Chapter Text
I am not violent. I am not malicious. I am a result.
Finding Vanitas was easier the second time. Ventus could almost say it was criminal, how easy it was.
Mostly due to Vanitas finding him first.
There’s plenty of deserted islands to pick from in the Caribbean. When they’d arrived earlier that week, he and Kairi had taken advantage of that. There’s one a little reminiscent of the play island on Destiny Islands; a few days off any of the main cities for boats, but only a few hours out by Glider. Peaceful, quiet. The perfect place to keep some secrets.
They’d claimed it as their own immediately. A place for Ven to stash his things and change into his uncomfortably fitting outfit for this world. Somewhere they could meet up and share a campfire in the evenings. Thinking about it, he has to grudgingly admit to himself– they probably weren’t being remotely subtle, to his Darkness.
A Princess of Light and a manufactured Pure Light sitting together in the middle of nowhere. For several hours at a time. They may as well have been firing off fireworks above their heads.
That does not make him prepared. He’s been in the Caribbean for less than ten minutes, and all of that has been dedicated to getting changed and stowing his gear away. Sighing to himself as he reluctantly shrugs on the coat, grumbling over the boot buckles. The idea that he might have an audience doesn’t cross his mind until Ven turns around and Vanitas is standing right there.
He barely manages to stop himself from cursing.
“Holy sh– are you good?!”
Vanitas just smirks at him, and once the shock has passed Ventus settles for rolling his eyes. A little annoying? Sure. But it saves him a bunch of effort.
“Have all the denizens of Light developed a taste for trash talk? I’d say it was just you, except she’d call me worse.” Vanitas has dished out far worse jabs than that– and Ventus can’t help how his attention focuses more on the fact that he was listening, the other night.
“We grew up a little, so what?” Maybe they just needed a few years to relax enough to act their age. Without anyone trying to kill them. “Big talk for a guy who’s never said worse than damn.”
Vanitas shakes his head, tsk’ing in mock disappointment. “Swearing is cheap. If fuck you’s really the worst thing you can think to throw at someone, clearly you don’t hate them enough.”
“Oh, so I should call them an idiot, instead?” Someone used to be very fond of that word.
“It’s a shame the old man’s already dead,” Vanitas says, and Ventus’ heart stutters from the mere mention– “Would’ve loved to see his face if one of your people turned around and told him to go suck a dick.”
“Why are you here?” He asks abruptly. It’s not subtle, not even remotely, but he’s not about to joke about Xe– that man. Vanitas’ smug expression remains as he walks across the sand, eyes fixated on Ventus’ form.
“Saving you some time.” He pauses for a moment, one shoulder raising as he tilts his head, hands gesturing idly. “That said, if you feel like wasting mine, I can always leave.”
Oh sure, saving him some time. Ven gives into the urge to cross his arms, eyeing Vanitas off warily. It’s obvious he wants something; he would’ve been able to tell, even without feeling it. A subtle thrill of anticipation…
“And how does this count as not wasting mine?”
“Easy. We cut the chatter.” Void Gear appears in his hand. The only thing that keeps Ventus from summoning his blade in turn is how that anticipation changes. It spikes, without malevolence. It hums in the air as Vanitas leans towards him, eyes flashing in the sunlight.
“Spar with me.”
It’s still a demand, rather than a question. But the underlying feeling lacks all the things Ventus expects. Rage. Bloodthirst. That’s not due to feeling nothing at all. It’s not like he’s standing across from a blank wall.
Excitement. That’s what he’s feeling. Vanitas is honestly, genuinely excited to fight. And that throws Ventus for a loop, leaving him speechless. The more compulsive parts of him want to say yes without a moment’s hesitation– but their history sits at the front of his mind. Who needs a warning when your own memories are screaming for caution?
X-blade is a thought that still strikes at his heart like a knife.
“Oh please. It’s a spar, not a fight to the death.” Vanitas balances his blade atop his palms with a roll of his eyes. “If I still wanted to join with you, I’ve had ten years to make it happen.”
“Sure, that’s reassuring.”
“This is why you shouldn’t have become a Master, Ventus. Never met one who wasn’t a wet blanket.” He tilts his head slowly, consideration breaking out into a slow smile that has Ventus taking a step backwards.
Too little, too late.
He’s fast. He’s always been fast, and the speed he rushes to meet Ventus with proves how nothing has changed on that front. Maybe he’s even faster, Void Gear swinging downwards in an overhead arc that Ventus barely manages to meet with Wayward Wind. Hastily summoned, fumbling in a grip that’s much too loose. The resulting clash almost rips the hilt out of his hand.
Black and red whistles in the air as it rebounds, trajectory rapidly shifting into a sideways slash. Again, Ventus barely blocks it. Again, Vanitas allows his blow to bounce back, using that momentum to try something else.
Hit after hit after hit, Ventus reacts. What else can he do? Void Gear is purposefully aimed at his head, his chest. Refusing him now is going to have his skull cracked open. His insides ripped out. So he keeps moving, stops thinking. Reacts solely on instinct and an utterly blind terror that this? This is it. He left himself open. He made a mistake.
Ventus remembers, vividly, what it had tasted like. Vanitas, falling apart at the seams. Stepping into him. It tasted like burning. Like ash. Like rust. Rust that had coated the malformed X-blade. Incomplete. All encompassing. It’s all going to happen all over again–
Several swings later, Vanitas twists his wrist, purposefully tangling the teeth of their Keyblades together. Locking himself against Ventus, chest to chest, practically nose to nose.
It’s only when they pause that Ventus has the time to register how fast his heart is beating, how heavy his breathing is. The only thing keeping him from shrinking away is the knowledge that whatever distance he tries to get, Vanitas will regain, through whatever methods he deems necessary.
