Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before her sight kicks in, or any real sense of awareness for that matter, Emina hears music. A warm, peaceful tune from a saxophone sets her mind at ease. That is, until the fog of her consciousness clears, the static of her vision becomes a crisp image, and she realizes that she has no idea where she is. She considers that it may be a dream, as realistic as her setting seems. The bench supporting her is firm but comfortable, and the night air feels not hot, not cold, not too humid or dry, but just right. She sees a couple of lampposts, illuminating the area with a warm glow. There are several buildings, some connected and some not, but all with the same classic and welcoming motif. The lit candles on the tables of an open seating area not that far away accentuate the overall look of the place. Near the tables is a building with a bright sign reading “Item.” Similarly, other signs in the area read “Jewelry,” “Accessory,” and “Recovery.” The town is immediately charming, she thinks, save for the odd red postbox off to her right, and it's certainly no place for the likes of a “traitorous snake” such as herself. That was but one of the insults spat at her after the trial. Emina can still feel the utter disgust woven into each syllable. Urges to grimace aside, she should try to figure out where exactly she even is and how she got here. The last thing she felt was the muzzle of the gun pressed against  her forehead…

Emina's mind can't help but linger on that memory and those just before, given their recency. She’d been taken into custody, hands forced behind her back and shackled in mere seconds. She stood trial as an enemy of the state, spilled what little information she had, and was executed that same day. And now she's here, still wearing the loose gray prisoner’s clothes from her trial but with no sign of a bullet passing through her skull. She stands from the bench and starts toward the item shop. Someone had to light those candles, and the item shop is the closest place that looks to be open. Maybe she should be wary, having woken up in some strange place that, based on the stars in the sky, isn't even in Orience. But she's dead, so what does she really have to lose? Who knows? Maybe she'll find Kurasame— She stops dead in her tracks. She remembers. She remembers Kurasame. The broken boy with burns on his face, the scarred man wearing a mask, the Ice Reaper, Class Zero’s commanding officer, the man Kazusa loved, the tonberry’s master, her friend, Kurasame.

The door to the item shop opens, and a man exits. He's got long black hair pulled into a ponytail, and based on his attire — namely the striking purple coat, the bulky epaulette, and the two swords — he’s in some position of authority around here. That, or the locals have a bold sense of fashion. Judging by his posture and overall composed aura, though, Emina guesses that the former is the case. The man spots Emina immediately, and greets her with a smile. “Ah, another newcomer.” It’s a fake smile, Emina quickly concludes as the man approaches her, but that only serves to solidify her notion that he is a leader of sorts. To be able to remain calm and smile in the face of adversity is the trait of someone with a good deal of confidence and self-control. What troubles could this cute little town have, though?

“My name is Lasswell,” the man says. “Welcome to Traverse Town. I suspect you have many questions, Miss…”

“Uh. Emina.” Emina pauses, briefly contemplating what to say next. “Could you tell me about…” She glimpses around and motions outward at the area. “This place?”

“Certainly,” Lasswell says. “Would you walk with me, Miss Emina?” Nothing to lose, Emina reminds herself. Lasswell starts toward a short set of stairs with Emina in tow. “Truth be told, it’s difficult to explain everything, let alone understand it. Answers beget more questions. But, I'll try to get the basics across.” He leads Emina up some more stairs and to a giant set of double doors. “Traverse Town houses those whose worlds of origin were destroyed.”

“Destroyed?” Emina asks as Lasswell pushes the doors open. Did Finis come? That wouldn't explain her being alive — if this isn't some afterlife — but it would probably count as the destruction of Orience. “Swallowed by darkness,” Lasswell says. “I’ll show you to the Town Committee’s quarters. We’ve printed guidebooks written with the intent to inform the reader as much as possible. You see, this place sees many new faces from all over.” “Traverse Town,” Emina says, eyes wandering as she follows Lasswell. They're headed for a building a bit taller than the rest, with stained glass windows on the first floor and a large clock face at the top reading about 1:13. This part of town is considerably different from where they'd come, but it's pretty cohesive in and of itself; it's actually a tad reminiscent of both Akademeia and Ingram, but with more color and less people. There's no one out despite a number of shops being open. That fact is strange, but Emina decides she’ll just take things as they come.

“This place is named the Citadel, formally,” Lasswell says upon reaching the tall building. “But, everyone calls it the hotel because its primary function is to provide accommodations to any and all who seek shelter. You are of course welcome to check out a room for as long as you like, free of charge.” He opens one of the heavy glass doors at the building’s front and steps to the side.

Emina enters the building, smiling as she passes Lasswell. “Thank you. So, how does the ‘free of charge’ thing work?” Lasswell walks in behind her, letting the door close on its own. “Currency here is used almost exclusively for shopping and synthesis,” he says. “There's a section about it in— oh, of course. The desk attendant should have guidebooks left over. Right this way.” Emina follows Lasswell across the modern, dark but cozy lounge to the check-in desk where a moogle waits.

This moogle doesn't look quite like the ones in Orience, but the resemblance is strong. And, they're wearing a cute black suit to match the look of the interior. Of all things, a moogle’s outfit is what puts Emina somewhat at ease. She nearly laughs at herself, but settles for a smile. It feels nice to smile truly. And it feels awful to be punched in the gut by the guilt of doing so.

“Moggon,” Lasswell says. “You have spare copies of the guidebooks, yes?” The moogle, Moggon, drops down behind the desk and floats back up within seconds, carrying a pocket-sized book. “Yes-siree, Lord Lasswell. There's plenty where this came from, kupo.” They turn their attention to Emina. “Hail and well met, Newcomer. Would you like an additional guidebook in a larger size, kupo? Eyestrain is the enemy of a peaceful existence.”

Well, it's true that eyestrain does no one any good. “Sure,” Emina says. She can hardly get the words “Thank you” out before Moggon hands her the small guidebook and one with the width and length of an average novel. It'd be nice to sit down read a novel, if Traverse Town has any…

“Would you like a room as well, kupo?” Moggon asks. They sound so eager to help; how could Emina refuse? “Yes, that would be lovely.” Moggon dives behind the desk momentarily and comes back up with a key card. “If I may ask your preferred name?”

“Emina. Emina is fine.”

“Understood, kupo.”

Moggon’s pom-pom gives off a soft red glow for a couple of seconds, and then they spin around in the air. “It's done, kupo!” They offer the card to Emina. “Your room is number 221. Please enjoy your stay, Lady Emina.”

Emina takes the card and states her gratitude. “Thank you. You've been very helpful.” Then she looks to Lasswell. “I'd still like for you to meet the rest of the Committee,” he says. “If it's no trouble.”

