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Despite its voluminous appearance, the Castle That Never Was consisted mostly of empty space. The hallways and rooms were skeletal, and whether by the design of Xemnas or the nature of the world, the castle never grew to flesh itself out. Chasms of nothingness were simply contained within a shell, which some thought (and Zexion once mused aloud) seemed fitting, representative of their own empty existences. Others thought (and Axel defended) that at least they had better decorating skills.
Some thought (and others said) that the entire structure was annoying and/or inefficient. Everyone discussed at one point or another that a beneficial use of this extra space would be to add some more bathrooms, since three shower stalls to share between twelve men was simply not enough.
It was the only thing they could all agree upon, even if they resisted admitting it aloud. When they finally did, everyone present agreed on another thing; Saix, due to his own hygienic preferences and professional relationship with Xemnas, would champion their cause.
He said, "No."
It was difficult to convince him to even hear them out, let alone speak to Xemnas about the matter. After the first initial refusals, a reluctant truce was made between all the members at the time (barring Xemnas) to form a set of concrete, irrefragable, bulletproof arguments for why Saix should take their case to Xemnas.
He shot them all down within minutes.
“C’mon,” Axel wheedled, even as the more cynical members began to give up and drift away. Saix refused to look away from his clipboard. “You can’t really expect us to believe you are okay with this. I know you’d kill someone to have a bathroom of your own.”
“I’d kill someone for him to get a bathroom of his own. Have you seen how much of his hair gets in the drains?”
“Like you’re one to talk.”
“Xemnas would never agree to it and I have better things to do with my time.” Saix finally did look at Axel, ignoring Xigbar and Xaldin completely. “I already know what he’ll say.”
The remaining Nobodies waited and he sighed. “The cost of construction, maintenance, and supplying more water through the castle’s infrastructure isn’t in our budget. It’s as simple as that.”
“What about a rainwater collection system?” Every head turned to Zexion.
“What?”
“With a rainwater collection system, we won’t need to worry about the source of suppling water. The infrastructure would be easy enough to implement, so all that would remain is heating. If each of us received our own bathroom, we would be responsible for the upkeep and any repairs.”
Saix kept his gaze level with Zexion’s for several long moments, then gathered his clipboard and folder, stood, and left without another word. They didn’t speak for a week.
After that, discussion of additional bathrooms was kept to a series of grumbles and a weary explanation to new additions to the Organization. The initial, collectively sigh of relief when they were introduced to Luxord soon transformed into a groan when Xigbar oh-so-helpfully pointed out they may not have another hair-shedder of Saix or Vexen proportions, but a runner-up for Xaldin’s clipper shavings piles.
No one did more than give Marluxia a weary once-over before delegating Axel to explain the shower situation.
There was nearly a mutiny when an identical unit was built for Larxene.
“It’s preposterous,” Vexen muttered to no one in particular but still heard by all. “I’m a senior member in this Organization. Why we don’t prioritize by rank is beyond me. I shouldn’t have to wait for the likes of Axel.”
“What does it matter, Vexen?” Xaldin didn’t know why he bothered to ask. All he knew was that he saw Xigbar open his mouth and wasn’t about to wait to see if it was a yawn or a response to Vexen’s well-versed ramble. “You don’t even use hot water.”
“That’s besides the point! You and I are founders of Organization XIII, we shouldn’t have to—”
Xaldin let Vexen continue, zeroing out to a gray space in his brain where he didn’t need coffee to function. This morning was already difficult enough without catering to Vexen’s fussiness. It was a rare event when most everybody in the Organization needed to shower at the same time, but occasionally the need arose. He glanced up and down the line outside of the men’s shower area. Marluxia ran a hand over his fraying locks impatiently as he waited for his turn. Zexion’s usual keen but silent appearance could have been authentic, but Xaldin had caught him hiding his bleary eyes and messier-than-normal hair behind an illusion before. Xigbar, a single towel slung over his shoulder and a single bottle sticking out of his cloak pocket, leafed through a magazine. Vexen still muttered. Probably. Behind him, Xion and Roxas laughed at whatever it was Xion was talking about. She had exited her own bathroom nearly twenty minutes ago, but Xaldin decided she must have opted to keep Roxas company instead of waiting with Saix in the Gray Room alone.
He didn’t blame her. But the soft laughter was beginning to grate on him as much as Vexen’s incessant complaints.
He saw Roxas look past Xion, towards her bathroom. Xaldin was certain of what he was thinking. The thought crossed his, and other’s minds, that not separating the identical bathrooms by gender would be nice.
Most of them thought. Others…
“DEMYX!” At least half of the line jumped at the screech, and Vexen had a hand over his chest by the time the door flew open and Demyx hurtled into the hallway. “I swear, if I find you in here again…” part of Larxene’s sentence was lost as the door swung shut behind him, until she kicked it open and emerged into the hallway, “…there won’t be any part of you large enough to salvage!”
Demyx arranged himself so he was sitting, leaning away from his assailant. “C’mon Larxene, you’re hardly ever in there! Just look at this line, it’s—”
“Not my problem. I’ll kill you, don’t think I won’t.”
“Larxene.” She spun and Marluxia gestured wearily to Demyx. “It’s early. Could you save the ruckus for later?”
She opened her mouth, but after a moment, shut it and glared at the floor. Demyx shuffled away, rising to his feet partway through. He glanced at Larxene, then the line, and was about to ask if he could at least go back in to get his stuff when the other door opened and Lexaeus stepped through.
