Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Isa wakes up to white ceilings. 

They shouldn’t be white. White has always meant the Castle That Never Was to him, which meant Organization XIII. A very bad place to be, after waking disoriented from a sudden nightmare. He very specifically painted the ceiling of his room a dark green to combat that issue. 

Why are the ceilings white?

Slowly, he sits up. There’s a sound as he does so. A familiar sound, a sound he heard nearly every morning for ten years. Leather rasping against the softer cloth of a bed cover. 

No. 

His breaths come in, out, in, out. Far too quickly. His head aches. 

His heart quickens. That, paradoxically, leads his breathing to slow down. To come easier. No, he can’t be back in Organization. He still has his heart. His human heart. 

Isa places his hand against his bare chest. Merely feeling his heartbeat.  

The normal speed of a stressed-out Somebody, not the painfully slowness of Nobody’s physical heart. 

He’s Isa. Not Saïx. Never Saïx. Never again. 

Yet...Isa examines the room he’s in. 

The room is white. White, white, white, floor to ceiling. It’s...familiar. It’s the room he spent ten years of his life in. Ten miserable years. 

A familiar Organization coat, hung up by the door. His boots on the floor. A routine he recalls setting up again and again, each night before a day at work for the Organization. 

His worst nightmare come to life once more. 

The Castle That Never Was. 

But he has his heart! Xehanort is dead! Gone!

How is this possible!?

His fingers dig into the covers of his bed, ripping at the delicate sheets. Cheap, like everything else used by Organization. Excepting the coats and weapons, of course. 

He has to check. For that. Isa digs under his bed, and right on the side, where mattress meets frame, there is it. His diary. His Organization journal. Right exactly where he always put it. 

Isa puts his hands up to the side of his head. Curling up on the ground. His hands cover his ears, which...they’re pointed. They’re not supposed to be that way anymore, after Xehanort...died. But they’re pointed and he has the familiar studs in his lobs as well, Isa determines with several more gentle touches. 

Everything is far too close to the way he remembers it for it to be simply a sick joke. 

Things about this (his) room that no one else knew, not even Lea. The physical differences as well. And what Lea knew...he would never joke like this. 

Never. 

He needs a mirror. Needs to see his face. His eyes. 

Isa, for lack of anything else in the room to wear, puts on the coat. His boots. His gloves. And leaves. 

No one else is up and about yet. Only him, in these empty halls. Clean and white. Sterile, of any life. 

Which is normal. For the Organization. Saïx was always one of the first people up. Not normal for the new life he had started for himself. 

This has to be a nightmare. It can’t be real. It can’t be. 

He fumbles at a nearby wall, relying on it to keep from falling over. Why is it so hard to breath? Why is he so dizzy?

Mirrors, mirrors, he needs something to see his reflection. Where can he...? Oh. Of course. Isa thumps his head against the wall. 

He doesn’t need an actual mirror. Not when there’s all kinds of ways to get a reflection in the Dark City. Far below the Castle. 

Now, Isa just needs to get out there. His gut trembles, as he holds up a hand. A shaking hand. Focuses. There’s nothing. 

Whew. But something deep inside, almost like his heart, tells him to check again. To dig down, for a familiar emptiness at his core. 

He reaches. And the Corridor comes. 

Isa almost falls through it, to the other side. To the Dark City that awaits him. Dazed. This can’t be real. Why would he have that power again, he has a heart?

...Doesn’t he?

No one goes into the Dark City. No one but the lesser Nobodies. Yet there he is. 

Searching for a clear enough window to look into, one that provides clear enough reflection see more than a silhouette. 

His searching gathers...attention. No Heartless, not yet, not when there is no Kingdom Hearts glaring over this world to draw them here. 

Only Nobodies of many kinds. The majority are Dusks, flitting back and forth, but there are others. Assassins crawling around in the shadows, alongside the Creepers. Dancers gliding along in pairs. Snipers standing on top of higher places like lampposts and window sills. Once, he swears he catches the flicker of a Reaper in the corner of his eye.

Watching. Waiting. Following. But doing nothing more. 

Interested, if one can say emotionless beings are interested. But then, Isa realises suddenly, what is there to say they can’t be interested?

If Greater Nobodies like Roxas could grow hearts, was there a possibility that their lesser brethren could as well? Maybe they could become more than what they were. Dusks could become more specialized Nobodies and vice versa, after all. 

A familiar grinding, dragging sound. The following Nobodies split up, flee, as a new group enters the scene. 

Berserkers. 

Isa, as Saïx, had never been fond of his own Nobodies. Just more reminders of how his greatest power was apparently losing control of himself. 

But now...they seem sad. More than anything else. Dragged along by their own swords in his wake. Forming a vanguard as Isa makes his way to the center of the City.

To Memory’s Skyscraper. 

The glass of that tower’s doors are clear enough. 

He stands before its base, looking himself over. Tall, long blue hair, x-scar on his face, pointed ears. Scowling, in a long black coat. But his eyes...what are his eyes?

Yellow. 

Xehanort yellow. 

Staring back at him from that reflection. Blurred, but too clear to deny. 

He’s on his knees. When did he end up on his knees?

HIs gloved fist hits against the glass. It vibrates back at him, ever so slightly. Not breaking. Refusing to break. Why won’t this nightmare go away?

WHY CAN’T HE WAKE UP. 

The emotions building in his heart, they finally rush out of him in a surrounding ring of all too familiar fire.

Everything turns blue. 

It was supposed to be just another day in the Organization. An ordinary day. Do the usual haul, have some sea-salt ice cream as a nice treat for himself in Twilight Town, sleep. 

Instead, there’s this. 

The Gray Aera’s crowded. It’s never crowded. Saïx is always careful to hand out missions as quickly as possible, so not to deal with larger amounts of Nobodies sitting around doing nothing. 

Yet. 

He’s not there. The room is crowded and Saïx is not there. 

Almost everyone’s in there. Waiting. 

“Hey, where’s Saïx?” Demyx is first to ask. Scratching at his head. 

“Figures he wouldn’t be here,” Larxene huffs, leaning over her lap. “The one time I need something from him!”

“He should be here. There’s no vacation today, is there?” Marluxia inquires, with his usual smirk. The smirk that always leaves Axel wanting to punch him in the face.  

“Hey, I’m all up for more vacation!” Demyx flops over into his usual spot, bringing out his sitar to play with its strings. 

“Hm. What an interesting and unexpected change.” 

“There shouldn’t be...right?”

“He should keep up with his responsibilities.”

Everyone talking over each other. One voice shrieks above the rest, briefly. 

“I knew such a high number shouldn’t have been trusted with such responsibility!” Vexen, of course. Not like there’s anyone else here who gives a shit about members’ numbers.

Axel folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the wall. His eyes sweep over the room, doing a silent head-count. 

Marluxia and Larxene sharing a couch. Demyx, sitting next to Luxord with his sitar out while Luxord shuffles his cards. Vexen complaining to Zexion and Lexaeus as they stand behind the couch Xaldin’s completely spread out on. 

Pretty much everyone’s in here. Only three people missing. Lord Xemnas, Xigbar, and Saïx. Did a private meeting run long? Is Xemnas going to have a meeting in the Round Room, announcing that Saïx has ‘tendered his resignation’?

Is Axel going to never see his fr- see Saïx again?

Xigbar, out of nowhere, comes into the Gray Area. Everyone instantly looks at him, quieting down. Waiting for news. 

Xigbar ignores them, casually settling down on the arm of the couch Xaldin occupies. The large man grunts at him, but does nothing more. 

“Hey, Flamesilocks. Boss wants you to track down our missing member.” Xigbar stretches, putting his arms up behind his head. 

Xemnas wants him, one of the assassins , to find Saïx. That’s not a good sign. Axel’s eyes narrow. “Is there a location to start with?”

Xigbar hums. Spends a minute stretching out his arms. Axel’s fingers twitch. 

“Memory’s Skyscraper,” the one-eyed Nobody finally says. “Apparently someone’s shaking things up around there.”

Axel can’t help his eyebrows going up. “That close? Huh.” He waves a dismissive hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Course you will. Wouldn’t want to disappoint the boss, now would we?”

Axel lets that statement pass, creating a quick Corridor to take him down to the Dark City. To the big tower in the center of it, the so-called Memory’s Skyscraper. 

Right there’s something off about the normally quiet location. 

A crowd of Berserkers. Standing in a circle. Surrounding something . 

“Moving through, moving through.” Axel’s thin frame passes easily through the tight crowd of huge Nobodies. To the center. 

The Berserkers do nothing. Only watch him move past with their eyeless faces. 

Creepy. 

Glass all over the ground. And dark concrete blocks. Shattered. Somehow Saïx has actually managed to break the tower’s impossibly hard windows. As well as take huge chunks out of its base. 

More like diamond than actual glass, whatever they are. Still broken. Revealing the emptiness hiding behind, within the building’s frame. But that’s not really important right now. What’s important is what’s in the middle of the glass and Lesser Nobodies. 

There’s a body laying on the ground too, surrounded by the glass. A familiar body. Face up, eyes closed. 

Saïx always looks pretty wild and roughed up after a berserking session, but this...

This is something else. 

There’s blood, for one thing. 

Blackish blood, all over his face and dried in uneven patches through long blue hair. Not visible against the Organization’s coat, of course. 

That dried blood leaves Saïx’s hair sticking up in weird clumps and points. Stains the glass shards surrounding him. 

It’s really, really hard to get a Nobody bleeding. Hell, even as the Organization’s assassin, Axel can count on one hand the number of times he’s actually seen his fellow Nobodies bleed. Somebody blood, he’s seen plenty. But blood of a Nobody...? 

Almost never. 

Which brings up the question: what had Saïx been doing, to actually start bleeding all over the place?

“C’mon, get up, I don’t want to drag you back to the Castle.”

Kicks Saïx in the side. He doesn’t respond. Still as a corpse. 

Axel starts digging in his own pockets. Maybe he’s got a spare Potion somewhere, that’ll get Saïx back on his feet. Or did he use his last one on his mission yesterday...?

“Lea.”

Axel’s hands freeze. He hasn’t heard that name for...a long time. Ever since he and Saïx had privately agreed to follow the Superior’s order of using their new Nobody names, until they got their hearts back. 

A promise, almost. Can you make a promises without a heart?

Not really.

But they have an understanding , at least. That’s the reason he’s really out here. Surrounded by Berserkers that may or may not be considering whether to kill him or not. 

“Saaaix,” Axel tries. Slowly drawing the name out. 

Saïx groans, almost quiet enough to escape Axel’s notice. Then he opens his eyes. 

The usual yellow. Like they’ve been a while for now. 

Not that Axel was expecting any differently. Why would he be?

Saïx blinks a couple times, focusing on the face far above him. “Axel.”

Axel. Not Lea. Yeah, that’s right. 

That sinking in his gut, huh. He must be hungry, even though he ate just two days ago. 

It’s not disappointment because that would be an actual feeling and Nobodies don’t have those.

“This can’t be real.”

Axel huffs. “Can’t be real? Jeeze, I sure wish it wasn’t. This is a total pain.”

“Why are you here?”

Axel sighs, pulling his hand through his hair. “Why am I here? Saïx, you’re sitting in a pool of your own blood surrounded by Berserkers and you’re asking me that.”

Those eyes narrow as the face moves to make a familiar scowl. “You’re exaggerating. I am not laying in my own blood right now.”

“What about the Berserkers then?” Axel waves an arm at the Nobodies in question. “Because I’m not exaggerating about those.”

Saïx pushes himself up. Taking in the gathered crowd with his own eyes. 

“...Hm.”

“So?” Axel prompts. “Here, why?”

“Had to berserk,” Saïx explains simply, slowly rising to his feet. Wobbling. Looking so very, very weak. 

“Huh.” Weird. Saïx hasn’t needed to berserk since they first gained their Nobody powers and weapons. Back then, he had constantly lost control until the Superior had told him flatly, to either gain control over himself or become a Dusk. 

Shortly after, Axel had never seen Saïx berserk again. Outside of battle, of course. 

And none of those uncontrollable sessions ever drew blood. Seems like Saïx did a Limit Break, more than anything else. Why?

Something’s changed. But what? Not that Saïx would give him any answers...

So he’ll just have to figure it out on his own. 

After completing this mission, of course. 

“Time to RTC. Everyone’s waiting.”

“What.” Saïx stops right in his tracks. “They’re...waiting. For me.”

“You’re the one in charge of the missions,” Axel points out. “Be weirder if no one did notice you were gone.”

Saïx rubs at his forehead. At the dried blood peeling there. “Of course. They’re waiting for the missions. Yes.”

His yellow eyes seem brighter than usual. Almost berserk levels of glow. Axel takes a discreet step away from him. Just far enough that Lunatic won’t thwack him right away if Saïx does lose control again. 

If Saïx loses control...then Axel’ll have to put him down. He doesn’t want to do that , he still needs the blue-haired Nobody’s connections to the Superior for the plan. 

Besides, it’d be awfully messy and no guarantee he’d get away unscathed. 

Thankfully, Saïx only takes a deep breath and the light in his eyes fades away to its more usual orange-yellow shade.

If Axel didn’t know better, he’d say that Saïx was sick. But Nobodies don’t get sick. They only get crazy and then, soon after, dead. 

Yeah, he’s definitely got to find out what’s eating Saïx. Before their entire plan goes up in flames. 

Axel holds out his hand, opening up a Dark Corridor. One leading directly to the Grey Area. Where everyone else is waiting. 

Saïx, for his credit, doesn’t hesitate. He heads right into it, Axel following close behind.

The whispers start up immediately, on the other side. Saïx ignores them all, sweeping past the crowd of gathered Nobodies in his usual asshole you-are-nothing-to-me fashion. Still covered in his own blood, but not giving a shit about it. Heads right out of the Gray Area. Probably to grab the daily assignments. 

That, more than anything else, assures Axel that things might just turn out okay. 

Might. 

Xigbar’s grinning at him. Moving his eyebrows at him. Mocking him. 

At that, Axel has to give into his gut instinct: he flips the old man the middle finger. 

Xigbar barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “See? Knew you could do it. You’re preettty close after all, aren’t ya?” He makes a pinching gesture with his index finger and thumb.

Before Axel can say anything in reply to that, Saïx sweeps back into the room. 

Carrying a pretty familiar stack of papers. 

Axel settles down, in a chair. Listening to Saïx’s familiar drone. Of the passing out of today’s work load. 

The rest of the day goes pretty normally. Recon, Heartless disposal, Research...It would be easy to forget that the early morning disaster had happened at all. Everything’s normal. Routine. 

If not for one thing. 

That one single thing. 

A smudge of black blood, stuck to Saïx’s cheek. Right under his left eye. The rest of the blood has long been cleaned up, but that...that remains. 

Axel still doesn’t know what it means. But it means something . And that something means change.

He’s sure of it.

Chapter Text

The next few days pass by in a daze. Boring, long, and full of far too much paperwork. 

Details blur together, only recalled long enough to be inserted into the Organization’s digital records. 

Isa doesn’t say anything. Not even the usual spiel, no threats if the paperwork doesn’t come in on time. No, he’s silent. 

Silently convincing himself that this is real, that he’s in this hell again. 

More often than not, he’s alone. Completely and totally. Everyone leaves quickly to their missions and is slow to return. Demyx isn’t even there. 

He wants to berserk. 

No, he doesn’t. But his Nobody body does. 

Every time Isa feels the berserking madness crest inside of him, he closes his eyes and shoves it back down. It’s hard, in a way he never recalled it being before, to keep from berserking. The need comes and goes, but it never stays away for long. He’s careful not to go down to the Dark City again, no matter how bad the urges get. Stays within the bounds of the Castle That Never Was. 

He can’t draw attention to himself. Well, more attention. 

It’s already too late to avoid standing out at all. Not after Axel had to bring him back. 

Axel. Axel, with his body radiating enough heat to create a desert, with brilliant cat-eyes. The teardrops under those same inhuman eyes. Lea, but not. He misses his Lea, the Lea that has yet to be even conceptalized. No, that won’t happen until Roxas, at the least. Roxas and Xion, together. Succeeding where he as Saïx failed. 

He had been bitter about that, once. Now, he’s only overwhelmingly grateful to the two for being able to save Lea from his own dreadful fate. The two that have yet to exist. 

Hmmm.

What can h-

A folded up paper triangle bounces off his face, cutting off him mid-thought. 

A loud gasp as well, that quickly dies away as Isa looks up. Glaring in the direction the paper had just come from. 

Meeting a familiar gold eye. Above a just as familiar smirk. Xigbar doesn’t look away, after being caught. Instead his smirk grows wider. Louder, somehow, as ridiculous it was to assign a sound to something so clearly visual.

Like the Freeshooter knows something he doesn’t.

Isa narrows his eyes at him. Shuffles through his papers, not looking away even once. 

Inwardly fighting the urge to snarl, before deciding no. Enough holding back. 

“ Number II, ” he growls. In his mouth, Isa can feel his already fang-like canines sharpen, become more prominent. Visible to everyone watching this debacle. 

Those fangs, honestly, are probably the worst part of this mess. A very physical reminder of the monster he currently is, his tongue constantly rubbing up against them. 

Xigbar’s eyebrow ticks upwards. “Yeah, Bunnymoon?” Still irreverent as always, with that dreaded nickname. Well, Isa’ll change that, won’t he?

There. That’s what he wants. Isa extracts the page in question and marches over to where Xigbar’s sprawling out on the couch. 

Drops the page on the Nobody’s lap.

“Your workload,” he tries for something a little less flat than usual. That attempt only transforms his voice into a growl once more. Hissing up against his fangs. “I’ll give you a week.”

Signs of some large Heartless stirring in the desert. Isa, thanks to his future knowledge and memories of this painful mission, knew exactly what it would be. 

Kurt Zisa. 

(“Saïx, why’d you sent me after that pain in the ass? Sand everywhere, my chakrams kept bouncing off of it...”

“You didn’t have to attack it.”)

Now, in the future, Sora would defeat it. Release its heart for good. But until then? Xigbar would make good target practice for the oversized Heartless. Now, no way he would die from this mission, the Nobody was too much like a cockroach for that.

But suffer? Be thrown into the sand again and again? Yes. 

Isa could deal with that. 

Saïx had never done anything about that Heartless, beyond some recon missions on it, for obvious reasons. And never assigned Number II of Organization XIII for even more obvious ones. Isa should probably remember those reasons, stick to those reasons. But at this point?

He doesn’t care. 

“Have... fun ,” he decides on, turning on his heel to march back to his window spot. 

Petty...but in character, Isa’s pretty sure. He remembers being petty many times as Saïx. An unbelievable amount of times.

He can be petty now, towards Xigbar. Towards everyone. It’s expected. 

For some reason, the tension in the room appears to go down after that incident. The next few days become more like what Isa recalls of them. Demyx reappears, messing around on his sitar as usual. Nobodies linger both before and after their missions once more.  

Everything is back to “normal” in the Castle. 

But Isa isn’t. Not quite. 

Enough of sitting around, feeling sorry for himself. There are tasks for him to complete. Plans to make. People...to possibly save.

Isa closes his eyes and lets out a deep breath. After today’s usual shift...he’ll do it. 

He has to.

Isa taps at the blank page of his journal with the end of his pen. Considering. His fingers slip the pen around, scratching out inky letters into the thick paper. 

Obl-V+M+La+Z+Le

AYR-X,R

X w/i R w/i KyS

KyS-D,Xa,A+Lu+Xg+S+Xe

All of those deaths. Laid out on paper. Like that made them real somehow. Could he prevent them? Should he even try?

Death, for a Nobody, meant completion. At least a violent death did. Isa isn’t exactly sure about merely fading away. Killing the Nobodies of the Organization guaranteed their wholeness, as long as the artificial Kingdom Hearts was taken care of.

Which, speaking of. His pen scratches it onto the list. 

Break K<3 fake (KyS)

And there was something else. One of the reasons he, as Saïx, had bowed and groveled so in the first place. 

SubX-???

So much time spent searching for her, bowing to Xemnas in hopes of finding out what had happened...and he still knew not much more than when he first started. 

From when he first met Subject X, in that cell. 

A huff of breath escapes his lips. 

A search that, unfortunately, have to take back-seat for this. Isa knows from past experience that no matter what he does for the Superior, he’ll get no answers about her from him. 

Judging by the current condition of his....eyes, Isa will still have to play the dutiful servant trying to get closer to the Superior. Doing whatever he can in the process. Forever ‘loyal,’ for whatever the term meant in the Organization. All while scheming behind the scenes. 

He closes his eyes. These thoughts... They answer one of his past questions, on whether to kill his fellow Nobodies or not. He has to. Has to give Axel the orders Xemnas will give him. The ‘traitors’ have to die, for Isa to be able to keep up the illusion of Saïx. 

Die afraid. 

Who else will he hurt, like he did before? Is it possible he’ll...become Saïx again, in his efforts to shape the future?

No. He can’t. He won’t . 

...Will he?

For all his supposed ‘power’ serving as Xemnas’ second...Saïx was never anything more than a glorified pencil pusher. Thinking back on it, all of his actions outside of that category only worked in Xemnas’ favor. In Xehanort’s favor. 

Not that he minded it at the time, too empty and angry to care. Taking that same anger out on people who didn’t deserve it. 

But now...

A bitter laugh escapes him. He really is a perfect vessel, isn’t he? Knowledge of the future right there in his brain and able to make use of none of it. Empty minded and ready for Xehanort to swoop right in. 

No dates, no possible allies he won’t get killed. 

Just deadlines that he has no idea how or when to prevent. 

All he knows is that once Roxas appears, in Twilight Town, he has a year. A single year. 

Or little under one. Before he...dies. Becomes one with Sora. 

Xion and Roxas...they deserve better than this. Yet as far as he knows, in this time, the side of the Light has little to no resources to keep them safe from the Organization. He knows it, and Axel will know it too, when the time comes. 

There is nowhere to run. Nowhere safe that is out of the Organization’s reach.

Yet here he is, trying to plan their escape anyway. 

“Hearts...make fools of us all, don’t they?” he muses to himself. Tapping his pen against his meager outline. 

But Isa would rather be a fool, than the tool he became as Saïx. 

He’ll figure it out. 

He has to.

Xemnas calls for him both later and sooner than expected. To the Round Room, or Where Nothing Gathers, if one wishes to emulate their Superior. 

Isa goes, of course. What else would he do?

“Lord Xemnas,” Isa acknowledges, keeps his eyes away from his Superior’s face and eyes. Lifting them just enough to watch Xemnas cautiously in the chair far above his.   

“Saïx.” The Superior doesn’t even look at him. “The Replica Program has been completed.”

The Replica Program? Isa keeps his face passive, as inwardly he scrambles. What had he said the first time, in response to that revelation? Lunes, he couldn’t even remember, so tainted his later memories of the program were by jealousy and disgust.

Luckily, Xemnas isn’t dependent on Isa’s response to keep going. “You will investigate Vexen’s claims of his success and bring back a report on the usefulness of the Replicas in question.”

Isa bows his head. “Of course, Lord Xemnas. I will go to Castle Oblivion once I finish my work assignments for the day.”

“Go immediately. Another will cover your duties.”

Isa can’t help but raise his head, to stare at the Superior. Tainted his memories may be, he at least knows it hadn’t happened like this before. Hadn’t been told to leave for Oblivion right away. 

He quickly drops his head again, once he realizes what he’s doing. “As you command.”

Xemnas says nothing more. 

A clear dismissal. 

Isa Corridors from the room, straightaway. 

The two scientists are clearly expecting his arrival, when he gets there. Or someone’s arrival, at least. 

“Just you ? No Lord Xemnas?” Vexen complains, thrusting his wide sleeves out. “Someone just barely above a Lesser.”

Ah, the Lesser thing. Complete nonsense. And Vexen, being an ass just as much as Isa recalls him being. 

“Unless you wish to take up his precious time,” Isa says coldly. Ah, what a joke. The Superior’s precious time is all spent looking up at Kingdom Hearts and speechifying...or will be. Now, he does nothing that Isa is aware of. 

Nothing beyond being useful to frighten his subordinates with. 

Isa watches, with some satisfaction, as Vexen’s already pale face crosses over into snow-colored territory. “Of course not! What are you here for?”

“The Replica Project, you said, was complete. Show me.”

Vexen leads him to the basement labs, loudly complaining the entire time about lack of respect and lack of resources. Isa ignores them all, attention completely taken up by how Zexion follows him on his heels. 

A ghost, almost. An enemy, certainly. 

Down in the labs...there are two glowing green tubes. Each one holds a doll-like body. Eyeless and faceless. Having the limbs and general shape of a human, but nothing more than that. Completely alien. Unnatural. 

Isa walks closer. Ignoring all of Vexen’s spiel as he does so. To the tube labeled at its base No. i. 

To think that that replica would one day become a girl...a girl that would go onto befriend Axel and Roxas, destroying who knows how much of Xemnas’ planning in the process. How...fantastic. Impossible to visualize, at least it would be without having seen it himself. 

She doesn’t deserve what he said to her. How he treated her.

His hand rests on the glass.

Absent-mindedly, his fingers begin tapping out a beat on that same glass. 

Re-mem-ber, re-mem-ber. ..

“What are you doing, Number VII?” Vexen’s voice suddenly cuts into his thoughts.

His fingers pause mid-tap. 

“Is it alive?” he asks flatly. Letting his hand fall away from the tube. 

Vexen throws up his arms. “It’s not a fish in a fishbowl, if that’s the response you’re wanting! It’s barely aware of its own existence at this point in the process.”

“Being aware is not the same as being alive,” Isa points out. “Is it alive ? Functional?”

“Yes. Of course it is! The project wouldn’t be complete if it wasn’t! All it needs is the necessary data and it’ll walk around like anyone else.”

“But it won’t move until then?”

Something beeps, from the tank’s system. The pair turn to the tube once more, to see something utterly remarkable taking place.

The replica ( Xion )...raises its arm. Slowly, like it’s lifting the world on its shoulders. Raises it to place its own fingers against the glass. Wiggles. 

Like the replica is attempting to tap back in reply. 

“Oh. How...curious,” Vexen breathes. He whirls on Zexion. “Are the reports open? This needs to be recorded!”

While they’re busy with that...Isa turns to the second tank. 

The second replica. Isa investigates that one as well, looking it up and down carefully. Looks exactly like that of No. i. This replica becomes...a copy of Riku, if he recalls correctly. 

Yet another casualty to Sora’s and Riku’s run through the castle. 

There had never been any mention of replicas gaining their own identity, from Castle Oblivion...but from his now varied experiences with replicas in the New Organization, Isa has his doubts that was truly the case. 

Axel had been lying to him even then, it seems. 

For good reason, for a better cause. Doesn’t mean...Isa rubs at his chest. His aching, burning heart. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, the thought of that lack of trust. 

Completely deserved, given what plans surrounded the remaining replica. Xion. 

Before...it had been planned for Roxas and Xion to fight each other to the death. Winner takes all, the strongest Keyblade wielder left to serve the Organization. To bring forth Kingdom Hearts. 

Before, he hadn’t felt, well, anything when Xemnas had brought forth the idea. Anything beyond a sense of grim satisfaction.  

Now, the very thought leaves him ill. His stomach broiling and heart burning. Bile rising through his throat. 

Do they have to die? Is there a way for them to live, not reliant on Sora’s goodwill and understanding to bring them back?

Roxas was complete. He had a heart of his own, though long did Saïx try to deny it. So did Xion. Especially Xion. There would have been no need for them to return, had Sora’s memories not been meddled with. 

Had he not...

His left hand tightens into a fist.

No. Something has to be done. He won’t let it end the way it did the first time. 

Just thinking this is treason. But he’ll stand against Xemnas physically, if he has to. 

“Number VII. The reports are ready.”

Isa turns to face the speaker. Zexion. 

Another one of Isa’s regrets, taken physical form once more. 

The Nobody holds out a stack of papers. Packets and packets, all about the Replicas’ formation and development, written in Vexen’s far too wordy script. 

Before...Isa hadn’t even taken a glance at them. Only took them straight to Xemnas. Now...carefully, he thumbs past the front page. Into the meat of the text. He needs all the information on replicas he can get, in order to be best prepared for what comes. 

As he does so, Isa also considers the Nobody standing before him. 

Zexion...is young. Isa doesn’t want him to die again. Isa really doesn’t want to end up using Axel to kill him again. The two both deserve better than that. 

Yet is there a way for Isa to not have Zexion end up dying?

Zexion is loyal to the Organization. Too loyal. 

And though Isa understands logically, at this point, that Ienzo had been young and taken advantage of much like Lea and himself were, in past...he wasn’t aware of that. Somehow his mind, as Saïx, linked the betrayal visited on them from the older apprentices with Ienzo as well. 

Or Zexion, as he is currently. 

No, Zexion is going to die...again. At least that way, as Ienzo, he will be well and truly out of Xehanort’s reach. 

It’s the least Isa can do for him. For the shy, guilt-filled individual he met, so far into the future. Now, back to the pages. The project. The present. 

That date...Isa pauses, running a finger underneath the numbers. “This was when the project was completely finished?”

“To our reckoning, yes.” Zexion’s eye watches him coldly. “As exact as we could be with your... fit occuring that day.”

For No. i, Xion , to be complete and whole the day he woke up in the past...that has to mean something. But what? He needs more information, information he can’t access under Zexion’s watchful gaze. 

His chest hurts. He rubs at it. Hm.

“Is this everything?” he asks Zexion.

“Everything on the replicas so far. More will be added as they’re tested in the field, of course,” is the reply.

Isa nods, not looking away from the pages in his hands. “Of course. The Superior will be pleased.” He adds, carefully shutting up the packets in the provided folder. 

The Dark Corridor opens before him. 

Before he RTCs...there’s somewhere else Isa needs to go. Somewhere else he needs to see. 

Hm. Zexion watches Number VII look through his and Vexen’s work. Something he had never done before. Looking with purpose. 

Saïx...knows something. About the project. Planning ahead with it clearly in mind. 

The Lunar Diviner is plotting, that much is clear. It would be easier to count out who wasn’t plotting, in the Organization. But what does he want with the Replicas? He had never shown such interest before, when he and Lord Xemnas had come in the past to take note of the project’s progress. 

What had changed?

What does he think the Replicas can offer him now, that they couldn’t before?

“This was when the project was completely finished?”

“To our reckoning, yes. As exact as we could be with your... fit occuring that day.”

Interestingly, Number VII completely ignores his little dig at him. His complete attention is instead on the papers. 

Saïx pauses, to rub at his chest. Again. For the third time they’ve been in each other’s presence.  

Zexion’s visible eye narrows. Why is he...patting at his chest like that?

He doesn’t have a heart to ‘feel’ with there, after all. 

Hm. What could be going on there? Alone, the chest-pat would be nothing. Just another body tick, a random Nobody-related twitch. A Dusk’s wiggling.

But paired with the other strange things going on with Saïx lately...the pat is not nothing. 

The unusual Berserking, extreme enough to draw blood . Saïx’s constantly flashing eyes, leaving all wary that he might suddenly break into a Berserk right then and there. That same flashing only forestalled by his ‘punishment’ of Number II. No. i’s response to Number Seven’s tapping, when before it had floated there, completely still, no matter how Vexen poked and prodded it. 

Too many strange factors to keep in mind, to simply brush away. Further investigation needs to be done. 

There has to be a way to get Saïx into the lab. Willingly or not. 

“Is this everything?” The target in question inquires, gloved fingers flipping through the packets Zexion just provided him with. 

“Everything on the replicas so far. More will be added as they’re tested in the field, of course,” Zexion replies. 

Saïx nods, yellow eyes intent on the pages. “Of course.”

“The Superior will be pleased.” Saïx snaps the open packet shut. Turns on his heel, into an already waiting Dark Corridor. 

Vanishing into its Dark depths. RTCing, of course. Where else would Number VII go?

Zexion hums to himself, gloved fingers on his chin. Vexen will be well and fully occupied by No. i’s unexpected physical response for the next few hours, so he’ll have plenty of time to plan out his next move. 

To figure out how to get Saïx back into the lab. Perhaps he could try adding an extra ingredient to the food in the Organization’s group refrigerator...? No, Saïx never eats from there, as far as he knows. 

Ambushing him on a mission...impossible. Saïx stays almost exclusively on Castle grounds. Any other missions would be directly from the Superior himself and punishment would be sure to come if anything Zexion did interfered with the Superior’s direct orders. 

Perhaps through Axel somehow? Number VII and Number VIII were close, especially by Nobody standards...

Yet dangerous, to draw the attention of one of the Organization’s assassins. 

Dangerous, yet he’ll be able to manage it. To get Saïx under his microscope, ever so briefly. Nothing too harmful or permanent...beyond a few physical samples, of course.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

He isn’t the Cloaked Schemer for nothing, after all.

Chapter Text

Twilight Town looks exactly the way it always does. Or did. Or will. 

Peaceful from above, no indication of the horror that stalks its back streets. The horror that drew the Organization’s attention here in the first place. 

Isa closes his eyes and sighs. 

He should leave. 

He doesn’t. Remains instead perched on the edge of the clocktower that casts such a great shadow over the town.  

His stomach...doesn’t rumble. He’s too much of a Nobody for that. But the organ (whatever acts as a stomach for Nobodies) does feel fairly uncomfortable. 

He’s...hungry. When was the last time he ate, as Saïx? To his disconcertion, searching through his memories, Isa...doesn’t know. When the last time he ate was. 

There’s usually a lag between Castle Oblivion and the Castle That Never Was. Spending some extra time to get a meal won’t alert the rest of the Organization or the Superior of anything, if he’s quick about it. Along with being careful not to let anyone else catch him. 

Isa looks over the city one last time. He’ll see this place again. He refuses to be trapped at the World Never Was forever. 

As he flickers into Darkness, calling up a Corridor, Isa swears he almost hears a familiar voice calling after him...

“ Saïx?”

Isa Corridors his way to a small alleyway several streets down from his destination. Quiet around here, especially at this time of day. The residents have long learned that certain times in Twilight Town are more hazardous than others and have thus adjusted, staying put to leave Organization members to pace their streets in peace.

Somebodies are more clever than the Organization tends to give them credit for. They know when something is wrong, even when they personally can do nothing about it.

Not yet. 

Isa makes his way through the silent streets. No Heartless. No Nobodies. Not even a resident of the area. Just him. 

Soon, his eyes catch a familiar green sign. His destination, finally in sight. 

A small cafe, by the name of Balamb. A private place, a place so quiet that Isa suspects the owner of having other means of income to keep it running. 

It had managed to stay running, after all, even after Scourge’s business-stealing Bistro had become the talk of the town. 

Not that other ways of gaining munny, possibly not quite legal, matter, to him. The food is good and the location quiet, all Isa requires for his own needs. Anything beyond that doesn’t really matter. 

A little bell rings as he pushes the door open. As expected, the cafe is empty. Empty but for a tricolor herding dog sitting under the front window. The dog’s ears perk up and she turns her head in his direction. 

Isa knows her, that her name is Angelo. Knows a lot of things, though the dog herself doesn’t know him. Not yet. 

Surprisingly, Angelo doesn’t bark at him. Growl at him. Her tail thumps at the floor, head lifting to curiously sniff at his coat as he passes. Like he’s a normal human being, instead of the abomination he currently exists as. 

“Oh, she likes you!” A familiar voice chirps. 

Isa carefully keeps himself still, as he turns towards the voice’s owner. A woman in blue. Shorter than him, looking up at him with her usual cheer. 

“Heellllo there!” Black hair, eyes just as dark...the woman in blue bobs a curtsey. “I’m Rinoa, and I’m here to help you out today! Any idea of what you would like to order?”

“Perhaps I could tell you if I had a menu,” Isa says dryly. He has an idea of what he wants, having come here many times before, but little idea if that option currently exists on the menu. 

Rinoa starts at that. “Oh, of course! Here you go!” She digs a small sheet out of her apron pocket, handing it to him. 

The green sheet is slightly crumpled at the edges and a bit stained. Ill-used. Still clearly legible. Especially to someone used to reading Demyx’s chicken scratch. 

He peruses the menu, searching for one particular item. The meal he always orders here, or will always order. Is it there?

Yes. His finger underlines the item in question. 

A simple stir-fry dish, one that reminds him of the meals he had at...home. Before the lab, before the disaster that had torn apart their homeworld. 

“May I get this one?”

Rinoa stands over his shoulder, scanning the menu. Her eyes light up as she reads his pick. “That? I’ll get it right up for you!”

She twists around in a circle, practically prancing to the kitchen area. 

From past experience, he’ll be waiting for a bit. But he doesn’t mind. There’s only an empty world to return to, after this. 

Isa hums to himself, examining the artwork on the walls. It’s familiar somehow, images of all kinds of flowers paired with a certain image right over a small stack of soft blankets. Blankets that serve as Angelo’s bed, at this point in time, certainly. 

Not the soft red bed he’s familiar with. 

And that image...he studies it carefully. A rabbit, a lily, and a wave...hm. 

Too familiar. He knows what it means, but his head aches. Isa doesn’t want to think about it. He knows what world Rinoa hails from, he doesn’t need some artwork to tell him that. 

( Your world.)

“Your meal!” Rinoa chirps, sliding a steaming place in front of him. Full of noodles and all kinds of vegetables. 

Perfect, for a hungry Nobody. He frowns slightly, at the dish. Carefully removes the carrots, pushing them to the side. 

Ugh. Carrots. 

“Um, I could have cooked something without carrots...?” Looking up, Rinoa’s still watching him, her perfect smile slipping from her face slightly. 

Not much else to do here, when he’s the only customer. But it can be off-putting, to someone less familiar with the woman’s nosiness and general attitude.

Isa shakes his head. “It’s fine. You don’t need to take the carrots out.”

Besides...

Isa carefully removes a glove. Picks up a chunk of carrot from the small pile. 

Angelo loves carrots. 

He lowers his hand, under the table. Beckoning to the dog with carrot chunk in hand. 