“I've got time.” Emina says the words with a smile, though she's unsure what emotion she's trying to convey with it. She's confused, but relieved, and the brief talk with Moggon put her in a decent mood, but there's also the guilt gnawing at her. She follows Lasswell to an elevator, and they ride directly to the sixth floor. The level’s design is interwoven with the gears of the building's clock, and it has a much more mechanical appearance than the sleek look of the ground floor. “I appreciate your patience,” Lasswell says as he leads the way down the main corridor. He stops at a door halfway down the hall and takes a key card from an inner pocket of his coat. “It's a lot to take in.”

Emina says nothing in response. He's right; it is a lot to take in. Waking up in some place she didn't know existed, not even sure if she's alive or not… “Welcome to the Traverse Town Committee Base of Operations,” Lasswell says, once again opening the door for Emina. Once again, Emina thanks him, and she goes inside.

The room they enter is much like the lounge downstairs, with the addition of a kitchen. The back wall is a one-way window overlooking the district, and it's a part of the giant clock face. In the center of the room is a round table with room for six or so, but only two people sit there currently: a young man with wispy, gelled-up blond hair inspecting a gun, and a teenage boy with similarly styled, spikier blond hair and black sigils on each of his arms.

The man with the gun looks up immediately, and greets Emina with a smirk and a wink. It’s something he’s done a thousand times, Emina observes; a practiced and perfected technique or something that comes to him naturally. Hopefully it’s not a flirtation thing. “Name's Prompto. Welcome to our humble town of traversity.” “Nice to meet you,” Emina says by default. “I’m Emina.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” Prompto takes his gun off the table and sets it in his lap. “Don't mind the weapon.”

“Dude?” the boy next to Prompto says. “She just walked in here with Lasswell.” He turns his attention to Emina. “Sorry. I'm Lann. And, just to clarify in advance because a lot of people make this mistake: I'm not related to him in any way.” That seems like something a brother would say. “Come sit with us, if you want.”

Lasswell makes for the table. “Yes, you're more than welcome.” Since she doesn't exactly have anywhere urgent to be, Emina elects to take a seat next to Lasswell. “I see you've got the guide,” Prompto says. “It's a big help. I've made some major contributions myself.”

“I think our vice chair would disagree,” Lasswell says. “Where did she go off to, anyway?” “Something about a ‘pitiful darkness,’” Lann says. Lasswell sits back and loosely crosses his arms. “So, she sought out the disturbance. We should eliminate that quickly.” Then he looks to Emina, flashing her that fake smile of his. “The things we say at this table may not make sense now, but you'll come to understand everything in time.” He glances at the guidebook with what looks like pride. Emina takes it to mean that he and the absent vice chair are mostly responsible for its contents.

“I'm sure I will,” Emina says, not believing her own words. She opens the normal-sized guidebook. The spine is surprisingly sturdy, and the paper is pretty high-quality. As she skims over the first couple of pages, Prompto adds a word: “Oh yeah, if you bump into any Heartless, try not to panic. Just go indoors and you'll be fine.” “Sure,” Emina says. Presumably the “Heartless” are some sort of threat the book will cover. Maybe they're related to the “pitiful darkness” Lann had mentioned. She doesn't know. She hardly knows a thing about Traverse Town and her current resources are a book, three guys, and a moogle.

“So, the Committee. You look after the town?”

“That is our aim,” Lasswell confirms. “The safety of the townspeople is our top priority, while we also work to ensure comfort. One individual might be in Traverse Town for days, and someone else could be here for months, so we try to make this temporary home as pleasant to live in as possible.”

“I see…” Emina wonders how long she'll be here, and what will happen when her time is up. She wonders how long Lasswell, Prompto, and Lann have been here. She wonders who else she might come across. Lasswell was right; answers beget more questions.

“Oh yeah,” Prompto says to Lasswell. “As far as Sota goes, I say he’s got some real potential. I guess you should make the call on whether to train him since you’re more in tune with the light.” Lasswell rests a finger across his upper lip, thinking. “Hmm. Some self-defense would do well. I imagine we’d be able to take out any threats swiftly, but should something unexpected happen, it would be best that he’s able to fight back. Nao as well. Their light burns brightly.” More stuff Emina doesn’t quite grasp. She should probably go settle into her room and get reading.

“I think I’ll get going,” Emina says. “I have some studying to do.”

“But of course,” Lasswell says, standing up. He doesn’t seem to mind the miniscule duration of her visit at all. “Please, do whatever you see fit. Would you like something to eat before you go?"

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Thank you," Emina says as Lasswell walks her to the door.

“Well, if you hunger at any time, there’s a restaurant on the ground floor toward the back, and vendors in town will be glad to sell you ingredients and hot food. Have a good night, Miss Emina.”

“You do the same. It was nice meeting all of you.” Emina waves goodbye, and as soon as Lasswell shuts the door behind her, she drops the facade. Her smiles falls into a flat line, and her posture slackens. She walks through the mechanical corridor, takes the elevator down to the second floor, and continues to room 221.

Her room is nicer than she'd expected. It’s got a full sized bed, a dresser, a chair next to a little coffee table, a cute little treasure chest in the corner, and an attached private bathroom to top it all off. While the treasure chest is tempting, Emina’s first order of business is to fall into bed. It’s an excellent decision, she finds, as she sinks into the mattress and a sensation of complete and utter comfiness washes over her. Maybe the situation is brighter than she thought. She could get used to this—

The guilt strikes again. Pins and needles in her soul. Kazusa’s vacant expression haunts her. She removes the prisoner’s clothes, practically tearing them off as if that’ll help her escape from the images in her head, and she opens the guidebook. Maybe she could at least try to focus on the... whatever this place is all about. That’s what Kazusa would want her to do, right? Kazusa, who she left when he needed her most. Damn it, she needs to pull herself together. She forces herself to look at the pages, to read over the lines again and again until either she loses consciousness or until everything makes sense.

Many of you may be familiar with the concept of growing crops and raising livestock for food. Things are quite different here in Traverse Town. The world will spawn items to meet the needs of its inhabitants. Typically these items can be found in the treasure chests located throughout the town. These mystical chests spawn new items several times a day, so feel free to open up any you happen to stumble upon. None of the chests continuously spawn a specific item, so there’s always a bit of a surprise. You may find health items, accessories, munny (Traverse Town’s currency, see page 12), and much more.

In addition to the chests, items may spawn in other specific places such as in or on the dressers in the hotel. If you have a room, take a look. You may have a new set of threads.

Good to know. New clothes means Emina can burn the ones she just took off.

It’s always night time here in Traverse Town. The reason is unclear, but one guess is that it’s because of this world’s position between the Realms of Light and Darkness (see page 38). Traverse Town is made up of the fragments of fallen worlds, so depending on the state of affairs in the Realm of Light, you may find that the structure of the town changes.