He looked down the line, then at Demyx still dripping in his towel, and balefully informed them, “Axel’s used up all the hot water.”
A groan filled the hallway, punctuated with a sharp laugh from Larxene. Marluxia and Xaldin teleported away immediately. Xion, having gone quiet the instant Demyx and Larxene appeared, gave Roxas a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before following their lead.
Zexion took a step forward only to be knocked aside by Xigbar, who cheerfully claimed, “Age before brains!” as he shouldered past him. Zexion took a deep, controlled breath, resisting the urge to rub his arm. There was no accounting for what hordes of bacteria could be there now. He settled for a glare to the back of Xigbar’s head even as the door closed behind him.
Demyx hopped in line after Roxas, shuffling ahead as Zexion joined his colleagues in teleporting from his spot in line. He harbored a hope that Vexen would give up and leave too; the tiles were uncomfortably cold on his bare feet.
When Axel emerged two minutes later, Vexen wasted no time in rushing past him, still muttering.
“Hey guys! What’s…” He faltered under Roxas’s glare. “Uh…right…sorry about that.” Roxas didn’t change his expression, so Axel looked to Demyx, adapting from bashful to lofty in seconds. “And what happened to you? Don’t tell me you tried using the girl’s bathroom again?”
“I don’t get what the big deal is! It’s not like any of us would go in there for any other reason than to shower. Xion doesn’t care. Larxene’s just being—uggh!”
“Well, you’re just being a dumbass. Why don’t you wake up earlier to beat the crowd?”
“No way! I bet that’s what Saix does. I don’t want to share a bathroom with him.”
“Good morning.” Demyx flinched and winced, his fears confirmed at the lazy yet predatory grin Axel’s lips parted into. Slowly, he turned to face the man in question. As always, Saix’s expression was unreadable, but the snicker he heard from Axel only added to his sense of impending doom.
“’Morning!” Demyx replied, wincing at the overly cheerful tone in his own voice. He heard Roxas sigh. Saix looked him up and down, taking in the disheveled hair and ornamental towel. “Hey, uh, do you think you could do me a favor? Larxene kind of threatened to kill me a few minutes ago, but all my stuff is in—”
“You all have fifteen minutes before deployment. I expect whoever is in the bathrooms or in line to be ready in full by then.”
Did he even blink? Demyx wondered as Saix turned and walked away. He heard the tell-tale signs of a portal opening behind him and when he turned around, both Axel and Roxas were gone. Demyx weighed his options and followed suit, figuring braving the bathrooms wasn’t worth it at this point. He’d ask Xion to get his stuff later, provided Larxene hadn’t destroyed it by then.
If there was one thing Larxene hated about the separate bathrooms, it was that it gave too many people who didn’t like her too much opportunity to talk about it in a inconveniently convenient location. It wasn’t that she was worried about it, but the principal of the matter grated her nerves and set her on edge. It was bad enough that Marluxia and Luxord disappeared twice a month for whatever reason and usually left her alone or in the company of Saix (or, worse, Xion and Roxas).
She didn’t want to be in the presence of the others, but it was some comfort to know she wasn’t missing things. Especially when half of the Organization still engaged in activities that at best were silly pranks and at worst could be counted as psychological warfare.
So when she caught the others whistling or humming the same tunes around her, she was suspicious.
Demyx sprinted through the hallway, back arched and shoulders straining in effort to keep the sweat-soaked fabric off his skin. Gross, gross, gross! His plastic bag of soap, hair products, and new clothes flapped against his side, encouraging him to reach his destination faster.
In hindsight, he supposed keeping the cloak on for a bit longer would have been smart. As fast as he was, teleporting was faster. But the thought of having the showers all to himself had been the only thing that had sustained him through another day in Agrabah, weathering the harsh sun and the sand that got literally everywhere. It will all be worth it, he told himself. Keeping the cloak on had been unbearable; at least now his sweat was free to evaporate and perform its intended biological function. With everyone else still on missions, I can take as long as I want.
Someone else must have had the same idea, because the shower on the far end was running and mirrors were already partially fogged. Hope they’re not using all the hot water, Demyx thought as he yanked off his shirt by the collar. He hopped on each foot as he rid himself of his pants, mindful not to let them touch his flip-flops or the bathroom floor. Within seconds he was in the stall on the opposite end and perfecting his set up.
His mood was already increasing as the speakers lit up and began to play his playlist. He bobbed his head along with the beat, a grin forming on his face as the water heated up to a comfortable temperature and the soothing voice of Ivan Doroschuk serenaded him.
Days where he could give his hair and skin the attention and care it deserved were few and far between, and he was damned if he was letting this opportunity go to waste. He lined the shelf with bottles and Demyx was delighted to discover the Dusks had cleaned already. There were no clumps of hair in the drain or strands smeared on the wall. No streaks of soap scum or hair products. Demyx beamed as he lathered up his first round of shampoo. “We can go where we want to,” he sang. “A place where they will never find. And we can act like we come from out of this world; leave the real one far behind.”
Maybe they’d have another day off soon. Or maybe Saix would finally read his endnotes of his reports requesting more recon missions. It baffled Demyx how unwilling Saix was to admit he was the perfect choice. Aside from Luxord and maybe Lexaeus, Demyx knew he was hands-down the most normal looking and behaving in their group. Luxord had charm, sure, but Demyx knew his strength lay not in charm but in normalcy. No one would suspect him of any nefarious deeds. He could be stealthy. He was great with kids. The only reason Xigbar held the highest rank for recon was because he could walk on ceilings.