Angelo perks at the unexpected treat, crawling over to lick up the vegetable. She stays, eating each piece as he offers it to her, in between bites of his own. 

Peaceful. 

Once he’s fed her all of his carrots, Isa carefully cleans off his greasy fingers and slips his gloves back on. Then returns to quietly eating what’s left of his stir-fry.

The taste is perfect. Better than anything he got before, as part of the Organization.  Enjoyable. 

Finishing...he sits there for a few brief moments, with his closed eyes. 

Has to go back. But maybe...just a little longer here...

“Would you like to pet Angelo?” The cheery question pulls Isa out of his thoughts. 

His eyes widen. Just slightly. Pet her? Rinoa didn’t offer that to just anyone, let alone complete strangers. “What?”

“Well, she likes you and you seem to like her too. Do you want to?” The dog in question, Angelo, wags her tail. Panting in his direction. 

And in that moment, there’s nothing more that Isa wants in the world, than to pet that welcoming dog. A dog that has no ulterior motives beyond wanting a pat or two. A dog that is no way embroiled in the mess that is currently his existence. 

Isa keeps his gloved hands in his lap. Says his answer politely. “No thank you.”

He can’t. 

He’s been here too long. Reminded himself too fully of everything Isa now lacks, as Saïx. Stupid. A fool. 

Now, all Isa wants is to stay here. Pet the dog. And never go back to the World That Never Was, never return to the Organization. 

He can’t. 

Isa shakes his head again, careful not to meet Angelo’s puppy eyes. “My apologies. But I can’t.”

“Why not? Are you allergic?”

“No,” he says simply and leaves it at that. 

Rinoa puts her hands on her hips, huffing, “You’re just as grumpy as Sq-”

She stops, putting a hand over her mouth. Abashed. 

“As grumpy as who?” he asks her.

Rinoa shakes her head. “Just...someone I used to know. That’s all.”

“I see.”

He rises from his seat. “I’m sorry, but I do need to leave now. Where...do I leave payment?”

“First one’s on the house.”

Isa raises his eyebrows. “Really? I can pay...” This never happened before . Rinoa was always more than happy to take his munny. 

Rinoa shakes her head. “No, this one’s free. You look like you need it.”

Oh. Oh . So that’s how it is. He finds himself snarling, showing fang. “I don’t need your pity!” Isa can feel his body stretching out, nails becoming claws on newly gloved hands. 

His eyes are surely flashing, too bright and slitted. Everything is too bright here, the woman, the dog, the world. 

He can’t stay here.

He doesn’t belong here. 

And before the woman can respond to something so clearly monstrous having been in her cafe, he whirls around and drops the payment (and a little extra) on the table.

Another whir, he vanishes into a Dark Corridor. 

Returning to his Master. 

(He can’t go back. Not now.)

(Monster.)

Xemnas waits for him. Of course. There are few other places the man chooses to be in this whole cursed Castle and here, in the Round Room, is one of them.

“Report,” Xemnas commands. 

An easy enough order to follow, with the files he currently has in hand. 

Isa takes, well not comfort, from the straightforward facts. Facts that are straightforward as long as he ignores the pages of tangents that Vexen tacked onto the end of the main report. 

“Good. Have Number Four send a Replica here, that it may become one of the Organization.”

Expected. Of course, this is what the Superior said last time. 

“A puppet? Surely there’s a better way than that, to build up Kingdom Hearts,” Isa scoffs. An argument that will never hold water, not against the Superior, he knows. But he has to say something anyway, to fit in with the arguments Isa vaguely recalls Saïx making, months upon months about the Replica Project.  

A gloved hand closes around Isa’s jaw. He freezes, suddenly aware of the too tight grip, the chill of those fingers. 

Despite the supposed cold, the touch feels like fire to his nerves. Too much, too much. Nobodies aren’t supposed to feel this much. 

Gold eyes look steadily into his own. “Something has changed about you, Saïx.”

Isa says nothing. Only allows the Superior’s eyes bore into him. Looking for...maybe answers, but maybe something else too. 

Eyes the color of their false Kingdom Hearts, Isa can’t help but compare. Emotionless. Eating him alive. A rabbit, under the gaze of a hawk.

“Do not forget who you are. What you are.”

“How could I...” Isa murmurs. He doesn’t struggle. Struggling only brings pain. More pain than he is in currently. 

“No matter what changes come about...you are a Nobody, Saïx. Nothing more and nothing less.”

I would know differently, is the implication under the words, spoken in the same steady monotone that the Superior uses for every speech he gives. 

Isa doesn’t nod. His head is still trapped in Xemnas’ grip. But he blinks, slowly. Hoping it’s enough to signal his agreement. His submission. 

“Make provisions for the replica,” Xemnas commands, releasing his face just as quickly as he had grabbed for it in the first place. 

The Superior makes no threats for what will happen if Isa doesn’t. He has no need to. Saïx always does what he’s told, in the end. 

The X burned into the flesh of his face is enough to be sure of that. 

Isa bows his head. “As you say.”

The Superior leaves first, in his usual manner of swirling Darkness. The eternal, familiar method of dismissal. Isa takes his leave as well, in his own Corridor. 

To the hallway right outside his room. Not quite to his room, but almost there. 

He’s shaking. He can’t stop shaking. 

Isa leans against the wall, legs suddenly unable to support his weight by themselves.The wall is cool to touch, against his face. Everything is so much . 

Why is he like this? Saïx never wavered, never shook like this, after a close encounter with the Superior. 

He’s so weak...

His head spins. Dizzy, dizzy. He just ate. He shouldn’t be feeling like this.

(Feeling? Hah. What a joke. )

(Does he really have a heart? Is he sure ?)

It’s a struggle, to open the door. To let himself in. But in the end, he manages. Nearly flops over onto his bed, failure failure a constant pulse in his brain. 

The door opens. Slams shut. Isa nearly groans, at feeling that familiar heat. A living desert, right there in his room. 

Turns his head enough to catch red hair and green eyes. 

Why does Axel have to be here? Now ?

“Hey, Saïx?”

“What is it?” Isa bites out, his head aching and aching. Everything hurts. All good reasons to not be having this conversation right now. 

Axel examines him, with those keen cat-eyes of his. Lowers his too-long arms to by his side. “...Nothing.”

“If it’s nothing, leave,” Isa orders. Turning away from Axel, from the heat. The reminder that despite everything, he’s back where he started. 

“All right then...”

A shiver of Darkness. And the heat, the fire, is gone. He’s alone again. Alone with the too many thoughts rattling around in his skull. 

What he needs...is to be away from here. What’s manageable right now...a fight. To burn away the fire in his brain, his veins. Yes. That will do. 

Isa doesn’t leave the Castle. He’s pushed too far, too soon. If he leaves...well, the Superior will be sure to remind him exactly how far his leash extends. 

It’s a good thing he doesn’t need to leave the Castle, for a fight. Or a spar, at least. 

The Hall of Empty Melodies will do for what he has in mind.

More aggressive Dusks stay down there, attacking whoever enters their territory whether it’s a foe or an Organization member. 

They come in waves upon waves.

Isa, with Lunatic stands against them all. 

It’s not enough. Never enough. Eventually the floods stop, the Dusks finally getting the message that this is not a foe to be trifled with. He snarls, begging for more. His eyes are glowing, he’s so close to a monster. No blood. 

He wants to bleed. 

He wants to rip the heart from his chest. 

He wants...he wants...

Isa slumps, falling to his knees. His claymore falls as well, fading away back into the void he pulled it from. 

His hands spread out, flat against the floor. 

He doesn’t know what he wants. 

(No. That’s a lie. You know what you want, Isa.)

Breath. Breath. 

His fingers spasm. Work uselessly against the tiling. Too clean, too white. Sterile, like everything else in this place, people and rooms alike. 

Why, why, why...

Isa pauses. There’s a pressure. The pressure of a watcher. Many watchers. Slowly, he lifts his head. Looks up to see. 

Berserkers are there. Watching him. Again. 

“What do you want?” The words escape him before Isa has a chance to swallow them up. Useless. Lesser Nobodies don’t understand anything beyond the most basic of commands. And even then...it’s a struggle. Even at the best of times. 

The Berserkers, of course, say nothing. Not that he expected any differently, from the Nobodies. 

They speak, sometimes, but with the spaces between words. A mixture of pressure on both brain and body, communication unnatural yet still making themselves understood. To other Nobodies, at least. 

Not often. But it happens. 

The Berserkers in particular speak very little. Quiet.  

My liege. 

Isa’s shoulders stiffen, at that touch, that pressure. Unexpected. Why...?

“What?” The word comes out curt. Harsh.

The nearest Berserker pauses its twitching movement. Like it’s thinking. Ridiculous, yet...

My liege , it repeats. How...heart?

Isa can’t help but let a huff out at that. Surprising, but it shouldn’t be. Of course his Nobodies would be able to tell something was different about him. If he had a heart or not.

Comforting, almost. If he could call it that. 

(Xemnas lies. But he always lies.)

(Why do you keep believing him?)

“I don’t know.” His right hand, he places it over his chest. Feeling the heart in question. The warmth coming from it, making his cold Nobody body rise to almost normal temperatures. 

“Just...it’s there.”

Beating away. Calling. 

(Lonely.)

The Berserker’s sword shakes, dragging the creature forward. Isa stiffens, lowering his hand to call his own weapon, if he has to.

Nobodies are always keen to attack Somebodies, after all. 

But no attack comes. The Berserker and sword pause together, just in front of him. The Berserker lifts a jittering floppy limb, to touch. Touch Isa gently. 

“What...?”

Help. My liege, has heart, the Berserker explains, in jolts and jerks. A lessening and an increasing of pressure. Liege...near, get heart too.

Isa closes his eyes. Of course . They want hearts, just as much as the Higher Nobodies too. 

“I will try.” It’s not a promise, but it’s close. Close enough that speaking Berserker seems satisfied, lowering its limb. The other Berserkers jitter, but draw closer as well. Almost close enough to touch their Master as well. 

Isa lets them.

They won’t kill him. 

And even if they try...

Well. It doesn’t matter. He’ll be a true Nobody, if they succeed and it’ll be like nothing changed at all. 

Yellow eyes roll up, reflecting the lowlight of the Hall. 

Nothing changed at all. 

Another day, another boring day like every other. 

Isa is under no illusion of what he must appear like right now, hair tangled and dark patterns under his eyes. 

Awful. 

No one says a thing. To his face, at least. He has no doubts that his messy appearance will be talked about behind his back. Gossip, to join the rest. 

Larxene in particular will be cruel. Not to his face. But she will be. He knows her too well to think otherwise. 

He sighs, as quietly as he can. Under his breath. Sweeps his eyes around, catching exactly whose in the Grey Area now. Demyx, the normal Moogle, and Lexaeus...

Lexaeus comes to Grey Area much more often compared to before. Lingers. 

What does he want? What is his secret agenda outside Kingdom Hearts, that every member in the Organization has personalized?

Well, some are less secret than others. Demyx, for example, makes no effort to hide his ambition for a lack of ambition, or total and utter laziness. 

In fact, there he is right now. Fiddling with his sitar. 

Isa glowers across the room, in the Nobody’s direction. Waiting, just waiting, for the musician to look up. 

Soon enough he does. Gives a ‘eep!’ when he realizes just whose attention is on him. 

“I’ll get it done, get it done! ...please don’t hurt me.” Demyx pulls up his sitar, just a bit. Like he’s trying to shield himself from Isa’s judgemental eyes. 

“Hm. Sooner than later would be preferable, number nine.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally!” Demyx’s head goes up and down like a bobblehead. Clearly desperate to get Isa’s attention off of him. 

Isa looks away. It’s too easy, to scare Demyx. And he’s not nearly so irritated with the Nobody as Saïx was. Now that he knows that nothing they’re doing really matters.

(Just vessels. Nothing more, nothing less.)

He flips through his stack of paperwork. Like there’s anything that hasn’t been repeated again and again. Each Organization member has their own formula, for doing their reports, and none stray from it. 

Everything repeats over and over, with only minute differences. Useless. Time-consuming. Wasteful .

Paperwork is important. But this? This work means nothing except for a means to keep the Organization occupied as Xemnas readies for his true goal. 

(And there is nothing he can do about it.)

Looking up, Isa meets an unexpected pair of ice-blue eyes. Lexaeus, watching him head on, refusing to look away. Silent as always, but silence can tell quite a lot if one is careful to observe it. 

“Are your duties complete?” 

Lexaeus nods. As stiff as a corpse. Quiet as one, too. Still watching Isa, from his place up against the wall. 

A huff of breath escapes through Isa’s nose. If he’s done and choosing to stay here...well, there’s not much Isa can do about that. Except assign the ‘Silent Hero’ more work. Work that Isa would have sort the paperwork of, afterwards. 

No. Better to do nothing. 

And figure out what to do with his Berserkers.

Isa frowns to himself, sorting through each complete (and incomplete) assignment. He never used them much, before, but perhaps that should change...?

How do you get a Lesser Nobody a heart? The easiest would probably be to kill them, like one did for Higher Nobodies, but...

Something in Isa’s chest aches at the thought. The pathetic creatures didn’t deserve such a violent end, when they had come to him like they had. 

Surely there had to be another way.

His eyes close in thought. 

Hm. What to do...?

Rinoa Heartilly places a hand over her chest, trying to quiet her racing heart. 

Well.

That had been unexpected. 

“Whoa....what was that , Angelo?” she mumbles. 

The dog barks in response, fur nearly standing on end. The hum of magic is still in the air, loud and electrifying. Dark. 

That blue-haired man...he’s not quite a man. Close to human but something extra. Fiercer. His eyes...Rinoa shivers. Those yellow eyes are just like the ones of those Shadow monsters, those Heartless that had torn her home apart.  

Maybe once she would have thought it mere chance, the similarity. Before the Fall, before waking up her in the Twilight Town.

Now, Rinoa knows better: there are no coincidences. 

The man’s connected somehow. She doesn’t know how, yet, but he is. Monstrous and much more than human. 

Extra, like she said. 

But...she knows all about being extra , doesn’t she?

Rinoa glances over at Angelo. The dog watches her back, with keen brown eyes. Warm and welcoming. Angelo wouldn’t have liked a man that was a real bad guy. And that man had treated Angelo very nicely, offering her treats. 

No monster would be so nice to a dog , of all things. 

Besides, he seemed...sad. Regretful. A real monster wouldn’t be like that at all. 

(There’s more than one way this man reminds her of Squall...)

Rinoa goes over to the table, to the pile of munny the man had left behind. Counts it carefully. Then, eyes narrowed in concentration, counts it again. 

Yep. The number is the same. 

“What...? That’s too much! Even for a tip.”

An unexpected kindness. Just as unexpected as the man himself. 

“That man...I wonder if I’ll see him again...?” she muses out loud. She wants to, if only to get an explanation. But will the man return? His dramatic exit had been so...final. 

Is there a way to let the man know her decision? Any way at all? 

Rinoa hums to herself, tilting her head back and forth. He did somehow find a way here , before her lack of advertising (anything beyond word of mouth, at least). Maybe if she...hm

“Angelo, I’m going to need a sign.”

Chapter Text

Sleeping hasn’t gotten any better for him, since he woke up in the past. 

But then, Isa has always been an awful insomniac. Past or future. The only difference is that he’s pretty sure the reason he’s not sleeping now, sleeping in the Castle, is linked to the constant chill on his spine. To ever-watchful eyes on his back, the feeling that nothing he does is secret. And whenever he wakes up, Isa wakes up to find something in his room is always in a different place from where he left it the night before. 

(It’s not safe here. Not among the Organization.)

This time, he wakes to something entirely new in his room. A Berserker. 

Watching him. Well, Isa thinks the Nobody is watching him. Can be difficult to tell, when Berserkers don’t have eyes. Well, visible ones at least. 

My liege....hearts?

The inquiry is almost...hopeful, if Lessers could feel. 

Hm. It appears that the Berserkers will be insisting on the keeping of the promise he made to them. Be nice if he knew how to help them...

(You can’t even help yourself.)

My liege. The Berserker waits. Upright and not leaning forward onto its weapon, as is the usual, interestingly enough. 

He sighs, rubbing at his forehead. 

Is there something he can do with this insistent Nobody?

Thinking about it....

Actually, yes. A certain cafe requires more protection, now that he ruined its owner’s peace. 

Rinoa...doesn’t deserve being exposed to a monster in her cafe. It’s the least he can do, to make sure no Heartless find their way to her door.

Not that they did before...but things are changing. It’s very possible, too possible, that one day, Balamb will be boarded up because of its owner mysteriously disappearing like so many others in Twilight Town. 

And no guarantee that she would ever return safely. 

Isa doesn’t want that. The worlds are unfair places, but...he can do something, at least. For an unexpected and unasked for kindness. 

(And for her dog.)

Watch, he orders. Guard. Hide from Somebodies.

Impresses the image of Rinoa and her dog. Guard , he insists. Attack only Heartless. Attack only Nobodies not mine. Very careful to leave no loopholes. He won’t risk the woman getting killed by a Berserker, from his carelessness. 

The Berserker thumps its weapon against the floor in acknowledgement, before twisting away in the white and black thorns of Lesser traveling. 

Slipping away through the Spaces In Between.

Another sigh escapes him. Well, that’s one Berserker with a duty to keep it busy while he figures out what to do for the Lessers under his command. 

Only...too many more to go. 

Isa rubs at his forehead. Again. The motion fails to push the wrinkles of stress away, like it does every single time. Why is it always him ?

Ugh. 

Time for another boring day to start. 

A day that hopefully ends more ordinary than how it started. 

Isa nods to Xaldin and the Nobody nods back, before vanishing to complete his duty of the day. Nothing about this exchange can be mistaken to be cordial. Merely business, like everything else around here. 

Or chaotic, to be avoided at all times. Ruins his effort of blending in, if it gets too chaotic. And creates more work for later. 

Quiet. Everyone on their duties, excepting Demyx, of course. Normal. Average. 

Even Lexaeus is gone. Which is slightly unusual, considering how insistent Nobody has been on doing his duties early, so he can stand there in the Grey Room. 

Watching, but for what, Isa doesn’t know. 

Hm. Where is Lexaeus, then, if not here?

Isa takes a sniff and nearly chokes on the smell that enters his nose. 

Smells like...burnt hair. 

Burnt hair .

Now there’s only one individual that can use Fire around here...

Isa resists the urge to rub at his forehead.

And speak of the Nobody...a certain red-haired individual sweeps into the room. The burning smell grows ever stronger. 

“Saïx,” Axel insists, “We need to talk.” 

Isa looks at him, red hair aglow like it’s about to catch fire, smoke still rising from his gloved palms, that sly smirk, and contemplates throwing the stack of papers in his hands into that smug face. 

Just for a moment. 

“What did you do ?” Isa hisses back. He sweeps out his arm to gesture to the door. To where the burned hair smell comes from. He can only guess what Axel’s done now.

The smirk falls off of Axel’s face. “Saïx. You should be thanking me.”

“That is not telling me what you’ve done now.”

 What paperwork he’ll have to fill out, for this incident...awful. 

Thankfully, Xigbar isn’t here. Isa can imagine what the Nobody would say, in response to this. Probably some remarks about ‘lovebirds’ or ‘ a lovers’ squabble.’ Good thing he isn’t here, then. 

But there is someone else still here in the Grey Room...

“Demyx.”

Demyx flinches, fingers in the process of tuning the sitar in his lap. “Yes?”

“Get out.”

“Right! I’m out!” Not leaving. Still watching nervously. 

Isa growls. “ Demyx... ” Leaves it hanging, allowing the Nobody to fill in the rest of the threat himself. Which he does, quite promptly. 

Demyx disappears into a Dark Corridor with a loud ‘eep!’ To wherever he goes when not loafing about the Grey Room. 

(Not that Isa knows where that is. Plausible deniability and all that.)

Isa turns towards Axel once more. Who’s watching him, considering him with his keen cat-eyes. Eyes that see too much.

“What. Did. You. Do?” Isa grinds out. Feels his eyes twitch. They’re probably flashing, if the way Axel flinches at said twitch is any indication. 

But he quickly rallies, putting his hands on his hips. Staring Isa down. 

“What did you do, to get Zexion sniffing after you? I thought we were going to lay low.”

Isa blinks. “...what?” Zexion ? What does Zexion want?

Axel’s hostile gleam fades, into something more contemplative. Somehow, that look is worse than the hostility of before. “You didn’t know. You, of all people, didn’t know that Zexion’s watching you.”

“How would I?” Isa shoots back, feeling caught off-balance. Like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, rock crumbling under his feet. Something is wrong. 

“Saïx. What the hell is going on?” Axel asks him, quite seriously. Almost...concerned? No, he can’t be. Axel didn’t worry about anyone, until Roxas came along. “You know that Lexaeus and Zexion are usually joined at the hip.” Like us, is what he doesn’t say, the message under those words. “If Lexaeus is in here all the time, he’s here for Zexion.”

“And what leads you to think that he’s there for me ? There are other reasons to be in the Grey Room.” And there are. But not many. 

Honestly, Isa’s not sure why he’s fighting this. Beyond that he’s...afraid. Afraid that loyal Zexion will uncover too much and reveal him to Lord Xemnas. 

(And he’ll die, useless and unable to help anyone .)

“Saïx, stop playing dumb . One of Zexion’s Nobodies almost cornered me the oth-”

“ Wait, he cornered you!? ” Isa straightens. Stands even taller than usual. His eyes are definitely glowing, berserking stress creeping across his face to widen his facial scar. 

Axel’s eyes widen. “No, he didn’t! That was what I was just saying ! He didn’t, because he’s after you. And I, erm, setLexaeusonfiretokeephimoutofhere.”

What. No. No. Isa shakes his head. Looks down. His hands are shaking. No, Axel can’t set fire to anyone right now, especially not in his defense. They cannot be connected any further than they are. 

Isa can’t risk Zexion finding out his secrets, but...he can’t let Axel get involved either. If Zexion does figure out his treachery, it’s best that Axel is not connected to any of it, so to escape the inevitable execution that will follow. 

For Axel to live, Isa must do what Saïx did and drive him away. 

Isa shakes his head once more, allowing static in his hair to die down. The fire in his veins to die, for glow and the scar to dim and nearly disappear once more. 

“I’ll take care of this. Just...stay out of it.”

For a moment, Axel says nothing. Only stares. Before shaking his head, shedding red hairs all over the place. Red hairs that disappear into air, almost as quickly as they had fallen from the Nobody’s head. 

Axel throws up his hands. “Do you want me to just...let it happen? After everything we’ve done?”

“Yes.” Isa turns his eyes back to the papers in hand. “I can take care of this situation myself.”

Axel growls back. The sound, coming from Axel, is shocking enough to draw Isa’s eyes from papers back to his face. 

“Fine! Keep telling yourself that! I’ll be waiting,” he snarls, turning on his heel.  

“Stay waiting,” Isa murmurs at his retreating back. He hates this, hates how the Organization turns them all against each other. 

For a moment, all he wants to do is run after him. Dump his paperwork on the floor, lay his hand on Axel’s shoulder and beg him not to leave. 

But...

It’s safer, for Axel, if Isa doesn’t get him involved in his true plotting yet. He can watch Roxas and Xion, and Isa can cover for him, like Saïx did Before. 

Safer. Better. Axel’ll be happier that way. 

He doesn’t need to get himself involved in Isa’s troubles. 

A familiar mulleted head pops from around the corner, just clear enough to be seen. 

“Hey, is it okay for me to come back yet?” 

Isa groans. Just manages to fight back the urge to facepalm, to avoid scattering his paperwork all over the place. Or to summon Lunatic. 

“ Lunes , Demyx.”

It may be the end of the Organization’s workday, but Isa’s work has only just begun. Who would have guessed that trying to save people’s lives would take far more work than ending them in the first place?

Isa taps at his journal with the end of his pen. 

What does he do, about the Berserkers? Cycling them shift by shift to watch over Twilight Town was a possibility. A possibility that would take far too much work in reality. 

Isa groans. He’ll have to write a scheduling table, like with the rest of the Organization...

Again, why it is so much more work to save lives than to end them?

Shiver. There’s something in his room. Carefully, Isa rises to turn towards what has entered his room. His fingers twitch. Just as carefully, he does not summon Lunatic. 

There’s a Dusk. Watching him. A message, most likely. 

Isa nods, once. To signal his readiness. The Dusk quickly obliges him. Simple. Straightforward. Terrifying in its message. 

Superior seeks you. 

The Dusk folds around itself, living origami. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. 

“I will be there shortly,” is all that he can say. 

Eyes the Dusk, with its shivering and wiggling...

Dusks suffer the most, of the Lesser Nobodies, when exchanging messages between Organization members. Especially when Lord Xemnas is involved. 

With a sigh, Isa rips out a blank page from his notebook. Crumples it up and tosses the trash towards the Dusk. 

The Nobody perks up, diving towards the scraps with open mouth. Swallowing it, devouring it. 

“Thank you,” Isa says quietly. Waves, briefly, to the now-frozen Dusk, before he vanishes in his Dark Corridor.

To where his master expects him to be. 

The Altar of Naught. Xemnas’s favorite location to linger, to stare over his dominion. 

Isa appears along the edges, keeping his head done. Waiting for Lord Xemnas to acknowledge his presence. 

Which is he does eventually, long after Isa longs to have scratched off his flesh with ever growing anticipating terror. The Superior, of course, starts with Organization business. (Like they’ve ever spoken of anything else.)

“We will soon have a new member join our cortege of twelve,” The Superior murmurs, the tapping of his boots against the Altar’s smooth stone especially loud in the quiet between them. 

“He wields the Keyblade.”

Isa’s breathing almost stops. 

Roxas. 

Roxas. 

The beginning of the end. 

Isa swallows. Dreadfully loud. “I will make arrangements.”

Xemnas continues, as if Isa’s agreement was a foregone conclusion. And perhaps, it is. 

“Number VIII will supervise his induction as the Thirteenth.”

For something as dangerous as Keyblade wielder...only fitting that the Organization’s main assassin keep an eye on them. To “take care” of the wielder, should they turn against the Organization. So went the logic. A logic that would fail to the unknowable power of the heart, a friendship that Saïx had failed to understand. 

Would fail and take all three of those friends with that same failure.  

This time, things would be different. 

Isa would see to it. 

“And the replica?” Isa dares to ask. Xion . Would her fate be the same as before, the Fourteenth in a group of thirteen?

“Yes, the replica.” Xemnas pauses just long enough for the itch in Isa’s shoulder blades to build up into something uncontrollable. 

“Retrieve the replica now.”

Now.

That’s...sooner than before. The planning for Castle Oblivion hasn’t even exited its early stages. Nothing more than sketched out paper, at this point. Perhaps one or two meetings. 

Different. But is it a good change or one less positive?

“As you command, Lord Xemnas.” Isa bows. 

Looking up from that bow...Xemnas stares up at the sky. At the place their false Kingdom Hearts will reside in the future. 

Isa quietly takes his leave. 

Vanishing to pick up the replica. 

Xion. 

“I’m here for Xion.”

“No. i, hmmm?” Vexen’s glowing eyes look him over knowingly. “So the Superior has seen sense, at last.”

“The project has been approved for the final testing, yes,” Isa agrees. Easiest way to mitigate Vexen’s ongoing annoyance, to agree with him. 

On the other hand, that meant blanking out the rest of Vexen’s rant over whatever topic had last upset him. Ignoring him, really. And Zexion, whose cold, cold eyes Isa knows are fastened to his back, thanks to Axel. But he’ll deal with Zexion later. 

No, Isa only has eyes for Xion. 

She’s...small. He knows that, yet the realization still strikes him like one of Larxene’s Thunder attacks. 

Young. She’s a week old, if even that. A child, an infant. Right now she is helpless. Even packed full of data and information all scheming to recreate the only currently existing Keyblade wielder, she is vulnerable. 

Vulnerable to whatever lies the Organization will tell her, to his carefully aimed insults and degrading comments. 

What had he been thinking? A child. Attacking a child like that. 

(She doesn’t deserve that.)

(Doesn’t deserve any of this.)

Looking at her closely, carefully...she has no face. Displays as much emotion as Dusk, even less. Isa feels a frown forming on his face. Surely he should be able to see her?

Unless...

Xion hasn’t fully formed yet. She needs something more, before she becomes a girl. A child. Something that has not happened yet. 

She stumbles. Slightly. 

Isa holds himself still. As still as stone. Watching her pick her way across the floor. He cannot do anything. If he as much as offers a hand...that would draw too much attention from the Organization members currently watching both of them.

Instead, he waits. Waits for her to slowly come towards him. Stopping to stand in his shadow. 

Her head tilts up at him. Faceless. Waiting for orders. The perfect puppet and tool. 

(Not for long.)

“Come.”

She does, even as he turns his back on her, to lead her into his Dark Corridor. To the Castle That Never Was. 

Isa already has her room picked out for her. Just across his, close enough to keep an eye out for her, if Axel refuses to.

He won’t. Axel is too keen on picking up strays, even as an assassin, even as a heartless Nobody. 

Isa doesn’t have to do anything, once that point hits. Once the orders come in, once Roxas enters the picture.

But...he rubs at his chest. Wouldn’t feel right , to do nothing. But what is the something Isa should do, that won’t get Xion killed? Retired . 

He’ll...figure it out. Not much time left, his countdown has already begun, but he’ll do it.

The least he can do. 

“This is your room.” He opens the door to allow her inside. 

She nods and promptly wanders through. Wordless, emotionless. Leaving him to shut the door behind her. 

Isa sighs, shoulders rolling back. Fights back the urge to whack his head against the wall, that never helped anything. 

What to do, what to do...

Perhaps he should get his Berserkers involved, they are getting awfully needy...but now they have hope for getting hearts of their own, they would be. Any Nobody would. 

Isa muses to himself, going back to his room. 

He does not notice the flash of red, in the corner of his eye. 

Or the green eyes carefully watching him from behind. 

The Berserker had no name, other that of its breed. It didn’t need one. Didn’t ask for one. It was simply a Berserker, one among many. 

But the only one among many to be trusted with such an important task by the Master. 

To guard. To watch. 

Until the Master commands otherwise. 

A Dusk. Floating its way into the area that is Guarded. 

Who sent? The Berserker inquires. 

The Dusk wiggles and twists. the flur-

SQUISH.

The Dusk’s mouths, both of them, flop open under the unexpected weight of a claymore. The ends of its limbs twitch. 

Still moving. The Berserker lift its blade again and lands another blow. And another. Mashing the Dusk into the pavement. Until the Dusk’s white form breaks apart, flakes of its body escaping into Darkness once more. 

Gone. 

The Berserker relaxes back into its watcher’s position. Fades back into the shadows, out of sight. 

Not sent by Master. So end it. Defend the Guard-Place and the Hearts inside. 

The Berserker looks around, searching for other possible foes to face. To drive back, if not completely destroy. It does not find any. What it does find, however, is a paper. And a rock. 

There is a paper, with a rock in front of it. Resting in the Guard-Place’s window. 

Carefully, with its stumps, the Berserker picks up the two objects. After several tries, it succeeds. 

The top of the Berserker’s head tips back, leaving an empty space in its place. The Berserker drops the rock into that hole. 

Consumes. 

The top drops back down, forming a whole head once more. 

The paper...it has an image of the Master’s face on it, along with some squiggles. This, the Berserker keeps. 

The Master dislikes when Nobodies under the Master’s command destroy what is his. As every Nobody does. The Master will want this possession returned. The Master will ask, the Berserker is sure, because the Master knows many things. 

The Berserker will guard his possession until then. 

On the edge, far out of the Berserker’s fairly limited range of sensing, rests a Nobody. More brightly colored than other kinds of Nobodies, legs pink and yellow with facemask of pink resting on its head. 

A long tendril off that head wiggles in the light wind, as the Nobody twists its head towards the Berserker. Content that it has observed enough, the Nobody’s skate-like feet carry it further out of range in a series of dancing, sliding motions. 

Its Master will know of this. 

Chapter Text

Isa wakes to a Berserker standing over him. He sputters and nearly throws himself on the floor getting up. 

My liege? 

Oh, it’s that Berserker. One he used as a guard yesterday. 

Xion, for some reason, is there too. In his room. Watching him with her invisible eyes. 

Waiting for orders. 

The idea leaves him with a sick feeling in his gut. Yet...

The Superior gave the order that Roxas will be presented first as Number XIII and Xion a day or two after. Like before. 

And like before, the Superior must be obeyed. 

Which only leaves Isa with the question what to do with Xion in that time. Because he just knows that Xemnas expects him to keep the replica out of everyone’s sight until the time of revelation. 

Isa doesn’t sigh like he wants to. He goes for rolling his eyes instead. 

What to do with Xion...? He still has duties to attend to.

But first, the Berserker. The Berserker that had been watching Balamb. He needs a report, to figure out what to do next. 

“Report,” he orders. Simple to start with. One step at a time. 

My liege, your territory is safe. 

“Did anything come there?”

A lone Dusk. Destroyed it. 

A Dusk. But who sent it? Why had a Dusk come to Balamb? 

(You’re drawing the wrong kind of attention to her.)

“Whose Dusk?” Isa asks, before his mind has too much of a chance to go too deep down that rabbit hole. 

The Berserker pauses. If Isa didn’t know better, he would say that it was embarrassed.

Unknown. Killed as soon as knew not yours, my liege. 

Isa rubs at his forehead. Of course. An unknown enemy, just another to add to the pile of every enemy he has, both known and not. This is far more stressful than it had been attempting to climb the ranks as Saïx. Maybe, because this time he knows the real stakes he’s up against. A fate worse than mere death.  

“Next time, allow them to announce themselves so you may report their lord to me,” Isa says. 

The Berserker tilts its sword slightly, lowering it from its shoulder. 

No punishment?

“No puni- oh.” Right. Saïx had never been one for failure. Strict standards paired with a temper he refused to admit actually existed, he went through quite a few Berserkers in the beginning before the rest adapted to his desires. 

“I see. Not now.”

No punishment . The Berserker repeats. 

Isa considers dismissing the Berserker right away. But...there’s an important lesson to be taught here. He needs to figure out Xion’s comprehension level as well, so that will work for this. 

“Go ahead. You can feed it.” Isa nods to Xion. 

Xion tilts her head. Though he still cannot see her face, it’s pretty clear the movement is meant to that of a question. 

“This way.”

As an example, Isa pulls his journal off his desk and flips to the very back, where the blank pages are. Slowly rips out a page and crumples it up. Loud in the silence of the room, every motion he takes carefully watched.

He tosses the crumpled up page to the Berserker. 

The top of its head lifts, to swallow the paper up. Devouring it. 

“It’s eating the paper, see?” Isa gestures to his journal. “Now, only blank paper like this...” He shows pages full of writing and blank pages, for her to know the difference. Carefully rips out another page and hands it to Xion. 

She accepts it, head tilting towards him. 

“Now, to the Berserker.” The Berserker somehow manages to perk up without having a face, gliding closer.

As her head turns away, intent on her task, Isa’s lips twitch. Become something almost like a smile. 

The work comes easier. Mind-numbingly so. 

Everything back to normal. To a new normal of Lexaeus watching him uncomfortably, on top of Demyx sticking around and Marluxia whispering with Larxene around every corner. 

Castle Oblivion is on the horizon. 

What should he do about that?

Another voice disturbs his throughs. 

“Heeey, Saïx.”

Demyx? Isa frowns, or rather, allows his frown to become more pronounced. What does the layabout want from him now?

“Your last assignments have still not been completed.”

“Oh, yeah, about that...” Demyx doesn’t look fearful or worried, like he usually does when it comes to facing Saïx on work he hasn’t finished. His gills flaps noisily and uselessly. “Got to talk to you about something. Privately.”

Privately? That’s...not a good sign. 

“You better have not ‘lost’ everything again.”

“Nope! It’s something better than that.”

Thankfully, the majority of the reports have been turned in at this point. If Isa leaves the room he will not be neglecting his duties. Fine. He can have a private conversation with Demyx. 

“Out.”

Isa heads for the door, not even waiting to check if Demyx is following him. 

Which he is. Right outside, down to a side room that should hopefully minimize the number of eavesdroppers. 

There, Demyx drops his bombshell of a statement.
“I know where you’re going to get lunch today!”

Oh no . 

Isa stiffens. “ What? ”

Demyx scratches at the back of his head, fingers eventually trailing down to right where his gills reside on his neck. “Well, where you’re going to get me lunch. See?”

“Explain.” It’s not a request. 

“You’ve got a Berserker watching this place in Twilight Town...and you’re usually all about ‘not wasting necessary resources.’ Is that some secret project the Superior knows about?”

The one person that Isa cannot afford to find about Balamb and the people there...

“What do you want.”

Demyx folds his arms over his chest. “I already said. Lunch.”

Isa inclines his head. Barely. “Very well.”

“Wait, that worked?! No, of course that worked!”

...

Why.

Balamb is the same as it always is, quiet in its tucked away corner of Twilight Town. 

Thankfully. 

Even if he’s going to ruin that soon, bringing Demyx there. Has already ruined it by exposing himself for the monster he really is to the cafe’s owner. 

It’s a shock, then, speeding up the slow beat of his heart, when a certain woman in blue is there to greet them at the front door. 

Angelo isn’t, but the dog watches them both come in, ears perked up, from her sleeping mat over by the windows. 

“Oh, you got my note!” Rinoa does a little twirl. 

What note?

She pauses, mid step. “And you brought...company?” Rinoa looks Demyx up and down, taking in every detail. 

Such as the slits in Demyx’s neck that he makes no effort to hide, the sogginess at the bottom of his coat and the edges of his sleeves, the greenish scales brushing behind his ears.

Not human. As much as Isa himself, right now. 

Isa steps in front of him. Probably too late...but it never hurts to try. 

Surprisingly, Rinoa doesn’t tell them to leave. Instead she pulls out her notebook, her notebook for orders. 

“What would you like?”

What? Nothing? Nothing about...them?