Emina closes the guidebook. So basically, Traverse Town is a magical town that defies all laws of the universe that she thought she knew. Okay. She gets out of bed for a moment and inspects the treasure chest in the corner. It’s got a generic keyhole, and no locking mechanism. An aesthetic choice, she supposes. She lifts the top of the chest and it opens right up. Inside is a sack labeled “dream powder.” A little suspicious, but again: nothing to lose. Emina takes the sack and returns to bed. Is this really a good idea? Oh, screw it. She opens up the sack, and a dusty substance floats into the air. One whiff, and she’s out like a light.

When Emina wakes up, she doesn’t know where she is. She covers her body with her arms, fearful for a moment, and then she sees the empty dream powder sack. Oh, that’s right. That stuff was in the treasure chest. She’d taken her clothes of before that. And before that she’d met Lasswell and those two blonds...Prompto and Lann. And that sweet moogle. Emina makes a mental note to not make a habit of using dream powder. She stretches, trying to wake her body up. What time is it, anyway?

A digital clock resting atop the dresser gives her the answer of 18:54. Convenient, but that clock definitely wasn’t there before. This must be what the guidebook was talking about. That, or someone snuck a clock into her room while she was asleep. She opens the top drawer of her dresser. A simple black dress shirt and a pair of jeans are folded neatly next to simple black underclothes and a brand-new box of shoes, also black; the only thing missing is something to tie her hair with. Traverse Town is weird. But it’d be a lie to say that this isn’t convenient. Emina takes a quick shower and tries on the clothes — a perfect fit. Now she can finally go get some food in her stomach. Granted that a bout of nausea doesn’t pop out of nowhere.

The hotel's restaurant is on the ground floor toward the back, as Lasswell had said. There are about fifteen tables, and only one is occupied. Since there's no host, Emina looks for a table away from the other guests. It'd be awkward to just grab a seat near the blonde woman chatting up the silver-haired man. From just a quick glance, they look familiar. A second, longer glance reveals that they're staring right at her, their meal completely halted. Emina looks back at them. Wait. The woman's blue eyes, the man's scar… She knows them. They're long dead but she knows them.

Emina approaches the two, who say nothing. “Commander Takatsugu. And Instructor Urushi? Right?” Urushi’s shocked expression turns into a smile that Emina personally thinks is far too relaxed for this turn of events. “Well, goodness me. It looks like you've grown up quite a bit, Emina. Have a seat. I believe we’ve got some catching up to do.”

Chapter Text

Why is he smiling? How can Takatsugu of all people smile after learning of her treachery, of the war, and of Kurasame’s death? Emina chews on her lip, anxious. Or angry. Or both. “What's done is done,” Takatsugu says. “If and when Orience is restored, there's nothing more you can do for it, good or bad. I don't know what allows us to exist here, but if I were you, I'd do my best to leave those regrets behind and enjoy the time we have. And if a friend happens to show up, then you can reconcile.”

Emina grabs the half-eaten bagel off her nearly empty plate. “Easier said than done, but I can try. Focus on the good times we had instead of the pain, right?” She takes a bite.

“Right,” Urushi says. “Did you know, when I showed up here, Taka actually laughed?” Taka? Since when were they that friendly with one another? “That’s not my name,” Takatsugu says flatly. “Now… Hold on. Do you feel that?” His eyebrows move closer together, and he starts to gently tap his foot. Urushi takes a pause before speaking. “...No? What is it?”

Emina feels the prickling again, like something dull and weak is trying to claw at her heart. “This is darkness, right?” So far she’s only skimmed the guidebook’s section about light and darkness, but based on what she’s read, this is a form of it. “Scared and alone...tired.”

“That’s impressive,” Takatsugu says, leaning forward a little. “From what I’ve learned so far, those with a sense for light and darkness can pick up on it, but it’s hard to identify the specifics unless your heart is connected with the source. In other words, I think your heart may have connected with that of a Heartless. Be careful not to get consumed.”

“Oops?” Emina says. Takatsugu stands from the table. “Don’t worry. I spoke with Lasswell about it a couple of days ago. We’re planning to take care of it soon.” For some reason, that doesn’t exactly sit well with Emina, but she nods her head. “Okay. I’d like to know about it, when you’re done. If that’s alright.”

“What’s wrong?” Takatsugu asks.

“...What if the Heartless isn’t malevolent?”

A brief pause.

Urushi rests a hand on Emina’s shoulder. “It’s best to put it out of its misery. Come on. How about we get your mind off of it? Have a ladies’ night on the town and do some shopping?” Takatsugu leaves them to it and dismisses himself with a silent nod. Urushi gives a small wave with her hand. “Did you know there’s a pawn shop with a moogle that’ll give you munny for gil? I assume you didn’t come here with anything, given the circumstances...but it’s neat. I sold my lipstick for almost two mil and got something almost identical for like five thousand munny.”

“So is that expensive or?” Emina asks, the corner of her mouth curving upward a little. Urushi hops up. “Come on. Let’s go to the convenience store. It’s got some neat stuff.” So they go, waving hello and goodbye to Moggon on the way out.

Outside, it appears Takatsugu, Lasswell, and a woman with golden hair and a rapier have already assembled near an old-fashioned wooden door. “They must’ve all sensed that darkness,” Urushi comments. “Come on. Let’s leave them to it.” Emina goes along with Urushi to the convenience store, but she can’t help a feeling of what she can only describe as sympathy for the Heartless to be slain. “I wonder why they’re called Heartless, if they’re literally hearts,” she thinks aloud as she and Urushi look through souvenirs at the front of the store. “Beats me,” Urushi says. “I wonder why we’re looking at souvenirs.” She has a point. They’re dead. At least, they will be when Orience is restored. They won’t exactly be able to bring anything back.

“Oh yeah,” Urushi says. She starts walking down an aisle. Emina stops looking through postcards and follows her to a small beauty section. “Where was it...aha!” Urushi takes a white hair ribbon off the shelf and hands it to Emina. “If you want.” It’s certainly thoughtful, and helpful for managing the brunette mess on her head. Emina wonders why Urushi doesn’t tie her hair back. It’s got to be difficult to manage. “Oh. This is perfect. Thank you.”

“We’re just getting started,” Urushi says. “You see anything you want, just let me know. I feel like spending money.” Emina shakes her head. It’s oddly calming to be around someone that’s fully embracing the chance to have a good time. “Urushi, you really said fuck all, didn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“I admire that.”

Urushi’s probably got baggage from her life; it’s only natural. But she’s not letting it weigh her down, so to speak. Emina opens her pocket guidebook and flips to an empty page in the back. “You don’t happen to have a pen, do you?”