Demyx stuck his head under the shower head and used his hands to help rinse out the suds. Demyx frowned and shook his head, trying to dislodge the water from his ear. It was giving the vocals a weird undertone.
He was on his third bottle and had properly warmed up his vocal chords by the time Whitney Houston was shuffled into play. “Clock strikes upon the house and the sun begins to fade!” Demyx grabbed the first bottle and held it to his lips, careful to watch his footing so he didn’t fall. “Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away.” Agrabah was out of his mind. “I’ve done alright up to now; it’s the light of day that shows me how. And when the night falls, loneliness caaaaaalls!”
He continued singing, too enthralled by the chorus to care if he swallowed some water while rinsing. The echo from the high note was unexpectedly satisfying, enough so that Demyx didn’t even care when he heard the undertones again. He was finally able to let his volume comfortably rise and not planning to miss a single moment of it.
Hair treatments were applied, facial scrubs rubbed into his pores, and Demyx sang to his non-existent heart’s content. That was the only downside of recon, he decided as he geared up for Billy Idol. Singing and stealth didn’t go hand in hand.
He continued to sing, even as he rubbed his ears again when his hearing went the equivalent of double-vision. “It’s a nice day to start again,” he sang. “Come on! It’s a nice day for a—” He took a breath.
“White wedding.”
Demyx realized two things.
The first was that he definitely didn’t have water in his ear.
The second was that the voice he had heard was magnetic, sonorous, and entirely unmistakable. It had put Demyx to sleep on more than one occasion in their Round Room meetings and less than a minute ago he would’ve bet it would do it again.
Demyx had never been more painfully aware of his waking state in his entire life.
In the end, Demyx waited entire forty-five minutes before poking his head out of the shower stall. Thirty-five minutes ago, the water began to run tepid, then cool, then dropped to a deep freeze. It was only then that Demyx moved as silently as he could out from the direct spray, opting instead to huddle in the corner with his arms crossed over where his thudding heart should have been. He didn’t dare turn up the temperature, or stop the music, or squeeze the conditioner bottle in case it gave a squeegeeing sound that indicated any sign of life or non-life in his stall.
He didn’t think about calling out to say, “Hey, my bad, I didn’t realize it was you.” He didn’t think about how weird his sudden and unexplained silence must be. He definitely didn’t think about how his boss was standing naked mere feet away from him, had been for a dozen minutes without Demyx knowing, and apparently enjoyed ‘80’s hits.
Demyx tried very hard not to think. Even the concept of running away (more of a reflex than a decision, by this point) didn’t cross his mind. What if Xemnas just happened to step out at the same time he did?
When he saw the bathroom was empty, relief surged through him with such force it made his knees buckle. Minutes later, after several dropped bottles and yelps of fright, Demyx was back down the hallway, technically walking but at an unparalleled speed and directness back to his room.
He didn’t shower for days. It took Xigbar mentioning the lack of finesse in Demyx’s hair and his smell to send Demyx reluctantly slinking back to the stalls for uncharacteristically brief rinses so he could rush out before another encounter. He dreaded their Round Room meetings, where he tried hard not to fidget and began keeping his hood up more often, citing headaches or itchy eyes until Saix delivered a look that demanded he stop being fussy. Ears burning, he kept his gaze glued to the floor so he didn’t have to see the others looking at him. Their snickers and sighs still reached him, but Demyx resolutely tried blocking them out by thinking songs as loud as he could in his head.
He dreaded the showers more.
So when he finally cracked under Larxene’s taunting and told her what had happened, his delight at her belief outweighed his instincts. After all, she did offer to let him use her and Xion’s bathroom.
For a price.
The afternoon was calm, unusual in the lack of fighting or tension as over half of the Organization played a competitive but amicable game of poker. The unspoken but unanimous decision was to keep it that way, meaning that somehow wind of the now bi-monthly matches never reached the ears of their superior, Saix, resident scientist, Larxene, or the only two members of the Organization under the legal gambling age. Lexaeus, in his unflinching fairness, had eventually been the one to suggest they extend the invitation to Roxas and Xion on the grounds that standard legalities didn’t really apply to any of them.
Xaldin and Marluxia had refused to make eye contact with anyone. Zexion put down his cards to give Lexaeus an unadulterated, “What the fuck?” look while Demyx laughed nervously at the rising tension. Luxord and Xigbar took on the responsibility of verbalizing the denial. Luxord believed it was the principal of the matter that held merit while Xigbar advocated that Axel deserved a night away from the kids.
It had been working out well. They typically bet with munny, but every six or eight games they would change the stakes just for a bit of excitement. Though initially they all expected Luxord to be the undefeated champion, the variation in levels and distributions of skill, luck, entropy, and minor cheating had kept the outcomes stably unpredictable.
One of the foundational pillars of the peace was a, fittingly, unspoken compromise between every participant to speak at only a fraction of the amount or intensity they normally would. With as many players as there were at the table who found each other disdainful at best, it was a surprisingly easy compromise to honor and police.
Which made it all the more irritating when, with no preamble, Demyx suddenly announced, “Hey, so, I’ve been thinking, and we should really have a buddy system for the bathrooms.”
Thirteen eyes found his in an instant. Luxord stopped humming. Zexion still had a hand above his fanned out cards. For several long moments, no one moved. Once he began to quail under their scrutiny, they traded disbelieving glances with each other. Demyx flitted his gaze between each of them, shifting in his seat the longer the silence went on. It was only when they all started re-organizing their cards that he realized every person at the table had stopped making eye contact with him and were prepared to let his announcement be a strange but ignored blip on the radar so the game could resume.