“Is anyone dead yet, Ventus?” Vanitas asks him. He’s not even slightly out of breath, a minor detail, maybe. It’s still infuriating. “Did we end the world?”
“You’re a bastard,” Ventus snarls. Like he’s unaware of all the reasons he has to hesitate. Like he can’t feel his panic, one that’s rapidly shifting into completely justifiable anger. “You’re a total–”
“What did I say about swearing?” A grin. Metal groans as he shoves all his weight into Void Gear– into Ventus, by extension. “Clearly, you don’t hate me enough.”
Ventus’ knees bend, body straining under the harsh pressure and the heavier muscle mass. This used to be a weakness. Still is, technically, but he’s had years of fighting Terra, Zack, and Riku to adjust . Find ways to work around it.
So have Roxas and Sora. Between the three of them, they’d found a few moves in common, honed them to perfection.
It’s one of those tricks he relies on now. Sliding his blade down Void Gears length gets rid of the awkward snare of teeth– immediately, Ventus lets his body drop. Straight to the ground, planting one hand in the sand and letting Light build in his palm, spiking it into the earth.
One sharp twist is all it takes to make that magic spin like a top, dragging Ventus along for the ride. His body is thrown around Vanitas’ legs as the other staggers from the sudden lack of resistance, Keyblade smacking down on the space the Light was previously occupying. It’s months of practice that gets Ven back on his feet instead of losing control and eating dirt, Wayward Wind rapping across Vanitas’ spine none too gently.
The blow is only slightly less forceful than he’d usually make it. And it is really satisfying, watching his aggressor barely stop himself from face planting into a bush.
“First hit goes to me. That’s four to one.” Tense as he might be, there’s still a touch of smugness in Ven’s voice as he steps away, allowing Vanitas room to recover. “Are you done?”
He’d like to be done. Vanitas straightens with a low hum of amusement, positively radiating triumph.
“Two to three.” The moment Ventus opens his mouth to protest, he’s cut off. “It doesn’t count as a win when I’m getting what I want.”
Which is a fantastic thing to say, if the intention was to kill any enjoyment Ven might have been feeling.
Vanitas seems to expect that. Again, he flings himself across the space between them, forcing the blond to focus on reacting, not thinking. He doesn’t stop after a few swings, this time. Doesn’t speak, not even to throw a taunt. The crack of blade meeting blade fills the air repeatedly, coming faster and faster.
He doesn’t let up. So Ventus doesn’t think. He doesn’t have time to register anything outside of how Void Gear changes angles as it moves, the way Vanitas shifts his feet. Body motions and directional cues that tell him where to parry, how fast he needs to get his defense up.
Speed has always been his advantage. Something Ventus has utilized to dart in close, unleash a rapid flurry of blows, then retreat. A dance of confrontation, followed by a need for distance. Vanitas doesn’t allow that. He’s got both speed and power, chasing whenever Ventus takes a step back, attempts to leap out the way.
Then he flickers, just the slightest. Slows and stops, something slightly off–
Laughter rings out across the island, wild and ecstatic as Ventus whirls, throwing his blade up overhead. Just in time to catch Vanitas’ downward strike when he dives in from above, afterimage fading out behind them.
“You’re such a cheat.” A gasped out observation, from a smile just as wide and reckless as the one Vanitas aims at him.
“Tit for tat, Ventus.” Vanitas pushes away, leaping back several paces. The orb of dark fire that shoots towards him from the tip of Void Gear is almost intimately familiar, but the tempo in which he can summon it now is–
The hastiest Aeroga he’s ever cast is the only thing that prevents Ven from taking it square to the chest. He can still feel the blistering heat, inches away from his skin. It bounces, flames disappearing into the ocean waves with a hissing cloud of steam.
That should be another warning. That should have him getting out of dodge as quickly as his Light damned Heart can manage. It doesn’t.
He dances across the sand as Vanitas lobbies Dark Firaga after Dark Firaga with unerring precision. One. Another. Three at once. The beach is quickly becoming littered with craters and pockmarks, melted sand glowing red hot in viscous puddles of warped glass.
“Is this all a Master can do?” Vanitas calls out between casts. He keeps flicking magic out with practised ease. “Defend? Dodge?”
That’s bait. That is blatant manipulation, urging Ventus to entertain doing something even more stupid. One more warning. One more reason to leave.
“Get real!” He knows– Ventus knows. He just doesn’t care. The unapologetic recklessness combined with Vanitas’ desire to push them both; it’s infectious. It twines around his own bad habit of doing things on a whim, his natural disposition to give into his urges as soon as they strike.
His head can keep telling him, quietly, that he’s making a mistake.
Neither side of his Heart gives a damn.
One thing is clear at the end of it all; they really don’t need the X-blade to cause extensive damage to their surroundings. The once pleasant island is in a pretty poor state; trees toppled by wind strong enough to uproot them, others scorched black, some still smoking. They might have completely shifted the layout of the beach, accidentally– the once gentle curve into the water is a much more jagged cove now, complimented by large chunks of glass that slowly lose their yellow-red glow. They’re complimented chunks of melting ice and a few hundred pieces of confetti and popped balloons that, Ven’s proud to say, caught Vanitas as off guard as he’d intended.
He sprawls back on the ground, a piece of ice digging into his hip, breaths fast but shallow. Vanitas might’ve cracked one of his ribs. In return, his Darkness’ face is coated in blood, thanks to a gash above his eye.
Vanitas doesn’t sprawl out, but he sits down fairly quickly. There’s a lick of satisfaction that’s directly related to how quickly his shoulders rise and fall– out of breath now, huh?
“Any time you want to stop feeling smug, go for it.” Because Vanitas practically reeks of it, like the cat who caught the canary. Calling it out doesn’t change what he’s receiving; his arms ache, and his shoulders. Vanitas’ head is throbbing.