“Hold on.” Urushi reaches into her pocket. “I have a love-hate relationship with these pants. Lipstick...paperclip...oh, that’s in there...ooh, munny!” She pulls a blue pen out of her pocket. “And there you go.” Emina won’t question it. She takes the pen and scribbles on the blank page, then hands it back. “Much obliged.”

Urushi doesn’t ask what Emina wrote. Emina doesn’t know if it’s out of a respect for privacy or a focus on shopping. Either way, she finds herself enjoying the trip around the store, looking at lunch boxes with food she didn’t know existed,  perusing a makeup section far more extensive than any in she’d ever seen, and trying on different sunglasses. “If there’s no sun here, why do they sell sunglasses? It makes no sense.”

“Style over practicality,” Urushi says. “It sounds stupid at first, but when you look in the mirror, it clicks.” When they finally get to the register, Emina realizes just how much stuff the two of them have picked out. From a convenience store. “Maybe I should but some stuff back—”

“Nope.” Urushi is firm in her resolve to buy it all. “This...could take a while, though. You can have a seat outside and read if you want. Maybe keep an eye out.”

That’s right. There’s been no sign of Takatsugu and the others yet. They haven’t been gone that long. But how long does it take to for a strong team to slay a Heartless? Emina steps outside and sits on the bench in front of the store. She opens to a random page of the guidebook and reads, frequently glancing between the paper and the wooden door from earlier.

You may hear music around town from time to time. “Who’s playing that saxophone?” you might wonder. Well, Traverse Town sees its share of talented moogles.

Moogles exist in many different worlds, so it’s only natural that some end up here in the town. You’ll find that a good percentage of moogles are experienced merchants. If you’re in search of a rare item, try asking a moogle. If they don’t have what you need on hand, they may be able to point you in the direction of someone who does.

Emina flips to another page. She’s growing anxious. It’s just a Heartless. Still, there’s a small lump in her throat. She takes a deep breath.

Hearts are made up of both darkness and light, with a few exceptions. A delicate balance exists—

The door bursts open, almost swinging off the hinges. The golden-haired woman from earlier holds the door open as Lasswell rushes through carrying a person. Takatsugu is last to exit. He seems unharmed, which is a good thing of course, but Emina’s heart swells with concern for whoever it is in Lasswell’s arms. Forgetting all about Urushi, she runs in the direction Lasswell is headed: the door to the first district. She beats Lasswell there by seconds, and uses that little time to push the doors open. Lasswell utters a breathy, “Thank you,” as he speeds by, with the golden-haired woman right behind. “Pardon!” is all she says, understandably. This looks to be an emergency. Takatsugu takes a pause when he reaches Emina. “You’re coming, aren’t you?”

Isn’t she? “Yeah, I am.”

Emina follows Takatsugu to the building with the “Recovery” sign. The inside isn’t particularly large, but it has three beds and enough room for several other people to stand around. The person Lasswell had been carrying is now in a bed, and the golden-haired woman seems to be performing a sort of healing magic or something having to do with the light.

Getting a closer look, Emina’s eyes go wide. “Commander, that’s…” It’s hard to believe the sight. The person in the bed is a woman, pale as death and frail. Her dress is soggy, and dirt has completely eliminated the shine of the garment’s gold trim. Her red hair is brittle and her fingertips are stained with blood. The image makes Emina’s heart sink. “Yes, the l’Cie,” Takatsugu says.

“I managed to get a small amount out,” the golden-haired woman says. “But we may be too late.” “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” Lasswell says. “I’ll prepare the elixir. Lady Stella, if you would.” The golden-haired woman — Stella — begins to conjure light magic in one hand. Emina can’t comprehend why she’s so worried for someone she’d never met once or even thought about often in her life, but her fear only grows. “Lady Caetuna… Lasswell, what are you doing?”

Stella casts a Banish spell directly at Caetuna’s heart as Lasswell pours an entire elixir down her throat. Emina loses her balance, then her hearing. She sways in attempt to stay upright, but falls against Takatsugu’s arm as her vision is overtaken by speckles and blotches. He keeps her from falling, instead lifting her weight entirely and sitting her on the nearest bed. “I might…” It’s hard to breathe. “Can’t see...might…” Then the variable is gone; there’s no “might” anymore, and she does faint.

When Emina wakes up, she has all of her senses. Lasswell and Stella are still there. Takatsugu too, and Urushi must’ve arrived while she was out of it. “How long was I out?” She rolls her head to the side, and sees Caetuna two beds over, unconscious. Just unconscious, not dead. The dead don’t retain their physical form here. Right? She’d read that, hadn’t she?

“About fifteen minutes,” Lasswell says. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized that Lady Caetuna’s heart was so connected with yours. I take it you’re good friends?”

Emina sits up in bed, her eyes lingering on Caetuna. “I’ve never met her, actually. But I guess it makes sense on some level. We’re from the same world, and we both know the pain of loneliness, I’d say. With her being a l’Cie and all.” She remembers that people from Orience wouldn’t know about the servants of the Crystals. She supposes she’ll just have to clarify. Emina looks at Stella, who strangely enough appears intrigued by the mention of l’Cie. “Your name is Stella, right?”

“Yes,” Stella says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emina.” She’s got a fake smile like Lasswell’s, but there’s no ill intent behind it despite what she’d just done. “There are l’Cie where I’m from, too. But I have a feeling they work a bit differently from yours.” Very likely.

“Five hundred years,” Emina says. “She’d been serving the Crystal for that long, maybe longer. In Orience, l’Cie give up their mortality. Their humanity. Carrying out the Will of their respective Crystal becomes their sole purpose. The duty hollows out their hearts, and they become puppets.”

The look on Lasswell’s face is grim, almost angry. “Not completely hollow. At least not in Lady Caetuna’s case. Her darkness is so vast that we mistook her for a powerful Heartless. In reality, the fragments of who she once was, bearing the hurt of centuries, were simply crying out. We cast the darkness out as best we could, but there’s no erasing her pain. Even after these extreme measures...she may fall.”

It’s funny. Emina remembers Kurasame at that moment. What was it he said that one time? “ Believe in my strength.” Something like that, with his foolhardy conviction. He always did have a good heart, that Kurasame. Even if he was an idiot at times. Now it’s her turn. “I won’t let that happen.” It feels as if Kurasame himself has lent her some of the light in his heart. It burns in her chest, dancing with the darkness. “Our hearts have touched. I’ve felt just a tiny bit of her pain, but from now on, I consider her my friend. And I’ve never been keen on sitting idly by while my friends are in trouble.” She’s had to do it before, of course. But she intervened when she could. And now that she’s no longer bound by the mark on her back, there isn’t really anything that can stop her, is there?