As casually as he could, he tried, “’Cause, you know, in some worlds, about fourteen thousand people die each year in their own showers. Can you imagine that? I bet that number would really drop if we—”
Marluxia dropped his card-bearing hand into his lap and exhaled noisily. The other went to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“—were looking out for each other more,” Demyx pressed, pitch and volume rising. “I mean, I know I sure as hell don’t wanna walk in for a shower first thing in the morning and see Xigbar dead on the ground. Nu-uh, nope. Not me.”
“Okay, what the hell is wrong with you?” Xigbar asked at the same time Xaldin looked at Lexaeus and said, “He needs to leave.”
“What?! All I’m saying is that accidents happen to the best of us. And it would be so easy to, to reduce the risk of psychologically scarring ourselves by seeing our friends’ corpses all over the shower stalls.”
“’Friend’ might be a loose term.”
“What are you on?”
“For what it’s worth, there wouldn’t be a body to find,” Zexion chimed in, expression flat. “It’s likely our physical forms would dissipate by the time anyone found us.”
“C’mon Axel, you really wanna see an empty thirteenth seat, spend all day wondering what happened to Roxas, then realize he was last seen heading to take a Soothing Bath?”
“Everyone shut up.” Axel held his hand up with surprising authority and, equally surprisingly, everyone let him speak. Axel turned to face Demyx directly, leaned forward to brace his elbow on his knee and asked, “Demyx, what the fuck?”
“What the fuck what?”
“Where the fuck is all this coming from?” Axel gestured blindly with his hand. “Since when are you an expert on shower-related deaths? When did this become an issue? Why have you been researching this?”
“You don’t know how I spend my free time. Maybe I always do this sort of thing. Maybe, maybe I worry about these things a lot but my estranged great-aunt who lives in Traverse Town just died because—”
“Per l'amor di Dio,” Xigbar muttered and followed Marluxia’s suit of bundling his hand of cards into a small deck. “Demyx, I know for a fact this isn’t how you spend your free time.”
“Most of us can hear how you spend it,” Luxord added, and Demyx shot a worried look at Xigbar.
“He means your sitar—nevermind, why are we even talking about this? We have a game to play.”
“Guys—”
“Demyx, if you’re not going to shut up, then leave.” Marluxia mouthed a silent, “Thank you,” unseen by Xaldin. “Otherwise, get your hand ready and make your bet. We’re finished with this.”
Demyx sought for and found no support among his peers at the table, though he saw Zexion and Axel watching with mildly intrigued and moderately concerned looks, respectively. He sighed and took another look at his cards, only realizing how nervously his leg was fidgeting when Xigbar reached over and clamped a hand to his knee, gluing it to the floor.
After another minute of blissful, normalcy-returning silence, Luxord called for their bets and Xigbar eagerly called his. Nobody was surprised when he asked for a free drink from each of them. Zexion, as per routine, requested a week of free passes for pranks, inasmuch as it was within the control of the group to not out him or persuade others to not seek revenge. Lexaeus stuck to munny, and following the circle, Xaldin, Marluxia, Luxord, and Axel each called out their prize for winning the night.
They all groaned when Demyx declared an instillation of the buddy-rule system for the showers if he were to win. Xaldin would have thrown him out were it not for Lexaeus’s guarded expression and Xigbar fair, if unsolicited, observation that they all should’ve seen that coming. Demyx, a spark of hope rekindling in his chest, resolved to win.
Hours later, they all left the room dreading what sorts of terrors Zexion would come up with for the upcoming days.
Hell week was over, as far as Saix could discern, and he had rarely been more excited for two a.m. to arrive. When he cracked open the bathroom door, he was relieved to find that, against all hope, his expectations that the stalls would be empty were fulfilled. And, judging by the smell, the Dusks had recently cleaned.
Saix tried to purge the list of disasters from the past week from his mind, like suds down the drain. He had them all written down and it was of no benefit to keep replaying them in his head. The Round Room meetings had been thoroughly cutting, the individuals he thought were most suspect were appropriately remorseful (or at least had the decency to appear so), and judging by years of data formed into a graph on a worksheet, the amount and intensity of pranks and mischief would die down in the following week.
Saix closed his eyes and hummed as he let the water run over him. He was sure it was Zexion’s fault. Demyx could never cover his tracks well enough.
“Oh, sorry!”
“Oh, hey man, no worries!” Demyx gestured. “You’re in luck, two of the stalls are empty!”
“Uh…right.” Axel stepped past Demyx in the doorway, trying to figure out if his math was right. “…Why would that matter?”
“Um, ‘cause we can both shower and not have to wait?”
“Weren’t you just leaving?”
“Oh, uh, yeah!” Demyx perked up and immediately began to shrivel. “Well, sort of. I was just checking to see if anything was free.”
“…so you saw two empty stalls and went to walk back out?”
He watched Demyx fidget and grasp for a response until Vexen told them from the middle stall to stop talking, they were distracting him. Axel rolled his eyes and gestured to the left. Demyx nodded and took the right.
“So where’ve you been lately?” Axel called across the stalls.
“What do you mean?”
“Ah, you know. I haven’t seen you around a whole lot. Saix keeping you busy with missions?”
“It’s terrible. Do me a favor, will you, and ask him to—”
“What?” Axel called, grinning.
Demyx’s voice raised in response. “Do me a favor, and tell him to read my reports more thoroughly!”