Hm. Useful, especially with Demyx getting antsy behind him, but...not a good sign. Isa’ll deal with this later. 

Pulls out a chair for himself at a table, Demyx settling in the seat across from him. 

“I will get what I got last time.”

Rinoa nods, marking something in the little notebook she’s carrying. “Got it. And your friend...?”

“Get him the hottest curry you have,” Isa orders, eyes steady on Demyx’s face. 

“Wait, wh-?”

“Coming right up!” Rinoa chirps, more than happy to stir up her spiciest dish. If only for the utter delight she seems to get seeing someone choke it down. 

A delight that Isa has to admit sharing, especially in the case of a certain redhead...

Funny thing about Lea, for a man that uses Fire like it’s going out of style, he cannot stand spice at all. 

Be excellent to watch the same happen to this certain pain in his side...

Isa sits back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. Watching Demyx carefully, and yes, he’ll admit it, smugly. 

Let’s see how this disaster will unfold. 

The food comes quickly, probably hastened by Rinoa’s desire to watch trouble go down. She hovers in the background, rather than vanishing back into her kitchen. 

Isa waits as well. For Demyx’s probably symbolic eruption at the extreme spice. 

Demyx...doesn’t. He just eats the curry faster, speaking excitedly with a full mouth. “Mpgud mpick.”

“Shut your mouth. Before I do it for you.”

“Frphight.”

Blessed silence, other than loud chewing. Behind Demyx, Isa can see Rinoa drooping. Most likely disappointed by Demyx’s lack of serious reaction. Other than his gills fluttering even more than usual and the flush building in his face. 

Isa carefully pulls a glove off, noting Demyx’s eyes widening at the sight. Puts the glove aside and starts picking carrots out of his stir-fry. Like he’s always done. But has only done twice, now, in this time?

Hm. 

He starts eating soon after that, ignoring the Nobody disaster across from him. 

Demyx finishes surprisingly quick, but Isa finishes his own meal soon after. Can’t risk staying here too long. 

Rinoa sweeps the dishes away, but Isa knows better than to assume that means she’s not listening into their conversation. Which is fine. He has nothing incriminating to talk about here. Demyx won’t either, even with a lack of operational security moved into that empty brain. 

There isn’t much to talk about, between them, after all. 

“Hey, you’re paying, right?”

“Demyx...you forced me to bring you here. Now you want me to pay for your meal?”

“Well...you did order for me.” Demyx shrugs, looking... content. Peaceful in a way Isa has never seen from him before, despite all the times he’s seen the Nobody laze about. 

Isa doesn’t know what to do about that. If he should do anything about it.

He huffs. “Fine. But only this once.”

Demyx perks up. “So you’re bringing me here again?”

“Wait, no! Of course not!” Where ever did Number Nine get that idea? 

“C’mon, Saïx, you can’t keep food this good all to yourself,” Demyx moans, splaying himself facedown on the table. Very dramatically. 

“I can and I will,” Isa says sternly, fingers tapping right next to the Nobody’s ear. 

Something nudges at his right hand, under the table. Glancing down, out of the corner of his eye, he sees exactly who he expected: Angelo. 

Expecting food, of course. Like all dogs do. 

He shoots a glance back at the still flopping Number Nine. Has Demyx noticed? No. He hasn’t. 

His right hand creeps over, to rub those soft ears. 

Briefly. Ever so briefly. 

Angelo lets out a pleased growl, tail wapping against the floor. 

Demyx freezes. “What’s that?”

“None of your business.” Isa pulls his hand back, settling it back on the table. Now to change the subject. 

“What exactly led you to this course of action?” To blackmail, is the message lying underneath Isa’s words. To blackmailing him , of all people. 

For food. For food. 

Demyx leans back in his chair. “I dunno...you’ve been different , I guess.”

Isa’s fingers tap the table. “Different?”

“The old you would have gutted me right off the bat! Not...” Demyx gestures to their surroundings. “This.”

The Nobody’s...not wrong. A lot has changed, in Isa’s mindset, and if one didn’t know the circumstances behind the transformation...it would be strange to view, from the outside. 

Still strange, for Isa himself to comprehend. 

“Hm.”

“So...what’s the deal? We coming back here, in the future?”

Isa sighs. Demyx...future or present, always annoying. But a distraction, at least, one he’ll allow in a way Saïx never did. 

It hurts , pushing Le- Axel away. A burn in his chest. Demyx is...he doesn’t really care about him, not in the same way as Axel. It’ll be fine. A distraction, from the always burning in his chest. 

Interacting with Demyx...will draw suspicion. Of course. But it will be a more obvious suspicion than with Xion. At least with Demyx, the others will assume they’re...sleeping together as the reason for Isa’s sudden tolerance. 

“I still expect you to keep up your workload.”

“Oh, c’mon! ”

Shooting down Demyx’s proposals is...surprisingly fun. 

Not that Isa’ll admit that to anyone . Ever

Eventually they agree on Isa allowing Demyx access to Balamb on pre-agreed to times. Possibly take-out only, as not to draw so much attention to Rinoa from more nefarious parties. Such as other Organization members. 

Isa gets to the Grey Room soon after that. Finishes up his shift. Everyone’s already long gone, left their paperwork to him (of course).

Is he missing anything?

Wait. 

Oh no . He left- !

Isa hurries to his room. Well, not exactly, he can’t afford to let anyone see Saïx move at a faster than walking pace. As if he’s worried. But he does power walk. Slightly. 

Can’t get to his room soon enough.

Xion’s still standing there, when Isa opens the door. Doesn’t look like she’s moved even an inch since he left her there. Alone. 

“Xion!” 

She starts slightly, but otherwise...nothing. Like she’s a toy waiting to be turned on. The thought leaves him shuddering. 

(He can’t afford to think like that...)

What can he do for Xion? Isa puts his hands on his hips. Thinking out what he knows about children. What little he knows. Since Xion is one, after all. Though it took him far too long to figure that out the first time he met her. (Fool.)

She’s very still. Does nothing, as he moves closer to her. 

...is she hungry? Very possible. 

Children, as he is faintly aware of, need to eat fruits and vegetables. Something something about growing properly. Though he has no idea...his yellow eyes look Xion up and down. Taking in as much as he can of her cloaked form. Considering. 

Can replicas even grow like humans can? The growth of Nobodies is a complicated subject, one he still doesn’t understand. Some in the Organization visibly grew and changed while others did not. Lesser Nobodies didn’t change at all, never would. 

Vexen, or rather Even, had bragged about how his newest replicas could do everything normal humans did. Including the ability to age and grow, to evolve. Did that mean his first replicas did not have that ability?

Isa doesn’t know enough. He has no way of finding out more, without drawing more of Zexion’s attention in the process or the Superior’s. And many of his questions need time, to eventually be answered. He’s operating blind at this point. 

An unpleasant prospect, considering how his past plans failed because he lacked the necessary information to put them forward. 

Isa takes a deep breath. Not a sigh. Really. 

Calm down. Take this step by step. Surely he can come with something better than feeding her sea-salt ice cream everyday like Axel had. It’s almost embarrassing how low of a bar Axel set, when interacting with Roxas and Xion. Even more terrible to realize that he had failed to even meet that bar, as Saïx. Had taken a perverse pleasure, almost, in making things worse.  

Sins he’ll never be able to atone for. Just because it hadn’t happened yet didn’t mean that he had never done such things. 

Enough about his sins, his revolting self-pity. There’s a small girl in front of him who needs him to act on her behalf. Now. 

Isa thinks, gloved fingers tapping against his thigh. What can he do now ? For Xion? That won’t get her killed. 

If he goes out for food again, today, that’ll alert those who are watching something is wrong. A puppet doesn’t need food, after all. 

Saïx wouldn’t care, and so he must act like he does not as well. 

Is there somewhere else he can go? 

Definitely not the Organization group refrigerator. That entire mess is simply a disaster waiting to happen and who knows what would happen to Xion if he fed her anything from there. 

Isa wracks his brain. What can he do? Anything?

Wait. 

In the main room...in that black coat, a Moogle. A Moogle willing to sell anything to the Organization, though at very high prices. 

At some point, he recalls that Roxas had said something about Sora being able to buy food from the Moogles. Surely he would be able to do the same, if he was polite. Asked the right questions. Had plenty of munny. 

That’s what he’ll do, then. Buy from the Moogle. The Moogle that will have no reason to tell the Superior about any of Isa’s actions. 

“Xion, wait here.”

He turns on his heel, not even waiting for a response as he leaves his room once more.  

The halls are dark. Not as dark as they could be, with the white coloring of the walls and floors. But still fairly dark. 

It would be unmanageable for Somebody eyes. But for the eyes of a monster...it’s decent enough, for him to pick his way through to the Grey Area. 

A large clump of shadow separates itself from the darkness before him.  Isa narrows his eyes at it. Focusing in...on a shorter figure, with silver-blue hair. 

“I have something to discuss with you, Number Seven.”

No. Why is he here?

Zexion stands in his way, nearly blending in with the shadows despite the coloring of his hair. Something gleams from underneath the hair hiding his face. 

“This is after-hours,” Isa says flatly. “You may discuss this with me tomorrow but not now.”

He makes to push his way past Zexion. Who, unsurprisingly, lets him. Number Six has never been very physical, after all. Nothing compared to himself. 

“If this is indeed ‘after-hours’ like you say, I can’t help but wonder what you are doing at this time,” Zexion calls out after him.

“That is something you will have to keep wondering about,” Isa answers. Cold. Precise. 

Zexion lets him walk away, but Isa is under no illusion that the ‘Cloaked Schemer’ will let this go. 

He’ll have to be extra careful now. Zexion might be following him at a distance with an illusion, not truly gone. Watching, hiding. 

Truly, the wonders of Organization XIII, where everyone spies on and plots against each other constantly. A worry every minute. Wonderful. 

If Zexion’s watching...buying from the Moogle will ring a few alarms. But it seems Zexion will be watching every night, if what Axel talked about earlier is true. Isa will have to risk it. If he wants to get Xion some food. 

Which he has to.

Ah, the Moogle. Still there, as they are at all hours. Do Moogles sleep? Or they are like Nobodies, where sleep is never satisfying and more of an illusion?

“Do you sell food?”

The cloaked Moogle tilts their head off to the side. “I might, kupo. What for, Nobody?”

Nobody. Isa’s fingers barely tap against his leg, at his side. Hidden by the stillness of his arms and hands otherwise. Out of sight, out of mind. 

“Fruit, if you would.” Avoid the question, he can’t answer that question while Zexion might be listening in. “Do you have apples, perhaps?”

The Moogle names a price. 

High. Very high. For three apples, at that. If this were Twilight Town, in the future, Isa would never accept paying that much. 

Isa doesn’t even blink, taking out the necessary munny. He has funds...though the way he’s been dipping into them lately, that spare munny will soon disappear. 

That’s something he can put his Berserkers to work, then. Gathering resources. Hm. A decent idea, both to get more munny and to keep the Berserkers busy.

The Moogle looks up from the munny to Isa’s face, before lowering their hidden face towards the offered munny again. 

“You paid. Without arguing.”

What?

“Of course I did. That’s your price.” Isa isn’t quite sure why the Moogle is responding like this. He gave them the munny, didn’t he? 

“You don’t buy from me, Nobody. Not you. Not since the first few times,” the Moogle states. Quietly. Very quietly. Isa can only hear them due to having Nobody ears. 

...Wait. 

Saïx doesn’t buy from Moogles. Not directly. Not since...

An incident. Years ago. Long enough that Isa had forgotten, but Saïx’s grudge-filled memory would never let that go. 

Another thing he’s changed, without even realizing it. 

“Things change,” he says shortly, stuffing that panic to the bottom of his heart. 

The Moogle tilts their head again, finally accepting the munny. “Clearly. Kupo. Here’s your fruit.”

Three apples, small and hopefully sweet. 

Isa puts them in his pocket and heads on his way. 

Some time between when he left his room and when he now returns to it, a Dusk has found its way in. Shivering and twisting around the ceiling, far above Xion’s head. Xion, whose head is tilted enough to watch the Leser Nobody. 

Isa will not admit, not in a million years, to the rush of relief that fills him, at the replica actually moving. Acting so much less like a puppet. 

He pulls the apple from his pocket and places it in Xion’s hand. Her hooded head looks down at it, before lifting up in his direction. 

“Food,” he informs her. “For eating.”

Xion lifts the hand, with apple in it, and for a moment, Isa thinks she’s about to bite into it with her unseen teeth. 

Isa just barely manages to catch the apple before it disappears into the Dusk’s gullet, sailing through the air with Xion’s toss. 

The Dusk twists out its disappointment in full body movement. 

“Not for you,” Isa tells it firmly. 

A whole apple. Isa stares down at the fruit in his hand. Can Xion even eat an entire fruit, all at once? Perhaps he should have considered that before handing it to her. 

Isa has no knives. No blades, other than...

Lunatic comes easily at his call. A weapon he’s never ever desired, not as a Nobody, not as a Somebody afterwards. 

Clean enough. Clean anew each time he summons it. No matter how messy the claymore may be when Isa dismisses it. 

Leans Lunatic against the wall, incredibly aware of the eyes on him as he does so. Pulls out the apple and presses it against the blade’s edge. Not very sharp, not compared to Axel’s chakrams or Larxene’s knives. 

Shrlp. 

Sharp enough, though, to cut the apple in half. 

Isa offers the apple half to Xion. 

Her invisible eyes appear to be looking it over, as far as he can tell. Yet she’s not reaching out to take it. 

He presses the fruit in her gloved hand. A careful examination ensues, of a few seconds, before she attempts to press it right back into his hand. 

“No, it’s yours. The apple.”

No verbal reply, of course. No sign she’s listening, even. She doesn’t stop nudging at his hand, until Isa finally accepts the fruit half back. 

Hm. Need to try something else. He lifts the half, up to his mouth. A slow, careful, clearly projected movement. Bites into the apple with crisp chomp.  

Chews. Swallows. Sweet to taste, crunchy. 

Presses the now bitten chunk into Xion’s hand. “Now, for you. Eat.”

She brings up the slice, in perfect mimicry of his own earlier motions. Xion’s mouth, of course, moves unseen under that hood. The crunching sounds of someone chewing still come despite that limitation. 

The apple half comes back to him with a small bite taken out of it, right next to his own.  

Isa is full. Full enough for a Nobody who has eaten more in the two weeks than Saïx probably did for months at a time. Incredibly full. 

He doesn’t need this fruit. Xion does. But she won’t eat it without him, apparently. 

He sighs, more of a silent movement in the slumping of his shoulders than actual breath of a sound. 

He’ll do what he can. 

The apples disappear rapidly, as they exchange the slices Isa cuts between the two of them. Leaving him uncomfortably full as a result. Isa keeps taking bites anyway. Xion needs the food, he’s sure. And if it means him having some too...well, Isa’ll do what needs to be done.  

Leftover chunks, full of seeds and stem, Isa tosses to the Dusk. Still in the room floating about uselessly. Xion easily follows suit, more easily than she took to eating the fruit in the first place. 

“Of course you would.”

Her kindness is still clear, even in her currently limited state. Truly astounding how he kept missing it, before. 

Once they’re done with the apple’s remains, he determines it to be late enough. The girl needs to sleep, as well, so Isa sends Xion off to her room. Dismisses the Dusk as well, preparing for his own slumber. 

His sleep that night, for once, is peaceful and lasts the whole night through. 

Demyx knows what everyone else in the Organization thinks of him. Lazy, good-for-nothing, a body to fill the seats. Expect absolutely nothing out of him. 

And honestly, he’s fine to leave it that way. No expectations means less work, after all. 

But there are molds that the other Organization members fit themselves into, habits that Demyx likes to keep an eye on. Best way to convince someone else to do something for you is to convince them it was their own idea, after all. 

Of the entire Organization, Saïx was probably the most predictable. Grumpy, stand-offish to everyone but Axel, suck-up to the Superior, a total and complete jerk...easy to peg what he would do next, based on those qualities. 

But that’s the thing: was. 

He’s changed somehow. Gone from completely predictable to not at all. 

Demyx still doesn’t know what prompted it. Whatever it is...it’s probably important, to change a guy’s entire personality. 

His scales itch, begging for more scratches. He makes do with tuning Arpeggio instead. Thinking makes his head hurt (like the constant burning in his neck), but he powers through the pain. For once in his existence. 

What’s changed: being less of a jerk, less time spent around Axel, and he’s staked out territory outside of the Gray Area. The last one’s the most surprising. Saïx doesn’t do territory. 

Not like Vexen and Zexion, who are constantly squabbling over the lab. 

Not like the Superior in the Gathering Place. 

Not like Xaldin who’s constantly going through new territories full of Somebody hearts to break. 

Not every Nobody has a territory, of course. But Saïx’s been more stand-offish than most, when it comes to claiming spots for himself. Even Demyx’s got spots, a couple chill-out places for when the workload is too much. 

In all of the time Demyx’s watched him...Saïx hasn’t .

Now...he does. 

With decent food, even! Demyx didn’t know Saïx had good taste, it’s almost offensive that he does. He didn’t even know that guy ate . 

So...

Demyx strums a chord. Sighs. Looks like he might have to get off his rear, to figure out what’s going on. 

Good thing Saïx’s promised more food at least. 

It’s the least Demyx deserves. 

Chapter Text

Roxas is...small. So very small. Much smaller than Isa remembers. Small like Xion. 

Clumsy too, tripping over his feet constantly as Axel herds him to stand before the rest of Organization. 

Moving in a daze, barely aware. Much like Xion herself, but with the added measure of actually having a face. A familiar face from ten years ago, a face Saïx hadn’t recognized, until Axel pointed it out to him. In another life. 

Like Ventus, but not.

No, Roxas’ appearance is completely and totally his own, even with those similarities to that lost boy. As well as entirely too human-looking for a Nobody. 

“We welcome Number Thirteen as a new member to this Organization.”

Isa watches, face numb and stuck in its usual frown. So it begins. 

What had been running through his head, last time? The first time?

Cold satisfaction. Solid in his chest, almost like a heart. That’s what it was, he’s pretty sure. A feeling so unlike the irritation that he refused to admit plagued him. 

Finally they could start the work of completely recovering their hearts. 

Such had his thoughts run. 

Now...Isa slides his eyes over and up. Towards the Superior. 

The Nobody that leaves something in Isa’s chest shaking every time he’s in his presence. Looking down on Roxas with an air of satisfaction about him. 

Knowing the Organization’s true purpose...changes everything. 

Now, all that sits in Isa’s chest is ice-cold fear . 

(Can he change what’s coming?)

Inserting Roxas into the work schedule is just as much of a hassle as it was the first time. Make doubly more difficult by Isa trying to add Xion at the same time, since finally she can go out onto the field. Now that Roxas is here, as according to the Superior’s orders. Well, six days after Roxas like before, but the time is small enough that he is essentially calculating the workflow for both of them at the same time. 

What a pain. 

Isa taps his fingers on his desktop, staring at the glowing computer screen. Full of numbers and assignments, everything he needs to change.

Hm. What had he done before...?

Oh yes. Lessons. 

From Axel, Marluxia, Zexion, Larxene, Vexen, and Lexaeus. In that order, one per day. And one last mission with Axel again. 

He doesn’t like the idea of Roxas being in close quarters with either Lexaeus or Zexion, but the boy should be safe enough. Safe for being in a cult full of backstabbing plotters, at least. As long as Isa takes care not to interact with him anymore than he did in the past, Zexion will not think of them having a connection, in any way. 

Hm.

Is there something more he can do...? One day left, to set everything in stone. One day left, before Roxas joins the workforce. So to speak. 

Perhaps...

Isa taps the keyboard once more, bringing up more information. More facts that he needs to dig through. Is there an extra edge he can give Roxas? Without seeming like he’s directly interfering too much?

A connection...

Hm. 

What about the Lesser Nobodies? The Berserkers were getting more involved lately. 

“Demyx,” the name comes to mind once Isa starts to really take the idea of the Lesser Nobodies more seriously. As a possibly changing factor. 

Isa hated to admit it, and Saïx never had, but Demyx was one of the best at commanding the Lesser Nobodies. A skill that Roxas could use, the way his Samurai pushed him around in another time. 

Rebellious creatures. Much like their master, in the end. Perhaps they had sensed Roxas’ heart? The heart he shouldn’t have had, being a Nobody.

Whatever it had been, that didn’t matter now. Not this time.

Roxas needs every tool Isa can supply him with, that’s what matters. Isa gives a single nod, decided. 

He’ll talk to Demyx about this. Get Roxas that help Saïx never did. 

Eight days of training, instead of seven. He’ll keep the rest, with one extra. Stick Demyx in between the Limit Break training and that last day with Axel again. 

Decided, Isa leaves the main computer rooms and heads down the hall to the Grey Area. Where Demyx is, messing around on his instrument. 

Enters and speaks. 

“Demyx. I need to discuss something with you.”

The loud statement, pitched so Demyx can hear him over the playing of his sitar, is loud enough that everyone else around him hears too. 

Unsurprisingly, it right away sparks the Grey Area into an uproar. Seeing it’s after the missions have been assigned for the day, and most of the individuals in the room should have completed theirs already. 

There should be no particular reason for him to call on Demyx. Yet he is, doing it despite that. Certainly gossip material for everyone else. 

Isa ignores it all. Waiting patiently. 

Eventually Demyx has to get up. And he does, allowing his sitar to vanish in the process. Isa beckons to him and makes to turn into his “offices.” Only his because no one else wants to go where the paperwork is. 

Demyx hesitates but follows in the end. Either now, or Isa hunts him down later. They both know how this works. 

“What do you want? I’ve done all my work!”

Isa gives the frantic Nobody somewhat of a side-glance, eyes sliding across the growing line of scales up and down his face. Signs of Demyx’s distress, along with those desperately flapping gill slits. 

He shuts down and moves more centermode in the room. 

“I require some...assistance from you.” Isa wraps his fingers around each other, hanging them behind his back. “For Roxas.”

Blue-green eyes pinch around the corners, almost shut, in response. 

“Whaaat?”

Demyx flaps his hands, making an x-shaped gesture with them. “More work? No way!”

Isa hesitates, for a moment. He hates to go this option, so soon. It might be the only option he has, the only decision that will get Demyx to put effort into the endeavor. Well, more effort. 

“I will take you to...a certain cafe, if you agree. Payment will also be forth-coming.”

“Are you...offering me more food? Food and munny? ” 

Isa says nothing, fingers tightening around each other. Unseen. Stiff. 

Demyx takes that response as an answer. “Whoa, I can’t believe you , of all people, would actually pay me for working. That never happens around here!”

Demyx is...not wrong. About that. 

Whatever munny Organization members got, they got on their own missions. Squirreled away from everyone else, for their own private desires and vices. No paid wage.  

What keeps the Nobodies of Organization XIII working is two factors: the desire for their hearts and fear . Not pay. Never pay. Bribes might happen on the side, but as a whole? No. Not acceptable. 

Another chain to keep everyone tied to the Castle That Never Was. The fact they had nowhere to go outside of it, no way to pay for it if they did. 

A situation that had been perfectly acceptable to Saïx. Saïx, who used what little munny he had to get meals, every three to four weeks, and nothing else. Saïx, who panted after Xemnas like a tamed hound, hoping to prove his worthiness. 

Saïx, who died twice. Once, under a pale moon, longing for what never could be his. 

Second, under a bright sun, in the arms of an old friend. A weeping friend. 

(So weak.)

Enough of those thoughts. 

“Is the payment acceptable?”

Demyx squints at him, again. Puts his hands on his hips, scales crawling back into his skin now that the stress isn’t so much. “Sure...but why do you want me to teach this Roxas kid so much, anyways?”

“The Key of Destiny is the only way we can get back our hearts.” A useless, flat platitude. One he trotted out many times before as Saïx. “He must be prepared in every way possible.”

“Hmmm. See, you say that. But I’m not sure about that?” Demyx hums. Tilting his head back and forth. Fingers twitching like they’re aching to twiddle with his sitar. “If it was just that, then you’d just threaten me. You and I both know that.”

Isa fights the urge to show his fangs, lick his tongue across them. Allow them to grow longer and longer, glow . He doesn’t quite succeed, if Demyx’s sudden flinch is any indication. 

“Geeze, no need for that! I’ll do it, I’ll do it!”

“ Good,” the word comes out as a growl. 

Demyx lets out a sound that’s not quite a squeak of terror, but is really too high pitched to be considered much else. 

“I will get you when the time comes.” Isa turns his back. He can hear the stomping of boots as Demyx uses that opportunity to almost run away from him.

Demyx becomes bolder, every day. Once he never would have asked questions like that. Now...

Isa sighs. He’s not sure what to do about it. Other than give Number Nine the cold shoulder once more. 

Which he can’t. Not with the blackmail. What a horrendous pain. 

Now that Roxas is taken care of...there’s another consideration to mind, for scheduling and otherwise. That of Xion. Whose circumstances make everything much more difficult compared to Roxas. Roxas, the Key of Destiny, gets clear priority of training, of having a watcher. 

Xion...that’s different. She never got any training before. Vexen had laughed at the idea, said that the programming would be enough. After he taught the replica a few things, of course. To make sure everything was functioning correctly. 

If Isa made any moves...very noticeable. He’ll do nothing and hate himself every second for it. 

No, the most he can do is feed the replica and watch her carefully. More than he ever did, in the past, fool that he was. 

Not enough, but very little can be under these conditions. 

“Saïx, what are you doing?” 

Isa blinks. He knows that voice. Very well, in fact. He turns to face the speaker. 

“Axel, what is it?”

The heat in this hallway is immense, and Isa can smell the strong stink of pine smoke. Axel’s typic pine smoke. Green eyes glare at him. 

“Talking with Demyx of all people...you hate him. Everyone knows that.” Isa opens his mouth, but Axel bulldozes right over him. Keeps talking. 

Axel’s eyes narrow at him. “Is it hate sex now? Thought you weren’t into that?”

At that, Isa can’t help but sputter. Hate sex? Hate sex, is that what everyone is thinking? Organization gossip is...truly the worst. 

“ What!?”

Something in Axel’s posture relaxes perceivably. “Okay, that’s not it. But what are you doing then?”

Isa carefully pushes Axel out of the way. “My own duties. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

“Saïx, what are you up to?”

A question Isa can’t hope to answer. A question that Saix wouldn’t be able to answer. “What has to be done,” is all he can say. 

The pupils in Axel’s cat eyes pulse, slitting and widening. “...Really? That’s your answer?”

“I can’t tell you anymore,” Isa hisses, feeling his canines grow and sharpen.

Axel turns, flicking a hand at Isa as he does so. “Fine. If that’s what you want to play...I’ll go catch up with Roxas.”

The fiery rage that erupts inside of Isa at that name nearly bowls him over. Yellow eyes flashing, scar widening like he’s about to Berserk-!

Axel snarls back, heat rising. “So that’s how it is, huh? No answers for me, everything for you?”

“Just- Leave!” Isa manages to push out, turning on his heel. Fleeing from his friend, the friend he can no longer have due to his stupidity.

“Saïx? Saïx!”

“Leave. Me. Be. ” Isa hisses. Not enough, never enough. Why can’t Axel understand?

Get out of range, hearing, sight, scent, all of it. Away from Axel. Away from his failure. 

Almost running to get away from him. So many emotions rushing inside, impossible emotions for a Nobody.

He had thought he had gotten over this. Such an idiotic thing to be jealous of, and something he shouldn’t be jealous of. Other people could have friends, especially people Isa was pushing away for their own safety. 

Things were different in the past, then. As they always were. 

Isa bites his tongue. Hard enough to draw blood. Fool. 

Isa walks up to the wall. Examines that pure white. 

And as hard as he can, Isa punches it. BANG . Leaving a huge, deep dent in it. More damage to the castle, than to Isa himself. Should he remove his gloves...his hands will remain unmarked. Like nothing happened at all. 

Turns away. Walks on. He leaves that dent behind. Clear for anyone to see. 

It doesn’t matter. The hole will be gone the next Isa walks by here. 

Nothing in this Castle really lasts, in the end. 

The nightmares are the worst Isa has had in years. 

Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night (if there is a night in a world with no sun) and just sits there. Breathing, until the morning hours come. 

It’s...lonely, and too quiet, with the lack of other sleepers’ snores he’s gotten used to, in Twilight Town. As a Somebody once more. 

In getting more space for himself...Isa never thought it would be so empty. Foolish thought. Everything else about being a Nobody is empty, why not this? 

Empty but for Xion. Who keeps showing up in the middle of the night for whatever reason. 

Watching him with eyes he cannot see. The experience is...disconcerting. An easy reminder of one of the reasons Saix disliked Xion in the original timeline. A stupid reason, considering how odd everyone in the Organization looks as inhuman Nobodies. 

She comes and he feeds her apples. Among whatever fruits Isa can get off of the Moogle, such as oranges and berries and grapes. But Xion seems to like the apples best. 

Oranges come next in line, if only because the replica appears to enjoy tossing the peels at the Dusks. The Dusks, who comes every night, draw by the slowly growing rumors among their numbers that there is someone who will feed them. 

Luckily, none of the Lesser Nobodies have tried swarming Xion or Isa during the day. He would have to do something drastic, in that case. Dusks are...more clever, than Isa recalls them being. As are the Berserkers.

You talk to us. We listen. 

“That can’t be enough.”

It wasn’t enough for Axel, before. Talking. 

But it is, the Berserker disagrees and says nothing more. Watching, like Xion does, with the eyes it doesn’t have. 

When it draws too late, oftentimes Xion will refuse to return to her room. Just huddle there, on the end of Isa’s bed. He sighs, and lets her stay. He’ll put her in her room the next day, the way he always does. 

Getting up before anyone else in the Organization has to have its perks every once in a while. 

Those nights, the Berserkers watching over him, Xion curled up on the edge of his bed...well, the nightmares aren’t so bad. 

One day soon Isa is going to snap and end up possibly killing Zexion. It’s a possibility growing with every hour, with each snippy comment the Cloaked Schemer makes, and the following shadows that make Isa’s life so much more complicated. 

The urge to unleash the Berserkers grows ever stronger. 

Even Demyx isn’t nearly so irritating, placated by food from Balamba and promises of a smaller workload (every so often). 

“ Zexion, ” Isa grinds out, with the young man standing right in his personal space. Again. Peering over the papers Isa currently holds. “You keep doing this...I will have to talk to the Superior.”

“You won’t dare to bring the Superior into this, Number Seven!” Zexion hisses, a light flashing under his covering hair. His visible eye looks uncertain. 

Well, Zexion’s not wrong. The last thing Isa wants is to drag these petty troubles into Xemnas’ range of attention. He still doesn’t know how much Xemnas is watching, how much the Superior is aware of what’s changing, of Isa’s plotting. 

Everyone plots, in the Organization. So that much shouldn’t be suspicious. Other things, however...Isa needs to be very very careful. 

“Try me.”

Zexion hisses, forked tongue flicking back behind his teeth. His gloved hands pat at his hair, careful to keep his face covered. To hide the eyespot everyone knows he has. 

(There are very few secrets in the Organization.)

Hides it and stomps off. 

Isa sighs and rearranges his pile once more. That will do, for now. But Zexion isn’t stupid. He’ll know that was a bluff and his strange floating about Isa’s person will renew itself.

What does he do...?

This is what it knows, to start: it is Number XIV of Organization XIII and it is called Xion. 

There are others, many others, that it must obey the orders from. But there is one main Other. One that it must follow until its orders change. 

The Other who is...different than Number XIV expects. Who offers it items such as paper and talks to it, telling it things. 

It can take in paper, much like the Dusks do. But it is...unsatisfying. Nothing like the Apple. The Apple the Other had given to it. 

The Apple makes sound as it “eats” the pieces the Other gives to it. Stays in the mouth unless it swallows instead of dissolving like the paper. The Other eats the Apple too, very noisy.

Much more noisy than Number XIV could hope to do. 

“Don’t tell anyone about this, Xion,” the Other tells XIV, once the Apple is gone. It nods, in agreement. A secret. XIV can keep a secret. 

(Number XIV is a secret.)

There are a few other things XIV learns, under the Other’s direction. First, the Other is called Isa, but XIV should call the Other Saïx. Also, Saïx is what is called a “he” while XIV is a “she.” Unless she wants to be a he, is quickly added onto that statement. 

XIV thinks about it, for a couple nights, next to a sleeping Saïx. No. XIV will be a she. She is okay. 

Third, Saïx will “feed” XIV every night, mostly Apples but other things too. If XIV eats most of the “food,” Saïx will allow XIV to feed the Dusks as well. It’s...good. Warm in XIV’s chest, to share the food that way. 

So the nights go. 

And so XIV keeps the secrets, remaining a big secret. 

Until it isn’t. Anymore. Out in the big grey room. 

There are many Others now. All are Nobodies like the First. But no one of them even bother to look at it, standing over by the windows. Except for one, one with the yellow head and bright bright blue eyes that glance over XIV curiously. 

XIV swallows and feels her mouth go dry. A hum, in its chest. 

“Xion.” XIV looks up to meet yellow eyes above a scar. A familiar face, the only face XIV has known for a while now. Saïx. “You have a mission with Roxas today.” He gestures to the yellow head. “Follow him.”

Oh, that’s interesting. XIV nods and does as Saïx says. Follows Roxas. 

They complete the mission quickly. But Roxas doesn’t tell XIV to go away after it’s done. Instead he says... “Let’s get some ice cream.”

...What? What’s that? Frown hidden, XIV follows. Wherever Roxas goes, like the orders say, right up to the top of a tall tall tower. 

Roxas settles on the edge and carefully, XIV settles right next to him. 

“Hey, Xion, here’s some ice cream.” Roxas hands her a stick with a blue bar on the end. He’s using the name that Saïx uses too, so maybe her real designation is Xion? Not a secret, at least, not like the Apple and Isa and many other things. Xion watches him carefully, sees him put his own bar up to his mouth and...sinks his teeth into it. 

Oh! The Ice Cream is like an Apple. You eat it! Xion mimics Roxas’ action, poking her tongue against the blue. Her eyes widen. 

Sweet, like the Apple! But also not, afterwards. 

“Sweet and then salty,” Roxas provides. 

“Hmm.” The Ice Cream is finished quickly. “Roxas....why?”

Why the ice cream?

“Uh...” He looks confused. 

“Why ice cream?” She clarifies. 

“Friends share ice cream, I think,” Roxas says thoughtfully. “And I want to be friends.”

Friends...that sounds good. Like food. 

Xion hums again. “I want to, too.” 

Does that make Saïx a...friend? He gave her food too, like Roxas did. 

Something in her chest warms up at the idea. Yes. Xion wants Saïx (Isa) to be a friend too. She’ll ask him, when she sees him again. 

He’ll surely say yes. 

Chapter Text

“Ruff?”

Isa carefully hands over another carrot chunk. One that Angelo accepts eagerly. The more things change, the more they stay the same, it seems. 

Even in different timelines. 

If he’s here...he might as well try to get food for Xion. More fruit, since she does seem to like those best. 

“Ahem?”

Rinoa looks away from the front window in Isa’s direction. “Yes?”

“Could I order another meal, this one to go? A quick snack. Preferably with fruit.” Isa pulls his gloves back on with a snap. 

“So...” Rinoa’s fingers tap against the tabletop. “Something with fruit, easily transportable and storable?”

Isa nods. “That would be preferred, yes.”

Angelo pants, pushing her wet nose into Isa’s leg. Demanding more pets. Again. 

Isa holds back a sigh and leans over to ruffle the dog’s ears. Only one more time, that’s all. 

“Ah, I’ve got the perfect snack!” Rinoa heads straight for her kitchen, ready to dig into her supplies. 

“Ruff?” Angelo’s ears perk up, as the dog looks up at him with big eyes. 

“Fine, I’ll rub your ears again.” But this is the last time, that’s for sure. 

The door bangs open as Rinoa bustles through it once more. 

“Now, these are a little old. I can fry up some fresh ones, if you’re willing to pay!” Rinoa beams, offering a small bowl full of...

Fried turnovers. Moon -shaped turnovers. With a smile, Rinoa breaks one open to reveal the fruit inside. Dried apple chunks and berry fragments, with a sprinkle of what appears to be honey adding the right amount of moisture and sweetness. 

Oh. The last time Isa saw these...

(Bright stars up above, the taste of glazed sugar sweet on his tongue. He has to make a wish! Has to find Lea and everyone else too, before the moon rises.)

Eleven years ago, now. The year before everything fell apart. 

“Aren’t those for festivals?” He manages to choke past the sudden lump in his throat. “For the Moonstruck Festival?”

Rinoa jerks. Almost drops the bowl before just managing to readjust her grip. “What? Oh...” Her eyes go wide. “You’re from there, too?” Home. A conclusion that Isa had arrived at long ago, in another time, with the moon-flower-wave motifs everywhere in the cafe. 

Isa dips his head. “Yes. A long time ago.”

Rinoa laughs. Weakly. “Yeah, it’s been a long time for everyone now. That’s...”

She swallows visibly, and puts the bowl down on the table. “That’s something, all right.”

“I’m sorry.” Isa looks away, from both the woman and her dog. He rises from his chair. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No!” Rinoa puts out a hand. Almost desperately. Angelo rises to her paws and barks. 

“Sorry...could you stay?”

“Alright.” Isa settles back down at the table. He can’t help but wonder at her extreme response to this. In the future, Rinoa had never cared to know what worlds her customers might hail from. But in the future, Isa had never wanted to go back to Radiant Garden either. Never again, after his failure. So he hadn’t brought it up. 

Not like now. Isa...still didn’t want to go back. But perhaps...he could talk about it. 

About the past. 

Forget the present and its failures, just for a little. 

“What do you want to know?”

“How did you get away?” Rinoa asks, wringing her hands. Twisting her arm brace. “Is it possible that anyone else also escaped?”

Isa sorts through memories and his words cautiously. What can he tell her...without adding to her distress?

The truth is...

“I don’t know. All I know is that I woke up with several others.” Less than whole, at that. 