“The light in your heart is growing stronger,” Stella says. “There’s still a lot of darkness between the two of you. Especially in Lady Caetuna here. She’s hanging on by a thread. But if you’re that sure, then I leave it to you.” Emina smiles. It’ll be hard work. But if she got a second chance here in Traverse Town, then Caetuna definitely deserves one, too. A chance to be human.

“Lady Stella can see the light and darkness in hearts,” Lasswell pitches in. “I trust her judgement.” Emina looks at Caetuna again. She looks a little better than before, now wearing a clean, dry white gown. Her fingertips are bandaged, too. Hopefully her recovery goes smoothly— “Huh?” Emina feels a tug on her hair. “Just me,” Urushi says as she pulls Emina’s hair back and ties it into a ponytail with the white ribbon from before. Oh, yeah. They were shopping not too long ago. “Thanks,” Emina says, then she sighs. “Is it alright if I hang out here while Lady Caetuna recovers?” she asks, looking at Lasswell, then to Stella.

“Certainly,” Stella says. “I’ll be providing medical attention, and company would be nice.” Lasswell steps toward the door. “As she said. Now, I should take my leave. I trust Prompto and Lann, but not enough to leave the district in their hands for extended periods of time.” Stella snickers at the comment. “Come on, Lasswell. They may not be the brightest brothers, but they’re not incompetent.”

“I'll forward the compliment,” Lasswell says as he opens the door. Takatsugu starts toward the door as well. “I'll help uncrowd the room.” “Sounds like piano practice,” Urushi chimes. “Guess I'll get going too. Holler if you need anything; room 408 in the hotel, but I'll probably check in. It's nice to talk with women, you know?” Understandable. Emina waves goodbye, and Urushi closes the door behind her.

And now it's just Emina and Stella, with Caetuna out of commission. There’s an awkward silence for a bit, with neither woman having anything in particular to say. Emina pulls out her pocket guidebook. “I guess I should get back to brushing up on everything.” Stella nods, then glances at Caetuna. “Emina, would you try reading to her?”

“Do you think that would help?” Emina asks.

Stella gives a slight shrug. “I don't know. It certainly wouldn't hurt.”

Well, it's not like there's really anything else to do here. Emina clears her throat.

“Those chosen by the Keyblade maintain the balance of light and darkness within the Realm. Hearts freed by the Keyblade return to Kingdom Hearts.”

Emina looks up at Stella. “Okay, I'm actually lost here.” “I know. Just bear with it,” Stella says. “These things don't make complete sense, so it's probably best to shrug it off.”

“Hmm.” Emina closes the guidebook. “I have an idea. I'll read some of this, and then I'll tell Lady Caetuna a story.” That sounded better in her head. But Stella seems all for it. “Fables sound far more interesting than an information manual. Do you have anything in particular in mind?”

Okay, that's a hard one. The last time Emina had been told a story is too far in the past for her to remember, even without the Crystal's influence. “I'll make something up.” Coming up with lies, she can do. But a story for entertainment or whatever this counts as...well, she'll just have to do her best.

“Some time ago in a land much like this one, a woman bound by fate caught her lucky break. Her shackles were broken and she was thrust into a place she'd never seen. At first she was confused, and scared. But then…”

Emina thinks back to her shopping trip.

“She went shopping! And she found a pretty dress, and a hair ribbon, and began to rediscover what it meant to live her own life.” Now she wants to go get Caetuna a new hair ribbon, though it looks like hers is completely intact, oddly enough. “And uh...she lived happily ever after.”

“Could use some work,” Stella comments, as if Emina isn't painfully aware. “I look forward to your next prophetic tale.”

The next day, Emina continues to read to Caetuna and tell her stories formulated on the spot. It's awkward, but at least Stella is light on the criticism. Some color returns to Caetuna's skin, but not much, and Stella regularly uses varying items to assist her recovery. Urushi brings snacks, as well as stories about Takatsugu’s piano practice sessions — whatever that’s all about. The time passes slowly, because stress always either speeds things up or slows them down.

The day after that, Caetuna's eyes open. She doesn't ask where she is or who the people watching over her are, but rather, “Where is the Crystal?” That's all she can manage before she falls back asleep. And so Emina and Stella continue with the reading and the treatment, until on the third day, Emina wakes up from a nap to see Caetuna stumbling toward the door.

“Please, rest,” Stella says, blocking the door. “I must find the Crystal—” Caetuna falls on her hands and knees, then immediately struggles to her feet. “Move…”

“Your Crystal does not exist in this world. There are no means by which to access it. Now, please return to bed before you injure yourself further.”

Caetuna makes a loose fist. “The Crystal is...all that I have. What is a puppet without its master?” Not another word. Emina won't hear any more of this. She gets out of bed and walks to Caetuna's side to support her weight. “Puppet no longer. Lady Caetuna, you are a person.”

It's weird to see Caetuna smile, Emina thinks. Maybe even scary since it's an angry smile. A smile that a person makes right before they go crazy. That just further proves Caetuna's humanity, doesn't it? Despite what she says. “No ‘person’ could commit the atrocities I have and feel nothing. I am l'Cie, naught else.”

She's wrong. She's so, so wrong. Emina slinks her arm around Caetuna's waist and tugs her into a light, awkward side hug. “But you don't feel nothing. You feel guilt and sadness, and fear. And loneliness. That's the darkness in your heart. It's all just hurt. And none of it's your fault.”

Caetuna pushes against Emina's shoulder. Emina’s hold firms. “Whether you like it or not, I'm your friend now. You don't have to bear it alone anymore.” It's out of line, she knows, but she doesn't know what to say. So, she goes with what Kurasame would've said in his younger, foolish days. Maybe. Would he have said that?

“Perhaps I am afraid,” Caetuna murmurs. “I've not even my blade.” Not three seconds later does she rest almost completely against Emina's support. Her breath is steady, but it seems she doesn't have enough energy for more words right now. Emina walks her back to bed. “Let's get her something to eat, Stella.”

“One step ahead of you,” Stella says. She opens the door and calls out: “Mogukou!” A moogle wearing a white tunic flies into the room, carrying a bowl of soup. They go so fast, Emina's surprised that they don't spill a single drop. She’s also thoroughly impressed. “Light on the stomach, light for the heart, kupo. Super special secret kupo-licious recipe to restore your strength.”

Mogukou hands the bowl to Emina. It's warm, but doesn't burn. “Give her the ‘ol choo-choo train, kupo.” Emina looks at the spoon sticking halfway out of the bowl. This moogle doesn't really expect her to spoon-feed the esteemed Lady Caetuna, do they? Even if her body's practically limp…

“Just to get something in her stomach,” Stella says. “You're here to support her, aren't you?” What's with that tone? Sheesh. Well, hopefully Caetuna won't mind much. Emina brings a spoonful of the liquid to Caetuna's lips. “My apologies. If you could open your mouth just a little, this should help you feel better.” Caetuna doesn't say anything, but she lets out an inaudible sigh and parts her lips. Emina smiles. That'll do. “Thank you.” She feeds Caetuna a spoonful of the soup, then a second one. “Is it going down okay?”