“Why makes you think he’s not reading them?” The unmistakable current of Vexen’s grumbling gained in volume. Axel laughed silently to himself.
“’Cause I’ve mentioned, like, fifty times that I should be sent on more recon missions and he never does it. If he’s going to harass me for reports all the time, he should actually pay attention to them.”
“Oh, he does.”
“What?!”
“He does!” The middle shower head shut off abruptly with a long, high squeak accompanied by unending complaints. Axel bit his fingers to keep from laughing. He didn’t hear Demyx’s response, but he caught the word, “ignoring.”
He could still hear Vexen’s murmurs when Demyx yelled, “Hey, mind if I play some music?”
He did, but he knew Vexen minded more. “Go ahead. Do you take requests?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Got any Backstreet Boys on there?”
There was a moment of silence before the familiar sounds of a boisterous talkbox began to blare. He joined Demyx and A.J. McLean’s maniacal shout before tailing off. Demyx whole-heartedly enacted the opening. Axel could practically feel the temple throb coming from the stall next to him.
They made it through several more songs of Millennium before Axel turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and stepped out of the stall. Demyx asked if he would wait up for him, which Axel knew was an odd request but didn’t see a point in bringing it up. He needed to wait for the mirrors to defog anyways.
“’Sup?” he asked when Luxord stepped in.
“Good evening, Axel, and…?”
“There you are, wild and free~”
“…and Demyx. I’m assuming both of those shower stalls are free?”
“Yeah, but you might want to avoid the middle one. Vexen was in there.” Luxord sighed and thanked him for the tip. He did take a habitual examination of the shower stalls though, and eyeballed the pile of damp hair coalescing by the drain of the middle stall.
Luxord had finished his shower and Axel was finally making progress with the spikes of his hair when Demyx exited, turning down the volume on his speakers.
“Nice towel.”
“I know, right?! I got it in Twilight Town.” Demyx gestured at the cloth around his waist. “That place is weird. All the locals say there’s a beach there but I’ve never been able to find it.”
“But you have a beach towel from them,” Luxord said.
“That’s the weird part. Everyone points it out on a map but I can never quite seem to warp there.”
“Sounds to me like it’s the antithesis of the Round Room. The last I heard, no one was able to discern it’s location in relation to the rest of the castle, yet…”
“Yet we all, unfortunately, know where to find it,” Demyx finished gloomily. It was one thing that they spent so much time in pointless meetings that were mind-numbing at best and, more recently, anxiety-inducing at worst. It was another that Xemnas, via the mouth of Saix, refused to let them put cushions on their thrones.
“You know, we used to bribe Xigbar to try to find it for us.”
“Truly?”
“Yeah, but Saix made us stop once he found out how often people were paying him. Said something about collapsing our micro-economy or whatever.” Axel rolled his eyes and turned to Demyx, who was fruitlessly wiping a clear spot in the mirror, only for it to recollect water droplets. “Speaking of, Larxene was looking for you earlier.” Demyx wiped faster, eyes fixated on the mirror. “She said something about your payment for the week?”
“Oh?” Luxord and Axel watched Demyx scrub furiously at the mirror, defiantly not hearing them despite the only other noises in the room being the repetitive squeaking of his skin on the glass and A.J. McLean softly singing.
“You know, I don’t believe I can recall seeing you here lately.” Luxord quirked a perfect eyebrow. “I know you’re typically a morning shower fellow, but—”
“Okay, weird. Do you just go around memorizing people’s showering habits?”
“It’s simple observation.” Only Luxord could manage to sound genuinely offended without being defensive.
“All right, spill it,” Axel said.
“No way.”
“Demyx—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I’ll tell Saix there’s illegal currency exchange going on.”
Demyx glared and Axel grinned.
For the first time since Luxord had joined, a shower-strategy meeting was assembled in Axel’s room, sans Xemnas, Saix, and the two girls. Pizza was ordered but untouched as the ten men discussed what could be done.
The buddy-system was the most frequently vocalized idea, not by popularity but by insistence. A twin, pointed stare by Roxas and Axel compelled Demyx to reluctantly drop the idea and open the floor to other possibilities. Vexen called for scheduled shower times, only letting go of the matter when Lexaeus told him with total confidence, “It won’t work,” after uncounted blistering minutes of debate.
Roxas asked about reviving the private bathroom argument to Saix, but was ignored by the others until Axel told him with a surprisingly condescending tone, “You weren’t there, Roxas. It’s not gonna happen.”
It was an hour and two empty pizza boxes later when Xigbar suggested taking out the dividing walls altogether just to remove any element of mystery. This kicked their focus into overdrive, and half an hour later they decided on a simple call-out system. Whoever was in the shower already would simply announce who they were when they heard someone new enter the room. It was simple, took little effort or re-organization of anyone’s lifestyle, and didn’t involve doubling up on stalls or removing them altogether. Even Vexen reluctantly agreed it was a sensible plan, and everyone left breathing their first easy breath in hours and, in some cases, weeks.
“He really saw Xemnas in the shower?”
“He didn’t see him, but said it was pretty clear who it was.” Roxas glanced at her. “You didn’t know?”
“No. All Larxene did was ask…well, say that Demyx would be using our showers and if I had a problem, talk to him about it.” Xion shrugged. “I was just glad they had worked something out. It’s kind of scary when she finds him in there.”
“How often does that happen?”
“More than you’d think. I don’t know how he does it, but he always seems to try to sneak in when Larxene was there.”