Rinoa’s eyes grow bright as she leans closer. “Who are those others?”

Oh no, he shouldn’t have said that. 

No. 

He can’t. Isa has said too much. Even the act of talking to her is more than he should have done. Will the Berserker guard be enough, in the face of his own actions?

If the Superior finds out...

“We shouldn’t speak of this any longer.” Isa gets up, heading for the door. Taking the turnovers and leaving the proper payment behind in exchange. 

“Wait!” A loud bark follows shortly after. 

He doesn’t. Uses a Corridor right outside, as soon as he can manage it. Gone. Before Isa can possibly ruin Rinoa’s life any further. 

(Xion likes the pastries. That’s one good thing, at least.)

Alone, except for Angelo, Rinoa speaks out loud in her empty cafe. 

“Mystery stranger...are you in danger, then?”

A meeting, with all of the chairs filled. A rare event, one that hasn’t happened before in this timeline, Isa thinks. 

Xemnas, as always, speaks first. “Now, to determine our plans for Castle Oblivion.”

Ah. So now it’s that time. The time for Castle Oblivion. For everything to change, yet to stay the very same. 

He recalls, quite frankly, never being exactly fond of this plan. Why go after Sora, when they had his Nobody?

Dealing with the “Keyblade Master” only presented a chance for more of a mess even if they were attempting to get rid of him. And from what he learned later, Marluxia and Larxene hadn’t exactly proved that wrong, in their attempts to launch a coup. 

In fact, the only productive factor that had come from Castle Oblivion was gathering Sora’s memories to make their own Keyblade wielders more powerful. More useful.

And the killing of his rivals to stand by the Superior’s side, of course. 

Murders he now deeply, painfully regrets. 

Murders he might have to repeat. 

What should he do?

His tongue brushes up against his fangs. His personal, forever reminder.

He only has one choice. 

Bright cat green catches his eye. A subtle head-tilt of red hair. An unspoken question.

Should we meet?

Mouth dry, Isa taps his fingers in a premeditated pattern. 

They will. But not yet. Not yet. 

Until Isa figures out if he’s willing to drag his oldest friend into his sins, like he did a lifetime ago. Is it worth it?

He doesn’t have any other choice, to avoid further attention. 

...It’ll have to be.

Xion’s on her mission already. So is pretty much everyone else (including Demyx, for once). So talking to Axel will have to come later. 

Roxas is here, though. Waiting patiently. 

Isa sorts through his papers, where is it, ah. There. A simple Deserter mission. He hands it over, waiting for Roxas to look through it before retrieving the sheet. 

“What kind of Heartless will be there?” A question? Why was Roxas asking him about things? Not that Isa wouldn’t answer, though he thought the mission made it clear enough...

“Other than Deserters,” Roxas adds hastily. Ah. 

What kind, hm? Isa takes a moment to sort through possible options. “Soldiers are the most likely, since Deserters are a kind of Soldier.”

Roxas’s eyes light up (why?) and he asks another question. And another. Enough for Isa to struggle to keep up, though he does try to answer all he can. As honestly as he can, quickly. 

Until at last, Roxas is on his way. On his mission. 

A relief. 

At least, until someone else shows up. 

“If I didn’t know better, Saïx...sounded like you almost had a heart right there.” Xigbar. Of course. Who else would it be? 

Isa sniffs. “Don’t be ridiculous. Answering Roxas’ questions will simply get him collecting hearts sooner.”

“Oh, that’s right. All about the efficiency.” Xigbar grins in his usual nasty fashion. 

“Better than your nonsense. That only delays his work, as he attempts to puzzle through it,” Isa retorts. “Less hearts the later he starts.”

“Isn’t it the same every time, though? Since Tiger’s meeting a quota and all?” Xigbar waves a single hand, indicating some imaginary space to represent the quota in question.

“You and I both know that is far from the actual reality of the situation.” Properly motivated, the Keyblade wielder could take out twice the amount of expected Heartless. Xigbar knew this. Everyone knew this. 

A raised eyebrow, over a single skeptical eye. “Do we?”

Or...Isa suddenly realizes. Did they not know this yet? Wasn’t this knowledge Isa himself had only gained after a few months of having Roxas around, instead of acting on right off the bat like he was now?

Hm.

That might be a problem. 

Hopefully, it won’t be. If Xigbar doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Which he shouldn’t. Number II had rarely, if ever, acted as a true Number II in situations like these before. 

Saïx had easily taken the role of second in command before, after all. 

“Because here I thought Axel would know more about Roxas, than you do...” Xigbar puts his hands up behind his head. 

Isa breathes. In. Out. Don’t be baited, don’t let the bubbling rage out. “He most likely does.”

“And here I thought you and Axel used to be best friends. Times change, hm?” A sudden snapping of fingers, right in Isa’s face while those words sink in. Isa snarls at the sudden intrusion, fangs snapping back. Boiling rage threatening to break free. 

(Losing control.)

A pop of air as Xigbar teleports a few feet back, out of reach. “Whoa! Did I just hit a sore spot?”

“...Don’t deny your culpability in this, Xigbar,” Isa grinds out. His oversized canines threaten to tear his mouth apart, as he closes it. Tries to. “You know exactly where you aim.”

“Ha! As if!”

In most ways, Xigbar resembles a typical human. Many differences resided in his movement, the way he slid around with either too many joints, or joints that bent in the wrong directions. 

Monstrous. Just like the rest of them. 

“Get out.”

Xigbar shakes his head, smirking. “Can’t deny what you are forever, Saïx.”

But he does end up moving away. Out of Isa’s line of sight. All that Isa needs at this point. Finally, peace enough for Isa to finish the paperwork. To stop thinking so much. 

From Xigbar’s direction... “Hey, Zexion!”

Ergh. Pages crumple in his tightening grip.  

Maybe he should go do his paperwork somewhere else...

“Hey, Saïx, you wanted to talk?”

“Of course.”

Isa waves Axel into his room. Turns to go in and pauses, when it’s clear that Axel isn’t following him. Giving him a strange look.

“Yes?”

“...Huh. Guess you have changed, inviting me in like this.”

Wait, what? Did he do something wrong?

Axel sweeps in, without any further hesitation. Like he always does. 

Isa’s heart burns at the sight. 

He should tell him. Tell Axel about what lies ahead, the truth. 

But Isa can’t. Anymore than he can afford to trust any in the Organization. His allies are gone, far in the future that won’t happen now. 

Axel is not Lea, no matter how Isa wishes otherwise. 

“Saïx, why are you going to Twilight Town? You hate that world,” Axel says, flat out. No hiding, for once. 

Isa almost falters at the sudden directness. So different from the games they as Nobodies usually played. “Nobodies cannot hate anything, Axel. Not without a heart.” The answer comes easily off his tongue, buying a little more time. But not much. 

The temperature rises, the polar opposite of the coldness in Axel’s eyes. “Enough games. Why did I see you in Twilight Town?”

“Perhaps I wanted to see what was so great about the view, to share it with Roxas .” Old venom, old wounds, idiotic grudges that Isa let go of ages ago. Now roaring up like a wildfire, sparked by the return to his living hellhole. 

(His return as a Nobody.)

If this was Lea, or anyone else in his social group, they would have called him out on his cruel words. Reminded him that he has no excuse for this. 

But this isn’t Lea. This is Axel. 

Axel’s eyes draw into slits. 

“Oh, I see how it is.”

“Do you?” Isa shoots back. “Do you understand anything about what's going on?”

Axel throws his hands up in the air. “I’m not a moron, Saïx! I know what’s at stake! So, do you want me to kill them or not? Isn’t that why you wanted to talk to me?”

No, you don’t. You have no idea what’s at stake. None of us do, in the Organization. “It doesn’t have to be all about killing.”

“Isn’t it?” Axel’s face screws up in a toothy grimace. “What about the plan?”

The room is hot enough now that Isa could probably cook an egg on his metal bed frame. Immensely uncomfortable in his coat. 

Like the temperature, Isa rises in volume too. 

“Fine! Kill them! Kill them because that’s all you’re good for, Axel!”

“Is that what you think? Fine. I’ll do it. But- but, go to hell .” Sparks fly off his tongue as Axel spits out his venom. Darkness rising like smoke, wrapping itself around him. 

Letting him vanish into a Corridor. 

Just like that, Axel is gone. Leaving Isa alone in his room, full of regret. 

“I’m an idiot.” Isa shouldn’t have said any of that. Fool. He thumps his head and fist against the wall. Pulls at the leather covering up his chest, his heart. 

The sound of a Dark Corridor behind him. 

Turns. Is it- no. A Nobody. A Berserker.

He shouldn’t be disappointed by that. Not after what he did. But Isa still is. 

My liege. 

“Oh. It’s you.” Not Axel. Not that he would come back, but- his heart hurts. That’s all. 

My liege hurt?

“No, it’s...not a physical hurt.”

The Berserker steadies its blade. Who hurt?

“You can’t do anything about it, do not worry about it.”

Master?

Isa puts a hand out, and the Berserker...presses its faceless head against it. Isa almost jerks away but instead forces himself to stay still. Let the Berserker draw away, after a few moments. 

Good. An add-on, almost an afterthought. Sorry. 

“Not your fault, it’s mine,” Isa sighs. “ I’m sorry.”

Why can he deal better with a faceless Nobody than his own friend?

(Are they still friends?)

Time passes so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. Exactly the way it was in past Organization days. Some things never change, it seems. 

A day or two, at most. Before the Castle Oblivion team leaves. After plenty of useless meetings on the subject. Meetings where Axel refused to look in his direction. 

Inwardly, Isa can’t help but sigh in relief. At least he won’t have to deal with Zexion following him around, or Lexaeus staying in the Grey Area at all times. But he needs to find a way to apologize to Axel before he leaves.

Something quiet, under the radar. Which is more difficult than what one may think. Axel keeps avoiding him, except for work assignments. Assignments he takes with a glare and leaves as quickly as possible. Or publicly calling out for Roxas’ help. 

A public apology would be easiest but would also announce to the Organization that Saïx “has a heart” as Xigbar would say. 

No. He’ll do something quieter. Leave a note in Axel’s room and hope against hope that he won’t throw it out. A note and a gift should do it, paired together.  

But what? What should Isa try?

“Saïx.” A painful interruption, Isa needs time to think. 

Isa turns, to fully face the speaker. “Lexaeus. What do you want?”

“A discussion, if you would. About my assignment.”

Isa considers it. He does need a distraction from Axel... “Very well. Where shall we talk?”

Lexaeus nods. “Follow me.”

Isa does, walking side by side with Lexaeus. Considering, despite his past statement, to think about Axel. What should he get him, how should he word his apology...distracting enough that Isa almost misses that they’ve been walking for quite some time. 

Almost.

Something is off with their surroundings. 

Hm. Isa pauses midstep.  

This is one of the less used areas. Dusty, with a lack of Dusk cleaning. Quieter, in a castle full of unused space. Why would Lexaeus want to speak with him here?

Unless...

Isa twists to face Lexaeus. Who inclines his head to him stiffly. His weapon appears in hand. “So you’ve caught on.”

A snarl twists Isa’s lips. “An ambush...”

“Yes.” Simple. Clear. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should have known better! 

“Fool!” Isa hisses. Whether it’s meant for Lexaeus or himself...well, perhaps the insult is for them both. “You know what Lord Xemnas has said about this!”

Lexaeus’ face is unmoved. As stiff as the granite it appears to have been carved from. Fingers, stiffly wrapping around his axe-sword. “He will never find out.”

Shadows, itching at the edges of Isa’s vision. Illusion, he notes with Saïx’s characteristic cold calculation. So this is how it is, this is Zexion ’s play. Of course. Again, fool. 

His only way forward...hope that his berserking strength will be enough to overcome the Silent Hero’s own. And if that power isn’t...well, he’ll make it so. 

Isa bares his teeth, his fangs. Feels them growing, sharpening, along with the claws that hide under his gloves. Lunatic comes easily to hand, extended and ready to spill its moonfire. Rage tearing through his veins, gifting its fickle power.  

His scar splits and peels, pushing itself wider in his flesh, and he howls at the burn of it, throwing his head back. 

Moon, despite your lack...shine down.  

“Be gone!” 

“Just give up, Saïx. You can’t win!”

Isa just barely manages to dodge the blow headed straight for his head. 

Berserking makes it difficult to think clearly, but Isa tries his best. He needs the raw power, but raw power alone...he will lose in a battle of strength. 

Let it not be of strength, then. 

Lexaeus draws power from the Earth...separate them. Hobble him. 

Isa flips Lunatic, slicing the sharp edge towards his enemy’s knee. 

Lexaeus moves back. As expected. Following his claymore, Isa hits Lexaeus head on in that pinnacle moment with his entire body. Shoulder first. 

Knocking the Nobody back against the wall. Off the ground. 

The fire builds. Let out in an explosive burst.  

“Move aside!”

Keep moving, keep hitting Lexaeus up while he’s off balance. A battle tactic he’s seen Roxas do plenty of times in the past, with Xion’s assistance. 

Can’t let him get his balance back!

Hold back the fire until it has to come out, with explosive force. Use it to give his blows a greater burst, instead of letting it spread in a circle. 

“No exit here!”

Where’s Lexaeus? Get Lexaeus!

Right there! Hit him hithimhithimhit-

Swipes through. Goes through.

“What the-?!”

An illusion! But now he’s off balance! Isa tries with all his might, to turn in time. Too late. Or rather, just in time get an axe-sword to the head. 

It hurts. 

A lot. 

“Far too much trouble...”

He falls, to one knee. Can’t struggle up any further. Falls forward. The floor is cold. Against his face, his cheek. 

Isa...knows no more. 

Lexaeus takes in a breath. Slow and long. He never needs much air in his new state, but that fight with Saïx...

Stronger than he expected. More clever than Lexaeus recalled as well, especially in his wild state.  He had misjudged him. 

If not for Zexion’s interference...Lunes knew how that would have gone. 

From the shadows steps Zexion, closing up his lexicon. 

“My apologies for the delay. The Berserkers sought to interfere.”

Lexaeus’ eyes narrow. The Lesser Nobodies interfering in a battle between their superiors? Even for their Master...unheard of. The Lesser ones only honor the strongest, staying out of Organization squabbles when they came about. 

Unusual. Like the rest of this situation. 

He gestures to the still body on the ground with Skysplitter. 

“Zexion, what exactly are you planning to do with him?”

Direct attacks on fellow Organization members are, after all, forbidden. If anyone found out about this...there would be trouble. 

There better be a good reason for this. 

“He keeps touching his chest,” is Zexion’s answer. 

Lexaeus feels his brows go up, though the rest of his face remains as stoney as ever. Knowing of Zexion’s intent interests...

“Touching his chest does not mean he has a heart.”

Zexion sneers, shaking his head. The glow behind his hair brightens, of the eyespot hiding there.  

“Of course not! Only...there’s something off about Saïx nowadays. You must have noticed the difference as well.”

That is...true enough. 

Lexaeus inclines his head. “Certainly.”

“Add in the situation with the Lesser Nobodies...I need to know the reason behind this change.”

“If Saïx dies, suspicion will fall on us,” Lexaeus cautions, “The Superior would be...displeased.”

Displeasure was something to avoid, with the Superior. One living example of one who had gone through that lay right at their feet. Scar still as horrendous as the wound he had received. 

Zexion waves a dismissive hand. “I will not kill him, Lexaeus. That’s not how I do things. I’m not Vexen. ”

Lexaeus can’t help the snort escaping at him. A fake emotion, definitely. But his body still acts to mimic it despite that pressing reality. 

Yet...another pressing matter. 

“Surely Saïx will tell the Superior what has occurred, once your studies are complete.”

Zexion’s lips twist. A forked tongue flicks in and out. “True. But not if he does not recall the event happening at all.”

Lexaeus shakes his head. “Amnesia from a headblow cannot be guaranteed. Especially for a Nobody.”

“Oh no, we won’t rely on chance. Vexen has been doing work with memories, for the Replica Project and I believe there will be something for us to use...”

Still dangerous. Risky to rely on one of Vexen’s inventions. But Lexaeus knows Zexion too well to think he will back off now. 

“Very well.”

Zexion smiles. Nothing like a Somebody’s smile, cold and ruthless. Stretching out too far. “Let us begin.”

Chapter Text

The truth spreads like a weed, like dandelion seeds, among the Lesser Nobodies. Even the Creepers, the least of the least, know something’s up. 

There is fighting among their Masters once more. 

Now, normally, this is an occurrence that would go unnoted, unnamed. Masters fight all the time, some battles more physical than others. Sometimes, Masters don’t even come back. All part of a Nobody’s lot in existence. 

This is different. The upheaval the Berserkers are causing is different. An upheaval focused around their Master, about getting him back. 

Instead of simply letting him go. 

A connection, there. One that should be impossible for beings without Hearts. 

Yet, somehow, it is.

A curiosity to examine, at the very least. 

At least, for one lone Sorcerer. Uninvolved. Watching. 

Should the Master know of this?

The Sorcerer considers the option. Decides. 

No. It’s of no importance. The Master does not need to know of the squabbles between the Lessers. He would not want to know this, as well. He would not act on it.

(He never does.)

The Sorcerer turns its attention to the other Lessers, catching a minor struggle between an Assassin and a Berserker. 

If trouble, retrieve Master. Master Ally with Lunar Diviner. The Assassin argues, spiraling and rolling up. Armor shivers as it flaps down and up again. 

The Berserker whacks its weapon against the ground. No. A fight means not Allies. Berserkers can do this. 

Another oddity. That insistence..not impossible. But Berserkers didn’t insist on things. They weren’t smart enough to, barely a step above Dusks and Creepers.

The Assassin hisses. Useless trash. 

The Berserker rumbles back and misses knocking one of the Assassin’s Armor Fins off by a half inch. Clear threat. 

They might kill each other now. Not that mattered. There were always more Lesser Nobodies. A Dusk or two could be reformed if the Assassin and Berserker killed each other. 

Other considerations to take in. 

The Sorcerer calculates. A fight between the Flurry of Flames and the Lunar Diviner...new. 

Enough information. The Master would want to know about that. 

(And the missing Diviner? Well, it would see about that.)

Axel hisses. The heat is rising, though it doesn’t affect him at all. He still knows it is. Wondering, how did this all go wrong?

Saïx had never reacted to Axel’s ideas like that before. In fact, he often encouraged the lowkey assassinations. 

Axel taps his fingers on his bed. 

But now Saïx didn’t want that. Now Saïx was visiting Twilight Town, behind Axel’s back, and refusing to tell him why.

“I thought we were partners, damn it.”

His covers are smoking now. Maybe he should stand up. Pace around his room, walk it off. 

Good for nothing but killing. 

His chest burns, like the way his bed kinda is about right now. Saïx is planning something and leaving Axel out of it. No longer partners, it seems. Not anymore. 

When, exactly, did their relationship change? 

And why had he been stupid enough to miss it?

He’ll need to head out eventually. Promised Roxas that he would go hang out with him and Xion, after all. 

But right now...

His chest hurts. 

And he can’t figure out why. 

“Hey, where’s Axel?” Xion asks, peering around the edges of the clocktower curiously. 

Roxas shrugs. “He said he would be late today.” 

Which...wasn’t good. But at least he would be coming eventually, instead of not coming at all. 

But late was why Roxas had gotten the ice cream now, for him and Xion. The third bar was stored away. For later. For Axel. 

Xion nods. “Alright.”

She sits down, kicking out her feet over the town. They eat in silence for a little bit, before Xion asks another question.

“How are your missions going?”

Roxas finishes off his ice cream. Searching for a good answer. Because honestly...

“Not great?”

Xion tilts her head. 

“Well, I’ve been with Demyx. Who’s been teaching me how to order Lesser Nobodies around.”

Kinda weird, especially with how lazy Demyx was. But it made sense that Demyx knew how to order Nobodies around, with how lazy he was and didn't want to do any work. 

Xion perks up. “Like the Dusks.”

“Yeah.” Roxas looks away. “I’m not very good at it. My Samurai don’t listen at all. ” 

Which was awful, because if they even listened to super-lazy Demyx , then...what was wrong with him?

Xion hums, before suggesting. “We could feed your Samurai, to make them listen.”

Roxas blinks. “What? You can feed a Samurai?”

Xion’s lips twitch. “Of course you can.” She wiggles her ice cream stick. “Lesser Nobodies love trash food.”

“Oh...” Roxas looks at his own stick. Blank. Maybe if he feeds his Samurai, they’ll listen to him!

He looks up and gives Xion a nod. “Thanks, Xion. I’ll try that.”

Xion’s face moves into something like what Axel calls a “smile.” Making Roxas all fuzzy and warm inside. 

It’s...nice, being able to see Xion’s face finally. 

See her blue-ish eyes, her smiles, and her black hair. Black hair streaked with bright blue. The same bright blue as Saïx’s hair. 

Her customer, the blue-haired man, isn’t back yet. 

Rinoa’s not worried. Not yet. She’s gone through much longer periods of time between the man’s visits. She doesn’t even know his name. 

Yet. Yet. Yet when he left, he was worried. Almost angry like the first time, but a fear-anger. 

What if something has gone wrong?

“Angelo would miss you,” Rinoa says to herself. Quietly. Not enough to catch her dog’s attention. Her dog, who is staring out into the alleyway that leads to her cafe.

Like there’s something there. 

She left a note out, earlier. Taped to the outside of the window. It worked last time, so it should work again. 

It would work, if not for the monster sitting out there. Grabbing at it with strange nearly fingerless hands. 

“What?”

Rinoa pushes the door open, running out. Angelo follows close behind, tail not wagging an inch. Afraid. Like Rinoa is herself, but since Rinoa isn’t a dog, she can push past that fear. Sort of. 

The monster freezes, as it notices her. Though she’s not sure how, since it doesn’t have any eyes that she can see. 

A gray faceless monster. She’s seen others like it before. One generally does, after spending enough in Twilight Town. Even though no one really talks about it. 

It’s injured, huge cuts gouged into its flesh. Revealing what looks like blackish blood in the deepest ones, somehow not dribbling out of the wounds. 

Angelo growls. The sound is surprising, coming from the usually calm dog. Rinoa glances down, to see that her fur is standing on end. 

The creature is still holding the note. Being careful not to rip it. In its other hand, there’s...her sharp eyes catch another piece of paper. Something that looks a lot like the first note she left out for the man. Like the creature was comparing the two.

“Oh, you’re connected to him then.” The blue-haired man that she still doesn’t know the name of. Only that Angelo likes him and that is enough, really. 

Black coats and gray creatures...mysteries that are somehow tied together. 

If he’s in trouble, maybe Rinoa can help him in another way. After helping this hurt monster first. 

She can already hear Squall shouting in her head now. You don’t just help monsters, Rinoa, what if they hurt you after?

Angelo’s still growling. 

It doesn’t matter. She has to help, to have a chance. 

Her hand touches rubbery skin. The creature jerks, but doesn’t move away. It’s shivering, under her touch. Well, Rinoa can get this done pretty fast, no need for the creature to be afraid. 

Rinoa has always been good at healing magics. Not even Cures or Curas, just...healing. Encouraging flesh to knit itself back together. 

The gray monster’s flesh isn't any different in that matter. Something in its blood attempts to resist, but Rinoa pushes past it. Pushes more magic in, forcing the wounds to close. Heal. 

The creature twitches away from her, once she’s done. Runs, or tries to run it odd stubby arms over where the wounds were. 

Rinoa smiles. “See? Just trying to help.”

Its helmeted head (sort of?) turns. Twisting back and forth. 

“I can help your friend too.” Rinoa points to the notes the creature still has in its hands. Well, one hand. The other has disappeared somehow. 

Angelo, still bristling at Rinoa’s side, barks. Once. Twice. 

The creature shivers and disappears in a threading of light and dark. 

“Wait, come back!” Rinoa reaches out. Too late. 

It’s gone and Angelo is barking. Yelping like she never has before. 

“C’mon, Angelo, the scary thing’s gone now, sit, sit!”

Rinoa’s successful in calming Angelo eventually, after some more pets, some “good dog” and a single bacon snack. 

But now her only possible lead is gone. Maybe it’ll come back, let the man know she asked about him. 

She lets out a breath. But maybe...there is one last thing she can do. 

Go to the back. The back where she keeps her most important possessions. Where Rinoa pulls out three candles from the very back. All very dusty. 

Arranges them in a triangle, mentally noting the symbolism. For the prayer. For the kind of prayer she hasn’t prayed for a long time. 

(“You’d make a lousy priestess, Rinoa.”)

The moon, for strength. The waters, for endurance. And the flowers, for hope. Growth despite everything against it. 

She lights the three candles with her limited Fire magic, single finger touching the wicks. 

One candle for each, in the preferred colors. White, blue, pink. It’s all she can do, a priestess separated from everything she’s ever known. 

A life she almost forgot, despite every reminder, despite her literally patterning her cafe with those reminders. 

If not for that man asking, “Aren’t those for festivals?”

Oh. 

Oh. 

A spark of light. The past she had hidden in her own heart. 

After years in silence, Rinoa prays again. Hoping it will be enough. 

Will prayers reach gods of a world that fell long ago?

Rinoa can only hope. After all, there is nothing else she can do now.

Only wait.

And pray.

Saïx bleeds quite profusely for a Nobody. Black blood leaking out onto the table, and from there, onto the floor. 

Drip. Drip. 

Enough that Zexion has to keep closing up his incisions after he’s done examining them. Otherwise he risks accidentally killing the Nobody. 

Makes everything so much slower, it’s irritating. Not as irritating as dealing with Vexen, but close. 

Now, to the chest. Zexion checks (again) that the scanner is activated. Running as he cuts into the flesh of the chest as it moves slightly up and down. 

Breathing. More often than the average Nobody, more than Zexion is himself currently. 

Hm. 

Zexion readjusts the scanner. Checks the new incision. And-

What. 

Something’s there. Something that shouldn’t be. 

That couldn’t be. The scanner... it’s working. But Saïx is bleeding black, bleeding Darkness. This is impossible. 

“How does Saïx have a heart?”

One that seems like the average Somebody’s, almost, with a Dark smear...on it? Behind it? Not that really matters, with a heart to consider. 

How is it possible? Needs a closer look. And more specialized equipment. 

Zexion turns away from his station, towards the supplies. He’ll need that, and then this...

His eyespot blips. Itches. Something cracks behind. Breaks. 

What? Turns and...

Fuck. 

Saïx is up, stripped bare to the waist. Chest cut gaping open, flesh heart partly exposed. Somehow up despite every chain, every precaution Zexion took while the Nobody was out. Reaching for Zexion. 

Faster than he could ever hope to move, fingers grabbing and closing around his throat. 

For the briefest of seconds, Zexion considers the thought that perhaps he should have done this with Lexaeus present. 

Too late now, logic tells him. 

His existence is most likely about to end within the next few minutes.

Zexion struggles anyway. Against the fingers slowly tightening around his throat, choking the life out of him. Ungloved fingers, cold. 

With yellow eyes burning bright, blood trickling down his face from his now open scar, Saïx hisses,

“Give me one reason, to not kill you right now .”

Chapter Text

Berserking was usually linked to overwhelming rage.

For Isa, though, it had always been more than that. Rage, yes, but something more to start out with. For Saïx, a man who believed he had no rage to burn, berserking connected to something deeper than rage: justification. 

It always started with cold justification, with saying things like Roxas was a traitor, or that Saïx needed answers no matter what, or many other factors. Too many to list. 

Like now, with Zexion in hand. Too many reasons to list, to kill him right here and now. 

Isa’s fingers flex. Zexion gasps for breath. For his final words. 

“Heart...Xemnas...said Kingdom...how?”

How. How? Oh, that’s right. 

Xemnas had claimed the only way to get their Hearts back was by recreating their own Kingdom Hearts, hadn’t he? And yet here Isa was, with a Heart independently existing of the entire endeavor. A strong Heart. 

Living evidence that the wondrous Superior was wrong. 

Hm, he could see how Zexion would want to know about that. Especially with the Nobody’s assurance that the Superior could do no wrong. 

(Did it mean something, that Xemnas picked the rage monster who planned to backstab him for his SIC instead of the loyal boy who hung onto his every word?)

(No. It didn’t matter.)

Kill him. 

End this once and for all. 

His chest burns, blood sticky and patchy on his skin. His heart beats slowly and his Heart pulses...something. 

Isa feels. That’s the important part. Everything hurts and has been hurting for who knows how long. Difficult to keep track of time when you’re being cut open. 

His fangs are out. Increasing in size. 

Maybe he should stop choking Zexion. He loosens his grip. Only slightly. Maybe he should rip out his throat instead, let the Nobody’s weak pulse drive his own blood out of the body. 

Bleeding out can kill a Nobody. It’s painful, slow. Another form of fading.

But...but...

If Isa killed Zexion, would there be anything of Isa left? Could he let it go?

“I can help you with the Replica,” Zexion breathes. 

“ What?” Isa hisses. Is Zexion going to hurt Xion? What does he mean?

More choking. Isa forces his fingers to relax. He needs answers, not death right now. “What. Do. You. Mean by that?” he grinds out, word by word. 

“That’s what you’re interested in, the Replica Project. I can help.”

Isa considers. He can’t trust Zexion, can’t afford to trust him. Number VI would turn on him the moment Isa had no power over him. 

“What do you want?”

Zexion squirms, gloved fingers tugging at Isa’s grip. “I want to know how you got a Heart. I would also prefer for you to not kill me.”

Simple enough to guess. But would answering questions be enough, to keep Zexion satisfied and turned away from cutting Isa open again?

Probably not. But does Isa want to kill him, after experiencing so much doubt about it, about Axel serving as an assassin?

Isa lets out a breath.

Not really. But he will if he has to.

Isa lowers Zexion, letting his boots touch the ground. Still holds on, light enough not to choke him but pressure enough to serve as a reminder that Isa could kill him at any moment he so chose.

There’s a tugging in his chest. Isa rolls his shoulders. Answers the best he can mentally, by turning his attention to the feeling. 

Master, you’re alive. A Lesser Nobody’s call, seeming pleased despite the lack of emotion. 

“Come here,” Isa says out loud. 

Zexion twitches. But does nothing else. Good.  

The Nobody, the Berserker, comes right away. Appearing in that familiar flash of Light and Dark. 

Isa hates to ask this of it, but...

The exposure of his heart demands something to be done.

“If he does anything...” Isa meets Zexion’s eye and eyespot straight on, unafraid. “Kill him.”

Of course, my liege. The Berserker gets its weapon out and waits as its Master turns his back on it and its hostage.

There’s an unspoken choice he’s offering now, with that. Zexion’s choice and not Isa’s own. A choice that Isa has never wanted to make, ever since he woke up here in this past of his. 

“You kill me, you will never get the answer to your questions, Zexion,” Isa says flatly, as he searches for his Organization coat. Has to be somewhere around here...

His right hand goes up to his chest, rubbing at the wound there. Pushing the flesh together, the best he can manage with a single hand and no healing magic.

He’ll apply a Potion or more later. Help his enhanced healing along. 

Right now, the wound will just itch. Bleed a bit, but less than before now that Zexion isn’t shoving his will into keeping the injury open. Letting it slowly repair. 

Painful. 

(You should kill him.)

There, in the side closet, his coat. Isa shoves it on, best he can without interfering with his injuries too much. Or blood stains on his skin. 

“Saïx.”

Isa turns, just enough to roll his eyes towards the speaker.” Zexion,” he acknowledges. 

“Without...how do you have a Heart?”

The truth is: an accident. The truth is: I don’t know. 

Zexion, as a self-proclaimed scientist, would accept neither one of those answers. Not without further questions, digging into areas that Isa does not want investigated. 

There’s part of a truth that Isa can give, a truth that was true for Axel in another time. 

“Connections. I connected with an individual with a Heart, so I was able to regrow part of my own.”

Zexion narrows an eye. “Connections? Like those between Somebodies? Surely it cannot be that simple.”

“There’s nothing simple about it, for a Nobody,” Isa almost lisps past his fangs. “You know how difficult it is for a Somebody to accept...this.” Gesturing to his body, his face. 

Truly the majority of the difficulty is convincing one’s self to care , without a Heart. A difficulty that Number VI wouldn’t understand without trying himself. 

Zexion’s face twitches. “What Somebody was it?”

This powerlessness...is starting to grate onIsa’s new hostage. Too long and the Cloaked Schemer may just throw everything out the window. Greater Nobodies hate being powerless, after all. Especially the first of them, in the Organization. 

Toss him a seed.

“What do you think? Replicas are supposed to have Hearts, aren’t they?”

Zexion’s response would be entertaining if Isa was in the mood for it. Facial skin flashing different colors, mimicking the wild spiral of his eyespot. 

Infinitely chameleon-like. Not human at all, like the rest of them. 

“Impossible,” Number VI breathes, “But possibly if I could investigate the Rep-”

“You will not touch Xion ,” Isa growls. Deep and angry. The Berserker’s claymore comes up, ready to slice right through Zexion’s neck at slightest provocation. 

Zexion freezes, eyespot flashing. 

Lunatic is in his hand. Glowing like he’s about to berserk. When did that happen?

With some effort, Isa dismisses his claymore.

“Do you understand?”

“Comprehensively.”

“Good.” His rage burns, a slow fire. One prone to sparking up every so often. 

(I still want to kill you...but I won’t.)

(I’m not sure if I would survive if I did.)

“I wish to discuss this with Lexaeus,” Zexion requests calmly. 

Isa considers the request. With how close Zexion and Lexaeus are, it would like asking Isa not to say anything to Axel. (Well, most of the time. Times not like the current ones.)

Impossible to enforce. Perhaps Lexaeus would also be more willing to assist, if he knew what was at stake. 

“You may.” Isa points a finger at Zexion. “But not Vexen. Understand?”

Zexion gives out a short laugh. “Of course not Vexen! He would steal this project right from underneath me!”

Not the most important thing to worry about right now, but the scientists always did have different priorities than the rest of the Organization. Isa has shouted down enough of their proposals to know. 

Well, a good rivalry to count on, to keep the issue of Isa’s Heart a secret. 

“We will discuss later. Say nothing to anyone else.” Isa beckons at his Berserker, getting the Nobody away from Zexion. “Agreed.”

Zexion nods. “As long as I get answers.”

“Very well.”

After that final agreement, Isa vanishes, alongside his Berserker.

Hoping against all odds that this “agreement” will actually do some good. That it won’t fall through.

(Zexion will die, if it does fall apart. That, Isa promises.)

Isa almost staggers into his room. Only assistance from the Berserker he used to threaten Zexion keeps him upright.

Noted your absence. That same Berserker informs him. 

Isa swallows. “You did?”

Of course. Like it’s a given, to do so. 

They...before, the Berserkers hadn’t cared. Hadn’t said anything, after Saïx returned, for the Keyblade War. Nothing at all. 

But then, he hadn’t talked to them all before then. Hadn’t cared at all before then. 

“Isa!”

Oh, Xion’s here. Appearing into the room. Good thing he’s leaning against the wall so she can’t tell he’s injured. 

“Xion, it’s good to see you,” he greets.

Xion’s hood is lowered. She’s smiling, he can see her smiling. 

Isa can see Xion’s face. She looks the same, mostly, the blue eyes, the black hair, a twisted image of Kairi. 

But something’s changed. Different. 

Isa runs a tongue along his fang. 

She has blue hair too, alongside the black. The same color as his own. Incredibly noticeable to anyone who could possibly see her true face and not whatever illusion she usually threw up. 

He might have to talk to Zexion about this.

Ergh. 

But that can happen later, since Xion does not seem harmed in any way by the change. And he isn’t either, but that’s less important.

“Can’t you come with me, to see Axel and Roxas? I think you would be a good friend to them too.” Xion looks bright-eyed, happy. Things she never was in his presence in another time. It’s a good change.

The questions are really not. Not for him, but good for Xion. But also...a threat. A risk. 

(What if the Superior notices?)

Isa shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Xion frowns, opens her mouth like she’s about to argue.

Isa speaks up again, first. “Tell me what they’re like. What it’s like.”

“And you’ll think about it?” Hopeful. 

“If you tell me.” Not a promise. Isa doesn’t think he can bear making a promise, not when the result might hurt Xion and Axel and Roxas. 

People who don’t deserve it.

Not like he does. 

“Alright, so the other day Roxas was talking about how-”

Isa settles down. Listens, asks questions. 

Even as his chest wound burns.

It’s the least he can do. 

A day or two and his wounds still haven’t closed up all the way. Some of them are even reopening, Zexion having not taken the time to properly close them up. Despite all the Potions he keeps taking, applying. Honestly, it’s getting a little irritating. 

Go see Somebody-with-food. A Berserker encourages. 

“What?” That image it’s sending... “Rinoa? Why?”

The Berserker...shuffles its feet. Like it’s embarrassed, of things for a Lesser Nobody to be. 

Somebody-with-food closed wounds for this one, it states.

Wait, what?

“I told you not to let her see you.” Isa rubs at his forehead. Oh no, what if Rinoa gets into trouble now, what if Xemnas kills her...

He has to check. 

“Wait here. Don’t do anything.”

The Berserker hisses in agreement, perfectly still. Good. At least one thing’s going right. 

Balamb looks the same as always, so at least his revealed Berserker didn’t destroy anything or kill anyone. Thankfully. 

Honestly, Isa’s not sure what he was expecting. 

And how exactly did Rinoa heal a Berserker? Cures are based in Light magic and Light would just harm a pure creature of Darkness (even if they do help Greater Nobodies. Probably due to being more human-shaped and aware). 

Rinoa’s inside, wiping down the counter busily. 

Angelo napping in her bed just under the window. Good. No one looks hurt. 

Isa clears his throat. “Ahem, hello?”

Rinoa’s eyes widen, then squint as she smiles. She claps her hands together. “Oh, you’re back!”

Isa gives a quick bow. “Yes. My apologies for what happened before and my-” What is the right word he can use? “-companion, coming to you in such a state.”