But the joint lack of frenetic energy has Ventus practically boneless, and he knows Vanitas is just as relaxed.
That feels better than it has any right to feel.
Aside from a quiet chuckle, the two fall into silence as they recover. Eventually, Ventus casts a Cure on himself, hissing at the very distinct pop as one of his ribs snaps back into place. Giving Vanitas the same treatment is an unconscious, learned habit; you don’t just let your sparring partner walk away without ensuring they’re good to do so.
The look he receives for it is inscrutable, Vanitas grunting softly under his breath as he staggers to his feet. He crouches down at the waterline, splashing his face and scrubbing away dried flakes of blood from his cheeks, until the only indication of his prior wounds are a few pink tinged droplets that slowly collect on the end of his chin.
He sits back down again, in the exact same spot he’d left. That also feels– a lot better than it should.
“Three to four.” A draw, this time.
“Three to two.” Ventus turns his head, scowling. “If you threw a fight on purpose, it doesn’t count.”
“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” Vanitas shrugs. “Still three to four.”
Ugh. Can he not ruin this? Ven flings a handful of sand at him, for lack of a better retort. Most of it hits the ground. Vanitas scoffs at him, but doesn’t retaliate. That ease in the atmosphere makes it that much easier for Ventus to change the subject.
“If I ask you a question that isn’t about what you’re doing, are you going to storm off again?”
“Depends on the question,” Is the lazy response. “And if you keep pushing for things I don’t want to tell you.”
“Fine, no pushing.” Like he wouldn’t press forever if it was his question. “How’d you keep learning? There’s no more Masters of Darkness.”
How’d you get better, is what Ven is really asking. He knows he’s faster, that he’s become a lot more adaptable than he ever was as a kid. So’s Vanitas. But Ven had two Masters and a bunch of friends to help him get to where he is today. How’d Vanitas manage that on his own?
“If you must know… the Darkness has a resource you Lights can barely comprehend.” Vanitas’ eyes are on the horizon, lips curling into a smirk. The more he speaks, the quieter the words are, forcing Ventus to sit up and shuffle closer. Just to hear each word above the waves. “I found them. Studied them. Made them my own.”
“What? What are they?” It’s too intriguing not to bite.
The moment Vanitas looks at him, Ven knows he’s been played.
“Books.” He holds a hand up, barely withholding his amusement as Ven’s curious expression drops. “I know the concept’s foreign to you, so let me explain. You open them up, and they’re filled with writing from other people. Then you… read them.”
“Oh, go dunk yourself in the ocean.” Shoving Vanitas’ shoulder feels like trying to push down a brick wall. There’s no give at all. Vanitas’ laughter isn’t the cruel, malicious thing it once was, but it’s still entirely at his expense. “That’s it? You just read books.”
“The old man left caches of the things all over the place. I always knew about some of them, and others were easy enough to… dig up. So yes, Ventus. I just read books.” His eyes go back to the ocean. “Then I found worlds where fighting is just a way of life, and figured it out.”
“You threw yourself into real fights just to play with some new tricks?” He wants to point out how many safe ways there are to do that– except, Vanitas doesn’t have any access to those. He doesn’t have practice dummies, or safe people. It’s not hard to imagine that he didn’t really care how much danger he was putting himself into, even if he had managed to find some of those things.
Ven… can’t bring himself to like it. Uneasily accept, maybe. But not like.
“That’s an awful way to learn.”
“But not the worst way.” Vanitas says, and his voice is too knowing, too pointed. They both know the worst ways to learn something. They’d experienced them together.
Those are memories Ventus doesn’t want to touch. So he doesn’t.
“I think I’ll stick with sparring.” He lays back against the sand, hands behind his head. “At least I won’t get killed if I mess something up. Just bullied forever.”
“Your girlfriend didn’t make you her apprentice the second the war was over?”
“I did a lot of studying under her– but it wasn’t a formal apprenticeship.” He–
His Heart squeezes tightly. Yeah, he was pretty done with those.
“She wasn’t the only one. Riku– he’s one of Sora’s friends– he had a lot to teach us that we hadn’t found out before. And everyone else was there, training, so we just kind of… helped each other.”
“How sweet.” The flat delivery accompanies a heavy dose of boredom that has Ventus snorting. “So what now, then? You waste most of your time teaching a bunch of kids how to hold a sword wrong?”
“It’s not wrong, it’s versatile!”
“Sure. Give yourself slightly more speed at the cost of needing to be in close quarters while you lessen your ability to strike hard. Such skill.” Vanitas’ brow quirks upwards as he glances down at him. “How many brats is it then? Five? Ten?”
“Zero. I haven’t taken any apprentices.” He just teaches some from time to time– and no matter how much more pleasant things feel after utterly wrecking the island in Vanitas’ pursuit to fight, he’s not admitting they exist.
“Then how does Master Ventus waste his days?”
“I study. I travel. World to World, locate the Heart of them. Lock them up.” A smile comes to his lips, unbidden. “Take in the sights. Look for evidence of the Wielders that came before us. Meet people.”
“By yourself?” Why is that the thing Vanitas is most skeptical of? He left home on his own at sixteen, didn’t he? Under duress, but he still left alone.
“Mostly. Kairi comes along when she wants to. Roxas and Xion too, when they’re not doing their own thing.”
“But not Aqua and Terra.”
It’s the first time Vanitas has used any of their names, past Ventus’ own. He’s pretty sure he only says that much because he’s… digging, for something. An answer to a question that’s itching under Vanitas’ skin, unspoken and unresolved.
“They’re not really interested in that kind of thing.” Ventus shrugs, because it’s really not that deep. “I take them to places I think they’d like.”
“Mhm.” Vanitas isn’t convinced– that question still lingers, niggling at both of them– but surprisingly, he lets it go. “And that’s it, then? This is your happily ever after?”