“Yeah, well, honestly I’d take Xemnas over Larxene any day.”
“Really?” Xion stared incredulously. “I mean, I just figured it’d be weird to walk in and find your boss showering.”
“But at least he doesn’t throw a fit whenever someone else is in there.”
“But Demyx isn’t supposed to be in there. I’m not saying she’s pleasant, but we each have our own stall and as long as keep to our spaces, Larxene’s not that bad. I don’t think Xemnas would be happy if one of us tried using the guys’ shower.”
“Why would you try?”
“I’m not saying I would. Just that I…nevermind. I just think I’d rather accidentally realize Larxene was in the bathroom with me than Xemnas.”
“Well, yeah. That’d be especially weird for you.” Xion gave up and Roxas added, “At least you don’t have to worry about bumping into Saix, either.”
“I thought you said he has his own shower?”
“Axel seems pretty sure. I know we haven’t been here that long, but I’ve never seen him there.”
“Maybe he doesn’t shower?”
“Maybe. But his hair is there. Just not the rest of him.” A few steps later, Roxas noticed Xion’s shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter. “What?”
“I,” she tried, then took a deep breath. She could barely get the words out. “What if he just…gathers all of his hair from his own shower and, and puts it in yours?” Roxas’s expression dropped from confusion to disgust as Xion began to laugh aloud, unable to contain it.
“Xion, that’s disgusting.”
“I know,” she gasped. “But just imagine…”
He tried not to, and was relieved when the next turn brought them to the bathrooms so he could leave Xion to her gross, absurd thoughts. She was still trying to stifle her laughter when they parted, waving as she struggled with the door with her towel-laden hand.
That must be another nice thing, Roxas thought as he scanned the empty shower stalls for clumps of hair, blue or otherwise. She gets to leave her shampoo in there.
“Yo, it’s me!”
“This is Luxord.”
“It’s Zexion. …I said, it’s Zexion!”
“It’s Marluxia.”
“This entire procedure is asinine…are you deaf? Number Eight and I sound nothing alike!”
“Xaldin.”
“Hey, uh, it’s Roxas!”
“Hey, hey! Welcome to the party!” Silence, then the sound of the bathroom door shutting again. Xigbar shrugged. “Whatever.”
“Hey, Demyx here!”
Lexaeus quickly learned he didn’t have to call out. Unless he was crouching down to rinse his hair or face, no one had any trouble recognizing the top part of his head from over the shower stall. He was sure the accidental eye-contact made the others uncomfortable, but the whole thing suit him fine.
“Well I’m running down the road, trying to loosen my load; got a world of trouble on my mind.”
The bathroom door swung open. “Hey, Marley! Don’t even think about—” It slammed shut. Two seconds later it burst open. “—I’ll make you regret me recruiting you.”
“I’m sure he already does,” Xaldin called from his stall. Absent-mindedly, he went back to humming. His door shuddered when Marluxia closed his own.
“Oh, hey guys, it’s—”
“It’s obviously you, Demyx,” Marluxia said, and was spared a response when the squeaky faucet handle loaned its voice.
It was not enough, though, to spare them from Xigbar. “Maybe Vexen was on to something after all. I’m sure Xemnas and Saix would be happy to install a seniority clause.”
“A clause in what? There’s no legislature here.”
“Why on earth do you think either of them would care? In case you haven’t noticed, neither of them are ever here.”
“Uh, hello? My anxiety begs to differ.”
“It’s not my fault you haven’t showered for days,” Marluxia told Xigbar through the opaque glass door. “Aren’t you a sniper? Show some patience.”
“Psh, whatever. Hey, Demyx, got room for one more in there?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Yeah, dude, I’m with Xaldin on this one.”
“Oh, come on!”
“No, you come on! Your hair is gonna get everywhere, which is going to be dis-gus-ting.”
“Okay, so I won’t take it out of the pony tail.”
“No, eww, that’s even worse! Do you actually do that?”
Xigbar rolled his eyes and leaned by the musician’s door. “It’s time efficient.”
“It’s revolting!”
“It really is, Xigbar,” Marluxia said.
Xigbar waved one of his arms. “How is that any different from what Xaldin does?”
“Because I shower regularly, wash them thoroughly, and don’t grease up my hair with oil because, and I quote, it ‘makes it harder to be used against me.’”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“Dude—I—…holy shit. Your hair must be…” Demyx, unable to find the words, articulated his concern with a drawn-out, appropriately nasally whine.
“As if. I didn’t hear you complaining about it last night.”
“For the love of—”
“Xigbar, I am going to—”
“You are not having that conversation here,” Marluxia continued, interrupting whatever practical, thoroughly justified but ultimately unenforceable threat Xaldin was about to promise. “In fact, I don’t want to hear another word from either of you.”
“Until…?”
“Ever,” Xaldin and Marluxia said in unison.
Next door, Xion wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Larxene had told her not to, but Xion thought maybe it was time to talk to Saix about the excessively acoustic ventilation system after all.
“You’re joking.”
“Am not.”
“Then you’re insane.”
“Nu-uh. You’re too smart to fall in love with a madman.”
Saix glared at him and Axel smirked. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Saix said, “I refuse to believe that I have to remind you that, as Nobodies, as we have been for the past—”
“No, you’re right.” Axel held up his hands in surrender. “You don’t.”
“Why would you even ask something like that?”
“C’mon, it could be fun.”
“Clearly you’ve been spending too much time with Xigbar if you think that something with such a high risk of injury or fatality, and that unsanitary, not to mention shameless, constitutes as ‘fun.’”