Rinoa put a finger to her lips. “Oh, you mean the gray whatever that was? No problem at all, happy to help!” She waves a hand. 

“A Berserker,” Isa corrects. Lets out a breath. Since he’s here, and the throbbing in his cuts have gotten worse...

“I need your help. If you would, possibly, give it.”

Rinoa nods, putting her cleaning rag down. “Alright.”

Oh? As simple as that? 

“If you tell me your name!”

Ah, that’s more like it.

“You may call me Saïx,” Isa eventually settles on. If another Nobody comes in (like Demyx has been), doesn’t want to use his Somebody name and have them see how odd that was. Sharing a name, any name, is still a risk. But it’s the least he can do for Rinoa, with all the trouble he’s possibly dragging her into just by ordering food from her. 

Rinoa nods again, seeming pleased. “Saïx. It’s nice to finally meet you. What’d you need my help for?”

Isa starts unzipping his coat. Rinoa immediately looks away, cheeks flushing a brilliant red. “Oh, I couldn’t-!”

“My Berserker said you healed injuries,” Isa states. He points at the cuts. “Can you help with that?”

Rinoa lets out a breath, flush dying. “Oh, that. Why didn’t you say so?” 

Isa raises an eyebrow. “I just did. You were the one to leap to conclusions.”

“Uh, well, I guess.” Rinoa huffs. She beckons him over, pulling out a chair. The chair he usually sits in, Isa can’t help but notice. “You’re too tall, you’ll need to sit for me to reach.”

“Very well.” Isa sits and pulls his coat open even further. Allowing Rinoa to see the severity of his injuries. A weakness that he would never dare to expose for anyone in the Organization. 

But for Rinoa...she can’t hurt him. Won’t. It’s fine. It has to be. He needs healing somewhere, after all. 

She reaches out. Brushes her fingers against the biggest wound, near his heart.

Her magic feels like...when he berserks, oddly enough. Like moonlight and fire licking at his skin. 

Feels good. Isa almost relaxes. 

The bluish glow to her magic, the way it seems to rewind the clock on the cuts, making them vanish entirely instead of merely healing them up into new scars to join the rest...

“You’re a Priestess.” Isa asks as much as states. This is something he never learned about Rinoa, in the future. But then he never asked. Never said anything about being from Radiant Garden himself. Not like he did here and now. 

Rinoa shrugs, fingers soft as they trail across some of his older scars. Erasing them slowly from his skin. “Of the Moon, since my healing falls along the Time domain.”

A Nobody of the Moon and a Priestess of the Moon, meeting. Isa can’t help but laugh, shaking his head. What are the odds?

“Is something funny?” Rinoa frowns. 

“...Just meeting. I didn’t think I would meet another survivor, after what happened.”

“Well...me too.”

Rinoa places her entire hand over where his heart beats slowly, letting more than her fingers touch. Letting the healing sink in. “It’s good...to know that it happened. That I actually lived somewhere else than Twilight Town, before. That...”

That I’m not crazy.

“I understand.”

It’s good, not to be alone. Though Isa has no choice, but to be alone. 

Rinoa hesitates in her next words. Almost tripping over a mental hiccup. “Saïx, did you ever know a kid named Is-”

The front door opens just enough, for a spiky blondish head to stick itself through. Blue eyes widen. 

“Whoa...I’ll just come back later!”

The door slams as the intruder makes a hasty get-away. Loud enough to wake Angelo from her slumber right away, barking a little wildly. 

Isa turns to Rinoa. “Excuse me, for just a moment...”

Rinoa grins as Angelo barks once, tail wagging.  Helps him shrug his coat back on. “Go ahead.”

Isa stands up and heads for the door. 

“ Demyx!”

Xigbar has been around for a decent amount of time. 

Long enough to realize the benefits of a good gossip network. 

Gossip moves faster than Light, makes the World go round. Free information is still information, even if it’s twisted up a bit after some rumor-mongering. 

His Snipers are the most gossipy of the Lesser Nobodies, thanks to his encouragement. 

Most of it’s nonsense. Stuff like how the Reapers hate Marluxia for not using them more often, talking to Larxene all the time, or how a certain Dragoon is chewing on Lexaeus' sheets (again). 

But there’s good stuff, buried in the crap. 

It’s from them he hears about the fight. An interesting fight, at that. 

There’s been a split. One that’s had a chance to fester. Between Numbers VII and VIII, those peas in a pod. And Saïx was talking with Zexion, of all people, afterwards. 

Saïx is already hauling around a chunk of Xehanort, so it’s really not a surprise that he broke it off first. 

But a tiny teeny bit surprising, that the break happened so relatively soon. Saïx and Axel had spent a decade resisting outside forces weathering their “friendship.”

Saïx has changed somehow. 

Given up, maybe?

Not that it matters. None of this really matters. He’s doomed anyway, pretty much every vessel (excepting himself, of course!) is doomed in the end. Fresh meat to feed into Xehanort’s idealized version of a World-ending war. 

Get the Keyblade the old man promised him. 

No big deal. 

But it’s so close, the end...

“Got to be careful,” he chides himself, “Still gotta run the final stretch.”

Can’t lose patience now. 

So, see, Xigbar doesn’t have to do anything. Not when this “friendship” is already falling apart on its own, without outside interference. (Well, mostly.)

But the sooner it falls apart...well, maybe he can convince Xemnas to make Axel a host too, weak from losing his only friend. Speed up the process. 

(A kid and a puppet aren’t going to be able to do anything. Change anything.)

Xigbar stretches out his hands, clicks his multiple joints into place. His hoofed feet, as always, are a problem. Insisting on bending the opposite way from human legs, like goat legs tend to do, but he forces them into place. 

Just so he can use his boots properly. Without anyone realizing he’s got something else off, in that typical Nobody fashion. 

(Ergh, why did that dumb amnesiac have to stab out his Heart? Made everything so much more difficult and slow.)

A touch of red hair, in the distance. 

Ah, time for business. He ports right there. Leans on another’s shoulder, grinning. 

“Hey, Flamesilocks, I got something you might wanna hear...”

Chapter Text

“It’s nearly time for the mission to begin, Saïx. What are you here for?” Zexion inquires, from his neat workplace. One nearly packed up, ready for Castle Oblivion. Only a small pile of books remain. 

“Last minute details, as is to be expected,” Isa states simply, lingering at corners of that same workplace. Drawing just close enough to put a pile of papers down. To be picked up and hopefully, looked through later. Enough to help Zexion, should he need it. 

But a more verbal warning might do. 

Zexion makes a sound that would be considered a snort, if not for the existence of Vexen. “Of course.”

Isa comes closer, tapping his fingers on the desk as he does so. Loud enough to nearly cover up the sound of his next words. “I would suggest that you and Lexaeus...do not cross paths with the Hero of Darkness. Should he appear.” Which he will, Isa knows for a fact. 

Zexion’s eyespot glimmers and whirls. Leaning towards shades of blue and green and purple. “Is that not the goal? Right after dealing with the Keyblade Master.” 

The room edges fuzz and fade. Clear signs that an illusion has been thrown up around them. Hiding their conversation from possible onlookers. 

So the Cloaked Schemer is taking this seriously. Good. 

“ Our goal is to develop Hearts,” Isa reminds him. He cautiously thinks his way through his next words to Zexion. He can’t outright state that he or Lexaeus will fall to Riku, though that may be the truth. 

Isa knows better than anyone the strength of a Nobody’s arrogance. 

“The Hero of Darkness, despite his powers, is straightforward. There are...others that will slide a knife in your back while you’re facing him.”

There. Hopefully that should be enough. 

Zexion smiles. Cold and sharp and not really a smile at all. “You of all people are telling me that? With your ally.”

Axel. Isa’s body tightens at the reminder. “Which should be enough to support my words, doesn’t it?” 

Zexion hums. A discordant sound. “True.” Fingers tap at a book, before vanishing it away. “I don’t need any “heroes,” not when there’s still a spare Replica to investigate.”

Isa doesn’t pray, not anymore. There’s almost a temptation to, for the sake of that lone Replica.

“Taking it apart won’t help you.”

“...yes. Interacting with it, like you do with Xion... that is how, correct?”

Isa inclines his head. “Correct.”

Zexion picks up another book. This one he flips through, before putting away. “Unusual.”

Isa doesn’t bother saying anything in response to that. Of course peaceful interaction with another, with no thought of gain, was unusual to Zexion. It would be unusual to the majority of the Organization. 

Isa would have never thought of it himself, if not for Axel. 

Axel who didn’t want to be alone but was, due to Saïx pushing him away. Axel who befriended a Nobody and a Replica that would together change everything. 

Who later sacrificed himself for a Somebody.

Completely unexpected. 

What is Isa’s tending to Xion, in the face of that? Just a task he should have done the first time around. 

“Anything else?” Zexion taps his fingers against his desk. The illusion starts to fade, reality becoming clear once more. 

“Simply...” Isa breathes into Zexion’s ear, as he sweeps away, “Watch your back.”

Will this be enough to change what comes next? 

Isa can only hope. 

(He needs to talk to Axel. Before it’s too late.)

Axel’s gone. 

No matter where Isa looks, he can’t find him anywhere in the Castle. Or Twilight Town. And beyond those two worlds, Isa is not sure where else to look. 

It’s...worrisome, to say the least. 

Avoiding won’t be enough, in this case. After what they both said. No, Isa has to fix this another way: through talking. 

A small figure catches his eyes. Maybe...the Moogle might know. Isa may not have as much munny as he used to, but thanks to the Berserkers, he’s been slowly rebuilding his hoard. Enough for a bribe, at least. 

Not that the Moogle would call it that. 

Isa strides briskly to the floor and stops right in front of the Moogle. The Moogle, though Isa cannot see their face under the hood, tilts their head and pom-pom towards him. 

“Yes?”

“I have a question. I’m willing to pay for the answer.” Simple. Straightforward. 

The Moogle considers his request, floating there. 

“You may continue.”

“Where is Axel?”

The Moogle sticks out a paw. “Payment.”

The munny is easy enough to dig out, to drop into that waiting paw. Isa has no need of it, outside of these simple transactions. 

“The redhead is gone, kupo.”

Isa frowns. “You said you would give me a location.”

The Moogle looks up, from counting the munny spheres. “You asked for where, not location. Where, is not here, kupo.”

Cheat. 

Now Isa remembers why he disliked this Moogle so much. So keen to keep to the letter of their word and nothing more. 

Yet...

Isa lets a sigh escape. “Very well. Thank you.”

He’ll just have to look more himself. 

“Wait.” Isa pauses. The Moogle speaks once more, “You were not like this before, kupo.”

Not a question. The difference is fairly clear to see, Isa can’t blame the Moogle for simply stating that fact out loud though he would prefer them not to. 

“I was not,” Isa agrees. There’s really no choice but to.

“Then why the change of Heart, kupo ?” The Moogle presses. Full of reasonable doubt. 

“Circumstances have led me to believe that a different course of action would be preferable.” Circumstances such as suddenly waking up in the past one day. For an example. 

The Moogle puts their paws together. “Ah.” For such a small fluffy creature, there’s an air of...threat to them. A buzz to the air. 

An aura that Saïx would have never picked up on, one that Isa can detect just fine.

(Not all dangers are physical.)

“Thank you for your assistance.” Time to withdraw. Isa steps away and turns. 

“Wait!” A pause. The Moogle flutters up to him. “No red hair, kupo. But the girl is asking for you, kupo.”

The girl. There’s only one girl in the Organization. Xion. 

Isa hms. “Where is she, then?”

The Moogle taps their paws together again. “Said...training hall?”

Oh. Why would she go there, he wonders?

He gives a nod. “Thank you.” And continues on his way. 

In the training hall...there isn’t really a main one, unless one counts the Hall of Empty Melodies. Where the feral Dusks are. Where he...lost control, near the start of this.

She better not be inside. 

...Who is he kidding, Xion’s probably inside.

Isa hurries his step. Makes it there in almost record time, without running or using a Dark Corridor. 

There’s no one waiting outside, those dark doors. There is, however, plenty of noise coming from inside of the Hall. Fighting.

Of course. 

Isa shoves the door open with his shoulder, nearly breaking the handle off in his haste to get inside. 

Xion stands alone in the middle of a circle of hissing Dusks. They draw closer and closer, only warded off by that single Keybalde. 

Isa leaps and lands right next to her, shockwave knocking the feral creatures back. Lunatic is out, urging him to use it. 

Sweep the enemies aside, Xion is what matters here. 

Once she’s safe by his side...

He takes in her bright blue hair. Again. It’s just so noticeable. Please, let no one else notice it. 

(He’s probably not that lucky.)

“Isa! You’re here!” Bright, and happy to see him. When did that happen, when did he get to see her cheer? She’s so bright. Too bright for this place, for them. 

“Xion...” He takes a deep breath. Can’t be angry, can’t be angry, not when his rage constantly seethes under the surface. Lowers Lunatic, to let the claymore tap against the floor. “What were you doing?”

Xion lowers her eyes, from his. “I wanted to meet the Dusks here. The Berserkers were talking about them.”

Eavesdropping off of the Lesser Nobodies? That’s...new. As new as Isa listening to them himself. It only makes sense that Xion would take his example a step further, and think nothing of it. 

“Down here...they won’t listen to you. They’re wild,” Isa attempts to explain. 

Xion frowns. “Wild?”

“Like Heartless. They will not listen to anyone and will only attack you.” Isa glances about the Hall, at the materia drops littering the floor. “As you can see.”

“...Oh.” Xion looks around herself, before settling her blue gaze on Lunatic. “What’s that? Can I use it?”

Use it. Isa looks over Lunatic himself. Symbolic of his failure, his rage. “This is my claymore, Lunatic.”

“Different from a Keyblade.” 

“Yes,” he agrees, “A weapon you should leave to me alone and keep to your Keyblade.”

“What makes it different from my Keyblade?” Xion is curious. Too curious. 

“With this...I can go into a rage. Which means destroying everything in my path, without caring,” Isa explains. 

“Like a Heartless, or those Dusks,” Xion supplies eagerly. Quick to learn. 

“Yes. Much like that.” Isa wraps his fingers more tightly about the hilt. “Lunatic is a weapon that pushes for that, so you should never wield it if you do not want to go into a rage yourself.”

“That sounds hard.”

To forever carry rage, to be reminded of hate and loss and envy every time he uses his claymore. Yes, that does sound hard from the outside.

“...It can be difficult. At times.”

But it’s a burden that Isa has borne for a long time, will continue to bear. Some curses never go away, not for good. 

“Yet it’s one I’ve learned to live with.”

Xion hums, eyes fastened to Lunatic. Taking in every detail. When she reaches out to traces along the weapon edges with one finger, Isa lets her. Careful to hold his claymore still, of course. 

“I can’t feel anything.”

“It’s my memory of rage, not yours.” Of course, that’s not exactly true...Isa is feeling real rage, real anger, not some faulty echoed memory of it. He always has. That’s why Xion can’t feel anything because it’s his Heart and not hers. Linked to his claymore but not rooted in it. 

But has to toe the line that everyone else gets. Give that same answer to Xion, no matter how incorrect it may be. 

“Can I try it?” Xion pauses in her tracing to ask. 

Isa closes his eyes, pushing back memories of handing Lunatic to a different Xion. One with yellow eyes, and speechless. 

A weapon and nothing more. 

Never again. 

“No.”

Isa allows Lunatic to disappear and heads towards the door. 

This discussion is over. 

Not very long at all, until the regret builds up to a boiling point. 

Isa shouldn’t have cut off that conversation so abruptly. It’s what happened with Axel in this time all over again. 

He probably hurt her feelings. 

Isa should apologize. 

He turns on his heel, ready to go back right away. 

Instead. 

There’s a man in the middle of the hall. 

A familiar dark-skinned, white-haired man. 

(A living Nightmare.) 

“Saïx.”

What to feel, to hear that name come from Xemnas’s lips? His name of ten long years. 

Isa...doesn’t know. His feelings are a jumble, a mess. But the strongest...

Fear. 

Always the fear. 

Isa shoves that fear down, with the rest. Buries it the best he can. 

That emotion will not help him here. None of them will. 

“Lord Xemnas.” Isa acknowledges the Superior of the Organization. Flat. Emotionless. Everything a true Nobody should be. 

Xemnas walks ahead. Setting an expectation as well as a pace to be followed. “Come with me.”

Isa obeys. Of course. What else would he do?

Silence. 

Xemnas seems perfectly content to keep going in that silence, allowing Isa to trail after him like a dog. There is no hope of interruption from any other party, since the rest of the Organization (even Demyx) are out on their missions. No Lesser Nobody would dare, and are in fact, hiding around various corners. As Isa can tell through the corner of his eye. 

Until at last, Isa can take no more. His physical heart might actually pound out of his chest if he allows the silence to continue, and then the entire game would be up. 

“What is it you require, Lord Xemnas?”

Why are you outside the Gathering Place, is the real question. One Isa dares not to ask. 

Xemnas’ answer comes forth in perfectly measured gaps of silence and words. 

Freezing the blood in Isa’s veins. 

“You have been interacting fairly often with the Replica.”

Isa’s actions have been seen. 

Of course they have. How did he ever think he could hide anything from the leader of the Organization?

Isa barely managed it the first time, in a period when everything was far too busy, preparing for war, and space existed to slip in between the cracks. 

“The Replica, much like our Keyblade wielder, requires guidance to be most effective.” Not an argument, merely...a statement. Of truth. 

Definitely true.

Xemnas inclines his chin. “I see. Too much guidance, however, will interfere with the Replica’s task. A lack of efficiency may be excused, for the purpose to be fulfilled.”

The Nobody turns, and leans towards Isa. His gold eyes are intent. A hawk picking out a rabbit to dive towards, from far above. 

“Do not intervene. Allow the Replica to seek out Roxas and do not stand in its way.”

Isa bites his tongue. It. 

“Of course, Lord Xemnas.” Isa hesitates, but the question must be asked. Suspicious, if he didn’t ask and he’s already suspicious enough.  “What if...the Replica continues to seek me out as well?”

“Discourage it. Should it continue...”

Xemnas’ gloved hand comes up. Isa stills, freezes in place. He can feel his leader’s claws through the leather, as fingers trace along his facial scar. The scar that Xemnas gave him. 

His glove’s still on. 

(Black, dripping down his face. Burning, as the wounds are seared shut.)

“You know what punishment awaits the disobedient.” Xemnas’s lips are in a grim... smile. If a facial gesture so cold, so inhuman, could ever hope to be called such. “I will even allow you to administer that punishment.”

Isa’s breath catches. A glacier, stuck in his chest. “Yes. Of course.”

The hand withdraws. “You understand.”

Difficult not to. Isa says nothing out loud, to that effect.

“These talks...we will have them more often,” Xemnas says contemplatively. Stepping away. “There will be much work, once the traitors are gone.”

“There is always work,” Isa hisses, before he can think better of it. 

To his surprise, Xemnas...laughs. Almost. The sound is not quite right. 

“Yes, and so it will be until Kingdom Hearts is ours to claim.”

Isa...doesn’t know what to say in response to that. So he says nothing. 

Xemnas doesn’t seem to need an answer, walking away. Disappearing into a Corridor, probably to sit in the Gathering place once more. 

Now that he’s gone...Isa’s legs tremble. He rests his hand against the wall, supporting himself the best he can. 

Not here, not here, where there may be Lesser Nobodies afoot. 

Keep moving. Keep walking, like nothing is wrong. Like he has no Heart. 

Just manages to make it to his room, to properly collapse. 

Xion. 

“I’m sorry. I...failed you.”

After that time drawing closer together. Now, he has to drive her away. 

It’s for the best. He won’t be able to hurt her, like Axel. 

Isa huffs at that thought, shaking his head. No. That’s a lie. Did he want to seek her and Axel out, to apologize? To fight that reasoning? 

But one lie he has to tell himself, to be able to do this.

Apologies at this point are worse than useless. Still...

“I’m sorry.”

Something’s off about the blue-haired Nobody. The one called Saïx by the others. 

What, Stiltzkin isn’t quite sure. Only that something is. 

They haven’t gotten this far by ignoring their keen Moogle seller instincts, after all. 

More than a little noticeable when the Nobody has interacted more with them over the past week than an entire decade. 

And the fact that all of those interactions have been...peaceful. Fruitful, even. 

Paid with actual munny, for way overpriced goods, with no argument. 

Yeah. 

Something’s wrong. 

Does he possibly suspect Stilitzkin’s purpose for being here? Buttering them up, like they observed the pink and yellow Nobodies doing with other Nobodies the last few weeks or so?

Hm. Whatever it is, Stiltzkin will not be tricked.

The Moogle fiddles with their sleeves, making sure their paws are covered. Well, mostly covered. 

It had been quite easy to snatch up a spare Organization coat. The coat’s inherent shape-changing nature kicked in quickly, allowing Stilitzkin to start using their “disguise” from their very first interactions with the Nobodies. 

Business is...business. Not exactly excellent and the customer service poor, but that;s fine. Stiltzkin isn’t here for just selling and crafting anyways. 

...It is truly astounding sometimes, how much information one could get just hovering on the edges of a common room. 

One day, the enemies of the Organization will come knocking on their door. And when that happens, Stiltzkin will be waiting and ready to tell them everything. 

What happened to Hollow Bastion...could never be forgiven. 

Stiltzkin would see these enemies fall. No matter the cost. 

The sound of stifled...crying? In the middle of the “night” hours, the sleeping time, when no one should be around. The Moogle twitches their ears. Nobodies don’t cry...but the new children might. 

One’s a Nobody, but new enough there might be hope for him. The other...something strange, with a Heart. 

That is the one crying. The girl with blue hair and eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” They ask, floating over. 

The girl looks up, swiping at her face. “Nothing, it’s fine.”

“You’re not fine,” they state out right. Hesitate, but not for long. This is a child, not related to their vendetta. Stiltzkin can care that much. 

Can reach out. 

“...what happened?”

The girl considers, but eventually, decides to share. So different from the rest!

“I- Saïx, I can’t talk to him anymore. He said we couldn’t.”

Saïx. “The blue-haired one?” Stilitzkin clarifies. 

The girl nods. 

Aha, they knew he was up to no good!

Making this girl cry? Awful. 

Well, it should be easy enough to make Saïx regret his actions. Petty revenge is an art they’ve perfected, after all. 

“Don’t worry, I can take care of this.”

Chapter Text

“My supply is out, kupo.” The Moogle bobs up and down in the air.

Isa narrows his eyes. That doesn’t seem quite right...considering that Potions are easily craftable, especially with the materia he’s currently offering. 

“Very well.”

He’ll have to wait for another time...if the Moogle will give him anything. Since the last few times have been a bust, Isa has his suspicions on the likelihood of that. 

Might need to find another source. Good thing he can get food from Rinoa, since this supply has been cut off. 

Perhaps Rinoa will have Potions too?

Something to ask, during his planned future visit later today.

Since he’s clearly not going to get anything out of the Moogle, might as well give up and move on.

Walk away. 

Demyx and Luxord sit at the Grey Room’s single table. Luxord’s clearly trying to get Demyx to play a card game with him. 

What else would he be doing, when half of the Poker players are at Castle Oblivion?

Isa should walk away. Keep walking away. 

Yet...he knows more about Luxord now than he did before. Not much, but anything is more, with how tight-fisted every Nobody is about their past. 

Using that information...why not?

Attempting to stay back hasn’t done him any good in the end, after all. Might as well start actually playing the game. 

Good thing he prepared for this last night. 

Isa slides into a chair across from the pair. Luxord lifts his eyebrows. Demyx doesn’t even bother hiding his surprise at all, gaping at him. 

“Here for a game,” Isa explains curtly. 

Demyx and Luxord almost exchange glances. More accurately, Demyx tries to shoot a look at Luxord but the Nobody firmly keeps his own gaze on Isa. 

“Very well. Since I believe you haven’t played before...”

Luxord pulls back a sleeve. Just enough for Isa to catch a glimpse of the mottled and crumpled grey skin that makes up his forearms. Probably stretches down further but Isa has had no cause to see that much of Luxord’s bare flesh. 

The Gambler of Fate is rather unique in that his weapons, his cards, are a physical part of him. He runs a gloved finger along the skin, peeling off...cards. Almost like watching a snake shed its skin. 

It takes very little time at all for Luxord to collect an entire deck that way. To tap the cards against the table, sliding them in Isa’s direction. 

“Your game of choice, then?”

Perfect.

“Have you ever heard of...Mao?”

Isa can barely keep his face still, unsmiling, as Demyx and Luxord shake their heads. 

Excellent. 

What a perfect game to try. Even better when played with those completely new to it. 

Not Drunken Mao, the version he and Lea came up with one particularly stormy night. Mao, mixed with a drinking game and other poor decisions, as one might guess. 

Would be a disaster here, even more so since alcohol affects Nobodies...strangely. 

To say the least. 

No, just regular Mao. The verison Roxas came home with gleefully to try out on the rest of them, having learned it from his Twilight Town friends. A game in which nothing is explained, in which players have to figure out everything themselves.

A decent game, to try out on Luxord of all people. Demyx being involved? A bonus. 

“The rules?” Luxord prompts. 

Isa very carefully does not smile. Passes out the cards after a quick shuffle. 

“This is a game in which you rid yourself of cards. But...the only rule I can tell you is this one.”

There’s nothing quite like watching the frustration build, as Isa calmly goes through his cards and corrects every wrong move his opponents make. Which is a lot. 

Well, Luxord doesn’t seem frustrated. More intrigued, if anything. But the tension is building.

As for Demyx. 

“This game is bullshit!” Demyx eventually bursts out, throwing his hand of cards all over the table. 

“This isn’t Bullshit, this is Mao,” Isa states. Perfectly straight faced.

Demyx squints at him. “Did you...just make a joke?”

Isa puts down another two cards. “Of course not.”

Luxord chuckles over his own hand. “Clever. A game in which the rules are always the same...but no one can speak of them.”

“It would not be Mao if I explained,” Isa says. 

“I see.” Luxord puts a card down. Isa lifts his eyebrows, and gestures to the pile. “Incorrect? Ah...”

Luxord gets it eventually. Just one more round and Isa never has to correct another mistake. Demyx on the other hand...

Never seems to get it. Some of the rules, yes. But not all of them. 

“You know what? I’m done.” The sitar player shakes his head, standing up. “You guys can have fun, I’m getting out of here!”

Isa hums. Taps the table as Demyx leaves the room. Drawing Luxord’s attention. “Now that we have learned these rules...should we add our own?”

Luxord smiles. “Adaptable as well? Very well, I’ll try it.”

Isa reaches out for the deck. “Allow me to shuffle again.”

Easy enough, when the cards are in hand, to slip something extra in. 

Let the games begin. 

Isa stares down at his feet. 

There’s a bowl sitting next to Balamb’s door. Blue ceramic, filled with...vegetables? What?

It can’t be for Angelo, the dog eats inside. But why is it here?

He slips inside. Uselessly. Angelo lifts her head and yips. Rising to her feet, padding over for him to pet her. 

Which he does. Only once. 

A quick pat on the head and then move on. To a more important subject.

“Rinoa, why is there a bowl outside on the ground?”

“Oh, it’s for the guards you’ve sent me.”

Isa stares, because what? “They’ve been...eating it?”

Rinoa tilts a hand back and forth. “Pretty sure.”

Isa sighs, pinching his nose. “You can’t do that.”

Lunes, what are Berserkers doing? They should be guarding and nothing more. That’s what he ordered them to do, after all. 

He might need to...correct them. 

“Like putting out food for the stray cats, see?” Rinoa smiles. 

Isa decides not to tell her that the odds of the Berserkers having eaten every stray cat living within a couple blocks are pretty high. 

Angelo is safe enough and that’s all that matters.

“I would like some more moon tarts, if you’re able.” For Xion. He can still give her treats, despite not being able to talk to her. 

Rinoa hums and whirls her away to the kitchen. Angelo wags her tail and barks, a cheerful sound. “Of course!”

Approximately three seconds later, her head pokes back out. 

“What fruit do you prefer?”

Isa thinks, fingers tapping against his sides. Angelo pants.

“The fruit doesn’t matter, as long as it is fairly sweet,” he eventually settles on, “Xion has a sweet tooth.”

Well, did, in another time. Hopefully that much shouldn’t have changed.

“Xion?”

Isa freezes. Wait. He said her name out loud. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure it does! Who’s Xion? Is that a boy, a girl, neither?” Rinoa taps her fingers against the doorway into the kitchen, eyes bright as she guesses. “Will I get to meet them? Like your other friend?”

Angelo’s tail wags harder at the sight of her mistress so excited. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he repeats. Talking to a wall at this point. An overly excited wall. 

“C’mon, teelll me,” she pleads. “Will they come here?”

“She’s too young to come out here alone,” Isa eventually snaps back. Wait. Too much information. 

What has he done?

“Wait a minute, you’re taking care of a little girl!?” At that, Rinoa slides out of the kitchen. Stopping to stand right in front of him, hands on her hips. Staring up at him accusingly. 

Isa shakes his head. “Sh. No. I’m not. She is simply...under my jurisdiction.”

Rinoa shakes her head back, almost mocking him. “Nope! You’re her dad , aren’t you?”

Him, a father? 

What a terrible thought.

“Of course not,” Isa scoffs. “We’re not related in any fashion.”

He folds his arms over his chest. Rinoa mimics that gesture as well, leaning forwards.

“You don’t have to be related to someone to care for them, dummy.”

He knows that. He’s no idiot. But...

Isa pushes his hair back. Behind his pointed ears. “I...I can’t. It’s too much of a danger right now.”

“For her or for you?” Rinoa asks shrewdly, tilting her head up to look him straight in the eye. 

He closes his eyes, so not to see that sharp blue. “She will suffer more, for my mistakes.”

More than she did, in another life. For all of his harshness and cruel words, Xion had never been at risk of being “marked” herself in that life. 

Isa has drawn that danger to her. No one else. Only him. 

“Ah,” Rinoa breathes. 

Isa opens his eyes to see her drawing back. Down below, Angelo nudges at his leg. Begging for pets. 

He keeps his hands still. Careful not to touch. To ruin this too. 

“So, that’s how it is, is it?”

Isa has no idea what Rinoa means by that. 

Rinoa rubs her hands together.

“You could leave.”

“No,” the word comes out instinctively, without Isa having to even think about. What happens to those that run...well, no use dwelling on it. Thinking about it. 

Rinoa frowns. “Wouldn’t it be better to?”

Isa looks away. Can’t meet those eyes. “There are...rules. I cannot break them.”

Even speaking of this...he shouldn’t. Shouldn’t consider it.

“Saïx.” Serious. 

Isa jerks. 

“Saïx,” Rinoa repeats, “I can help you. Let me help you.”

That...

Isa can barely manage to breathe, let alone speak. Intense 

“You have no idea what I’ve done. You shouldn’t be offering me that.”

He doesn’t deserve this. There’s a guilt to it, a knowledge that had Rinoa ever met the Nobody he had been, the Saïx of this time, she would have despised him. 

Rightfully so. 

“But I am.” Rinoa reaches out and Isa flinches away, before her fingers can close around his sleeve. 

“That coat...means something, doesn’t it?”

“I cannot tell you anything,” Isa states, as flat as he can make it. No shake in his voice whatsoever.  

“I see. Same reason I can’t see Xion, right?” 

“Don’t...ask Demyx about any of this. Please.” Isa shakes his head. 

Rinoa nods. “Alright. Um, I can do that. Are you...going to stay?”

That moment, Isa realizes he’s been slowly inching towards the door. Without realizing it. He needs to better control himself. 

“I should be heading back. Now.”

Rinoa, surprisingly, doesn’t push anymore, only sighing. She nods to the kitchen. “Don’t you want the moon tarts too?”

Isa considers this. “How much longer?”

“Hmm...” Rinoa checks the clock in the main room. “Five minutes?”

“Very well.” Isa inclines his chin just barely. Not even an inch. 

It’s the longest five minutes of his life, immensely uncomfortable and silent. Rinoa doesn’t say anything either, retreating in total silence back to her oven. 

Angelo pawing at his leg doesn’t help matters at all. He ignores the dog and waits. 

Until Rinoa at last comes back out and hands him a small bag. Warm. 

“Thank you.” The least he can say, about this. 

With that, Isa leaves. Not as quickly as he can, but not slow either. 

He...shouldn’t be around. Anymore. Just in case. 

Rinoa...will probably bring this subject up again, should he stick around too long. 

Something tickles at the edges of his mind, he was going to ask something, wasn’t he?

Oh. 

He forgot to ask Rinoa about getting any Potions. But Isa doesn’t want to go back right now. Later, perhaps. Now? No. 

Maybe the Moogle will let up on him eventually. 

The Moogle doesn’t let up on him. 

The opposite, in fact. 

Isa gets his access to food supplies cut as well, the Moogle almost cheerfully informing him that they’ve “discontinued that product.”

Right. 

That’s really what happened. 

Irritating, making his life more frustrating than it needs to be...almost certainly the Moogle’s goal. 

Isa has been through worse. 

And if any Nobody dares to mock him for this irritation...well, Isa is in charge of missions. A few unpleasant ones should solve that issue readily enough.

It would be more of a problem, if Isa didn’t have Rinoa to ask for supplies. It could still be a problem, if Xemnas decides to poke his nose into that too and destroy Rinoa’s life. 

Isa should cut off that connection, protect her. 

But...

He’s too selfish to do that. Like with Axel. 

Can’t ever let go. 

Fool. 

Talking to Xion...he only does that in giving her missions. The girl deflates every time he says nothing more, in response to her questions. 

It hurts. Better that pain in his Heart, than for the worse to come to pass. 

He still leaves food in her room. Tucked away so the Dusks won’t eat any of it. They probably still end up doing that, Xion has a soft Heart after all. 

At least Isa hasn’t ruined that.

It’s probably a weakness, to allow the Berserkers to continue talking to her, to not wave away their reports of how she’s doing. 

But it’s one he’ll allow himself to have. 

He does what he’s always done, his paperwork, his scheduling. With less cruelty than before, but he still does much of the same. 

Isa endures. 

Waits. 

Castle Oblivion...nothing he can do but see who comes up top. He’s planted other seeds since then. Other routes.

Isa’ll see what fruit comes of it. Rotten or otherwise. 

Some say the perfect metaphor for life is chess. Luxord has never thought that to be the case. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Chess pieces always move the same way, move as expected. It’s about the cleverness between two individuals. Matching wits. Life is...far more messy. 

Cards are much more accurate, for a metaphor. The value of a card changes from game to game, and the chances of a certain hand happening is reliant purely on the chance. A player keeps an eye on both their own options and the other players, in order to win. Unlike chess, the pieces are never mistaken for people. Merely tools other individuals use against each other. Messy, chaotic, luck-based, with some outside circumstances thrown in. Like Life actually is. 

Unless one is clever enough to fix the game in their favor, such as the Organization appears to be attempting. Or certain individuals in the Organization, at least. 

Luxord mindlessly shuffles his newest deck. The one he played Mao with. 

Allows the cards to fade away one by one. With the simplest application of Will he knows, simply not...letting them exist anymore. 

One card remains. 

Luxord frowns, flipping it over. It’s not his, otherwise it would be gone already. 

It looks a lot like one of his. Carefully created to blend in with the rest of the deck. Only Luxord would know it isn’t. 

Along the side...black patterns. Inked in with a firm hand. Words. 

Small enough...Luxord focuses. Reads it to himself, silently. 

May your <3 be your Guiding Key, reads clear black lettering, running down the side. A clear risk, since any Organization member could recognize this for Saïx’s handwriting from miles away. 

That phrase...Luxord sets the false card down. 

Familiar. But how does he know it? From where?

More importantly, how does Saïx know that phrase, know that Luxord would recognize it? Why else would the Nobody write it down to be shuffled among his cards, when it’s only Luxord that tracks his own decks?

A direct meeting...too risky. 

Another card game might even be more suspicious. Considering Saïx never plays. Honestly, Luxord’s not sure why it didn’t tip him off, Saïx joining in. 

No. 

Luxord taps his fingers along the edges of the card. 

Demyx being there...the rumors, the various interactions the pair had been having. No, the reason why Luxord didn’t think anything of it was because Demyx had been there. 

“Clever,” he muses to himself, flicking the card against his sleeve. 

Clever Saïx. Clearly being forced to do all the paperwork hadn’t caused the Nobody to lose any of his cunning. 

But why now? Why is Saïx showing his hand, drawing in Luxord’s attention? 

“A new discovery linked to this phrase, perhaps.”

The safe course would be to ignore it. Bringing it up with the Superior or anyone else would only cause more attention to drop on Luxord’s own head. Talking to Saïx could also draw dangerous attention. 

You can’t play the card up your sleeve if everyone knows it’s there, after all. 

May your Heart be your Guiding Key. 

If that’s the case...what guides a Nobody, with no Heart at all?

It would be safer to follow orders like he’s always done. To ignore this. But Luxord isn’t called a gambler for nothing. 

“Answers.”

Chapter Text

Barely a few days into this mission and it’s already a terrible mess. 

The Hero of Light has entered the Castle, as predicted. Less predictable but more obvious in hindsight, is Marluxia’s and Larxene’s shared attempt to get him under their control. With an unusual Nobody with fascinating powers. Memory, of all things. Akin to his illusions, perhaps?

Somehow, following in the lines  of Saïx’s predictions, the Hero of Darkness had followed shortly after. 

(“The Hero of Darkness, despite his powers, is straightforward. There are...others that will slide a knife in your back while you’re facing him.”)

Zexion hums to himself. How had Saïx guessed his presence? Another question to add to the pile, once this mission is complete. 

Such as, why warn him in the first place yet do nothing about the actual risks?

Sentiment, perhaps. Hearts tend towards that, Zexion hears. 

Zexion turns to his screens of scrolling data. Data shortly about to come into use, now that Vexen has taken out a Replica to play with. A Replica that might hold the secret to gaining a Heart. 

“Playing two sides and siding with who’s left...I see what you’re up to.” Zexion smirks. “But I won’t be some panting dog for you.”