“Well…yeah, I guess.” His answer is met with a sour note, dissatisfaction that he can’t possibly interpret.
He wants to ask– did your choice give you the same? Researching, fighting in world after world… is that what Vanitas had wanted, when he rejected Sora’s offer? Had he found something out in the universe that did satisfy him, as much as a reckless spar on a beach? Or..?
Vanitas would never answer, he knows. So he doesn’t ask.
He goes for something completely different.
“You wanna spar again next week?”
And it’s a pleasure to feel Vanitas’ surprise, the way it quickly shifts into a quietly pleased hum beneath their skin.
“Same time, same place.”
This is an awful idea, his head whispers. His Heart ignores it.
“Deal.”
His mind told him it was a mistake, but it’s not until he’s shoulder to shoulder with Roxas that regret slams into Ventus full force. Less than an hour after landing in Radiant Garden, Roxas grabs him up and tugs him away for a group call that can’t wait.
“We have a twelfth.”
He stares down at the phone they’re sharing wordlessly, not daring to look up. He doesn’t want to see Roxas’ disappointment.
“Ah, fuck me.” Lea groans loudly. No one else says anything, but the sentiment is clearly shared.
“Ajani. She’s twelve.” Kairi adds. Sora’s leaning against her shoulder, while Riku has his chin pressed against the top of her head. They look even more squished together than Ventus feels. “Ienzo’s going to send me her medical report once he’s done with it, but he said to assure you guys that there’s nothing serious so far. Just some scrapes and bruises.”
“She’s not from the Caribbean, right?” Xion asks, eyes flicking to Ventus. “Or any of the worlds we just checked?”
“I couldn’t identify her world from her description.” Roxas shakes his head ruefully. “Or her painting– Namine’s got the kids drawing landscapes, just in case it helps us figure it out.”
“So we just have another kid, and no answers?” Sora’s frowning, though his eyes aren’t flicking between Roxas and Ventus like the others. He focuses on his other; more than likely having an entirely different conversation with him, just by feeling alone. “That doesn’t make sense. If he knows we’re onto him, shouldn’t something have changed, a little? Why keep bringing them to Radiant Garden?”
“If she’s not roughed up more than the others, he mustn’t have felt like he had to rush.” Riku muses. “You’d think he’d be more aggressive after seeing Ventus.”
Sora goes to speak, before closing his mouth just as abruptly. Ventus numbly makes a note to reach out later and ask– he probably isn’t keen on letting everyone know he can still feel Vanitas’ emotions.
“So what now?” Lea sighs. “What’s the plan?”
All eyes go straight to him, and he really wishes they didn’t. Stomach turning over on itself, Ven tries to smile. He’s not exactly sure he succeeds.
“We hit up the worlds we know he’s been to, and the worlds that have bigger cities– same as before. But–” He adds, when Lea looks ready to complain. “We’re gonna have to start talking to the locals. People we know, or Sora does. Ask them to keep an eye out for anything strange, any rumors about weird disappearances. The lighter a world’s Heart, the more likely this is going to stand out.”
“About that… I think we can probably stop looking at some of them.” Xion offers. When everyone’s attention turns to her, she twirls a lock of hair between her fingers. “The Carribean, Agrabah, and San Fransokyo. I was wondering; don’t they have more in common than just a big city?”
“...the Heart of their worlds is darker.” Roxas realizes. Distantly, Ventus can feel something shift. Like Roxas has figured out a lot more than that. “We want to focus on worlds with more Darkness to them.”
“Cool. So we hop back to San Fran.” Lea accepts. He waves at Riku, Kairi, and Sora. “I know you’re enjoying your beach bumming, but can you guys take Agrabah? It’s a bit of a hike between the two.”
“I can take it with Ven, if you guys can’t.” Roxas offers. It feels horrible to have to correct him.
“I can’t. I promised Terra I’d take a break after checking in with you.”
“That’s fair!” Sora chirps. Roxas gently bumps their shoulders together. “Don’t worry about it, Ven. The Genie’s gonna make keeping an eye on Agrabah a sinch.”
“Definitely.” Riku looks…less pleased, but still accepting. Sora definitely won’t be leaving Destiny Islands alone, at least.
“I’ll touch base if the kids share something interesting.” Roxas advises. It takes a little of the pressure off, watching him take charge. And that, Ven knows, is the intention. He’s– had about as much experience with leading as Ventus has, but even then, he can’t help feeling that Roxas is just better at it. “Let us know when you leave. And Kairi, give us a heads up if Ienzo finds anything.”
“Of course I will. You get some rest, Ven. You too Roxas.” She wags a finger at him. “If you work yourself to the bone, I’m helping Lea and Xion kidnap you.”
“Light forbid any of us work too hard.” Roxas says dryly. There’s a chorus of farewells before Roxas disconnects the call, letting his phone drop into his lap. The silence doesn’t last very long. “So.”
There’s a lot of quiet places in Radiant Garden. Even ten years later, the population is recovering– booming, but nowhere close to the numbers it used to have. There’s a lot of ramparts and intricately laid out gardens that rarely receive visitors– Roxas had found one of them, of course. A stretch of wall that looks out into the deep valleys where the castle used to be.
Trust him to find the highest, most out of the way place he could.
“...How was Vanitas?”
Ventus feels himself flinch. Groaning softly, he hides his face in his hands, fingers pressing into his eyes.
“I messed up, Rox.”
“Maybe. But that’s not what I’m asking.” He can feel Roxas staring down at him, which is a perfect reason to not look up. He doesn’t feel frustrated, but he will be. “Did you two talk again?”
“...Not really.” He slides his hands down, muffling his words. “Kind of sparred, maybe? Wrecked an island?”
There’s a pause. A long… long pause.