“Warm...” Caetuna mumbles. “The light stings.” Emina pauses at the statement, and Caetuna looks at the spoon, then to her. Does that mean to continue? Emina hesitantly feeds Caetuna another spoonful. The soup wets the corners of Caetuna’s mouth. There’s probably a handkerchief or something of the sort around— and now she looks sad. “I’m sorry,” Emina says, quiet but a tad frantic. “I wasn’t sure if you...ah, I should’ve asked.”

“The soup is delicious,” Caetuna says. She swipes the back of her thumb across her mouth. From the way her arm moves, it looks like she still has a decent amount of control over her limbs. They’re just weak. Not for long, hopefully. “It was made just for you. It may hurt a bit now, but it’ll help your heart. Here.” Emina prepares another spoonful of soup. She notices something in Caetuna’s eyes as she feeds her. Some sort of glimmer as just a small fraction of the dullness slowly leaves. Like she’s regaining her humanity with each second Emina stares.

“...Does the situation amuse you?” What does she mean? What’s amusing about this? Then, Emina notices that she’s been smiling. “Oh, sorry. I was just. Uh. I’m happy to be here with you.” “There is no oddity like the strangeness of a stranger,” Caetuna comments. That’s an oddity, too, Emina thinks. It doesn’t even feel like they’re strangers. Maybe it’s one-sided. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Emina, at your service.”

Caetuna’s eyes are green. Why did Emina only just notice that? Maybe it’s the light, fighting for its place in Caetuna’s heart, making her irises shine. “Strangely,” Caetuna says. “You seem very much a stranger, and yet no stranger at all.” So she feels it too. It’s probably because their hearts connected. Emina only smiles, continuing through the motions of feeding Caetuna, making sure it goes down okay, letting her take her time. It should feel strange. This situation should feel very, very peculiar. But it doesn’t. It feels completely natural.

Chapter Text

“I heard pieces of what you read to me during my slumber,” Caetuna says a couple of days later as she walks alongside Emina toward the hotel. “The use of darkness to camouflage the buildings and deter Heartless from entering is a bright idea.” Was that a pun? “I ought to thank Lady Stella and Sir Lasswell again.” So formal. Emina can’t help but smile. At least she managed to convince Caetuna to drop the “Miss” when addressing her. Her mannerisms are, oddly enough, kind of cute. Emina can already tell, the person buried underneath all those years of being the Crystal’s servant is gradually emerging.

“A foe approaches,” Caetuna says, and with no warning she pushes Emina toward the hotel and turns around to face whatever enemy threatens the quiet night. She draws her dagger, returned to her by Stella upon her release from the recovery building. “Please continue to look after her,” Stella had said to Emina, but it seems Caetuna intends to be what Emina would consider completely reckless.

Emina stumbles from Caetuna's push but catches her balance and turns around sharply. “Lady Caetuna, you're in no condition to fight!” A throng of Shadows, maybe fifteen of them, rise out of black smudges on the ground. “The darkness in my heart can be weaponized,” Caetuna says as she pinpoints the position of every last creature. Why fight when safety is so close? Emina runs to Caetuna’s side and takes a defensive position. “This is a terrible idea. Please, let's just go.” Caetuna extends her arm out in front of Emina, her stance wavering with either hesitation or weakness. It's only noticeable up close, but it's more than enough to make Emina toss formalities aside. She reaches for Caetuna's shoulders, mindful of the dagger, and pulls back. “We're going!” The Shadows approach, crawling on their scraggly limbs and hungry for the light. “Don't be so stubborn!”

A flash of light illuminates the sky, like lightning. Instead of a crackle of thunder, the sound of a blade cutting clean through the air accompanies the instantaneous defeat of about half of the Heartless. “My apologies for being late,” Lasswell says. He prepares for another attack—

“Seriously, buzz OFF!”

The voice belongs to a young woman. A young woman that can apparently kick Heartless into oblivion. She tears through the small crowd of enemies with nothing but her body, and makes quick work of the threat. Lasswell sheathes his sword and puts on his welcoming smile to greet the newcomer. “I'm so sorry you had to fight. Fortunately, your strength is nothing to scoff at.”

“I tried to do what a human might,” Caetuna explains to Emina as she lowers her arm. A small frown appears on Emina's face. “You are human.” She doesn't particularly notice the young woman running past Lasswell toward her until a loud, surprised voice rips her attention away from Caetuna. “EMINA?”

Emina takes a look at the girl, and her image registers in a heartbeat. The black hair, the orange mantle, the way she fought… “Miwa.” There’s a short pause. Caetuna glances at Miwa curiously. Lasswell fishes in his jacket’s inner pockets for a guidebook. Emina looks down at the ground, and half a  second later Miwa’s shaking her by the arms. “Emina, where are we? Why are you older and hotter? What were those things? And most importantly, where do I get something to eat?”

Miwa is still Miwa. Emina smiles at that, even though she can already tell Miwa’s avoiding asking about Kurasame. In some part of her mind, she hopes it stays that way. It won't, of course. “Lasswell, Lady Caetuna, this is my friend Miwa. Miwa, this is the Town Committee chair Lasswell and former Vermilion Bird l'Cie Caetuna. Would you all like to have dinner?” Smooth.

They end up at the restaurant in the hotel, gathered around the same table as Urushi and Takatsugu because of course they were already seated when the group arrived. By the time everyone finishes explaining the “short version” of the situation, poor Miwa looks like her brain could crash at any moment.

“But, truly,” Urushi says, addressing her past actions with a solemnity Emina hasn’t seen her display since arriving in Traverse Town. “I am sorry for what I put you and your friends through. And for the trouble I caused the Dominion.” Emina bows her head. “Me too. Even if I was able to bring Kurasame home, he...never really…” It's difficult to describe what exactly did happen to Kurasame. She won't ever understand what he went through. “Emina, it's fine,” Miwa says before taking a giant bite of steak. Nope. She hasn't aged a day. “I was never angry, Instructor Urushi,” she says with meat filling one cheek. “You just wanted to do what you thought was right. Right?”

Emina looks at Caetuna. She's trying to eat another slice of the fish fillet on her plate, even though it's painfully clear that she's full. Emina claps her hands together. “Oh, that's right. I have to show Lady Caetuna to her room. It was so nice to have dinner with you all.” Smooth. Somewhat. Not really. Whether the explanation for her departure sounds good or not, Emina excuses herself and brings Caetuna with her to the check-in desk.