“Point made. Nevermind.”
Saix sighed and looked out the window, down at the abyss and where rainwater never collected. “What even possessed you to ask?”
“I had the thought and figured I’d go for it. Don’t wait; act. Remember?” He almost laughed, and knew that Axel could tell. The redhead’s shoulders lowered and a grin settled onto his face. “I dunno, I just wanted to switch it up a little. Thought it might be hot.”
“Any shower with you would be.”
“I can cool it down. And it’s not like it would be that unsanitary or shameless.”
“…How so?”
Axel mirrored Saix’s quizzical look. “You tell me. It’s your bathroom.” The look persisted, and against his will Axel could feel his shoulders rising in a useless, primitive defensiveness. “Look, nevermind, all right? Dumb question, write it off as me spending too much time with Demyx.” Saix continued to stare, even after Axel excused himself from the room. He was sure he’d regret his silence later, but he wasn’t sure what he was more surprised of; that Axel had misinterpreted his confusion for contempt or that he hadn’t noticed what Saix thought was an obvious fact. Just how, Saix wondered, does he think my hair gets there?
Zexion slipped through the door and sighed in relief at the familiar sight of Vexen’s surgically white towel hanging from the shower door and Lexaeus’s forehead cresting the other stall. It wasn’t much, but he was grateful for the familiar, if not always ideal, company. Nature abhors a vacuum, and Zexion had learned very quickly that against the laws of probability, empty shower stalls were usually filled by the people he wished to interact with the least.
“Nice to see you, too,” he said when neither one acknowledged him.
“I just saw you in the lab an hour ago. It’s simply excessive to greet you again.”
Zexion hung up his bathrobe inside the stall and reminded himself he was grateful Vexen was here. The chances of there being hot water were higher.
“I thought we agreed this was the most prudent course of action, given Number Nine’s most recent…incident. It will only work if we all participate.”
“It is, given the parameters are true. But are we not going to delve deeper into the credibility of his tale?”
“Are you saying he made it up?” Zexion winced as he caught scent of whoever used the stall last. Probably Luxord.
“I, for one, have never seen the Superior in these showers since we found this world. It seems improbable to me that he would suddenly start utilizing them and that one of us would just happen to be there.”
“Unlikely, but not impossible.”
“Honestly, where were the further details? The evidence? All we have is a woefully inconsistent and detail-lacking tale from one of our more unreliable members and here we all are setting protocols for an event that may have never happened or never will again.”
Zexion pondered as he rinsed the shampoo out of his hair. Then he asked, “Are you saying you’ve never seen signs of the Superior showering?”
Silence answered him, and Zexion wished he could see his co-workers facial expressions. Lexaeus, to the untrained eye, wouldn’t betray his thoughts, but Zexion had years of finding small cracks in his mask. Vexen, on the other hand…the silent lip movements of his unvoiced thoughts, the fidgeting hands, and the intense sharpening of his gaze as he focused on everything except what he was staring at.
The picture he held in his head was accurate to the real thing.
“Are you saying you have?”
Zexion wondered how to best answer that. He massaged his scalp with conditioner and let it sit while he combed through his options. Neither Nobody beside him spoke, but Zexion was positive they were both listening intently.
When he counted to two minutes and tipped his head back under the spray, he said, “Yes.” Still, no one spoke, though partway through rinsing the soap off of himself he heard Lexaeus shut off the water beside him. That was his cue to finish up.
When Vexen came out several minutes later to see a perfectly dry and styled Zexion humming and folding his towel, he scoffed. “Really, Zexion? You have near-unlimited options, and this is how you choose to apply your power?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
A week later, before Zexion could even open his mouth, Vexen demanded to know who was in the stall and scolded Zexion when he answered. As he had when he was a child, Zexion didn’t challenge the scolding, though in the safety of his own shower stall he could at least roll his eyes. He also allowed himself a smirk once Vexen turned the water on. Watching Vexen tote around the castle searching for Xemnas on a regular basis was humorous enough. Observing him panic at the thought of an unexpected encounter was worth the scoldings.
The routine was working well, to the pleasant surprise of all. There were no immediate downsides other than some (namely Xigbar) finding it more difficult to surprise their coworkers when stepping in and out of the shower stalls. The upsides were that it gave everyone in the bathroom an earlier warning when some (namely Xigbar and Vexen) arrived and gave them an extra two seconds to mentally fortify. The initial cloud of masculine insecurity and existential dread of finding Xemnas in the showers began to dissipate, but as they continued to meet for meetings in the Round Room or the Altar of Naught, they all began to appreciate what Demyx must have gone through. Even if they would never admit it.
This may have continued if Demyx had been luckier and wiser.
“Hey! It’s me, not Xemnas,” he called as the bathroom door opened.
“I would assume.”
Demyx barely waited for the water in the opposite stall to turn on. He threw on his cloak, gathered his belongings precariously in his arms, opened a portal in his stall, and fled.
“Hey, Axel, you heading to use the showers?”
“Are you?” Axel shook his head when Demyx nodded. “Then no, not anymore.” At one of the tables across the room, Larxene smirked, barely hiding it behind her fan of cards.
“What? Why not?”
“Because you’re bad luck. Two encounters with Xemnas within the past two months is…hey, Zexion, how much is—”
“Too many, I would assume,” Zexion responded as he and Vexen walked past.
“Exactly,” Axel said, pointing at Zexion without looking at him.