“Alright. Sure. Why not.” Roxas sighs, leaning over to push Ventus in the forehead. A motion he repeats until he glances up, irritation briefly trumping his remorse. “You didn’t ask him about it, huh?”
“Practically the first thing he said was not to waste his time again.” Ven admits. “After that– I was kind of busy stopping him from smashing my head in.”
And– having fun. Enjoying himself, when Vanitas had gone and kidnapped another child less than twelve hours ago.
The whole time. The whole time they’d been fighting, talking. Vanitas hadn’t let on about it for a second. He must think Ven is the biggest idiot in the universe. He is the biggest idiot in the universe.
What had he been thinking? Because he can’t even begin to figure it out, right now.
“It’s always us, isn’t it?” At least Roxas isn’t disappointed in him. Kind of– a bit concerned, maybe, but Ven can’t blame him for that. There’s no excuse for this. “Look, I won’t tell anyone.”
“...Really?”
“Sure. But I have conditions.”
“That’s fair.” That’s more than fair. “Lay them on me.”
“First, we’re gonna ask Ienzo to give us a phone. For Vanitas.” Ventus blinks in surprise. “He obviously isn’t against being in contact with you. This’ll make it easier.”
“I can’t make him accept it.” Trying to force it on him would ensure that he doesn’t, actually.
“I know. I’ll ask Ienzo to take a few things out. The SOS tracker, the camera– whatever might convince him not to.” Roxas hums, tapping a few notes into his phone. “We’ll go see him today. I bet he can have it ready for you by the time your break’s over.”
“I mean– if he can have it ready in six days, I might be able to give it to him.” Ven hedges around saying it aloud, that he’s already arranged to meet Vanitas again. The dry look he receives says that he’s not entirely successful at hiding that fact.
“Sure. My second condition; I want you to go see Namine.”
“You don’t have to demand I do that.” He doesn’t know her as well as Kairi, but she’s always been a sweetheart. A little shy, but if you asked her about the things she liked, she could talk even more than her Somebody. He’d like to see her school, as well.
“I’m not asking you to make a social call. Has anyone ever told you what Namine can do?” Ventus doesn’t even have to shake his head for Roxas to explain. “She can see the chains of people’s memories– people connected to Sora. I’d like her to have a look at yours.”
A look at his memories. It’s briefly discomfiting, but Roxas’ idea is easy enough to put together.
“You think my memories can help us figure out why Vanitas is doing this.”
“Maybe. Worth a shot, right?” Ventus leans into Roxas, soaking in his patience. He’s willing to wait quietly, so Ventus can think about it.
His memories, huh? He doesn’t…really know how much help they can be. From what Ven knows, he’s had amnesia at least once, if not twice. The few fragments of the time before he and Vanitas had separated aren’t all that far off from when that split came to be– everything from before Xehanort is an almost furious blank.
As nice as it would’ve been, to have a little more of an idea about where he’d come from, Ventus had long since stopped worrying about it. Maybe he would’ve tried harder to get them back if he wasn’t living the life he is now. But if there’s a chance Namine could find something there. A chance that it might help…
It could make up for today, a little. And–
And next week. That he isn’t abandoning any future chances he has to see Vanitas is asking for more trouble, but Ventus doesn’t have the heart to let it go. Roxas knows. He’s the only one who can know.
He’s not trying to stop him. That doesn’t make it alright. But it is a pretty convenient excuse not to think any harder about it.
“Alright. But just her.” He grimaces. “If she manages to find some memories that help, I’d rather she talk to me about it. No offence.”
“None taken. You already gave me your goofy mug, I don’t want your memories.” When Roxas elbows him lightly, Ventus elbows him back, shoulders slowly losing their tension. His heart stops feeling like a dead weight in his chest.
Even if they look the same age, Roxas has had significantly less life experience than him. Ven still remembers having to explain so many things he’d taken for granted that the other had never experienced before.
He can’t remember when Roxas had gotten so good at handling his problems. He just knows he’s grateful for it. From the smile on Roxas’ face, it doesn’t go unfelt.
“So, we gotta see a guy about a phone?”
“Yep. Let’s– what’s the stack of muscles say? Mosey?” Ventus huffs out a laugh as Roxas pulls him off the wall. Together, the two of them slowly wind their way back to the center of town.
The Central Labs aren’t quite at the city center. It’s more like the labs themselves are the center– of activity, of commerce. Like the Restoration Committee building, it stands out. Even more so, in Ven’s opinion.
No other building in town has domed rooftops made of glass, ones that could blind the careless observer at certain times of day. There’s something ornate about the whole place, a whole lot of smooth stone and marble that Ventus has to marvel at as they walk through one of the three entrances to the grand foyer. It’s a hive of activity, people in white cloaks bustling from one area to the next, secretaries juggling stacks of paperwork. The hum of voices collects against the ceiling, echoing and amplifying into a dull, constant hum.
He’s been in the building all of three times. Roxas definitely hasn’t been here. Even so, the security guards look at them once before waving them through the security checkpoint; they don’t even twitch when multiple alarms go off. Roxas tenses briefly, until the sound stops. They move a little closer together as they head to one of the reception desks, Ventus politely enquiring if Ienzo can make some time for them.
The head scientist doesn’t just make time. He comes to collect them himself, offering a rare smile before leading them down a series of white corridors to his office. In contrast to the monotone greys of the rest of the place, the dark green walls and natural wood furniture is a pretty welcome sight for Roxas and Ventus both.
Neither of them have the greatest association with blank, white walls.
“I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here, Roxas.” His eyes flick between the two of them passively as he offers them a seat— not at the desk, but a small set of couches by the window. “Though I take it you’re not here to say hello.”
“I need a favor, one ex-coworker to another.” Roxas doesn’t slouch back into the cushions; his back is ramrod straight, and Ventus finds himself copying the way he sits right at the edge of the settee, ready to stand at a moment’s notice.