“Could I switch to a double?” Emina asks, sliding her key card onto the desk. She looks to Caetuna. “That is, if you're alright with sharing a room. Since Stella asked me to look out for you and all.” “I welcome the suggestion,” Caetuna replies without a moment's hesitation. It's surprising, until Emina remembers how lonesome her life must have been. The eagerness to break free of that solitude only reaffirms Emina's thoughts that Caetuna is just as human as anyone else.

Energetic as ever, Moggon speedily whips out a second card and, with a midair twirl and a glowing pom-pom, prepares the two cards with mysterious moogle magic. “All done! Right down the hall in 225. Shall I have your belongings moved to your new accommodations, kupo?” Emina thinks on it a moment as she takes the cards, handing one to Caetuna. There isn't anything in that room but an empty sack of dream powder and her prisoner's clothes. The stuff from the shopping trip is still in Urushi’s room. “No need, Moggon. In fact, burn them if you like.”

Moggon tilts their head. “Oh...okay. Certainly! Have a good night, Lady Emina and...Lady Caetuna, was it, kupo?” Caetuna nods silently. “Don't hesitate to contact the desk if you need anything, kupo.” Again, Caetuna nods. The sudden timid behavior adds another question to the many already floating around in Emina's mind, but she can ask about this when they're in private. “Here, Lady Caetuna. I'll lead the way.” Emina takes Caetuna's arm in her own and walks her toward the elevator.

The one-story ride is quiet. A little awkward, truth be told. But it's over quickly, and soon the women enter their new room. It's the same structure as Emina's old one, but with more space and furniture for two, including a second treasure chest. Nice. Emina releases Caetuna’s arm and goes to sit on the bed closer to the door. “Try the bed,” she says, tilting her head toward the other bed. “These feel better than the ones in that infirmary.”

Caetuna strides to her bed with silent footsteps, and sits. Then she lies down. Then she curls into the fetal position. “I must...no, I wish? I want to sleep.” Emina watches Caetuna's back, her slender frame dressed in white rayon. That's right. Caetuna's trying. She's trying to rediscover what it means to be human, even if that means throwing herself into danger. She probably didn't even want to fight. Emina lies down as well, on her back. There's no way to tell exactly what Caetuna's thinking. Even if she asked, Caetuna probably doesn't understand herself yet. Probably. Emina exhales. She's thinking too much. “By the way, Lady Caetuna? I'm sorry I got upset before. I was afraid you'd end up hurt. Or worse.”

Caetuna pulls at the blanket on her bed, fingers both feeling over the material and drawing it back. “‘Twas my mistake. Simple imprudence.” She sits up. “And, thank you for bringing me here. Had I swallowed another bite, I may have become ill.” She pulls up the sheets and settles properly into bed. No pajamas, then? Emina smiles anyway. “Try not to force yourself. It usually does more harm than good.”

Caetuna tucks her chin. “As I am in your care, so to speak, I will aim to heed your suggestions going forward.” That's one good thing, at least. Emina gives pretty sound advice, if she does say so herself. Can she say so, in this town so different from any in Orience? The Orience that was consumed by darkness, damning countless hearts— Stop. Stop it. Count to ten.

“Also...” Caetuna starts. Emina directs her focus to what she has to say. “The moogle we encountered downstairs, Moggon, was very…” Caetuna pauses, digging through her vocabulary for the proper word. “Cute.”

That’s why she was acting shy? Caetuna has a soft spot for cute things and that’s how it manifests? That in itself is adorable. Emina thinks so, at least, and she lets out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, they were cute.” She pushes herself up and gets out of bed to turn off the light. An automatic nightlight near the bathroom door glows dimly. It gives the room a much cozier feeling, Emina thinks, and she just might follow Caetuna's lead and prepare to sleep. It'll be nice to rest somewhere that doesn't remind her of injury and death, without dream powder. And maybe, if she's really lucky, she'll have a nice dream.

Emina doesn't get her wish. She dreams of Finis. She hadn't lived to see it, but it's painfully vivid. Rain falls from a red sky, black waves crash against the shores, and figures not of this realm cut down everything in their path. Stone-faced, silent incarnations of death. They don't come for her. She's already dead, a hundred, no, a thousand — a million times over, she's dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. And then she sees Kazusa, there in his laboratory, waiting. He wears the face of those otherworldly invaders; a gray, unmoving, unblinking mask that muffles his cries. Still, she hears him clearly.

“Why did you leave me?” He’s in pain. Broken. His heart is shattered and the shards are poking through his skin. “Why?!” he demands. “You did this to me. I can't reach him. You! You've stolen my precious memories!” He walks forward, swaying, knees bending backward. His body contorts in unnatural ways, puppeteered by ghosts of agony.

“This is your fault. Your fault, your fault your fault your fault your fault I hate hate hate You swore to me I can't remember Come back come back come back comebackcomebackcomebackcomeback I have to bring him back Everyone's left me I thought I could bear this Damned l'Cie Burn eternally Burn burn burn burn with friendship for me A curse A human body Nothing returns no matter how many times I say his name Kurasame I’ll keep your secret secret secretsecretsecretsecretsecret LIAR How many times we've died Stop this pain You left you left You took everything everything everything I am empty EMINA—”

Emina jolts up, heart pounding. A hand grips her shoulder. Caetuna, right? It has to be. Why is it so dark? Emina brings her hand in front of her face. She can hardly see it. There's something like a flame seeping out of her fingertips, black and purple and dancing violently, threatening to consume whatever it touches. It stings a little. The sensation is all over her body. Darkness, overflowing.

“Emina, can you hear me?” Caetuna is giving off darkness as well. She couldn't have had a nightmare too, could she? Of course she could have. Alexander. “Lady Caetuna… The darkness. I'm sorry.” It's got her head a little fuzzy, but she tries to snuff it out by placing her hand atop the one on her shoulder and focusing on her goal — the thing she'd written in the back of her guidebook: Be like Urushi. Live fully and freely. At the very least, keep her word. Don't let Caetuna fall to darkness. And to do that, she needs to keep herself grounded too. “But we'll be okay. Promise.”

Emina's vision becomes a little sharper, a little brighter, but it's still hazy. What matters is that she can see Caetuna, looking at her with an expression she can't read. “I'd like to trust in that,” Caetuna says, and then there's warmth. Not burning, not corrosion. A delicate, cautious warmth drips into Emina's heart. A hand guides her head to Caetuna’s bosom, cradling her. She listens to Caetuna's heartbeat, still pounding from horrors unspeakable, and yet so good to hear — a strong reassurance that she is not alone in this struggle. The excess darkness flickers and fizzles out, giving way to the comfort of a strong and generous light peeking out from the shadows. If the brightest light casts the darkest shadows, then, Emina supposes, it would make sense for absolute radiance to have a presence somewhere deep within Caetuna's heart. And with that light, this warmth, there's no way she'll fall. Emina closes her eyes. She'll embrace this sense of calm within the onslaught of fear and guilt, for as long as Caetuna will allow.