Unlike a certain redheaded Nobody. 

“Zexion. I am here as well.”

Oh right. Lexaeus is here too. 

Zexion frowns. Lexaeus, but no Vexen. More importantly, no Riku Replica. 

“Wait, where is the Replica?”

Lexaeus’ face stills. “Vexen took him upstairs.”

“Why ever would he do that? The only people up there are...”

Marluxia, Larxene, and Axel.

Perhaps Zexion should step in before Vexen irritates them too much. Probably already too late, but hopefully not so late that Vexen has lost the Replica due to his annoying nature. 

When Zexion gets there, Vexen is just about to hand the Riku Replica over. 

To have its memory rewritten, apparently, to match the actual Riku’s. 

How very... vexing . Only to be expected that Vexen would fall for this game. He’s never been much of a schemer. 

Zexion needs the Replica as it is, not some pale copy of the Hero of Darkness. He’ll step in, to make sure Vexen doesn’t ruin that. 

“You seek to make the copy superior by making it the exact same as the original? How ridiculous,” Zexion scoffs. He shakes his head. “Besides, Riku has not been able to defeat the Hero of Light anyway. Are you setting this project up for failure?”

By the way they exchange looks, this trio...he would suppose that is their planned goal. Of course it is. 

What else would they want? The Graceful Assassin had not exactly been discrete in his plotting. Destroying the Replica Project would only be a part of that plan. 

“Zexion, this is my project!” Vexen sputters. “Not yours!”

Zexion just barely manages not to roll his eye. Just. 

“It still will be, under my purview. Under theirs...” Zexion gestures to the three. “No chance of seeing its full potential. They’ll be testing Naminé’s power, not that of your Replica.”

Take the bait. Which will be more powerful, Vexen’s pride in his accomplishment or his desire to keep his projects out of Zexion’s hands?

Zexion coldly observes the ice creeping up the side of Vexen’s neck, patchy and webby-looking as the Nobody works himself up. As is usual. 

To seal the deal...

“I will, of course, report any developments to you.”

After that offer, of course Vexen agrees. “Very well. But everything must be up to date.” Shakes a finger in Zexion’s face. Disappears into a Corridor before Zexion can do anything about that course of action. 

Leaving the Replica (of course) to Zexion. 

Take in a breath. 

He beckons to the Replica. “Come along.”

Teal eyes blink at him. Naive. Weak. Everything Zexion has always despised. But the Replica falls into line. 

At least it’s obedient, outside of its flaws. 

“Hey, don’t take that toy with you! Vexen gave it to us!” Larxene calls out. She makes to move towards him aggressively, knives out, only stopped by Marluxia putting an arm out and murmuring into her ear. 

“The Replica Project is not yours, Larxene,” Zexion says firmly. Beckons to the Replica again. 

It does glance back, once, at Naminé, before following. 

Zexion says nothing about the action. It doesn’t matter anyway.

Not when they will most likely never see each other again. 

(Though Zexion doesn’t see it...bright, unblinking cat eyes stare after him. Not looking away.)

The Riku Replica is not sure what to think of his new situation. 

He’s...not scared. He’s not Riku , a complete and total weakling. Of course not, he’s better than that. 

(But he also almost became Riku. Lost everything that makes him him. )

His body shakes. No, not scared. Just...relieved, that’s all. That someone appreciates his potential as a Replica. As a better version. 

The lab seems more welcoming than before, after the Dark Corridor to get there. Maybe for the same reason his body’s shaking. A dumb reason. 

He’s the better one. Shouldn’t be scared. 

“You will need a name,” Zexion announces out of nowhere. “Riku Replica is too long of a title to be constantly using.”

A name? The Riku Replica...doesn’t know what to think about that. He’s just been a Replica of Riku so far. What would a name do to change that?

Gloved fingers tap against an arm. “Hm, what should it be? Mirage? Something else?”

“Crocus,” the tall rocky Nobody in the corner states. The one called Lexaeus?

Zexion considers the offered name, colors swirling through the curtain of hair. “Crocus is an acceptable choice,” he finally accepts. 

Crocus, so that’s his new name? Ri- Crocus doesn’t know what he feels about that. Different, that’s it. What kind of different, who knows?

Zexion beckons. “Over here. There are scans I have to complete.”

The newly named Crocus obeys. 

The way it should be. The way it’s always been. 

But...

That Nobody, Naminé...she looked sad. Even as she was about to erase his memory. 

Crocus can’t stop thinking about that. 

About her. 

The most interesting fact about Replicas so far, at least according to the information available about both Xion and Crocus, is how much they consume. 

Almost Heartless in that fashion, intaking all kinds of magic and Soul to give form to their bodies. Put in a pack of data as a base and just...let them go. 

Add to themselves, build their power. 

Consume. 

Of course there’s a slight flaw in a system that exists in such a fashion. Namely, how to tell a Replica to stop its intake?

Apparently, if you’re Vexen, you put off solving that flaw until the prototypes are already wandering around in physical form. 

Idiotic. 

“Vexen should have brought me into this earlier...” Zexion does not grumble, under his breath. He’s simply...stating the truth. In an unpleasant fashion. 

Lexaeus has taken Crocus...somewhere. Doesn’t matter where. Out of this lab once the scans were done, so the Replica couldn’t possibly screw up the results. 

Or Vexen. Hopefully he’ll stay gone a little longer. 

“What are you looking at now?”

Ah. Speak of the devil. Unfortunate as it is. 

“Vexen.” Zexion inclines his head. “I’m looking over the data again. It looks quite different activated.”

More of a mess, actually. 

Vexen snorts. “Of course it does. It’s supposed to. Speaking of, where is the Riku Replica now?” 

“Lexaeus renamed it Crocus. It’s with him currently.”

“Crocus?” Vexen snorts. “Of course Lexaeus would pick that for a name, he’s always been the worst of us at moving on.”

Zexion frowns. “What does a flower have to do with moving on?”

“What’s the use of longing after old relationships, with no Heart?” Vexen says cryptically. 

...Zexion has no idea what that means. Why does Vexen always do that to him, leave him ignorant like a child? He’s no child, not anymore. 

Zexion grits his teeth. 

Fine, fine. 

But he won’t forget this. He never does. 

(Too young, too weak. )

“You’ve idiotically forgotten to put in an ability to stop in your Replicas.”

“What? No, I haven’t- show me those calculations!” Vexen’s green eyes narrow at the screen of numbers, ice leaking from his tear ducts. Creeping into his flesh like a malignant fungus. 

The true issue here is that Vexen does biology. Not computers. Not enough to realize that data commands will keep on going, if they are not told to stop. Not like biological forms, which give way long before that ever becomes a threat. 

A finger jabs at the screen. “See! Right there.”

Zexion takes a look. It’s actually there, sure enough. 

“Fine. But the caveat for that “stop” is impractical. I could do better,” he scoffs. 

The ice spreads faster as Vexen hisses. 

“Show. Me.”

Hm. How about that? Is he finally giving in on this?

At last. 

“I can add a command here to minimize the effects on Organization members...”

Everything is much more complicated than it should have been, Axel reflects. 

For one thing, his ability to take care of any traitors is now pretty limited. 

No way Vexen was going to risk running into Sora now, when everything he’s interested in resides in the basement lab. Same with Zexion. 

And with both of them down there...Lexaeus would keep an eye out. 

Leaving no opening for Axel to take advantage of. 

Difficult to prove his “loyalty” with no easy targets. Ergh. 

On top of that, that Riku kid’s getting closer to actually meeting up with Sora. And when that happens...well, Naminé’s tricks won’t be so effective anymore, will they?

Axel guesses that’s why he’s down here, actually. 

Treated like some disposable Dusk, to convince Vexen and Zexion to lend their assistance. Down in the center of their territory, their power. 

What a terrible plan. 

Marluxia’s plotting was doomed from the start, but Axel didn’t think it would go this bad. 

Axel leans against the wall. Waiting for someone to notice him. He’d rather that none of them did, so he can honestly say they didn’t want to talk to him. 

The Replica eyes him. Watches him warily. Afraid. Makes sense, considering what nearly happened to the Replica at Naminé’s hands. 

“Someone’s here,” the Replica calls out. 

“Oh really? Who is it?” Zexion, sounds like. 

“Axel,” Axel says, tapping at his skull. “Got it memorized?”

Teal eyes glance away, as the Riku Replica steps back. Away. 

Hm, maybe he’ll be less useful than Axel thought. With that fear.

“What are you here for?” Zexion, finger tapping at his chin as he steps forward. The Replica quickly vanishes into the background, leaving the situation to the Nobodies. 

On the surface, Axel is here for Marluxia and Larxene. 

Deeper...it’s the plan that Saïx laid out. Before he...backed off, for some reason. 

Talked to Zexion, for some reason. 

Is that why everything is going to hell?

“What did Saïx talk to you about?” Shit, that was a mistake. Shouldn’t have asked that. Zexion’s face lights up with unholy “glee.”

“None of your business. Perhaps he’s moved on from you,” Zexion suggests with a smirk. 

Axel almost hits him. Almost. “We’re not together,” he chooses instead.

Zexion’s visible eye squints. “Really? Doesn’t seem that way.” 

“Like you would know anything about how that works,” Axel bites out. All Zexion has to work off of is rumors, that’s all there is at this point: rumors. 

A cold blue eye examines him. “Why are you here, Axel? What do you want from this?”

For a minute, Axel contemplates seriously killing Zexion. Right here and now, damn the consequences. Just...light him up. 

He doesn’t, of course. He’s not moron enough to do that with Laxaeus clearly right around the corner watching them both. 

“You took the Replica off Vexen’s hands, when you didn’t care enough to before.”

Not a question. 

A flashing of green, from behind Zexion’s bang curtain. “Oh? He didn’t tell you?”

What? Tell Axel what? Is this Saïx again, moving away from their shared past?

Axel’s eyes narrow. 

Now he really wants to take Zexion out. But again, he’s no moron. He’ll die doing that. 

It seems that properly siding with Marluxia and Larxene will be nearly impossible. Since they’ll demand a “proof of loyalty.”

A death. And then he’ll kill them, once he’s through using them. Like the plan. 

(“Kill them because that’s all you’re good for!”)

You know what... screw the plan. 

Axel has some better ideas. 

If Saïx disagrees...well, he can tell him what’s going on. For once in their lives. 

“Hey Zexion, what would you say to having Lexaeus tracking down the Hero of Darkness with me?”

Axel smiles. “Always need more data, right?”

Zexion considers. But not for long. “Very well. I agree to your offer.”

Good. 

Chapter Text

“...and the Samurai don’t listen to him at all, I really don’t get it!” Demyx’s face scrunches up. “Maybe it’s the Keyblade?”

“Perhaps,” Isa allows. He eats a little more of his stir-fry. Waiting for whatever excuse the other Nobody is about to pull out. 

Sure enough, Demyx doesn’t disappoint. 

“Since Roxas isn’t having any luck...” Demyx pauses for dramatic effect. His gills flutter. “He doesn’t need me on his missions anymore.”

He seems overly pleased with this conclusion. Too bad Isa won’t have it. 

“If he doesn’t get it, I will keep having him paired with you.” As he had been doing, is what Isa doesn’t need to say out loud. 

Demyx deflates, his gills flattening and scales retreating. “Oh, c’mon! Besides, that was before.”

“Before.” Isa raises an eyebrow, tapping his fingers on the table. 

“Yeah, Roxas...bribes them now? With sticks, I didn’t know Samurai ate sticks.”

Curious. Wonder where Roxas learned that from. 

Demyx shrugs, stirring his over-spiced curry. “They listen now, so I don’t have to teach him anymore. That’s the deal, right?”

Isa looks Demyx over, in the middle of the noon lit Balamb. Thinks. 

Demyx may be lazy, but one can work around that if they’re clever.

With most Organization missions being individual ones, it had been simple enough to set up missions for Demyx with a much higher minimum requirement than other members and have no one realize there was a difference. Allowing Demyx to seemingly slack off, while getting the necessary work done. 

Not that anyone would know it, without looking at the numbers. 

At least, until Roxas’ arrival in the original timeline. 

More missions had been paired together afterwards, mostly with Roxas and Xion in order to prevent the loss of their Keyblade Bearers. Then Demyx had started realizing the workload difference and slacked off even more. 

Another reason to dislike the presence of the two, at least to Saïx’s envy-tainted thoughts. Fool. 

...At least Isa can bribe Demyx with food now. For barely any more work, but well, Demyx is still Demyx. Lazy and unmotivated and preoccupied with his sitar. No matter how much has changed from before. 

(What does it matter if it gets done? In the end, none of it matters.)

Demyx’s not the worst of allies to have. 

He sighs but eventually graces the Nobody with a nod. “Very well.”

Demyx smiles. “Sweet!” 

Then he goes back to eating his far-too spicy fish curry at a fast pace. Even with his gills making odd gasping noises as a result. Unnatural. 

Balamb is empty but for them. And Angelo, of course. Giving him big puppy eyes, begging for food. Rinoa can’t be seen, but Isa is no doubt that she’s watching from out of sight. 

...Which leads to a question Isa has had before, both now and in the future: how does she keep the cafe running? What other business is she doing to cover the costs?

Isa takes a sip of his water. 

It’s none of his concern. If he needs to know at some point, he’ll trust Rinoa to say something. She’s not him, after all. Paranoid to the point of friendship-ending. 

(Besides, he already has a theory of what she’s doing. He won’t bring it up until he has to, though.)

“Ruff?” Angelo tilts her head, ears perked up. Pants at him, happy to see him. 

How...strange. Of a feeling, that warmth in his chest at the sight and at the thought. 

“If I give the dog some of my food, will it go away?” Demyx poses, moving his chair away from said dog. 

Well, Demyx has clearly never dealt with dogs if he thinks that is the case. 

“You’ll only give her gas.” Isa beckons with two fingers. Offering more carrots as a snack. “Come here, Angelo.”

Her tail starts wagging eagerly, nearly hitting against the floor in the excitement. 

“Don’t bring the dog over,” Demyx scoots away with a whine as Angelo comes closer. 

Licking and chewing the carrots with relish, Angelo’s tail wags and wags. 

Isa feeds her until she’s out. She whines. 

“I don’t have anymore.” Carefully, his boot reaches out to nudge her away. Soft enough not to hurt her. Angelo allows this, still whining. 

But she doesn’t move back. 

Good. 

“You’re different.” Isa looks up, to meet Demyx’s serious sea-blue eyes. “From before.”

Oh. So they’re talking about this, are they?

Isa straightens. Pulls his bare hands back, into the safety of his lap. “The situation has changed. We have a way to Kingdom Hearts now. It would be more strange if I hadn’t changed myself.”

Very good reasons. Very good lies, seeing how Isa hadn’t changed a bit last time. Except for becoming worse. 

“...I don’t think that’s it.”

Daring. For a Nobody that has always toed the line, nevermind his sluggish nature. Careful to never ever go far enough to risk death. 

His fingers are greasy. Time to wipe them clean with the provided napkins. 

“Well, there isn’t a better explanation.”

Not one he’s willing to give. 

“I can handle that.”

Isa lifts an eyebrow. “Handle my answer or the lack of one?”

Demyx leans forward, over his empty bowl. “A reason would be nice.”

Demyx, in a way, is not unlike the goldfish Isa once watched as a child. Flapping gills, small shimmering scales. Swimming around and around in their pond, entirely too short sighted and never thinking beyond their next meal. 

But those same goldfish will grow larger and larger, to fill whatever pond they’re placed in. Turn their unblinking eyes towards anything and everything to fill their own bellies.

Their selfishness is never to be underestimated. 

As is Demyx’s. No matter how interesting it is to be around him, to take an edge off of that new loneliness , Isa can’t afford to let his guard down. An ally but not a friend. 

(How did friends turn out for him anyways? With Axel? )

Isa ruthlessly crushes the thought. 

He can’t afford to open his Heart to another Nobody. Not now. 

“That is the only reason I have for you.”

Demyx leans back this time. Looking disappointed but not surprised. Gills flatten “Oh man.”

“You’d be better off not asking any more questions.” It’s not a suggestion.

Isa returns to his meal. Demyx follows after his example in turn. 

They both finish in silence. 

(What else is there to talk about?)

“We will spar.”

...How did Isa’s life lead to this point? 

Simple answer, a series of bad life deciduous and the idiocy of youth. 

Fighting for Isa has always been a tool as well as a burden, more than anything else. Saïx used cruel words and other punishments far more than he resorted to a physical fight. Isa never fought at all, avoided it when he could. 

Berserking is an uncomfortable state of being for someone who prides himself on his control. His lack of emotion in all dealings. 

(Far too easy to lose control.)

But you don’t survive in a state like this, with assignments focused on hunting Heartless, without being able to fight moderately well. At the least. 

Everyone in the Organization knows this. No one wants to accidentally unleash a Berserker. 

At least, until Xaldin. 

Right now. This very moment. 

“A particular reason as to why?” Isa inquires. Rather dryly. He has files to continue organizing. Tasks to complete that don’t involve fighting Number III of the Organization. 

Xaldin folds his arms over his chest as his answer. Isa hears the scratching of the Nobody’s invisible tendrils, surrounding the two of them. 

Boxing Isa in. 

Of course. 

What else would he be doing with them, hm? A familiar power play. 

Isa almost sighs. But he puts his work aside, carefully to sort some specific reports from Luxord out of sight. Not obviously, he’s no fool. 

Just...carefully. 

“The usual location, then.”

“Where else?” Xaldin sneers. Nearly floats along, with a bit of extra wind.

...It’s really unfair, really. How much easier everyone else’s Nobody powers are, in comparison to Isa’s. 

How often does blinding, overwhelming rage come in handy, really? Unless one looked for a fight constantly...

Isa walks behind Xaldin. Far behind. He doesn’t care for these petty power games and unlike before, has no desire to actually partake in them. 

Xaldin can go ahead. 

Isa’ll simply kick his ass in their spar to make up for it. 

Simple. 

The Hall of Empty Melodies is clear of all Dusks. Clearly Xaldin has prepared for this.

Why?

They turn to face each other. Isa inclines his head to his opponent. Daring him to make the first move, first, statement. Which, of course, he does. 

“Keep this simple.” A cold smile. “Clean.”

Right. Like that’ll happen between them. 

Isa readies himself for the onslaught that’s sure to come. 

Xaldin doesn’t disappoint. He goes to toss his lances out immediately. 

Now, Isa isn’t one for dodging. When one was powered by ever infinite rage that grew and grew with each hit, it is often better not to. 

Which is why Xaldin was definitely not expecting it when Isa did dodge out of the way. 

Lunatic makes for a handy counterweight, if used correctly. More so for someone as tiny as Xion, than someone of Isa’s larger size. 

There’s a reason the Berserkers shrink down to use their full power. 

Isa pants, fangs lengthening in his mouth. Making it difficult to close, hide his emotions.

Or “emotions” as Xaldin would understand it. Nothing but weakness in his thoughts, as Xaldin’s scornful scowl can probably attest to.

Berserking rage tugs at his fingers, burns through his blood. Begging him to let loose, finally. 

He’s controlled himself so long. Hasn’t truly berserked since that last encounter with Zexion, when he nearly killed the smaller Nobody for his trespass. Weeks, has it been?

But holding back his power...Isa shakes his head. His hair frizzes with stored static. Making him look larger. 

Already, his scar cracks. Pulling itself open. Bleeding. 

There’s a price. Always a price. 

Isa feels the wind, the movement of Xaldin’s tendrils lashing about. 

These hits, he takes. Hissing at the pain.

He hits back harder. 

The spar goes on for some time like this. Exchanging hits meant to hurt, not kill. 

The Superior would be... upset . Otherwise. If they blatantly killed each other, instead doing such in a more underhanded fashion. 

Isa has no intention of drawing further attention from that area. 

Eventually, it does end with Xaldin putting a lance up to his throat. After literally beating the berserking out of Isa. 

Isa doesn’t lose. He doesn’t win either. 

Winning would be not partaking of this idiotic showdown in the first place. 

“You should have not interfered with Number Five.”

...what?

Is that what this is about?

That past encounter with Lexaeus, the one where Zexion cut him open afterwards. 

Xaldin actually cares about that?!

...More proof that Nobodies having no Hearts is completely idiotic, not that Isa didn’t already know that. 

“You separated yourself from them.” The words slip out too quickly to be stopped. Carrying the thought of so why care with them. Clear for Xaldin to catch, face twisting. 

A mistake. 

One that Isa pays for by a lance leaving a particularly long scratch down his cheek, trailing down from his eye. Blood coats his cheek as a second skin. 

Isa doesn’t even blink. His scar itches. 

“Stay out of my territory.” Xaldin snarls. He turns and leaves. 

Leaves Isa to bleed everywhere. 

Not unexpected but...

Great. 

What a waste of time. 

Why did he not take out a potion beforehand? Iditoic of him. 

Isa keeps his breathing steady, one hand to his side, as he searches for the potions with the other. A Hi-Potion might be needed instead of a regular one, with the rate he’s bleeding...

But he probably doesn’t have one, even since that Moogle cut him off. Good thing his self-appointed office is full of healing items he’s squirrelled away. For over a decade now. 

His bleeding is faster than the usual Nobody, enough to inform any watcher something’s wrong. 

“You’ve been fighting again,” a particularly unwelcome voice notes. “What a mess!”

Isa closes his eyes. Breath, breath. “Does it matter, Xigbar?”

Opens them to see the Nobody himself waving a hand. “As if! Just...”

He slides closer. Too close.

“Move away,” Isa orders. 

Xigbar doesn’t. Fine. He can do this. One shaking hand finally manages to dig out a potion, a decently fresh one. 

“Castle Oblivion’s gone silent, haven’t you heard?”

The potion bottle cracks in his hand. Some of his magic whistles out in escape. 

Xigbar’s smiling. Bastard, waiting for that reaction. 

“No reply from anyone?” Isa inquires evenly. He already knows the answer and Xigbar knows that he knows, but for now.

They must play this game. 

“Not at all! Why, they might be all dead in there.” Xigbar doesn’t sound very concerned by this. He wouldn’t be. 

The majority of the Organization wasn’t, the first time. Only Roxas had nearly panicked, a mark of how far they had fallen. 

“Heard there might’ve been a coup. And you wouldn’t know anything about that, right?”

“Of course not.” Isa’s reply sounds brusque, short, even to his own ears. His hand crushes the potion, allowing the healing magic to apply itself. Tingling, sinking into his side. 

“Wait, you’ve got a little something...right there.” A gloved finger pokes Isa’s bloody cheek. 

The rumbling growl that comes out in response is instinctive, from deep in his stomach. 

That finger hastily withdraws. 

“Get. Out.”

This time, Xigbar actually does. Which might have to do with the growl growing deeper, Isa’ eyes beginning to slightly glow. 

Leaving Isa to his thoughts and regrets. 

Last time...only Axel came out. 

But this...things have changed. Isa has changed things. 

Did he make a mistake? In arming Zexion with more information, has Isa sentenced Axel to death?

He...doesn’t know, heartbeat thrumming in his ears. 

And not knowing is the worst part. 

The fruits of his labors, the mistakes of his machinations, visits him in a gruesomely sudden fashion. Later, by only an hour. 

Lucky that Xigbar left by then, bored of Isa’s careful nonreaction. 

A visit that even Isa cannot ignore. 

A ripping sound. A violent tearing of reality, the sound of a hastily opened Dark Corridor. One that closes just as quickly as it opened, the force of the surrounding reality too much for its existence. 

Isa blinks. The air stinks of blood, the first thing he notices. The next...there’s two bodies on the floor. Spreading that blood everywhere. 

So very dark against the white white floor. 

One body is smaller than the other, struggling to push itself into a sitting position. Still moving, while the other is so very still in its Organization coat. 

Most of the blood is still spilling out from that other body, this body with silver-blue hair and a familiar eyespot exposed for the world to see. An eyespot that is no longer cycling through a rainbow but is instantly grey. Dead, almost. 

Isa rises from his seat and walks across the floor. His boots are loud, even with the desparte panting for breath occurring in the background. 

Silver hair, Dark Suit, no coat, that face...

Hm. 

The Riku Replica survived this time. 

“Stay back!” the child growls. 

His slow-beating heart twists in his chest as Isa stops in his tracks. 

The Replica appears...anxious? About his companion. Huddling next to Zexion, teeth bared at Isa. Like he can do anything to stop Isa, in his current state. 

Covered in blood of his own, a reddish-green mix. Almost. It might be just green, that looks red. Isa wouldn’t know. 

Only that the Replica is hurt too. Still protecting Zexion with his entire body, huddling over the still form. 

Isa’s chest aches. 

The Organization uses children so carelessly. In hindsight, it is really more of a question why it took so long for Roxas to leave it, than one of why he left at all. 

But he knows why they wouldn’t leave the Organization, doesn’t he? It’s the same reason Isa hasn’t. Nowhere to go. 

But the Replica seems particularly attached to Zexion, clearly checking up on him in the corner of his eye while trying to not make it obvious that he is.  

Hm. Did Zexion follow his advice after all? Clearly not all of it, otherwise...Isa sighs. He wouldn’t be here like this. 

“He’ll die,” Isa points out, “If you don’t let me come over.”

The Replica considers this. Wiggles out of the way, allowing Isa access. 

Zexion...

Bleeding out. Black blood covering the stone. If something isn’t done, then Zexion will die. 

Should Zexion live, there will be questions. 

What other choice does he have?

Isa breathes in. The scent of blood is sour, in the air. Tingles on his tongue. Thick enough to attract any number of lesser Nobodies. Breath out. 

Knowing exactly what to do. 

Summon his claymore, move quickly before the Replica can do more than verbally object-!

Brings Lunatic down. 

Crocus barely has time to shout before that oversized sword cuts down. 

But not into Zexion. Into his coat. 

The blue-haired Nobody doesn’t even spare him a glance. “Silence. I need to work.”

He swiftly cuts away the fabric, exposing Zexion’s wounds to the light. Presses a gloved hand to one of the injuries, while the other hand digs into his pocket. 

The sword is stuck in the floor. Surrounded by blood. 

Crocus tries to breath. Hard to. 

He curls up as he watches the stranger tend to Zexion, applying potions and wrapping the biggest injuries in bandages. 

His body shivers. Despite everything, he feels so tired. 

His eyes are closed when the Nobody speaks again. 

“Are you hurt?”

Crocus jerks upright. “Uh, no. I heal fast.” 

He gestures to one of his cuts as proof. A cut that’s gone, leaving only dried blood behind. 

Nobodies are sturdy, but Replicas heal faster to make up for it. 

That’s the logic that Vexen said, anyway. 

No response. 

A still face, unreadable yellow eyes that look him up and down. 

Out of everyone Crocus has encountered so far, this man might be the most difficult to read. Which is saying something, considering Lexaeus. 

Crocus shakes his head. Makes the gesture as small as he can. 

Lexaeus, who is gone now. Dead. Along with everyone else but him and Zexion. 

Everyone that mattered, at least. 

Behind them, the sword lights up. Crocus jerks away. “Wha-!?”

“Taking care of any evidence.” The blue fire races across the floor, burning up, devouring all of the blood everywhere. The sword vanishes as soon as its task is done. 

It stinks. 

The man rises to his feet, carrying Zexion’s still body in his arms. 

“Follow me.”

“Why should I?” As soon as Crocus says that, he shrinks back. No, he shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have argued...

The Nobody doesn’t seem offended. But he also seems about as emotional as a rock. 

“Staying here for long will not be safe. For you and his recovery, we must go elsewhere.”

Crocus swallows. Licks his dry lips before nodding. “Okay.”

Um. Should he ask? No, he won’t. He’ll wait. For Zexion to wake up. 

Another Corridor opens up and the man strides through, with Zexion. 

Crocus doesn’t really want to follow, but...

The stranger’s got Zexion. 

So he does. 

The other side...is the opposite of everything Crocus’ ever known. Bright, well-light, no white anywhere...

It’s a...kitchen. That’s what those are called, right? He’s not sure. Only there’s food out in it and his stomach growls in response. No no, have to be quiet. Quiet is good. 

There’s a woman standing in here. Back to them. She’s got brown hair and blue clothes, everything so very different from Larxene or Namine. 

She turns. Her eyes widen, on seeing them. 

Crocus swallows. Shuffles behind the stranger. The stranger’s not safe, not really, but better than letting this new person who hasn’t proven herself by helping Zexion see him. 

“Saïx...what is this?”

Saïx, oh, that’s the man’s name. Crocus commits it to memory. Just in case. 

“I cannot get them away from here safely. You can.”

Those wide eyes narrow. “Safely. What are you protecting them from?”

Saïx ignores the question. 

“I would be tracked. You will not, Rinoa.”

The woman, Rinoa, starts at what must be her name. “What makes you think I can do it?”

Yellow eyes narrow. 

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. You don’t nearly have enough customers for this to be an entirely... legal business. Add in your knowledge of other worlds...what are you smuggling?”

Rinoa laughs. A weak sound. “Whoa, you really figured me all out. When did you know?”

“Just now.” Saïx ignores the woman’s sudden wheezing to carefully place Zexion on the counter. “You...take them somewhere safe. Do not let me know. Ever.”

Just like that, Saïx turns on his heel. Leaves the room and Crocus can hear with keen hearing the whoosh of a Corridor. 

Gone. 

Leaving Crocus and Zexion to the mercy of this woman. 

Rinoa swallows. She carefully pats Zexion on the shoulder. Rolls him over to lean against her body as she struggles to stand. 

“Okay...um, we can do this.” She tilts her head towards Crocus. “Um, are you coming?”

Crocus watches. That's what he’s always done. Especially since he doesn’t know what else to do right now. 

Only that...he needs to protect Zexion. 

And he needs to kill Riku for what he did. 

But first...

He meets Rinoa’s eyes. Steps forward to help her with Zexion. “Yeah. I’ll go with you.”

Crocus’ll figure it out. 

(He has to.)

Chapter Text

The day starts like any other. 

Nightmare-filled nights chase him shaking from his bed. 

Shivering and breathing heavily to control himself, Isa brushes through his knotted mess of hair. 

Looks dreadful. 

No one will notice. No one has noticed, for quite some time. 

Ever since...no. Not thinking about it. 

Everyone is in the Grey Area for once. Gossiping about their coworkers’ tragic demise, how dreadful. 

Isa does not roll his eyes. Really. Doesn’t. Would be too visible if he did. 

His worry...he buries it. If there’s one thing to thank Xigbar for, telling him the news early, it’s that Isa can manage that much with the extra time provided. 

Before hearing them all act like vultures...gods, no wonder Roxas had been horrified in a past time. Will be horrified? Possibly. That shouldn’t change. 

Roxas and Xion are together again. Isa wonders, for the shortest of moments, if she’s summoned her Keyblade in front of Roxas yet. Then he puts the thought aside and hands Roxas their mission. 

Under her hood, he can’t see her face clearly. Isa doesn’t even try to. A quick scan and return to his papers. 

Roxas is standing in front of him. Not leaving with his mission. 

Isa looks over his clipboard. “Yes?”

Roxas’ hands are shaking, the paper in them too. The boy appears not to notice. “When will Axel and the others be back?”

Xigbar laughs. “Haven’t you heard? They’ve been terminated ,” he spits out with dreadful glee. 

“What’s that?”

Demyx, for once, pulls his weight. In the entirely wrong direction for assistance, which is less surprising. “They’re gone forever. No coming back. Sucks, means more work.”

Bright blue eyes widen. “ Gone?”

Isa is not shaking. He’s not. This has happened before, why is he reacting so strongly this time?

Cursed Heart, hurts too much for this. 

“Is Axel gone too?” Roxas, of course of course, asks next. 

Xaldin sniffs. “Yes. And good riddance!”

Snap. 

The sound is unbearably loud, in the sudden silence. 

Takes a moment, to realize that he’s now holding two halves of his clipboard. Papers scattered across the floor. 

Particularly everyone ( everyone that’s left some cruel inner voice murmurs) is there to see him lose control. Demyx intelligently shrinks into his seat, while Luxord and Xigbar examine Isa with far too much interest. 

Xaldin opens his mouth. Probably to make some sort of scoffing comment. 

Isa doesn’t even bother to see how Xion and Roxas are responding, at that point. 

No. 

Enough of this. 

He launches one half of shattered wood in Xigbar’s direction, the other at Xaldin. Isa’ll pay for that later, he knows, but right now, that doesn’t matter. Can’t matter. 

Isa doesn’t stomp off, no matter what anyone else says. 

Only.

Leaves.

Always plenty of work to get lost in, when everything else fails. Paperwork to spare and leave him homicidal. 

He can’t focus enough to do it. 

His breathing comes out ragged. Ridiculous. Isa hasn’t fought anyone, verbally or physically. 

The probability is high that Axel will be fine. Only taking his time like before. 

So why is his body reacting like this? Why does his heart beat and beat, threatening to throw itself against his ribs?

His entire body aches. He feels ill, like gravity is pulling him into lava. Leans forward, enough to rest his head on the desk. Just a moment, just a single moment. 

Please. 

A sound by the door. 

No moment, then. Isa jerks upwards, ready for anything but who he sees. 

A small hooded figure. 

Her. 

Xion. 

A jolt to the chest, in response. 

“Isa.”

He should correct her. To be safe. 

He doesn’t. Only stares at her, breathing hard. Words won’t come.

Xion takes that as a sign to continue. Steps inside, quietly closing the door behind her. 

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

“You need to leave,” he chokes out. 

She pauses. Tilts her head, hood flopping back. Her hair...it hasn’t gone back to black. Not entirely. The bright blue streaks still remain there in her hair, he can’t help but note. 

They...

Shouldn’t be there. But they are. 

His throat closes up even further. 

Xion takes a single step closer. 

“You send me food.”

That...Isa’s fingers twitch. He can’t really deny. No one else would do that. Ever.

Or think to do that, in Axel’s case. 

“But you won’t talk to me.” Xion persists. Something she’s always been good at, in the present and a past that isn’t. Persisting.

She’s right next to his desk now. When did that happen?

“It’s better not to.”

She blinks. “For who?”

Saying you seems almost arrogant. He says nothing. 

Xion seems to get an answer out of that anyway, humming to herself. 

“Let me show you something.”

Xion summons her Keyblade. 

Her Keyblade...doesn’t look like the one she’s always used up to now. The Keyblade that Sora used first. 

More heavy-set, solid in a less conventional key-shape. Silver, with purple and yellow handle. The shape seems familiar somehow. 

Every weapon in the Organization has a name. Lea’s Keyblade also had a name, as stupid as it was. 

He doesn’t know if Xion’s Keyblade ever did, Isa is slightly startled to realize. Or Roxas, since he never asked. Never felt comfortable asking. 

“...Does it have a name?” he asks. Gently. 

Her eyes are bright. Eager to tell him. “Lunar Eclipse.”

That’s... 

Oh. 

...At least it’s not his claymore. Isa wouldn’t know how to explain that at this point in time. And no one else will ask for a Keyblade’s name. 

Roxas might know, but he also keeps his own counsel when it comes to weapon names. Or did, it’ll probably be the same this time. Probably.

“I’m really good with it!” Xion announces proudly. “I can protect myself.”

Why is she telling him that? Wouldn’t she brag about that to Roxas or Axel, if she bragged at all? 

The entire bragging thing is very new. Never happened before that Isa recalls. At least, not in his vicinity. Among the Organization or afterwards. 

“Do you...” Isa searches for words. Questions are difficult. Flat statements that could be orders are much easier. “You can show me later. If you like.”

Xion, impossibly, seems to get even brighter at the offer. Enough that the outline her body fuzzes and zaps. A bit like the static of a broken television set.  

The blue hair goes almost neon. More solid than the rest of her, for those brief seconds. 

She doesn’t seem hurt by this sudden change, doesn’t even appear to notice it at all. 

But. 

Isa reaches out. Wraps his arms around her. Pulls her close, rests his head on hers. 

She’s warm, her body tucked up against his. Snug in his arms. 

Faintly, he feels her squirm, moving to wrap her arms around him in turn. Returning his almost desperate hug, the meaning of she doesn’t even understand. Not yet. 

But he’ll teach her, won’t he? He’ll share this and more, with her. 

A sharp jagged edge soothes inside of his Heart. The thought of sending more time with Xion...

He...Isa missed this. 

How could he ever let this go?

(Let her go.)

There are splinters littering his bed that night. Would take hours to pick out by hand. 

Lovely.

Truly fantastic.

Isa sighs and allows his Berserkers to devour the trash. But not the sheets. 

“Xion, what are you doing? With your arms?”

“It’s called a hug, Roxas. What do you think?”

“I...don’t stop.”

“I won’t.”

A slump. A fall. 

“Wait..Roxas, Roxas? Roxas!”

Demyx has been avoiding him lately. Isa hasn’t seen much of Xaldin lately either. 

If that isn’t a sign of how much he screwed up, Isa wouldn’t know what is. 

If only Xaldin would take his revenge sooner rather than later, Xigbar’s already taken his after all...make this easier on Isa. 

The counting of the days. 

Axel is gone still. 

Roxas is...asleep. Xion is inconsolate. Comes to him in private for hugs and leaves soon after. She’s even been refusing the Berserkers’ attempts to be near her. 

Roxas. 

Isa doesn’t quite close his eyes, doesn’t quite sigh. 

He’ll wake soon. He did so last time, didn’t he?

If he collapsed like this, his waking should stay the same. Isa didn’t change that...right?

For some reason, the Moogle has started selling him Healing items again. At exorbitant prices, but still. 

Tells him to use them “for the boy.”

Heh. As if Isa won’t, if Roxas’ condition worsens. 

As for Axel...

It’s not been a month yet, it took a month last time. A deadline that Axel wouldn’t even know that Isa half-expects him to meet. 

Should he still live. 

Blood in his mouth. His fangs have been cutting open the inside of his cheeks a lot more often lately. 

Informing him of the Berserking rage that threatens to break free. 

Zexion is also gone. At least Isa knows he lives, though if that will profit him in the end...