“But—”
“Really, Number Nine, I don’t understand what the fuss is all about.” Zexion rolled his eyes under his hair. “Don’t be rude, Zexion. Number Nine, you have blown this way out of proportion. The Superior is just like the rest of us. It makes no sense that you would make the assumption that he didn’t need to shower.”
“Or was choosing not to.”
“I think you newer members have forgotten that the Superior used to be a regular human being, and one we knew quite well,” Vexen went on, ignoring Zexion’s input and Axel’s unamused stare. “If you would quit being so prone to panic and jumping to illogical conclusions, this entire situation would never had taken up so much of our time and energy. Some of us have actual problems to focus on.”
Vexen strode out of the Grey Room, Zexion in tow. Axel rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, well, you heard the man. Let me know if you wanna go to Twilight Town later.”
“Yeah, sure. Unless you think Xemnas will stalk me there, too.” Axel gave Demyx the same unasmused look he bestowed upon Vexen before opening a portal. Demyx glared at Axel’s back as he left. He turned, preparing to go hunt down a more agreeable Nobody, and walked straight into a slick veil of hair.
Xigbar laughed while Demyx sputtered, stepping back and wiping the hair out of his face. He cocked an eyebrow when Demyx began pawing at his own tongue. “Real attractive there, kiddo.”
“Scawew yhou,” Demyx said around his fingers, wincing when he pulled out a strand. He held it up so Xigbar could see and pointed. “Do you know how close I was to swallowing this?”
“Bet you dodged it by a hair.” Demyx glared and Xigbar crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, don’t be like that. I was gonna ask if you needed a shower buddy, after all. Provided you’re not too grossed out by my hair-washing methods.”
“You mean your lack of them?” He waved the single hair as evidence.
“Potato, potahto. You in?”
He waited for Demyx’s internal debate to reach a resolution, offering Demyx an upside-down grin when he nodded. “But only if you let me teach you how to actually wash your hair. Seriously, I can feel the bacteria trying to colonize in my throat.”
“I’ll buy you a Potion for that.”
“Psh, I think I’m gonna need an Elixir.” Demyx scrutinized Xigbar as he finally righted himself and touched his feet back to the floor. “Why the sudden generosity?”
Xigbar clasped his hands over his head and stretched, shrugging as he did so. “Nope, nothing like that. This works in my favor, too.” He eased his shoulders back and dropped his hands, grinning at Demyx’s quizzical look. “Tagging along with you seems like my best chance of bumping into Xemnas in there. Dreams really do come true, huh?”
At the table, Marluxia shuddered and Larxene dropped her hand, telling the two she was too sick to play now. Luxord, slightly paler than before, merely nodded as she warped away.
Xigbar, satisfied with the disturbance he created, rightfully took Demyx’s silence and disgusted look as a refusal and reminded Demyx he knew where to find him if he changed his mind. Demyx glanced over his shoulder and saw Marluxia glaring at him, as if Xigbar’s penchant for chaos was his fault. Grumbling, he stuck his hands into his pockets and left.
Zexion knocked on the door twice. Seconds later, it opened and he stepped inside, thanking Xemnas as he closed the door behind them. Xemnas waved towards the door on the far wall and said, “Take as long as you’d please.”
“Thank you.” Within those two words was an unmistakable relief, so Xemnas let Zexion go without further preamble. Soon the water was running and became comfortable white noise as Xemnas looked over reports and old journals.
At times he wished they hadn’t forfeited their laboratory and world to the darkness, especially once he learned who had gained access to their hard-earned research. Though they had reconstructed what they could, and in some cases innovated new equipment and experiments, the loss of their old territory was incalculable.
Xemnas blinked and shook his head. He didn’t have the luxury of reminiscing, though he admitted to himself it was difficult with Zexion sneaking into his shower to escape whatever nonsense and nuisances his coworkers were engaging in. The current Zexion was much more direct and vocal, but Xemnas still saw hints of the silent, scrutinizing, and occasionally scowling Ienzo whenever Zexion knocked on his door.
Xemnas smirked and chuckled silently to himself. He never would have guessed their initial animosity would be resolved by something as simple as his Somebody loaning Ienzo use of his shower, but he had long ago realized it was around that time that they began to rely on each other more, either in the lab or rescuing each other from valued but annoying co-workers.
It was only when Zexion came back through the door, still towel-drying his hair, that Xemnas looked away from his reports. “Did anything in particular happen?”
“No.” Zexion held his bangs out of his face with the towel as he reconsidered. “Well, it appears Number Nine finally convinced Xigbar to take his hair out of his ponytail when he washes it. Objectively, I’m relieved, but even the Dusks couldn’t clean all of it.” Xemnas slowly shook his head. “Oh, and speaking of Number Nine, you should know he is still scared from your…prior encounters.”
“…Plural.”
“Yes.” Zexion watched Xemnas’s eyebrows draw together as he puzzled through what Zexion said. “The other day, when he was using the call-out system I told you about? He said that he said something along the lines of, ‘Hey, I’m not Xemnas,’ and you responded.”
Realization dawned. “Ahh, of course. Thank you for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome. I should be off, though. There are some lab results I need to read before tomorrow.”
“Come back anytime.” Xemnas was sure Zexion was smirking, and he allowed himself one of his own once he was alone again. If Demyx was thoroughly frightened, perhaps now he’d stop getting noise complaints from a barely-anonymous Saix about Demyx’s singing habits. An unintended bonus for his troubles, but a bonus nonetheless.
Xemnas began to hum as he went back to his reports, thinking it was indeed a nice day for a white wedding.