He shifts, until their shoulders are pressed together. It does little to bleed the tension away, but they both feel better for it.
“An ex-coworker. I see.” Iezno rests his hands in his lap, fingers lacing together. “And since you’re asking this with Ventus present, I take it he is welcome to knowing this favor, and that anyone outside of this room is not.”
Ienzo was just a little kid when Ventus had first visited Radiant Garden, apparently. He wouldn’t know– he’s pretty sure he never met him. Aside from the medical assessment the man had insisted Ventus allow shortly after waking up from his ten year long slumber, they didn’t have much to do with each other, aside from pointed recommendations that Ventus stop by for a health check.
Which he hasn’t, because– not because he’d be against it, honestly. Being a Master keeps him busy and away, until pointed reminders get forgotten.
Still, he’s never seen the man look so… cold. It’s not the right term, and unconsciously, Roxas helps to correct that. Not cold, analytical. Uncomfortable with the pointed reminder of who they used to work for.
“That’s right. I need you to give Ven a Gummi Phone. One without a camera, all tracking features disabled. Remove the maps, the library access, any connections to Tron or Data Sora.” He’s never seen this side of Roxas, either. This clipped, blank version of him, that feels so many things– without showing a single one. “Just text and voice options. More than one would be better.”
“And am I allowed to know why I am creating Ventus the equivalent of those,” Izeno squints. “...burner phones, from those insufferable bank heist movies Lea is in love with?”
“It’s classified.” Roxas answers. Ienzo hums, leaning back in his chair.
There’s a moment of cognitive dissonance. Ventus is sure Ienzo is going to decline, pulse spiking at the idea that he might start pressing for a better response. Roxas, by contrast, knows he won’t. He’s asked everything he needs to understand; he isn’t getting any answers.
He won’t do it. But he will. He owes me–us?–Roxas– that much.
“When are you expecting them?” Ventus exhales loudly. Roxas doesn’t spare him a glance.
“The first in six days, if you can do it. The rest whenever.”
“I’ll see it done. But perhaps you can do me one favor, one ex-coworker to another.” The body beside him is rigid under the scientist’s gaze. Reflexively, Ventus reaches out to snatch at Roxas’ hand, gripping it tightly. “It’s been ten years, Roxas. It is far past time you allow me to ensure your replica is functioning normally.”
Ventus has never wanted to run away as much as he does right now. And Roxas– doesn’t show it. At all.
“No.” His tone is frigid, conveying a finality that sucks any warmth from the rest of the room. Ienzo’s eyes narrow, though he doesn’t move. Roxas– Ventus, both of them are certain that’s on purpose.
No sudden movements around frightened animals.
“Roxas. Ventus has been through a medical. As as Lea. Xion. And while I can look at the data from her and Namine, this will only allow me to make assumptions about your health. There is always the chance a problem has been caused by the haste in which you were reassembled. A problem that could be fixed, if you would just allow us to find it.”
“Data.” Ventus chokes out. He’s heard that word so many times before, so why is it filling his head with white noise? Why can’t he breathe? Why does it feel like he’s looking at Ienzo from the other side of a long tunnel?
The only thing keeping him grounded is how Roxas holds his hand. It’s so tight, he can feel his fingers going numb.
“I said no.” And yet he still sounds completely blank. Not calm. Not neutral. Blank. “I offered to let you look at me before. In Twilight Town.”
“And I told you then, there are scans we need to take if we’re to be sure of anything.” Ven’s certain that Ienzo isn’t trying to be callous. It’s not his fault that every word sounds like a threat. “If you continue to allow your fears to rule how I assist you, then you run the risk of preventable issues causing irreparable damage. It is a medical.”
All of that is bad.
“I am not DiZ.”
That’s worse.
“I’ve gotta go!” Ventus yelps. He jumps up from the chair like he’s been electrocuted, hauling Roxas up beside him a moment later. They’ve got to go, they’ve got to go, they’ve got to– “Thanks for your help, I’ll see you next week!”
The door slams into the wall on their way out, not that Ventus cares. There’s two things on his mind; mission objectives they’re going to complete together. Right now, before anything else happens.
Objective one; get the fuck out of the labs. That’s easy enough, hasty steps shifting into an outright sprint as they burst out into the entrance hall, practically flying past security and out into open air. No one stops them– Ventus doesn’t catch if anyone gives them a weird look.
It's fine. Nothing to worry about. Objective two.
Objective two. Find somewhere quiet. Then… RTC? He has no idea what that is.
Roxas does, but Roxas isn’t really– he’s not about to explain that, right now. His focus is on keeping hold of Ventus’ hand, even if Ven’s fingers are starting to turn blue. It’s up to Ven to blindly lead them through the city streets, towards the walls he knows hide miles and miles of empty space. Canyons and flat, blue rock as far as the eye can see.
That seems like the right place. Climbing walls seems like a waste of time, so he doesn’t. Wayward Wind is hastily tossed into the air, until he can drag Roxas onto his Glider. They arc up into the sky, momentum quickly turning into a nosedive, a collision course to the ground just outside Radiant Garden’s borders.
He stumbles as he lands, losing his grip on Roxas as the other blond staggers forwards, and slams a fist into the wall.
Seconds later, Roxas’ Gummi Phone starts ringing. He hurls it as far away as he can– but even once it lands, they can still hear it ringing.
Mission complete.
It takes a really long time to sort out what’s him and what isn’t. His Glider thrums quietly as he sits down on it, unsure if his legs are going to hold his weight. Just as quiet, Ventus watches Roxas hit the grey stones with his fists over and over, deathly quiet on the outside.
His own hand feels like it’s on fire. That doesn’t matter as much in comparison to everything else. So much fear, slowly caving into anger. Roxas doesn’t have to speak to be heard.