Only time will tell. 

Isa can wait. He waited last time, didn’t he? With far less information and possible allies than he does now. 

(But now, he knows what there is to lose.)

Speaking of time...

Isa turns to his companion. A certain Gambler of Fate. 

“The area is clear to discuss what you found.”

Who would have guessed that a possible connection to Subject X could be found in individuals outside of the former Apprentices?

That phrase, “may your Heart be your guiding Key”...what did it mean to Luxord? Certainly enough to get him listening to Isa, but the history behind it, Isa still doesn’t know. Only that Keyblades had something to do with it. 

Luxord taps at his wrist, flicks a card free. “Now, how exactly did you ‘clear’ the area?”

Isa pulls up his lip, exposing one long fang. Lets his eyes glow slightly. Releases a pulse of invisible rage, one that always drives Lesser Nobodies away. Invisible but for the static shock of Isa’s increasingly rising hair. 

Luxord lets out a sound of realization. “Ah? My Gamblers as well, I presume.”

“Only my Berserkers,” Isa agrees. Then pauses. Cages the rage once more, lets his hair settle on his shoulders. “But only for so long. The report.”

A low chuckle. “No matter what else might have changed, your impatience remains the same, Lunar Diviner.”

“For good reason, Gambler of Fate, ” Isa retorts. 

“Perhaps,” Luxord allows. He taps his fingers against his single card, allowing that same card to vanish into the ether. 

“That World you wanted me to look into, it’s very Light, isn’t it? Difficult to convince my Nobodies to traverse.”

“Luxord.” Get to the point. 

“Very quiet. Different from the usual. One might think there is nothing of any importance there.”

“What leaves you thinking differently?”

Luxord smiles. “You asking me to look into it, of course.”

Isa nods and says nothing. 

As for the World in question being discussed?

Destiny Islands. Looking into that World could very well be the end of both Isa and Luxord, should any number of individuals find out. 

The Heroes of Dark and Light certainly wouldn’t hesitate to snuff out any curious Nobodies for drawing too close to a certain Princess. Especially since Isa wants Luxord to keep an eye on that same Princess...

“Saïx.”

Isa meets those blue eyes steadily.

“What are you looking for, on that World?”

Isa...hesitates. Telling Luxord is one thing and is most likely necessary to the Nobody on his side, but out loud? Even with all of the Lesser Nobodies out of the area, kept away by his Berserkers...still possible that the walls have ears. Metaphorical or otherwise. 

Risky. 

Unless he uses another method to convey the information. 

“Show me your cards and I’ll show you an answer,” Isa bargains. Sort of. It’ll certainly be enough to get the gambler’s attention. 

Sure enough, Luxord’s eyebrows go up. His hand goes to his sleeve. Peeling new cards free, a deck’s worth. 

Shuffling them out, he spreads out the face side towards Isa. 

“Take your pick.”

No hesitation. One gloved finger reaches out to tap one card and then the other. 

Luxord looks at the cards in question, and hums quietly. 

The Queen of Hearts and the Seven of Hearts. 

The Queen, for some gods-forgotten reason, looks like a scowling Isa. 

Great. 

Purposefully vague, but hopefully enough to get Luxord thinking. Along with continuing to assist Isa, if Isa’s playing along with his “schtick” at the very least. 

“If that is the case...there is something else.”

Isa lowers his eyelids into an almost glare. “What?”

Luxord flips his deck from hand to hand, shuffling the cards together. 

“On one of the beaches there...my Gamblers found something. Something impossible.”

“Impossible, except they found it,” Isa points out.

Luxord almost laughs, shaking his head. “True enough.”

Isa folds his arms across his chest. “The discovery?”

Luxord’s finger taps the edge of his deck. Flips up a Jack. Roxas on that card, but...Isa focuses on Luxord’s index finger tapping what Roxas’ image holds. 

His Keyblade.

“Where?” Isa breathes. 

Luxord inclines his head, flipping the card back down. “Out there in the sand. No one else near it.”

The sands of a beach in this case, obviously, but vague enough to be mistaken for Agrabah. Hopefully. 

A Keyblade on Destiny Islands, by itself? How?

There’s no Keyblade wielders residing on the World currently, excepting Kairi’s potential that may or may not have been realized yet. And she wouldn’t leave a Keyblade abandoned on the beach. 

So whose could it be? Perhaps its owner is now deceased, like ones whose weapons litter the Keyblade Graveyard. 

Important. This is important. 

“My Gamblers couldn’t retrieve it. I certainly will be unable as well.”

May your Heart be your guiding Key... “Try it anyway.”

Luxord looks truly surprised. The surprise transforms into an emotion more...calculating. 

“You truly think...I see.”

Isa doesn’t quite shrug. The temptation is there, though. “A theory. I might be wrong.”

“At the risk of sounding treasonous... ” Luxord’s eyes linger on Isa, as his cards vanish one by one. “Your theories sound more interesting than those of a certain leader of ours.”

Isa flinches. 

He can’t help it. 

Luxord freezes. Too still, inhumanly still, but for his head tilting forward like a curious heron’s. Examining a possible metaphorical mussel to pry open. 

“Our time is up,” Isa ends the stalemate as swiftly as possible. Already he can feel the Berserkers pressing in his mind, flooding his thoughts with murmured failure. 

The Lesser Nobodies are coming back and with them, possible spies. 

“Ah. My work for today is...?” Luxord lets the question linger. 

Isa is not in the mood for his games. Well, not that he usually is, it’s just less than the norm currently. “Completed and filed. No one will think anything of it.”

Luxord was supposed to do...Wonderland, was it? Wherever it was, Isa had already sent some of his Lesser Nobodies to take care of the Heartless that were supposed to be his targets. 

And filed up the numbers provided somewhat haphazardly. Apparently anything beyond thirteen was too much for Lessers. Under Luxord’s name instead, of course. 

Should anyone check, the paperwork will be there to attest to Luxord having done his assignments for today. If anyone will check. 

A nod. “Of course.”

Gone in the Dark, shuffled away by his Corridor. 

Leaving Isa alone. 

A Keyblade...what should he do with it? What does it mean?

A breath. 

Change. 

Zexion, to be perfectly honest for once in his existence, had not been entirely expecting to wake up after passing out from blood-loss. 

Yet here he is.

Awake. 

Surrounded by bags of...something. A cramped space. No fresh air cycling though, fairly stale. Sealed, then. 

Zexion sniffs the air. His nose wrinkles. 

Ugh...the amount of preservatives in here. Food, then. Awful food. 

Someone shifts next to him. 

Zexion doesn’t react. He already knows who it is, took in his scent of mint and raspberries and cleaning chemicals. A mix that doesn’t make any sense for this individual, excepting the cleaning chemicals. 

The Replica smiles, eyes bright. “Zexion!”

“Crocus,” Zexion returns, more calmly. His chest is exposed, he realizes suddenly, his coat gone. The physical heart in his chest attempts to beat its version of frantic at the realization. 

He breathes and the bandages wrapped around his chest feel tight. Pressing down. 

A gamble, one that Zexion rather he didn’t have to take. 

That Saïx wouldn’t...kill him. Is invested enough in their almost-allies situation.  

And the Nobody hadn’t. Instead healing him and...

“What is this?”

He repeats his check over his surroundings and puts the pieces together. 

The cargo hold of some kind of Gummi-ship...interesting. 

Crocus shuffles his feet, huddling up against some especially lumpy bag. Provides an answer. Of sorts. 

“Saïx said we couldn’t stay, it was dangerous and he would be tracked if he took us. So he sent us away.”

Saïx...isn’t wrong, as much as Zexion despises to admit it. Should the Nobody have acted to take Zexion and Crocus, he would have been most likely noticed. By his ally Axel, most likely. And Zexion would thus be finished off in his weakness, Crocus taken out as an extra. 

Yes, he can’t blame Saïx for the decision. Not when Zexion does not fully understand why he himself went to Saïx in the first place. 

(Nor why Saïx helped him.)

But those words imply that someone else is taking them somewhere then, if not Saïx. 

Also...

Zexion narrows an eye. “Who exactly is taking us off-world?”

The stomping of feet. A door hissing open. 

Ah. This must be the individual in question. Just in time-

A hiss slips free at the sight. The stink. A Somebody. 

A woman in blue, brown hair and eyes. 

Said Somebody doesn’t even flinch. Zexion grudgingly gives her some credit for that. 

She squats down in sturdy boots, gives Crocus a little wave that the Replica doesn’t return. 

“Hey, how are you doing? Holding up all right?”

“Why would I tell you that?” Zexion taps the fingers of his still gloved hand against the ground. 

Her head sways back and forth. “Well, I don’t want to kill you and I’m carrying you around right now, so I might be a little invested? Probably?”

“You’re doing it for Saïx,” Crocus says with the air of revelation. 

Ah, that makes sense. But that does not explain how Saïx has contact with a Somebody in the first place. Especially...

Zexion eyes the dingy, beat up walls. Walls a mixed green and blue, faded ocean. 

“You use your ship for the good of your fellow humans and all that, I presume will be your excuse?” Zexion huffs. 

“Saïx said something about smuggling?” Crocus volunteers. 

The woman gasps. “You didn’t!”

Zexion feels his lip about to lift into a sneer. Hastily he smooths it back down. 

He’s not Vexen. 

“A smuggler...who knew that rule-stickler keeps such company? And what are you smuggling...?” Zexion leans over on his aching side to better access a nearby bag. 

“Doritos?” he reads off one of the bags. Some kind of vegetable chip, it looks like. 

The Somebody nods and flaps a hand at him. “People have to get their snacks somewhere. ”

Zexion feels his single eyebrow moving upwards. “Traveling the worlds, in secret, under the risk of attack by whatever lies in that space in between...all of that for snacks. ”

She pouts, leaning forward to tap her hand against her boot. “Hey, snacks are important. But no, not just for snacks.”

A wide wave at both him and Crocus. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

She flicks him in the forehead. Brushes his hair enough to the side that he’s certain she sees his eyespot. 

Zexion flinches. By his side Crocus stiffens. 

The Somebody only sits back on her hands, studying him steadily with her dark brown eyes. 

Silence, for once. An unbearable silence, for once. 

Zexion knows he shouldn’t break it. His learning is the sort done best in silence. 

But he has to know what she knows. 

“So? What about it?”

The woman blinks. “About what?”

Zexion grinds his teeth. She’s going to make him say it, is she? He won’t. Simply gestures towards his newly hidden eyespot instead. 

“ Oooh. That.” She nods. “Well...”

Her fingers twist around in a curl of hair. Tugs at it. 

“Saïx has those fangs, and Demyx’s got gills of all things...so a weird eye isn’t too different from that?”

Zexion stills. A Somebody has seen what makes Nobodies unnatural, monstrous and doesn’t reject them? Saïx hasn’t killed her for daring to observe what he’s always despised most about his appearance? 

More importantly...

“You’ve met Demyx as well?”

“Yup!” She claps her hands together. “He’s quite a fan of my super-duper spicy curry, by the way! First one!”

Crocus mouths curry?, looking puzzled. 

“It’s a food.”

The Somebody looks confused in turn. Time for a change in subject. 

“Your name?” Zexion prompts. 

“I’m Rinoa Heartfilly.” A smile. “You can call me Rinoa, if you want.”

Um. Zexion’s certainly not close enough for that. They’ve just met! Besides, she’s a Somebody. 

“Miss Heartfilly,” Zexion settles on. 

Miss Heartfilly nods. “Okay, I’ll take that.”

She rises to her feet, rolling her shoulders to get apparent kinks out. Turns to walk towards the entrance to this bay-area. 

“Where are we going?” Crocus asks. He glances nervously at Zexion. 

He nods. It’s fine. Knowledge that he needs to have as well. 

Miss Heartfilly looks back over her shoulder. 

“They call it Hollow Bastion.”

Chapter Text

A quiet day. Quiet enough that Isa isn’t surprised when he walks into his room to find Xion going through his belongings. 

There’s a Berserker here too, but that’s normal. Usual. 

Isa lifts an eyebrow. “Anything interesting?” 

Xion jumps. Puts down the brush she’d been examining. “Uh...”

He shakes his head, hair flinging a bit into his face. “Never mind. What are you here for? Do you have a question?”

Xion stands there, fidgeting. Pulling at her gloves. 

Isa waits patiently. 

Her question comes soon after. 

“I saw a person with their hair like...” Xion points at her head, wiggles her fingers around to indicate a...circle? A pile?

“On top of their head?” Isa leads. He’s not quite sure what she’s talking about, but he wants to provide a good answer. A correct answer. 

She nibbles at her lip, eyes deep in thought. “Something with their hair...like Xigbar puts his back, or Xaldin has a bunch of ‘em.”

Oh. That’s clearer. He can actually explain that. 

“A different hairstyle. Xigbar has a ponytail while Xaldin has dreadlocks.”

“But it’s something you do to your hair, right?” Xion persists along the line of questioning. Where is she going with this?

“Yes. Depending on the style you want.” Isa shrugs. 

“And if your hair’s long. Both Xigbar and Xaldin have very long hair.” Xion gives him a long look. “But not as long as yours.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Isa agrees. Doesn’t elaborate. Because really...the long hair had been a choice for the other Nobodies who had it, as far as Isa could tell. But for Isa, Saïx, it both was and wasn’t. 

Long hair for Saïx was a result of him not trusting anyone at his back to cut it and being too...empty to do anything with it. So he just allowed his hair to get longer and longer.

Lucky that a Nobody’s hair often took years to grow even an inch.  

Now...he’s simply used to it. 

That’s all. 

“Can you do something with your hair?” Xion asks. Curious, very curious, her hands twitching in her lap. 

So that’s where she’s going with this. Huh. 

Isa eyes her. “...Do you want to do something with it?”

She nods. Then frowns. “But I don’t know how.”

Isa opens his mouth to inform he has no idea either. He’s never done anything with his hair, short when young and long now. 

Show how braid. The Berserker offers. The Berserker in the room he had been ignoring. 

What?

Before he can properly react, Xion does in his stead. 

“Do you have a name?” Xion asks. Unshocked by the offer. Like it’s perfectly normal. What exactly had the Berserkers been doing, with her?

Isa opens his mouth to correct her, to say they don’t... but is that true? Lesser Nobodies didn’t offer hair care lessons and here this Berserker was. Could it have a name?

Isa takes his first real look at the Lesser Nobody in the room. Instead of merely noting that it’s there. 

The Berserker is...painted blue? Well, not quite. Splattered in patches of a sky blue, along the joints and limbs. 

Certainly very different from its kin. More...alive, twitching in a smoother fashion than in the past. 

Bjorn. The Berserker eventually says. A name. An actual name. 

“A good name.” Isa closes his eyes briefly. He’ll have to think more about this. Later. “Do any of the other Berserkers have names they’d share?”

No other. The Berserker, Bjorn, drifts closer. Not yet, it adds. 

Not yet? Isa wants to ask more questions on what that entails, exactly, but is instead distracted by a tug on his hair. 

“Oops.”

“It’s alright.”

Show how braid, Bjorn repeats its offer. 

“Show me,” Xion requests. 

A moment of silence, in which Isa presumes the Lesser Nobody is beaming visual instructions directly and strictly to Xion’s head. Since he’s certainly not receiving anything. 

The girl slowly moves to stand behind him. Something itches inside at the thought of not seeing what she’s doing, but he pushes it down. 

He can trust Xion. 

“Sit down. Please.”

Isa smiles and easily sits down. Criss-crossing his legs as he does so. Shortly after, he feels her hands in his hair. Warm hands. 

She’s...taken her gloves off. Taking this very seriously, her face is probably deep in thought, serious face-wise. His Heart warms at the idea. 

He settles down further on the ground. Places his palms flat against it for support. 

Just in case. 

A hard yank comes out of nowhere. Straight to the roots. 

Isa is used to pain. A Berserker is made for pain. 

This is nothing. There are certainly no tears springing to his eyes, none whatsoever.

“Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” he says. Somehow.

Her next touches are soft. Gentle as she moves strands of hair to twist around each other. Feels...nice. 

His body relaxes, and his eyes grow heavy. 

Xion smells of flowers, of salt. Of herself. Fully and truly. 

It’ll be better this time. He promises. 

“Isa, I’m done!”

“Hm.”

He opens his eyes. Xion is in front of him, anxiously peering into his face. His eyes. She doesn’t flinch back and her gloves are back on. 

“You have to see!” From somewhere, who knows where, Xion puts out a small pocket mirror. 

Why does Xion have a mirror?

Isa puts the question aside to examine his new hairstyle in the reflection. Ignoring his too yellow eyes, his scar, his fangs...

(How monstrous he is.)

It’s the simplest of braids, nothing truly complicated. 

A clumsy thing, strands wisping out. His hair, heavy as it is, threatens to fall out already. Knots aplenty thrive. Isa will need to brush through it more thoroughly for next time. 

It’s a pity he’ll have to take it out. Let no one know what occurred.

But.

Just for a moment. 

His hair can remain braided. 

“It looks good.” He turns from the mirror to her. 

Her smile is brighter than any star. 

Axel arrives right on schedule. Extremely late. 

He goes to Roxas first this time too. Yet this time, Xion eagerly informs Isa that Axel is back and not dead and he wanted to do ice cream with them some more!

Isa has to hear from Xion, not Axel, that he’s not dead. 

That his worrying has been for nothing. Again. 

Isa swallows back bitter bile. He has no right to feel this way. His jealousy consumed him another time, never again. 

It’s better that Axel is with Xion and Roxas. Better for the kids. 

Perhaps he should put some effort in convincing Xion to only do things with Axel and Roxas. To stay away from him. 

(No matter how it hurts.)

Axel comes to him. Eventually. As before. 

The report is succinct. Straightforward without any of the important details. Such as who killed who and how many are actually dead. Somewhat more important this time since Zexion survived where another version of him did not. Alongside the Riku Replica. 

“What a mess.” Axel shakes his head. “But I handled it. In the end.”

“Of course,” Isa allows. 

“At least both of those ‘heroes’ are asleep.”

Isa blinks. What? That’s...new. 

“They are?”

“Yeah, Riku and Sora. Fast asleep. Won’t have to worry about them any time soon. But enough about that.”

A careless hand gesture. On Axel’s part, not Isa’s. 

“What were you doing with Zexion?”

Isa’s spine stiffens, thoughts racing frantically. Does he know? Know who Isa spared. “What?”

Axel leans forward, eyes drawing into angry slits. “Answer the question. What did you tell Zexion, before the mission at Castle Oblivion? What exactly did you say?”

Oh, he doesn’t know. Probably. Or he would be asking about that instead.

His spine doesn’t quite relax, despite that conclusion. Still tense. 

Isa laces his fingers together. “Merely...to keep an eye on the Replica Project.”

“The Replica Project?” Axel leans back out of Isa’s space, clearly thrown. “Why?”

Isa opens his mouth. Then closes it. Right, he doesn’t know. Not yet. 

(About Xion.)

He...can’t tell him. Not the details. But maybe...

“Replicas can be like Nobodies, but they have Hearts where we don’t,” Isa settles on, “A possible method to get our Hearts back. If we figure out how.”

Axel narrows his eyes. “Right. Always about Kingdom Hearts with you.”

What?

“Don’t you want your Heart back, Axel?”

Axel breathes out, almost a sigh. His hands drift to his head, as if he’s contemplating putting his head in them. 

“Saïx...I just want to know what’s going on. ”

What if he told him. What if he told Axel everything. 

What if he told him and Axel acts and Xemnas kills them both. 

No. 

He can’t. 

Even as Saïx, he lied for Axel. He’ll keep doing that, to keep him safe. 

Isa would rather lie and lie, if it meant Axel living. Even if it meant losing everything else. 

(He died for Lea, once. Another life, another time, three years from now.)

(He would do it again.)

“I will do my work, as you will do yours,” Isa replies stiffly. “When I’ve found out more...I’ll tell you.”

Axel looks at him steadily.

“Isa.”

Isa’s heart beats faster.  

Isa already knows what he’s going to say before he says it. 

“We can’t do this anymore. We’re done.”

Axel’s long gone by the time Isa can even think of mustering up a response. So Isa doesn’t. Say anything, he means. 

It’s...fine. It’s what he deserves. This split between them is inevitable, if Isa doesn’t want to hurt Axel. 

(But it still hurts, in the end.)

“Well, well. Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

“As if that’s possible, without a Heart,” Isa snaps back. The Heart in question, the one that shouldn’t exist, burns and aches in his chest. 

Xigbar laughs. A hoarse donkey-like sound. He waves a hand. “True enough!”

He leans over on his elbow. “But you don’t have to be a downer all the time, Saïx. Live it up a little! Who cares about anything?”

Isa eyes him disdainfully. Contemplates pushing him off his perch on the couch, onto the floor. He doesn’t, instead shuffling through his papers. 

Uselessly. Isa’s already gone through them at least a dozen times. Nothing new there. 

“Your attitude is part of why we still lack our Hearts.” Isa goes through the motions. But none of these harsh words, so typical of Saïx, matter in the end. Not when the truth is that they could have regrown their Hearts from the very start, when all of this is a lie. 

Chains tying them to each other. To Xehanort. A trap. 

Isa...he won’t let this happen to Xion, Roxas. Axel. 

But for him? It’s already too late. He tied himself to Xehanort a long time ago, without even understanding what he had done. 

Isa looks up, to meet that single gold eye. The same color as his own eyes. The one thing that the two of them share, Isa and Xigbar. 

“Calm down, Saïx. We don’t gotta worry about those hero-types anymore, remember?”

The Nobody taps his skull in some parody of Axel’s usual gesture. Isa decides to be the bigger person for once and ignore it. 

Of course Xigbar knows. Even considering Isa barely gave Xemnas the finished report on the disaster in Castle Oblivion barely two hours ago.

How does he do it?

...Isa probably shouldn’t ask. Besides, Xigbar is incorrect about the “hero-types” at hand. One is left. One that Isa hopes will hold the line. Give him time to get plans in motion, that’s all he needs at this point. 

Isa taps his fingers against his thigh. “One other Keyblade wielder remains...the Mouse King, correct? He might oppose us.”

“That rat? As if!” Another laugh. “He might be an actual threat if he stopped running away from everything and everyone.”

“He might stop running for a sleeping...protege.” Isa hopes, at least. That would be ideal. 

“Maybe so,” Xigbar agrees, hitching his leg up to rest his head on his knee. “But as long as those kids stay asleep...no need to worry.”

A smile curls on his face. “You can do a lot to a Somebody in their Dreams.”

Isa doesn’t bother searching for a reply to that. 

Instead he considers simply Xigbar. Xigbar, who will never be a willing ally to Isa, who wants something from Xehanort too much to betray him. 

A Nobody who is a vessel willingly. But why? Is there a way to offer him whatever it may be, possibly?

“What do you want?” The question slips from thought into speech carelessly. Too careless, he shouldn’t have-!

Xigbar doesn’t sit up. His shoulders straighten slightly, however. “We’re all here for Hearts, aren’t we?” His gloved hand goes down to tug at his boot, tapping at an ankle. 

His joints click as he moves his wrist wrong. In directions it shouldn’t go. 

Isa should leave it at that. There is no profit in this. 

He inclines his head. “Of course,” Isa intones. Backing off. 

Xigbar, of course, can’t leave the error of a question alone. Moves forward verbally instead. 

“Or are you talking about after we get our Hearts back?” His joints click and clack. “Because anyone with half a brain can see what you’re after, Saïx.”

“And?” A breath of a word, nothing more, nothing less. Waiting for the inevitable break. 

Xigbar doesn’t disappoint. 

“Got it memorized, amiright?” he cackles.  

Leather creaks under the clenching of Isa’s fists. The sound stops as he forces himself to relax his grip. 

This is nothing. This is nothing but rumors and interactions over ten long years. Longer than ten years, when one really thinks it through. 

As much as Isa wants to protect Axel from that, he has to admit: it’s already too late. Too clear for anyone with eyes to see. Except perhaps Axel himself. 

That “relationship”...can serve as a shield now. For others who are smaller, younger, and need that protection more. 

“What of it, Number Two ?” he says evenly. Too evenly, for his racing heart. “Aren’t you yourself busy following our Superior’s every beck and call?” 

A pause as Xigbar’s single eye goes wide.

Broken by a howl of a laugh. “As if! HA! He’s not my type, too young for me.”

Xigbar stands up with a cracking of bones and joints, too loud. “Besides, he prefers... blue. Or old friends.”

What?

While Isa’s blinking at the thought of Xemnas having any friends , Xigbar moves towards the door. But then pauses. Steps back, move close enough to pat Isa on the shoulder.  More like a whack, with the pressure he puts into it. 

“Here. A favor. In exchange for the laugh.”

Isa scowls. He would really like to kill Xigbar. Right now. “Yes?”

“You really want to keep your little slumber parties under the boss’s radar, you should try less stick and more... dick. ”

That’s enough. Isa shoves the Nobody away, crunches at a shin with a heavy boot, and watches in satisfaction as Xigbar just barely remains upright.

He’ll pay for that later, most definitely. Right now, the actions are worth it.  

“Just think about it!” Xigbar calls over his shoulder, limping away. “Be a great distraction!”

Isa snorts.

“As if.”

This World is so bright. As bright as the stupid kid who almost killed her. 

Blood drips from the gashes in Larxene’s coat, as she stumbles out of the surf. 

Well, he pretty much has killed her. She can feel her Soul shredding, lightning threatening to break free of her Nobody flesh. 

Shadow peels off of her as she stubbornly keeps going. Hugging the last chunk of Marluxia currently existing. 

A chunk of vines interwoven with each other as not meat muscles, a thorn-ridden arm. Still warm, still dribbling black blood on her. 

Now, she’s dying but this World is the boy’s. Is the place where the Somebody of that witch stays. If she only gets to the shore, buries her burden...

Well. 

She’ll be dead, soon after, but revenge will be hers. 

The crunch of footsteps across sand. Not hers, since she stopped for a breath. 

“Larxene. You survived.”

She knows that voice-! That coat! Larxene snarls, both out of frustration and something else she doesn’t want to name. 

What is he doing here? She should be the only Nobody on this World! She’s already spent her Limit Break, she’s bleeding, dying. 

(Can’t win.)

“ Luxord,” she hisses. Desperately hugs the limb to her chest, useless the action may be. 

The man looks down at her, flipping a card between the fingers on one hand. 

“Now, why are you here, of all places? One would think you would RTC once the mission failed.”

A rusty, glass-shattering laugh erupts from her. “Of course not! Not after we failed. ”

Failed their coup, their mission. 

Because, in the end...

Sora got away. 

“Ah. It was that, then.”

Luxord allows the card to disappear. Draws closer, boots sinking into the soft sand. Along the edges, Larxene catches Gamblers bringing themselves in out of nothing. Surrounding her.  

“A pity. But I suppose you and Marluxia provide a decent distraction from what will truly make a difference, in the end.”

Larxene bristles. “Not my fault you’re all losers!” Her fingers itch towards her sleeves, just a little closer...

Luxord pauses in his movement. “Losers? Larxene, you’re the one that’s currently bleeding out,” he points out mildly, “While I am not.”

Larxene may be dying. She still refuses to go out without a fight. 

“Not for long!”

She throws the limb in Luxord’s face and pulls back her coat sleeves. Along the shape of her elbow, curves an entire line of porcupine-like quills. Electrified and flung out in an attack like her knives when she sweeps out her arms at Luxord. 

Who somehow, somehow catches each and every one with a sweep of cards. 

The dick. 

(Is dying making her slower? Too slow?)

He’s somehow in her space, she’s dizzy, knocking her over onto the beach. 

The sand digs into her face. 

She can’t get up. She’s bleeding. 

There’s a boot on her arm, keeping her from using her spines again. Her other arm is pinned under her body, no go on it too. Larxene curses, trying to move anyway. It hurts.  

“Since you’re at my mercy...a question.”

Larxene spits. It misses Luxord’s boot by...a lot. Agh. Stupid of her. 

Luxord ignores the motion, continuing. “If I say...may your Heart be-”

“Your guiding Key.” What? Larxene shakes her head. Her entire body is shaking. Why did she say that? Why does it sound so familiar?

“Another piece on the board,” Luxord muses, grinding Larxene’s arm into the sand even harder than before. She can’t help the hiss of pain that escapes. “But what is the game? How does he know about it?”

“Does it even matter, trash?” Larxene says, words full of every bit of salt and scorn that is left in her. “I’m dead, anyway. Your game means nothing. ”

“Perhaps.”

Luxord flips out more of his cards, she can hear even if she can’t see it with her face in the sand. Ready to finish her off. 

Larxene steels herself. For her death. At least it’s not at the hands of some kid...

“I always win in the end.” A flash of a card. 

Pain. 

Nothing. 

Chapter Text

Hollow Bastion isn’t what he recalls of it. 

Zexion’s not disappointed, that’s a feeling and he doesn’t feel. It would be...easier, that’s all, if things were the same. 

Less Heartless, for one thing. 

Crocus and he take care of them with no issue, while Heartfilly flutters her hands and lets the two of them do the fighting. 

Zexion rolls his eye. Somebodies. 

Everything is so empty, so dusty. He knows intellectually it’s been a decade, but the physical realization of it is somewhat different. Digging in his stomach. 

Then Heartfilly opens her mouth. “This is a lot emptier than I remember it.” A weak laugh. “Guess a lot changes in a decade, huh?”

“You lived here?” Zexion looks her over. She doesn’t look familiar, but then, a lot changes in ten years. He would know. “Why don’t you come back here, instead of staying in Twilight Town?”

Somebodies have strong connections to their homeworlds, don’t they? Her staying away doesn’t make much sense. 

Heartfilly looks away, not meeting his eye. “...a lot changes in ten years. This isn’t my home anymore.”

She sits down on the cold stone, leaning against the wall behind her. “There’s...responsibilities that I can’t carry out, duties that don’t exist any longer.” 

Her brown eyes close. 

“A lot changes,” she repeats. “Too much changed.”

Heartfilly looks... sad. Mournful. Zexion’s stomach churns at the sight. 

“Aren’t there people you care about here?” Crocus asks next. Far too curious for his own good, really, but curiosity is good. 

Zexion’ll allow it. Especially outside of the Organization. 

Heartfilly lets what might’ve been a laugh, in a past life. “They don’t need me. Sure, I might send a letter or two...” she shrugs. “But we all have our own lives now.”

That’s how it works, in the Organization. Everyone keeping to themselves, leading their own lives, despite what past connections may have existed at some point or another. Perfectly normal, for a Nobody. Trust a Somebody to make it sad. Undesirable. 

Crocus shuffles his feet. He looks back at Zexion nervously. 

Zexion holds back a sigh and nods instead. 

The Replica then decides to walk over to the Somebody, settles down on the ground next to her. 

Takes a deep breath and goes for it. 

“Can you tell me more?”

A surprised smile. “Sure, I’ll do you one better. A story.”

A story? Zexon’s not listening, he’s looking through what’s left in the castle after ten years of Darkness. 

He still manages to catch, “-a tale of how the goddess of the moon saw the goddess of flowers and fell in love at first sight. Lunes, as the goddess-”

Oh, that one. A traditional story that Ienzo once listened to, as a boy. Everyone in Hollow Bastion heard a variation on it at least once. 

Zexion is not that boy any longer. 

He walks out of the room. Let Crocus be distracted, the Replica wouldn’t be able to identify anything that Zexion might need anyway. 

(Not your story, not your life.)

Other rooms to look through, to see if anything is left. 

Tunnels full of Heartless that he takes care of with ease, so many broken parts...surely there must be something. 

In one of the rooms, Zexion hears...rustling. Breathing too, which means it’s not Heartless. But who else would be in here?

He looks over. 

A Moogle. Hmm. Scavenging, it appears. 

Zexion taps his boot against the ground, arms folded across his chest. “Excuse me.”

The Moogle in question freezes once it sees him. “Oh! I’m sorry, kupo! Are you here for something?” It flutters midair, patting its little paws against its stomach nervously. 

Zexion tilts his head. “No. Only...what have you found?” 

The nervous tick stops, as the Moogle is assured by familiar ground. It straightens. 

“Would you like to do business, kupo?” 

Zexion doesn’t quite smile, but his face comes close. 

“I think we can work something out.”

Bjorn isn’t supposed to remember anything. Lesser Nobodies never do. 

He’s he now, not an it. Lesser Nobodies aren’t supposed to be like that. Be like this. 

Yet. 

Here he is. With a name and a few scattered memories he can’t place, existing.  

Probably the Master’s fault. A lot of things are, nowadays. Changing. 

Good changes. The Master listens more and the Master feeds them more. Gives them more power, in ways that cannot be described by a simple Berserker like himself. 

Also, the Master gave them a little Master. 

Two is better than one. The risk of casual nonexistence is high, for Lesser Nobodies, but having a second Master lessens it. Gives another touchstone to grab onto. 

Stay Berserker. 

Berserker and something extra, in Bjorn’s case. More powerful, maybe? 

He ponders this. No chance to check, really. Squishing Shadows is no challenge at all, not enough to see if he is stronger. 

His sword itches for the chance. 

Greetings. A Gambler bows. Another sign of the changes that have occurred. 

The Assassins and Berserkers have been in an uneasy truce since the very beginning, after their Masters allied. For that to change...different. So much change, so little time. 

Allying with Gamblers, among others...very new.

Greetings. Why exchange? Bjorn replies. 

Am watching World with much Light. Bright Heart, the Gambler conveys. Mine is with yours so knowledge must be shared.

Bjorn considers. A Bright Heart...a Heart full of much more Light than most Somebodies. The Master must think that is linked to getting more Hearts somehow. 

What if there are more Bright Hearts? Surely the Master would want them too, if he’s going as far as to have Gamblers watching over this one. 

We will guard/retrieve more Bright Hearts, Bjorn decides. Lessers don’t decide what to do, they normally can’t think that far. But Bjorn is different now. More. 

The Gambler is certainly off-put by that, large sleeves fluctuating. Correct course of action?

Bjorn settles his blade against the ground. Find first. Then move on. 

The Gambler bows again. See. Will watch only, you are not Master.

Of course, Bjorn agrees, do what is best for your Master. 

He watches, as the Gambler flickers away. His blue markings glimmer. 

Bjorn serves, best he can. 

The only way he can. Everything for his Liege. 

Angelo waits for her human to return. 

She does this lots. Too much, always too much. 

But still she waits because she is a Good Dog and Good Dogs wait for their humans to come back with food and pets. 

Most times, when her human leaves,  she leaves Angelo with the next door humans. Which is no fun, because those humans have a cat. They just feed her and give her water. Sometimes, there are walks. 

But it’s not the same without her human. Her ugly sky-smelling human.

Not her fault, of course. Humans can’t help that they don’t have enough fur, their flat faces, and their too long legs. Angelo still loves her human anyway. 

The sky-smell is very good, even if the rest of her human is ugly. 

This time, the not-human helps instead of the next door humans. 

The not-human looks like a human, but doesn’t smell or sound like one. Its heart beats differently, it doesn’t have enough sweat. 

Most not-humans cannot be trusted. Angelo has to chase them away, barking and howling to let everyone know of the danger. 

This not-human is different. This not-human gives Angelo food and pets, keeping Bad Things away. The not-human with long fur is Good. 

The good not-human smells of sky too. The same kind of sky as her own human. Even if the rest of its smell is different...that is the same. That is Good. 

“Angelo, you can’t stay outside.”

Angelo pants, tail cheerfully wagging at the good not-human as she follows it.

But wait! She freezes, catches a new Bad scent in the air. 

The good not-human lets air escape its mouth. It bends over, offering a hand for her to sniff. She takes that chance gladly, taking in that sky-scent. 

Angelo lifts herself to put her paws on the long legs. 

The not-human very firmly pushes her off. “No.”

Aw.

She barks. The Bad Things are out there, it has to know about the Bad Things. 

More sigh-air. 

Angelo twists around, just in time to catch a glimpse of pale! She must fight it!

“Angelo, no!”

Angelo, yes! She rushes off after the Pale Bad Thing. It wiggles in front of her and makes zappy Bad boxes. 

She won’t let that stop her. Teeth bared, sky-hot-stuff along her spine, she pounces and bites and tears. Until there is bad black blood everywhere and the Bad Thing is gone. 

The good not-human catches up. “Angelo, what was that!?”

She sits there, panting. 

It pauses. “You’re...on fire. Berserker fire.”

Oh yes. Sky-hot-stuff is very good for killing Bad Things and protecting her human. And her good not-human too. 

Glowing eyes look over the area. “Darkness...did you just fight a Heartless?”

Angelo yips, ears perked up. She took care of a Bad Thing, thank you very much!

“Hmm, I suppose I should encourage that...as long as you can take care of yourself.”

The good not-human squats down, hands reaching. Angelo patiently waits, tag wagging. 

The good not-human gives very good pets. Long strokes along her fur, her ears. Makes her feel good and warm.  

It is her good not-human and no one else’s. No one else gets good pets.

One day, she will follow the good not-human and find food where it lives.

But for now...

She wags her tail. 

She’ll wait for her human.   

Everything is very Good. 

Kairi goes to the beach every day. No matter how many chores she has to do, or what amount of schoolwork to finish, she always finds time to go. Walk along its sands, go to the play island, and watch the sea. 

This time, Selphie is with her as she looks over the ocean. 

Looking for...something. There’s an urge in her, a feeling that she can’t deny. But what is it?

“It’s like you’re waiting for something,” Selphie says, hand above her eyes to block the sun as she surveys the waves as well.

“Am I?” Kairi wonders. “There isn’t anyone I would be waiting for. All of my friends are here.”

(Are they?)

Selphie clasps her hands together. “Maybe you’re waiting for a prince to take you away. Like a fairytale!”

Kairi laughs. “No way! I don’t need a prince, not with-”

She trails, frowning. Unable to finish. 

(With who?)

“Kairi?”

The girl in question shakes her head. “Never mind.” She looks away from the water, and her eyes catch on something laying in the sand. 

“Hey, what’s that?”

