, unsure of how to respond. "H-How did you know that, mister?" she asked, her voice growing warier by the second. "Did Master say something strange about me?"

The Master of Masters waved a hand dismissively. "Relax, kiddo. Your Master didn't say anything weird. I just have a knack for picking up on fascinating details like that."

Abigail frowned. "It's not that special," she muttered, lowering her gaze. "And I don't think I should be talking to you…"

The Master of Masters gasped in mock offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. "Not that special? Wielding weapons like keys is incredible! Trust me, I know a thing or two about that sort of thing."

Abigail's suspicion deepened. She took a small step back. "You're a little… strange, mister," she said, trying to keep her distance. "I wish Master was here…"

The Master of Masters recoiled as if she'd slapped him. "Strange? Strange?!" He pointed to himself with exaggerated disbelief. "Do I look like a strange guy to you? I'll have you know, I'm the funniest guy you'll ever meet!"

Abigail stared at him. "You're kind of weird…"

"Weird?!" He spun in place, throwing his arms up in exasperation. "The disrespect! Here I am, trying to make a friendly conversation, and you're calling me names? What has the world come to?"

Abigail bit her lip, feeling a little guilty but still unsure about him. "You're… not going to do anything bad, right?"

The Master of Masters clasped his hands together as if making a solemn vow. "Bad? Me? Never! I'm a scholar, not a troublemaker. And I couldn't possibly harm someone as adorable and talented as you."

Abigail's cheeks flushed faintly at the compliment, but she still kept her guard up. "Okay… but I'm keeping an eye on you, mister."

The Master of Masters chuckled, leaning back with his hands behind his head. "Fair enough, kiddo. Fair enough. Just remember—if you ever need key-wielding tips, I'm your guy." As he walked away, he paused mid-step, spun on his heel, and jogged back to Abigail, his cloak flaring dramatically. "Wait, wait, wait!" he exclaimed, holding up a finger like he'd just had the most brilliant idea.

Abigail jumped slightly. "W-What now?" she asked, wary of whatever scheme he might have cooked up.

"I have to see them," he said, his voice brimming with excitement. "Your weapons! The keys you use in battle—just a quick peek, I promise!"

Abigail frowned, shaking her head. "I-I don't know… Master wouldn't like it if I showed them to someone like you."

The Master of Masters clasped his hands together and fell dramatically to his knees. "Pleeeaaase! You'll be doing a great service to a humble scholar like me!"

Abigail blinked, startled by the display, and glanced around to make sure no one else was watching. "Why are you being so dramatic about this?" she muttered.

"Because I'm desperate," he said, leaning forward and practically bowing at her feet. "I must know if they're what I think they are! Just a quick look, no strings attached!"

Abigail sighed, unsure whether to feel annoyed or sorry for him. "Fine," she said reluctantly, summoning her key-like weapon.

The Master of Masters immediately leapt to his feet as he stared at the weapon in astonishment. He circled her slowly, inspecting it from every angle. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself. "They… still exist. Not in the way I remember, but they're still here."

Abigail tilted her head, confused by his reaction. "What are you talking about? They're just weapons…"

The Master of Masters didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned to her, practically vibrating with excitement. "May I?" he asked, gesturing toward the weapon.

Abigail hesitated, taking a small step back. "I… I don't think that's a good idea…"

He placed a hand over his heart and raised the other like he was swearing an oath. "I promise, on my honor as a fun guy, I won't break it. Pinky swear!"

Abigail squinted at him, unconvinced. "You're not exactly trustworthy…"

"Aw, come on!" he said in a mock offense. "Do I look like the kind of guy who'd break a child's precious weapon? I'm insulted, really."

After a long pause, Abigail sighed and cautiously handed over her weapon. "Fine, but just for a second!"

The Master of Masters carefully took the key-like weapon in his hands. He ran his fingers along the intricate design, his gaze distant as if he were lost in memories.

"Incredible," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's not a Keyblade… but it feels so familiar. Like an echo of what once was."

Abigail watched him closely, her unease growing. "What are you talking about, mister? Do you know something about my weapon?"

He blinked, snapping out of his trance, and handed the weapon back to her with a grin. "Oh, nothing important! Just some old scholarly musings. You wouldn't want to hear a boring lecture, right?"

Abigail frowned. "You're hiding something…"

The Master of Masters wagged a finger at her playfully. "Now, now, a little mystery makes life more exciting, don't you think?" With that, he turned and began to stroll away, humming cheerfully.

Abigail watched him go, clutching her weapon tightly. "Master better keep an eye on that weirdo…" she muttered under her breath.

As the Master of Masters strolled away, his playful matter faded into a contemplative expression. He glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers as if trying to recapture the faint, lingering sensation of familiarity. "There's no question about it," he muttered under his breath. "That was a Keyblade… or at least, what's left of one. A shell of its former glory. But how? How does a random little Servant like her have the ability to wield something so connected to the Light and Darkness?" He stopped mid-step, cupping his chin in thought, his mind racing with possibilities. "This could be interesting… maybe I should consider taking her on as an apprentice. Teach her the ways of the Keyblade, guide her down the path to—" He shook his head abruptly, smacking his own cheek lightly as if to snap himself out of it. "Nah," he said aloud, resuming his leisurely walk. "I'd make a terrible Master. Too much responsibility, too many expectations. Plus, she's already giving me the stink-eye. Pretty sure she'd shove me into a portal of darkness the first chance she gets." A chuckle escaped his lips as his usual playful demeanor returned. "Besides, teaching's not my style. I'm more of a 'hands-off, let-them-figure-it-out' kind of guy." Still, as he rounded the corner, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this encounter with Abigail had set something in motion—something he couldn't quite put his finger on. "Guess we'll see where this rabbit hole leads," he said to himself, his grin widening as he disappeared into the shadows of the hallway, humming a familiar tune.

Meanwhile, in a distant world within a faraway universe, a lone figure stood amidst the desolation of the Keyblade Graveyard. Shattered remnants of countless battles stretched endlessly in all directions, a silent testament to the weight of past conflicts. Luxu—or rather, Xigbar, as he now called himself—stood unmoving in the heart of the wasteland. His single visible eye gazed upward at the swirling, cloud-covered sky, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. In his hand rested a Keyblade of immense significance, its intricate design punctuated by the ominous, glaring eye near its hilt. He ran a gloved hand along the weapon's surface, a mixture of nostalgia and mockery playing across his features.

"Well, would ya look at that," he muttered, his voice carrying a teasing tone. "After all these years, you're still hanging around, huh?" His grip on the Keyblade tightened slightly as he glanced downward, staring intently at the glaring eye embedded in the weapon—a symbol of his long-lost Master's foresight and endless schemes. "You and that damn gaze," he scoffed, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Always watching, always scheming. Just like him." Xigbar rolled his shoulder casually, his smirk widening into a grin. "Guess the old man's still got his hands in the pot, even now. But hey," he added, slinging the Keyblade over his shoulder like it was no more than a walking stick, "maybe it's time for a little reunion. You know, just to see if he's still got that same smug grin under that hood."

The plot thickens with a surprise cameo from...your favorite surfer accent dude...Xigbar/Luxu!