He’s ashamed of himself. He’s ashamed he froze up. He’s ashamed Ventus had to protect him. He’s angry– furious, at Ienzo. That word, data, keeps popping up in both their minds, making them reel just that little bit more, and–
“Roxas,” Ventus doesn’t know what to do. “Are you okay?”
If nothing else, that gets him to stop. Bitter laughter washes over them both as Roxas slowly leans into the wall, pressing his forehead against a bloody smear from a busted knuckle. Anger, fear, regret–
It’s a constant cycle.
“No. No, I’m not okay.”
He should call Xion. This is what she asked him to keep an eye out for, isn’t it? This is why Lea was so unhappy at the idea of Roxas coming here. They’d want to know, and damn whatever things they could find out about Vanitas in the meantime. They’d want to be here; could probably help far better than Ventus can.
Roxas’ phone. He should go find that, so Roxas doesn’t have to. One of them has to cast Cure, because they’re both pretty sure Roxas has broken a few fingers.
“Can you– fuck.” Roxas hisses softly. He flexes his fingers with a wince, summoning Oblivion in his other hand. The burn Ventus feels disappears a moment later. “Can you text Sora and tell him I’ll ring him once I’ve calmed down?”
Sora, who’s probably the one stubbornly ringing Roxas’ phone, over and over. With how sensitive their bond is, he has to know something’s wrong. Wait too long and he’d probably be calling them mid-takeoff. Riku would rip them a new one for letting Sora get so worked up.
And that’s the last thing they need, since Riku–
“Yeah.” That he can do. When he fumbles to turn his phone on, Sora’s already spammed him with messages. A missed call.
Heart Hotel: wats hapning is roxas with u
Heart Hotel: y arent u ansrin
Heart Hotel: guys pick up the phone
It’s Heckin’ Wimdy: Roxas says give him a minute. He’ll call you.
Heart Hotel: R U OK???????
It’s Heckin’ Wimdy: We had a scare. We’ll be okay.
He hopes. Sora’s still typing, but for once, Ventus doesn’t wait to see what he has to say. The screen goes dark as he chews his lip, taking in Roxas’ state. Still slumped against the wall, Oblivion hanging limply from his fingers.
The anger is still there, but– it’s a lot more muted, now. There’s probably a million things Roxas doesn’t want him to see or feel. Ven can’t blame him for that. The past haunts everyone in different ways.
Tentatively, Ventus stands. Edges closer. He doesn’t know what Roxas needs, just… what he wants to do. What he’d hope someone would do for him.
“Hey.” Reaching out, he carefully takes that Keyblade away, feeling the slightest resistance as he asks it to go. It disappears almost reluctantly, freeing his hands for something a little more important. Encouraging Roxas away from the wall, so he can lean on him instead. “I’m here. You’re still here.”
Roxas exhales shakily against his shoulder, simply listening as Ventus repeats the words, over and over. Ven’s here. He’s still here. They’re both here. They exist. He hopes Sora is sending his love. He hopes Roxas feels it, inside and out. He hopes he feels whole and wanted, and safe.
What he does know, eventually, is that Roxas’ breathing eventually evens out. That he doesn’t feel like they’re too close to Radiant Garden anymore– Roxas doesn’t feel threatened, so Ventus doesn’t either. If nothing else, he knows he’s safe again.
“I’m gonna find my phone,” Roxas murmurs. “Give Sora a call.”
“Good idea,” Ventus doesn’t pull away until Roxas does, watching him carefully. His face is still frightfully blank, for the most part. “And Xion, after?”
Roxas’ lips twitch.
“And Xion.”
It takes ten minutes to find his phone, even with Ventus calling it over and over. There’s a crack in the screen, but Ventus doesn’t dare suggest he get that fixed. Phones have caused enough problems for one day.
“You want me to stay?”
“No. I want–” Roxas pauses, swallowing. “I just want to talk to Sora, actually.”
He needs him. Ventus almost needs him too, except he’s doing his best not to let them get too tangled together. Distance is probably a good idea, right now. Before their feelings start another unending loop of emotional feedback, and they both freak out.
“You should go see Namine.”
“Now?” Roxas nods. “I guess. I won’t be far, so– message me. If you need something.”
“Alright.”
“And ring Xion after.”
“Yes, Ven. Heard you the first time.”
“And–”
“Ven. Just go already.” The smile on his lips takes away any bite, Ventus giving him a grin in answer as he hops back onto his Glider, letting it rise into the air. Higher than he needs to go, up into the clouds.
Distance is a really good thing. He squints up at the sun for a moment, taking the time to breathe.
“A lot of bad memories walking around, huh?”
Xion could’ve warned him better. They’ve had occasions like this in the past, where one of them was confronted with something they weren’t prepared for. Two of them together was bad– all four of them had been an absolute disaster.
The first time, Riku had to physically haul Sora away before any of them could calm down. Trying to figure out where one of them started and another stopped was almost impossible, for the longest time. Even now, Ven’s almost shocked he managed as well as he did.
Maybe it was the physical pain. Maybe it’s just that… he’s never been the one to start these. He’s always been along for the ride.
Better resilience when he hasn’t been stuck on the other side, or something.
It’s Heckin’ Wimdy: Roxas’ isn’t having a good time. He’s talking to Sora now but promised to call you after.
It’s Heckin’ Wimdy: Ienzo wanted him to have a medical scan.
Shellbell: Thank you Ven. I’ll tell you if he hasn’t called me in an hour. Are you okay?
It’s Heckin’ Wimdy: Going to visit Namine, she’ll cheer me up. :)
Honestly? He doesn’t think she will. By the time Ventus puts his feet back on the ground, he’s exhausted. If he hadn’t promised Roxas– if he didn’t need to make sure Roxas was okay, later, if he didn’t need to ask about the new kid, if he didn’t need to fly back to Departure, if he didn’t– he might’ve asked her if he could nap on her couch, for a few hours.