A cluster of thorns, looking pretty dried out by the sun and salt. Almost looking like seaweed. Maybe it is seaweed, a different type than the stuff Kairi normally encounters. 

She kneels, reaches over to pick it up. Careful enough to avoid the thorns. 

Or...at least that’s what she thought. 

“Ow!” Kairi licks at her now-bleeding thumb. “It stung me!”

“You okay?” Selphie worriedly peers over. 

“It’s not bad.” The bleeding’s stopped already. Kairi glares at the planty culprit in her hands. It seems more...green, all of the sudden. More alive. 

Hm? Maybe she just hadn’t been looking closely enough...that’s probably it. 

“We should bury it so it can’t hurt anyone else!” Selphie decides. 

Kairi agrees. “Yeah, but where should it go?”

Selphie pulls at her curls, looking thoughtful. “How about...that old cave. No one’s been in there for ages. ”

Part of Kairi wants to protest. The rest of her agrees. “Sounds like a good idea.”

The Secret Place...it’s dark. But it’s a cave, of course it’s dark. 

Kairi doesn’t think caves are supposed to feel like the sunlight was sucked out of the world, though. Just a thought. 

Kairi dumps the thorn cluster off to the side. “Right here.” 

Selphie nods, determined. “Got it! “

They both end up kicking sand over the thorns. The earth is hard in the cave, but they still manage it in the end. Be enough to keep anyone from stabbing themselves on the thorns or stepping on them, which is the point really. 

Selphie shivers. “Oh, it’s kind of creepy in here. And cold! I’m going back out!” She nearly bounces her way out. 

Kairi pauses, examining the picture of a girl and boy on the wall. They’re feeding each other paopu fruit. 

She vaguely remembers scratching this in the wall, but can’t remember why. 

What is so important about all of this?

“Are you done yet, Kairi?”

Kairi raises her voice. “Coming!”

Turns her back on the wall picture, no matter how it aches inside. 

She’ll be back. 

Waiting.

(But for who?)

Most plants reach for the sun. 

This one...it grows in the Dark. Spiny thorn-ridden tendrils spreading outwards. Erupting from the stone-ridden earth, scratching for the walls. Walls covered in images. 

(“I’m looking for my sister.”)

It shivers. Grows. Life amid death. 

It will bloom, soon. 

The world will change, soon. 

Hunting Heartless is a completely different experience with a Keyblade wielder on your side. Or two of them. 

Hearts float away into the sky, to join Kingdom Hearts, as Xion and Roxas take care of another swarm. A lot more than Axel’s ever run into, but that’s the price of a Keyblade he guesses. More hungry Heartless after you. 

“Last ones!” he calls out, herding over some Operas with jets of fire. 

“Got it!”

Roxas leaps into action, Xion close behind. Clang, clang! Two more Hearts float upwards. Mission complete. 

Axel lets his chakrams vanish. “Who’s up for ice cream?”

“Yeah!”

Their Keyblades look different from each other. Kind of weird and kind of not? 

Well, Roxas has the same looking Keyblade as his Somebody which makes sense. Axel hadn’t been really sure if all Keyblades looked the same or not, but seeing Xion’s confirms that’s not the case. 

Hers is more sturdy, broad. Colored black and purple and silver. 

Something about how she holds it, the shape of the weapon...seems familiar. Itches the inside of his skull, as Axel reaches up to rake a hand through his hair. 

Hm. He’ll figure it out, he’s got no time limit on this. 

Not at the rate he keeps getting assigned missions with Roxas and Xion. All the time now, instead of every once in a while. 

...Guess the Superior really wants those updates on his pet Keyblade wielders, huh?

(Can’t be Saix.  He doesn’t care.)

Fine. Just gives him more time with the kids. More time for talking, for ice cream.  For things that friends are supposed to do together. 

Same as ever, the three of them on top of the tower. Eating sea salt ice cream. If only he could do this forever. 

Axel takes a bite, letting his eyes wander. Over the town, over Roxas’ blond head, over Xion’s...what. Different. New. 

He looks over and does a double-take. 

Xion has blue in her now black hair. 

He...hadn’t been expecting that. Well, most of this he hadn’t been expecting, suddenly seeing an unfamiliar face instead of Namine’s. 

Nobody shenanigans. Fun times. 

But the blue particularly stands out. 

Probably because of Is- Saix. Axel turns his head, biting his tongue. Stupid, not everything has to go back to his old friend. Other people can have blue hair without it being connected to Saix in some way. Stupid, stupid. 

“Axel?” He looks back over into concerned purpley-blue eyes. 

He waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it! I’m fine!”

“Okay,” Roxas easily agrees. Kid should really learn more about trusting less, he too easily goes along with everything. 

But that’s a lesson Axel doesn’t want to teach him. Never. 

Xion appears more skeptic, forehead wrinkled. Thankfully she doesn't say anything to indicate it. 

“Do you have special Nobodies?” she suddenly asks, after a few minutes of ice cream laden silence. 

Axel blinks. “Special Nobodies?”

“Like my Samurai, or Demyx’s Dancers,” Roxas inserts. The two look very interested in his answer. Roxas leans forward enough that he might actually lose balance and fall off the tower. 

Axel gently shoves him back. Just a little. “Yeah, I’ve got...Assassins.” Inwardly, he flinches. There’s really no way to dress up the fact that he’s got minions named after killers. The worst kind of killers. Hard to hide what he really is, that way. There’s a reason he doesn't really use his Lessers outside of the most extreme situations. 

But then, he forgets his audience. Neither Nobody knows what an Assassin is, ignorant and memory-less they are. Both, in fact, look intrigued. 

“Can we meet one?” Roxas asks, tapping his ice cream stick against his leg. 

“Oh, what do they look like?” Xion wonders. “Are they red?”

Axel...was not expecting this direction of conversation. “Are you sure?” he checks, holding up one hand to snap. 

Both nod like bobbleheads. Looking excited in the way Nobodies shouldn’t. 

Another thing to leave out of his reports, obviously. 

Axel snaps his fingers, lets out a call that cannot be heard by human ears. 

An Assassin comes right away, hovering right in front of the clock face. “Yes, my Liege?”

He spreads an arm, indicating Roxas and Xion. “Meet Roxas and Xion.”

The Assassin examines them. Apparently, hard to tell when it’s got no eyes. Only arms and legs covered in spikes. More of a weapon than anything else. 

Hard to believe it might have been a person, once upon a time. 

Xion...holds out her ice cream stick. Offering it. “Here, have some food.”

Uh?

The Assassin’s spines rustle. “My Liege?”

“Go ahead,” Axel assures, while being the complete opposite on the inside. What?

It floats forward and delicately accepts the stick. Crunches it. 

“Oh, me too!” Roxas offers his own stick. 

Axel puts up a hand. “Wait a sec, let’s see if it’s a winner stick or not.”

“ A winner?” Roxas looks blank.

“If it says winner and has a crown on it,” Axel explains, “You keep it to trade for prizes later. Take a look.”

Roxas dutifully examines his stick. “Nothing. Here!” He holds it out again to the Assassin to take and crunch like the first. 

Xion reaches out to nudge him. “You too, Axel. You’ve got a stick.”

“Um.” When he doesn’t move fast enough for her, Xion snatches the stick and lets the Assassin chew it right from her fingers. Completely unafraid.

What the hell. 

Enough of this. Axel clicks his fingers, sending the Assassin away. 

“When did you guys learn this?” Axel asks casually. Leaning in. 

“Xion taught me, so the Samurai would listen to me,” Roxas explains proudly. “They wouldn’t, before.”

Okay...he turns to Xion. “And you?”

Her answer is just unexpected as the rest of this weird situation. 

“I watched Saix do it.”

“Really,” Axel states, mind whirling. 

Saix. Why does everything come back to him? Axel’s been trying to move on, for crying out loud! But that seems oddly...vulnerable, for the image his old friend tries to put off in the Organization, feeding his Nobodies. 

(Why didn’t he tell him?)

When would Xion’ve seen that?

Well, she was awfully quiet before. Maybe Saix just missed her. Maybe she was in a place she shouldn’t have been. 

“Be careful,” Axel cautions, “You don’t want to get caught.”

Xion tilts her head. “Caught?” she parrots.

How does he put this? Axel taps his fingers on his leg. “Other Nobodies...in the Organization, they don’t like being watched. Just...be careful about it, make sure no one catches you, got it memorized?”

“I won’t.” she promises, and Roxas follows shortly after.

Axel lets out an explosive sigh. “Good. That’s good.”

He looks over the town below, the forever sunset. 

These kids...they just might be the death of him.

Chapter Text

Loud slurping noises. 

“Demyx, if you touch anything, I will chop off your fingers and feed them to the Dusks,” Isa says without looking up. 

“Hey, I won’t, I won’t!”

No, the Nobody puts his boots up on the table instead. 

No wonder no one takes Demyx seriously, with his lack of manners. Isa sighs and contemplates reaching over and shoving Number IX onto the floor. 

Regretfully he puts the thought aside, continuing his work instead. 

“...Man. No wonder you’re such a pain. All you do is work,” Demyx says, apparently unaware that Isa can hear every word he says. Unless that’s what he means to do. 

He digs his fingers through his...chilli fries? Is that what he’s eating? Something suitably disgusting and greasy enough for his personality. 

Isa pulls his papers close to himself. Further away from Demyx. Resigns himself to having an unwelcome companion for the day. 

The budget for the next month is just about done, only requiring Xemnas’ approval.

Scouting reports, there. Heartless counts, over here. 

“I still don’t get why you do all this stuff.” Demyx peers over at Isa, eyes squinting. 

“Punishment for my crimes in a past life,” Isa says seriously, reaching for yet another form to fill out. If he has Luxord’s reports on Destiny Islands sorted separately from  the normal approved work assignments, under the ongoing ‘Moogle Complaints,’ then no one will ever look through them. Just label them under ‘L’ or something similar so he doesn’t lose them...which will require a different form to create that label. 

Isa pulls his mind away from the task at hand, to the Nobody at hand. 

“Why are you here?” Instead of being lazy in the Grey Area. 

Demyx tilts his head back. “Weeelll...”

Oh no. 

“What’s gone wrong now?” Isa asks, resigned. 

“A Dragoon whirlwind blew right on through,” Demyx explains. 

Lunes. Of course. 

“And where is Xaldin?”

Demyx shrugs. “How would I know? He wasn’t there, when it happened.”

Of course he wasn’t. Isa recalls fairly clearly handing over his assignment in the morning. An assignment, as simple as it was, that should have been done by now.

Ah. He thinks he knows what’s going on here. 

“This is his revenge. ”

Of course it is. Asshole. Come at the worst possible time. 

But then...

Isa looks over his piles of papers. Many of them are Axel’s reports, reports he has to carefully edit to make sure Xemnas doesn’t catch on to the friendships being made. A process he recalled doing in the past, as Saïx, even despising Xion and Roxas as he had.

(Everything, to keep Axel out of his hands.)

Other piles are the simply busywork he still needs to complete. 

Is there ever a good time for this nonsense?

No. No, there is not. 

With a heavy sigh, he rises from his seat. 

Demyx’s eyes go wide. “Wait, you’re taking care of it yourself?!”

Isa pauses. “No. I am going to beat the shit of Xaldin and make him care of it.”

“Still, no new mission to get him or anything?” Why is Demyx so concerned? One would think that the Nobody would be happy that no threat of a mission hung overhead for him. 

“To the Castle of Dreams?” Isa scoffs. “We’re nearly done with that World. I will simply...encourage Xaldin to take his leave as well.”

“Brr,” Demyx shivers. Hm, it shouldn’t be cold in here, what’s that about?

Now, to lessen the risk of his paperwork getting ruined...

Isa plucks the greasy bag free of Demyx’s hands. 

“Hey!”

“Here,” he says flatly, snapping his fingers. A Berserker comes right away. 

Yes, my Liege?

“Have a snack.” He tosses the bag over to the Berserker as Demyx lets out a sound of protest. The Berserker swiftly devours it in a gulp. 

Yum. 

Demyx stares at the Berserker. “...is it just me or are your minions getting bigger?”

“Don’t touch anything,” Isa orders. He doesn’t bother waiting for a response before vanishing into a Corridor. 

Xaldin, of course, is right at the edges of the Castle of Dreams. In the forest that draws close to the walls, under the stars of a dark night. Watching the royal couple with his usual one-minded jealousy, tendrils scratching at the surrounding trees. 

If that’s what it is. Isa’s never been quite sure how to best describe Xaldin’s obsessive tendency for ruining the romantic relationships of Somebodies. 

His Somebody, Dilan, never seemed concerned with that sort of thing. Strange that the Nobody would care. 

Xaldin doesn’t bother turning to face him. “Number VII. Surprising to see you out.”

It would be, wouldn’t it?

He’s never done this before. Always relied on others to do his dirty work. 

“There is a discussion that must be had.”

“Really.” 

Xaldin isn’t the type to roll his eyes. He probably would be at this point, if he were. Not that Isa would see it, since the Nobody’s not facing him. His tendrils twitch, pushing through scattered leaves and greenery. 

“You either come in, clean up your mess or...” Isa bares his fangs. “I paint the earth with your blood and you come in, clean up your mess.”

Xaldin scoffs. Of course he does. 

Nobody takes Saïx seriously when it comes to situations such as this. No matter how hard he’s worked, how much he’s done, nobody ever does. Except for teenagers. 

Apparently being an asshole isn’t enough in Organization XIII. 

Fine. Fine. 

He’s done. 

“Just remember. You asked for this,” Isa snarls. 

The moon is bright on this World. A mistake, on Xaldin’s part.

Isa doesn’t even bother charging up all the way. He simply hits hard and fast. Hits first. 

Manages to blindside Xaldin despite the warning given.   

Throws him through a row of trees. 

Away from the castle and the people living in it, of course. He’s not a moron. 

Hard enough to draw blood. Black blood scattered about the trees.

Would be more terrifying, more of a horror, if it were red. 

As it were, anyone who may come by later will assume a battle between beasts if they assume anything at all. 

Not that they would be wrong. 

The sounds of wood breaking. Branches snapping. A wreckage in the making. 

Sounds a lot like breaking bones. But Isa isn’t going that far. Not yet. 

Just shallow cuts that bleed a lot. Well, shallow for a Nobody. 

A Somebody would most certainly be grievously injured for life. 

Xaldin doesn’t snarl. He hisses, tendrils and lances whistling through the air as he lashes back. The growling is left up to Isa. 

Lunatic sings. 

Isa bleeds too, but it doesn’t matter. Xaldin hurts more. 

(Advantages of Berserking: you don’t care about the hurt. Only the target.)

Blood everywhere. Isa hits until Xaldin doesn’t get up again. 

His entire body shakes as he pants. Burns and bleeds. 

(Disadvantages of Berserking: you don’t care about the hurt. Until it’s too late.)

Good. 

And...check for a pulse. Xaldin’s not dead. He wouldn’t be, Isa didn’t hit hard enough for that. 

Now he has to drag Xaldin back to the Castle. 

Isa might have groaned wordlessly to the unforgiving heavens. Very, very quietly. 

Carefully, he reaches down to grab a wayward limb to drag his unconscious victim off. Time to go, never mind how undignified this looks. 

Xaldin deserves some indignity, anyway. 

Isa smooths out his coat. Not a single bloodstain to be seen. 

Not they would be, since Nobody blood is black...but the coats don’t stain. From any number of activities. 

“Where are we going?” Xion asks by his side. 

“Somewhere to get dinner,” Isa answers. It’s about time he brought Xion to Balamb. Demyx’s been there enough. 

And Xaldin’s fate should be enough to discourage anyone from looking into his personal activities today. Perfect timing. 

“Hm.” Xion looks thoughtful. Her hair almost glows in the lowlight of a forever twilight. A dimmer twilight than usual, seeing how close to night it is. 

“You’ll like it,” he assures her, “I get food from here all the time.”

Oh, there it is. Balamb. 

Isa pulls the door open, allowing Xion to go in first. Follows after, to see Angelo on the ground. 

Please don’t bark, please don’t bark...

Angelo perks up. Thankfully, she doesn’t bark. Only sniffs at the edge of Xion’s coat and then wanders off. 

Now, to the actual owner of the place. 

“Welcome to Balamb, can I- oh.” Rinoa looks between Isa and Xion. Isa can practically see the mental math that’s taking place. “ Oh.”

Wait, can she see Xion? As Xion is? 

...Well, they had never really tested Xion’s...facelessness on a priestess before. Perhaps that’s what is happening here. 

“Is there ice cream? Sea salt ice cream?” Xion asks. Of course. What else would she ask for?

Isa doesn’t smile. He doesn’t. 

“We’ll get that with another dish.” He turns to Rinoa. “If you have ice cream, of course.”

“On the house! Since you watched Angelo and all!” Rinoa beams. 

Isa makes a mental note to triple his tip. “Alright.”

“So, the rest of your order?” she prompts. “The usual?”

“Yes and a...” Xion liked fruit, in the future that won’t be, he recalls vaguely. She’s a sucker for all kinds of sugar, both the natural and processed kinds. “Fruit salad.”

“Got it!” Rinoa bustles into the kitchen. 

“Fruit salad?” Xion asks, eyes bright. “Is that for me?”

“Yes, along with the ice cream. But the fruit first.”

The food is out and served quickly. Not unexpected, when he and Xion are the only ones in the cafe. 

Isa lets his food sit, as he watches Xion enjoy her own meal. Picking out the orange and apples slice out first to eat, squishing the grapes into pulp, and curiously prodding at the banana chunks. 

His food’ll keep. The moment won’t.

Only when she’s finished, does he start. 

A whimper by his leg causes him to look down at Angelo. 

Isa sighs. “Here.” He hands over the usual carrot chunk. 

Xion’s eyes go big. “Oh, do you feed that like a Dusk?”

“Not quite like a Dusk. Dusks can eat anything while you have to be careful with Angelo. She might get sick.”

“But she can eat the orange things?” Xion checks. 

“Just a little. Here.” He hands her a carrot chunk. “Try.”

Xion offers, with a firm hand, the carrot. Angelo sniffs at it and her hand. Looks up at Isa, growls.

“No. Food.” He nudges her over to Xion. “Not me, her.”

Angelo sniffs again but eventually accepts it. Careful not to sink her teeth into Xion’s gloved hand. Smart dog. There’s really something about that dog. 

Isa didn’t know dogs could Berserk like he could, for one thing. 

“Oh!” Xion looks up. Smiling. “She took it!”

“Yes, good job,” Isa acknowledges. “Want to do another?”

Xion holds out her hand expectedly. Isa holds back a snort and drops another chunk of food onto it. She promptly offers it to Angelo under the table. 

“Cute.” Rinoa’s wiping her hands on a towel, watching the entire scene play out from the doorway. She strides forward, once she catches Isa noticing her. 

Offers a stick of sea salt ice cream. “Here’s your bar!”

Xion accepts it. Takes a bite. “It tastes the same as what I have with my friends.”

Rinoa beams. “Good! Just the way it should, good memories.”

Her hand is around Isa’s upper arm now. When did that happen?

She pulls. Doesn’t move him an inch. Bemused, Isa follows her direction and stands. 

“Let me just talk to your dad.”

“Dad?” Before Xion can say anymore, or Isa can correct her, Rinoa hurries Isa into her kitchen. 

She almost stops, but Isa keeps her moving. Until they’re out of both Xion’s sight and hearing, as inhumanly enhanced they are. Then he allows her to make her offer. 

“Go on.”

“Look, if you need me to take her out of here, I can. Just give me the word!”

Isa stares at her. Out of all the things he expected her to say, that was not one of them. “No. You can’t.”

As much as he wishes Xion could leave...there are simply too many eyes. Too much investment in the weapon she carries. If she was a failure...perhaps. But not now. 

Rinoa shakes her head. 

“Saïx...what’s going there, it’s bad. You just had me sneak out a guy who should’ve been dead.”

“Don’t say anymore,” Isa lowers his voice. 

Rinoa’s eyes narrow. She leans closer to Isa. 

“Seriously, you need to leave. ”

“I can’t!” Isa realizes he’s raising his voice and lowers it again. “There are things beyond both mine and your control. Please, don’t say anymore.”

“...Fine. But only because you said to be careful. I don’t want to hurt you.” Rinoa finally settles on, arms folded over her chest. Stubborn. Why would she even care? Isa is only a customer, that’s all. Xion is a child, so it makes sense Rinoa would care about that. 

But Isa? He’s a grumpy asshole. There’s a reason he only had Lea as a friend in his childhood. Isa pushes away the confusing thoughts, moving on to the next important portion of this conversation. 

“I’m not her father. We’re not related,” Isa pushes out. Have to add that in there, to tell the truth, what little he can manage. 

Rinoa lifts an eyebrow, showing how much she believes that. 

“Saïx, even if you’re not her dad, you’re certainly the closest thing she’s got to a parental figure.”

“Untrue.” ...Isn’t it?

Rinoa throws up her hands. “Saïx, you are explaining to her how everything works here. I’m pretty sure that’s what a good dad is supposed to do.”

“No. I’m not. ” It’s only payment for what he did in another life. What he’s supposed to do. The lowest standard of what they deserve. 

Isa feels his fangs growing. 

His hand digs into the edge of the nearby countertop. 

“Sure you aren’t.” Rinoa folds her arms over her chest, giving him a look. “What’s the problem, scared of the responsibility? Because sorry to tell you, you’re doing all of the stuff as far as I can tell.”

“I’m not. I can’t be. ” A loud crunching sound. 

They both immediately look at the counter. The counter that Isa just broke, crunched the wood into splinters. 

No. No. He can’t lose control, he can’t. 

Isa flees. 

Almost runs through the kitchen’s entrance in efforts to get out as soon as possible. 

“Isa?” Xion looks up from her ice cream bar. 

“Get up, we’re leaving,” he almost barks. 

She hurries to get out of her chair, keeping up to his quick pace as they exit. Her grip is firm around her ice cream stick. Careful not to leave it behind. 

Isa leaves plenty of munny behind, even in his haste. More than enough. 

“Saïx-!”

He ignores Rinoa. Keep on going, through shadowed streets. 

Outrun the questions, the incorrect conclusions she’s come to. 

Too bad Xion brings one of the questions with them.
“What’s a dad?”

For one long desperate moment, Isa seriously contemplates leaving this question to Axel. She’d ask him, right?

Only to realize, no, Axel wouldn’t give a good explanation at all. Probably say something idiotic like ‘babies come from Kingdom Hearts.’ Leave Xion and Roxas confused. 

So it’s up to him to provide the proper information here. 

“Unlike with Nobodies, Somebodies require at least two people to make a new Somebody,” Isa starts, “The female is usually known as a ‘mom’ while the male is called a ‘dad’ in most cases.”

There. Simple enough. Too simple, really, considering other situations like gay couples or donated genetic material or even the Replica Program as a whole...but it should operate as a good opening. 

Xion muses this over. “Two people is more complicated than one.”

“Usually.” Nobodies are complicated in their own way, though. Considering the unnatural state of existence they rest in. 

But then, Xion’s in a situation where Nobodies are the normal. Not Somebodies. 

“So she thinks we’re Somebodies?”

Probably not, at this point, with the gills and fangs and so forth. Rinoa is a variety of things but stupid is not one of them. “I have not informed her otherwise.”

Xion goes on to extend her first question. “What makes her think that you’re my ‘dad’ then?”

“The new Somebody often looks like a mix between the ‘mom’ and ‘dad’.” He doesn’t quite explain. But the information should be enough for her to come to a conclusion. 

Xion tugs at a chunk of her hair. A blue section. Pulls it in front of her eyes, looking at it. 

“We have the same hair! That must be why.” She’s so very proud of herself, looking up at him with stars in her eyes. 

Isa inclines his chin. “Yes.”

“But we’re Nobodies so you’re not my dad.”

“Also correct.” Also, if anyone in the Organization ever heard her say those words in reference to himself, they’d probably die from metaphorical heart attacks. 

As well as Xion being a Replica...but that doesn’t matter for this question. 

Xion goes quiet. Thinking and chewing up the last of her ice cream. 

Leaving only a stick behind. A sticky stick that she slides into her coat pocket without a care for what mess it may make in there. 

Inwardly, Isa winces. Outwardly...he waits. 

“Is this what Axel was talking about?”

“What did he say exactly?” Isa inquires. Carefully. Like walking through a field of sleeping rabbits, not wanting to wake any up. 

Advice could range from truly terrible to somewhat terrible but workable, with Axel. 

“Axel said don’t get caught.”

“Hm, that is good advice,” Isa agrees. Surprisingly so in this case. “Be careful in what you do and don’t let anyone catch you doing what they don’t want you to.”

“...like meeting with you?”

Isa doesn’t meet her eyes. He can’t. “Yes.”

Xion goes quiet. “Okay. I’ll be careful.”

Isa lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Good.”

Hesitates over his next words. Words that have to be said. No matter how he hates them. 

“If it comes down to there being a punishment...” This, he has to meet her purple-blue eyes for, “I will take it. Blame me, if it comes to it.”

This is an unspoken reality of the Organization. 

Everyone knows it. If you get caught going against orders, unspoken rules, treason ...well, it’s your head. 

No one will protect you or defend you, even if they were involved as well. 

You get caught, you lose. 

Even Axel and himself share this agreement, and they were some of the closest individuals in the Organization. It’s something that doesn’t have to be explained to generally selfish Nobodies. 

“No, I won’t! That’s not fair.”

Of course Xion would say that. Stomps her foot like that will change the reality of a decade in the Dark. 

How can he convince her to stay quiet, should everything fail?

“Xion...the punishment would be less for me, than for you, if I take it.”

“Really?” Her eyes are hesitant, as she listens. 

Well. 

Another timeline, orders had been unusually lenient on Xion and Roxas. Lenient until one death was demanded for a superior Keyblade wielder. And somewhat lenient afterwards, even that first attempt to match the two against each other. 

Isa doesn’t know for certain it’ll be the same. It probably will, since the need for a Organization-controlled Keyblade wielder remains the same as before. 

Isa...as Saïx, in another life, he never got caught. He has no idea what Xemnas would have done to him. Except for...

(Blood running down his forehead. The X-wound on his forehead weeps Darkness.)

But if Isa is seen to be participating in treason...he will die. No matter where his standing is currently. 

And this might be treason, to the Superior’s eyes. It certainly is, for outright disobeying his orders when it comes to Xion. 

“Of course,” he lies. His next words are no lie. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“But I don’t want you hurt either. I can take it.” Her face is firm, as is the rest of her. Ready to sacrifice herself for him. Who doesn’t deserve it, will never deserve it. 

What can he do, to prevent that?

Do what he’s always done: lie. Lie and lie and lie until there’s nothing left but lies. 

Leverage what he can. 

“Roxas might be hurt, for something he didn’t do. Or Axel. If you keep quiet, they won’t be hurt for you.”

Only he will be punished, because why would Saïx care? Especially after such a public separation between him and Axel. 

(It has to be enough.)

(Oh gods of Moon, Tide, and Bloom...please, let it be enough.)

“But you...”

“If we don’t get caught, Xion, we won’t have to worry about it,” Isa says firmly. True enough, isn’t it?

Never mind they will get caught. No secret is kept forever. 

But Isa can take it. 

Xion, in the end, nods with a noticeable heistance. “Okay. Don’t get caught, promise?”

“Promise.”

Liar. 

It’s been a long time since anything truly unexpected happened in the Castle That Never Was. 

Nobodies are beings that follow certain schedules, patterns, in all that they do. They will stay, because that is the habit they are in.

Xemnas needs to do very little, to be sure of that. 

Not when his subordinates’ own natures will do it for them. 

Of course, there are exceptions. But those exceptions are easily taken care of. 

Xemnas leans forward, lacing his fingers together. 

Marluxia and Larxene...their rebellion was petty. Never would have gotten off the ground, even if they had managed to chain Roxas’ Somebody to their whims. 

Not with the utter lack of support that they had. 

Easily swept out. Easily burned out. 

But Saïx, Number VII, the Lunar Diviner...that’s different. This is an exception to exceptions, these circumstances. 

The Superior of the Organization is no fool. 

He knows and has known, for years, that Saïx and Axel plot with each other. That Saïx does whatever he can to get into his good graces, with Axel’s support. To search for answers that Xemnas will never give him, but will allow Saïx to think otherwise. 

Yet. 

It seems that Saïx has given up on getting those answers. Seeks control instead. 

Saïx has skill, when it comes to appealing to his fellow Nobodies’ base natures. A skill he rarely uses, in his temperament. Yet it appears that he has set his pride aside to make those appeals. 

To gather more power. 

Bold enough to levy punishments in Xemnas’ place, as well. Taking charge. 

Xemnas claimed him, years ago. Saïx still moves against him, despite that.

Reaches out for fellow Nobodies and for the Replica with the Keyblade...perhaps he thinks that the Replica will have more power than Roxas, in the end?

Power enough to overthrow Xemnas, perhaps? 

Of course not. But Saïx moves against him. Whether the failure of such is guaranteed or not...it cannot be borne. 

Gloved fingers tap against his chair’s arms. 

It appears that Saïx has forgotten who exactly he belongs to. Who holds his leash. 

Perhaps it’s time that Xemnas reminds him. 

Chapter Text

“The monthly delivery, kupo.”

Of course. It’s that time. Isa withholds a groan. Since Lexaeus...became deceased, his old duties have fallen on Isa’s shoulders in his stead. 

Not Xaldin’s, because Xaldin is the only one worse with the Moogle than Isa himself. 

Not anyone else’s, because why would they think about that? Their impression of paperwork is an unbearable task to be put off until the last moment, not a requirement to keep the Organization’s inner systems moving smoothly. 

Signatures, file the receipts and it’s done. Nothing more, nothing less. 

That’s it. 

Isa can do that much, at least. 

At least the Moogle’s behavior has been marginally better lately. Improved enough that Isa can buy healing items once more. 

Which he is sure to need later. Since his supply is indeed running low. 

“Here’s the records.” A leaf of papers is shoved into his hands from who knows where. Moogle storage, the thing of legend and myth. 

Isa opens his mouth, about to say he’s already received the receipts, but...

No. The handwriting is different. The subject is different. 

He knows that handwriting. But Isa doesn’t respond. Not outwardly. 

Reports...from Zexion, mixed in. Hiding among a dozen other papers that no one will ever examine or go through in any capacity. Only Isa. 

Perfect. Utterly and completely perfect. Just what he needs. 

Isa does not eagerly dig into the papers, no matter how much he longs to. He knows better than that, after all. 

He gives the Moogle a civil nod, wrapping up Zexion’s letter with the rest of the reports he’s already in the process of filtering through. 

The Moogle nods too, putting their paws together. 

...It will never not be a question where in the worlds the Moogle got its Organization coat. Seriously.  

“The numbers will remain the same for the future.”

“Very well, kupo.”

A very civil reply. Thankfully. 

...he’ll need to send Zexion a reply. Later, though.

First, to deal out missions to Demyx and Xigbar. And everyone else who’ll show up later. 

Demyx, for whatever reason, accepts his without a single protest novel. 

Isa’s about to hand Xigbar his. 

A certain someone walks in. Limps in, to be more accurate. His tendrils make scratching noises as they’re dragged along the floor, apparently unable to hold themselves up. 

Xaldin, of course. Who else would it be?

Xaldin’s face appears pretty bruised up. Ugly black-green patches, on his cheekbones, stretching down his neck. A rare situation, with Nobody recoverability the way it is.  

Looks like a certain Number III hasn’t healed up from his unfortunate encounter yet. How sad. How terrible. 

The papers are high enough to hide Isa’s face, good thing. 

Isa refuses to feel bad. Not when Xaldin refused to listen. 

“Whoa!” Demyx’s reaction is fully expected, along with the nervous glance he shoots in Isa’s direction. 

“What train hit you, Xaldin?” Xigbar asks, an unholy grin on his face. Already knowing the answer most likely. Why else would he ask like that?

Xaldin grunts and stomps out of the room. 

Isa rolls his eyes. Shuffles through his papers. Makes to walk out of the room himself, when Xigbar cuts in by calling out to him. “Hey, Saïx!”

Hm?

“Have a fun day today!” Xigbar shoots finger guns in Isa’s direction. He presumably winks, though it’s difficult to tell, seeing how the Nobody has a single eye. 

May have been a long blink instead. 

Uh, okay? Not thanks, he won’t thank Xigbar for anything. 

...he will ignore the entire exchange. Best idea. 

“...what’s up with Xaldin, anyway? Tough Heartless?”

The sheets crumple in Isa’s grip as he suddenly tightens. Axel. Of course. Here for a mission, what else would he be here for?

(Not for you.)

Xigbar answers. Of course. He cracks his neck. 

“You could say it was a bad moon rising on him.”

“Shut up,” Isa bites out, heat rising in his neck. No need to let Axel know how much he lost control. 

Axel, for his part, just looks confused. “What? A moon where? Halloween Town?”

“Something like that,” Isa says stiffly. 

Xigbar leans back. “Nah, Xaldin went to Castle of Dreams yesterday.”

“Then w-shit. Shit.” Green cat eyes on Isa now. Judging him. 

Isa just barely does not snarl. He can’t judge him, not after Castle Oblivion. 

(It’s what you deserve.)

“Get your work done, and it won’t be a problem for you to face.” He faces Axel head on. Deal with that declaration. 

Demyx laughs nervously. “Yeah, maybe that’s not a good idea...”

The musician turns around in his chair. “Hey, where’s Luxord, anyway? Not that I’m changing the subject or anything!”

“On a mission.” One to a certain island world. But only Isa and Luxord will know that for certain, won’t they?

Axel narrows his eyes. “You’ve been sending him out a lot lately on private missions.”

Isa narrows his eyes back. Yellow meets green. “So what if I have? It’s my duty, is it not?”

“Yeah. But this is different.” Axel crosses his arms defiantly over his chest. Doesn’t look away. 

“Oh man.” Isa can hear Demyx whispering in the background. Almost whimpering. “Oh no.”

“Shh, I want to watch this!” Xigbar. 

“It’s none of your business and never has been.” 

“Sure it isn’t. The same way private missions aren’t yours. Superior-only, right?”

“Where’s your partner?” Isa spits out like poison. A poison that should have been drawn out years ago, a lifetime ago. So easy to build up again. 

Or pretend to. It only matters now, to drive Axel away. 

(Before Isa does something he regrets.)

“What, Roxas?” Axel doesn’t pretend not to know what he means. “Or Xion?”

“Yes. Where are they.” Please don’t let them walk in on this. 

Axel’s lip curls. “None of your business. Like how Luxord’s none of mine, right?”

Not the same thing at all. Snarling is a real temptation right now. But there’s an audience. He keeps forgetting that and he can’t afford to forget. 

Especially when one of the watchers is Xigbar. 

Isa breathes. It’s either that or spit out more metaphorical fire. Say something he shouldn’t.

(But he’s already done that, hasn’t he?)

“Fine. Don’t say anything.” Axel turns. Stomps out. 

Xigbar, of course, takes the opportunity to clap. “Congrats, I don’t think I’ve seen someone fuck up a relationship this badly since...I don’t know, my first job?”

“Shut up,” Isa finally musters enough words to hiss. “Or you’re next.”

Xigbar looks unimpressed and more than a little gleeful. “Ooh scary.”

“Egh.” Demyx shrinks. Definitely impressed on his end.  

Isa ignores that. The papers are crunching in his hands. He’s leaving, he’s walking out. 

He needs to...needs to...

Zexion can wait. The paperwork can wait even longer. Missions, it’ll be fine. 

Isa needs a moment to breathe. 

(Before this place suffocates him. Kills him.)

A moment to himself. 

Well, kind of. 

In Balamb, it’s not really to himself, since Rinoa’s here. Angelo’s here, allowing Isa to pet her. 

But at least Rinoa’s not saying anything. Leaving him alone to...think.  

Isa’s grateful. He doesn’t need more about Xion right now. More about how he’s a father when he clearly isn’t. Just...focus. On petting Angelo, who wants to lick his face. 

If he’d let her. Which he won’t. 

A shadow cast over the table. 

Someone sits down across from him. 

Angelo’s barking. A lot. Isa focuses on grabbing her, on holding her long enough for Rinoa to take her out. 

Then he looks up. 

To see silver hair, dark skin. Golden eyes boring into him. 

The Superior. Is here. 

Why is he here? He shouldn’t be here. 

Despite the gibbering panic building in his skull, Isa just manages to keep composed. 

Shifts his head a centimeter downward. 

“Superior.”

“Saïx,” Xemnas returns. His fingers tap on the table. Gold eyes slide over in Rinoa’s direction before returning to Isa’s. “My name, here.”

Isa swallows. “Xemnas,” falls off his dry tongue. 

Shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want him here. 

(When does Isa get what he wants, again?)

“Hello! What would you like to order today?” Rinoa’s usual smile is both flatter and sharper than usual. Hiding something the opposite of said smile behind it. 

Xemnas speaks up before Isa can even think the words. 

“Stir-fry, without the carrots, for Saïx. I will have black tea.”

A cold shiver down his spine. Xemnas knows what to order. A not so subtle method, to inform Isa that he’s been watching. 

Rinoa bobs. “Got it.” Turns on her heel stiffly, towards the kitchen. 

Isa almost gives into the desire to watch her escape this mess. Maybe he’s jealous, just a little. Mostly worried. More importantly he’s worried. 

He can’t let Xemnas kill her for knowing too much, for being a Somebody. 

Gold eyes take in their surroundings, steady and slow. Like their owner has all the time in the world to do so. 

A lot of time passes, before their meal is finished. 

Enough time to get lost in, to choke on. 

There’s a pressure in Isa’s head, hard enough to think without it. With it, nearly impossible. 

What does he know? 

Rinoa sashays out of the kitchen with his meal in one hand and a teapot in the other. 

She easily slides the stir-fry in front of Isa. A single chipped cup for Xemnas, much less easily. 

Then, she stumbles. Very artfully, arms jerking forward, teapot about to drop-!