He doesn’t. But most of his afternoon flies in one ear and out the other. Namine’s apartment is cute; all pastel colors and warm lights. She’s happy to see him, worried about Roxas, though he keeps the reasons for his absence vague. They settle out on the balcony at Ven’s request, just so he doesn’t fall asleep mid conversation.
That she offers tea and biscuits is a lifeline he inhales with more enthusiasm than usual. Did he forget to eat again? They had lunch about four hours before he left Destiny Islands, and then…
Yeah. He must’ve forgotten again.
“And you’re sure you want to try this?” Namine gently rests her cup back on the table with a soft clink of china, a small furrow in her brow. “I… didn’t always use this power for good, Ven.”
“But you do now, right?” He gives her a kind smile, snagging up another biscuit. He hopes she didn’t serve the only ones she has, because he’s eaten almost an entire plate. “If Roxas thinks you can help, that’s good enough for me. Only if you want to, mind.”
“Oh, if it will help, I’d love to!” Namine rushes to assure. “Just– it does mean trusting me with yourself. All of you. I might see things… you never wanted to share.”
“That’s okay.” He thinks. His Heart twists weakly in disagreement, but too much has happened today for him to worry much, right now. “You won’t share my memories with anyone else? Unless I ask you to?”
“Of course not. I’ll keep them safe, I promise.” Her apartment is littered with sketchbooks and colored pencils; even out here, where the weather has a chance of ruining them. Namine hardly has to lean over to collect one in her lap, staring down at the blank page like she can already see what will be drawn there. “I won’t let you down.”
“Then we’re good to go. Um– is there something I need to do? Hang around, or–?”
“You can go when you’re ready, Ven. It doesn’t really matter where you are.” She glances up at him with a soft, upwards turn of her lips. “Not that you have to leave, if you’re not ready to.”
“Honestly? I kind of want to go to bed.” He laughs sheepishly. “After I check on Roxas, that’s exactly where I’m going.”
There’s some more pleasantries, he thinks. Promises to visit her school on a better day, when Roxas can show him around as well. He’s not the best guest, but she very quickly becomes distracted by her art, only nodding absently when he finally excuses himself from the table. She’s still sitting there when he leaves the apartment, so he holds off on shouting farewell.
You’re not supposed to interrupt people when they’re concentrating. Accidentally causing her to mess up his memories is the last thing he needs, today.
Checking up with Roxas is a quick, cautious phone call, one that has him assured that Lea and Xion are heading here from San Fransokyo, and Roxas won’t be alone for long. He’ll head back to Namine’s, now that Ventus isn’t there. They’ll see each other next week, after they’ve had a little more time to reorient themselves as… themselves.
He thinks about calling Kairi, too. But it’s a long way home, and his armor feels like it’s gained twenty pounds when he summons it. Groaning softly, Ventus takes to the Lanes Between, drooping where he stands. No teasing the Heartless, today. Nothing but looking out for worlds ahead that he can use as checkpoints– blink, and they’re behind him.
Home. Terra, offering him a one-armed hug. The kids, shooed away when it becomes all too clear that Ventus is too tired to deal with them. Aqua guiding him to his room, pressing her lips to his forehead.
Bed.
White sheets. The sound of waves.
Burning. Ash. Rust.
He could sleep for a week, he’s sure. Roxas let’s himself into Namine’s apartment wearily, consciously ignoring the slight tremor in his fingers. If he doesn’t acknowledge it, he can’t get angry about it. Simple.
Sora’s emotions flow in and out of him like the tide, waves of comfort and understanding. A balm to old hurts and reopened wounds that help him feel… not much of anything, right now. A little numb. That’s probably for the best.
He’s sure Xion is thinking about him too. Seeing her and Axel would help; he knows the moment they land Axel’s going to have them crowding into Isa’s place, eating all his food and watching some shitty action flick. Give it a day and things will be normal again. That’s how it always is.
What’s not normal is the amount of pages scattered around Namine’s apartment. Hundreds of them. They coat the floor in a wide circle around the source– a hunched over figure on the couch, frowning down at her sketchbook. Even as he watches, she pauses. Sighs to herself.
Rips the page out, and throws it over her shoulder. It joins the mess on the floor.
Glancing around, it’s not hard to confirm it. Some pages– a lot more than he’d expected, are entirely blank. Others are half finished pieces, a single figure that’s missing a leg, the image of the sky, with nothing below it. A few lines that don’t even look like anything, abandoned before they could even take a form.
That’s not normal. He’s never seen Namine leave anything unfinished before. Especially not something as important as what Roxas assumes she’s working on.
“Having trouble?” She jolts at the sound of his voice, turning her head and blinking up at him owlishly. Picking his way across the floor, he’s careful not to step on anything, moving a few pages aside so he can join her on the couch.
She doesn’t smile at him. That’s not normal, either.
“...I don’t think I can look at Ventus’ memories, Roxas.” She sounds so guilty about it, like she’s letting him down. It’s why he nods before he speaks, giving his acceptance immediately.
“That’s okay. Can you tell me why?”
“It’s– not really my place to say. But Ventus,” She looks down at her sketchbook, frowning. Another blank page, pencil poised above the surface. But nothing comes. “His memories aren’t… cooperating.”
Roxas slowly closes his eyes as Namine hesitates, already reaching for his phone. He’s going to have to text Sora in a moment, to let him know that he’s still fine.
He just has unfortunate confirmation of what they’d already started looking into.
“I don’t think Ventus is okay, Roxas.”
“Yeah. We don’t think so, either.”
Sonofabitch. Ienzo better be feeling awfully contrite right about now, because Roxas is going to need him to give him a few new phone numbers.
He’s getting to the bottom of this.