The next morning, Urushi’s brought all of Emina's shopping bags to breakfast. Caetuna seems intrigued by all the different colors, while Emina scratches her head in embarrassment. “I hope you weren't waiting long.” “Not at all,” Urushi says, lifting a hot mug to her lips. She takes a quiet sip, then glances over the other two women. Her eyes linger a fraction of a second longer on Caetuna in her green blouse and cargo pants. Somehow, they actually go together pretty well, and Caetuna looks no less elegant. “So, you two are getting along well?”

“Yeah,” Emina says, recalling the previous night. “I think we'll really be able to help each other.” She gives Caetuna a forced smile; not that she isn't happy to have her companionship, but the fake smile just happens to be the one that feels most natural. “I agree,” Caetuna says, lips briefly curving into an awkward hint of a smile. She’ll get there eventually.

Urushi smiles too, more to herself than anything. “That's good, then.” She takes another sip from her mug, and Emina abruptly shifts the topic. “Instructor— I mean, Urushi. When do you think Orience will be restored?” It might be a bit too early to talk about this sort of thing, but considering the subject matter and the fact that the concepts of night and day are maintained only by clocks in this town, there isn’t really a “best” time. Urushi stares into her mug. “I have no guesses. And if I’m to be honest with myself, I hope it never does get restored. It’s nothing but a breeding ground for pain and death.”

She’s not wrong. Conflict and war plagued Orience incessantly. Had Finis not come, nothing would have changed. People would have kept killing each other until there was no one left to fight the wars, and died out. Maybe, those lost souls will someday return to Kingdom Hearts and finally find peace. That’s probably one of the most optimistic thoughts Emina’s had in...a while. The thoughtful silence is then broken by Prompto’s voice as he enters the restaurant.

“Top of the morning to you, ladies!” Prompto waves to the women as he approaches. He does his wink and his smirk, and, while not necessarily a welcome presence, he definitely lightens the mood. “How are ya?”

Urushi puts on a smiling facade in an instant. “We’re doing just fine, Prompto. Chatting. Hanging out. You know. How about you?” Prompto rolls his shoulders, pushing out his chest a little as he does so. “Ah, you know. Seeing the town. Making sure nothing’s amis. Being graced by the presence of beautiful women. Say, Urushi, have you ever seen the clock from the inside?”

Her smile unwavering, Urushi simply states, “I've never been that interested in mechanical stuff.” Prompto presses his lips together a moment. “I see. Well, it's not for everyone. Beautiful gears, though, I've gotta say.” He takes a step back and addresses all three women. “Well, I didn't want anything. Just popping in to say hello. And now I guess I'll be off to make sure Lasswell doesn't drive himself crazy with his studies.”

“Studies?” Caetuna inquires, and Prompto runs a hand through his hair. “Ah. Right. As you know, Traverse Town sees a lot of different faces. Scholars. Wizards. People with precognition. You name it. They come and go, but their knowledge can stay if someone bothers to record it.” He takes a pocket guidebook from his back pocket. “Lasswell tries to understand everything written in every book in the library, to make stuff like this. I like to believe in his intrinsic self-control, but if it weren't for his promise to Sigma, he might very well be neck deep in indecipherable texts.”

So that's who's beneath the mask. A glimpse of him, anyway. Prompto is outwardly flirtatious and, depending who is asked, charismatic. But there's more to him. Anyone could guess that, Emina thinks. This “truer” form of himself that Prompto displays briefly seems more mature, smarter, colder. Maybe the two of them are the same, wearing cheerful personas until they fit like a second skin. Whether or not that is the case, Emina won't probe for such personal information. She does have another question, however: “Who's Sigma?”

Prompto puts on a smile again. “A good friend. His world got restored so he's gone now, but man was he something. We forced him into being vice chair of the Committee for a while.”

“He sounds capable,” Emina says. And with a smile, she dismisses him. “Well, we'll see you around Prompto.” Prompto waves, stepping away from the table, and the women return to conversing amongst themselves.

“I've a proposal,” Caetuna says. “Or, a request, rather.” She crosses her ankles under the table and rests her hands in her lap. “Emina, you offered me friendship. Miss Urushi, you have been very welcoming. I noticed just now that the two of you are on a first-name basis, yes? So, I wonder if perhaps, from now, the both of you might refer to me as Caetuna?”

Emina smiles at the request, genuinely this time. Dropping the “Lady” is certainly more intimate and friendly. The few people Caetuna must've interacted with over the centuries almost certainly called her “Lady” or “L’Cie.” The only exception might be Lord Zhuyu, but Caetuna hasn't even mentioned him. Maybe they didn't talk? Or maybe it's too painful to bring up: losing the one who could’ve possibly understood her. The topic will come up when it needs to, if ever, Emina concludes. “Nothing would please me more, Caetuna.”

Urushi smiles warmly. “It's a pleasure to be your friend, Caetuna.” At the word “friend,” a tiny, gentle smile appears on Caetuna's face. There it is again: that brilliant light deep within the darkness. Emina considers that the brightness of Caetuna's smile just might blind her, but she can't tear her eyes away.

Chapter Text

The next three weeks pass without incident. Emina's rekindled friendship with Miwa burns brighter than ever before, Caetuna befriends a pair of teens named Nao and Sota, and the nightmares, though not gone, decrease in frequency and intensity. The denizens of the town gather about once a week for a meal or to watch a film in the recently secured third district. The Committee carries out its mission faithfully, and Lann always seems to be running around to complete one task or another. All is well. As well as things can get given the circumstances, that is.

One particular evening, Caetuna sits at a table outside a small café in the third district, having a milkshake with Nao when something... peculiar occurs. A young dog, white with black spots all over, scampers past the table. The sight draws Caetuna's attention, and causes Nao to shift the topic of conversation instantly. “I think Emina and Urushi are right. If you didn't have free will or whatever, then it's totally not your— omigosh, a puppy!”

Not far behind the energetic pup is Lann, whistling after it. “C’mere boy, come on!” Not long after he passes Caetuna and Nao does he pause to catch his breath. “Yoo-hoo,” Nao calls. “You wanna sit?” At the invitation, Lann slumps his shoulders in defeat, then makes his way to the empty chair at the table. “Dalmatians. Poor things.”

“There are more?” Caetuna asks. She takes a sip of her milkshake, then rubs two fingers against her temple. “Don't go too fast,” Lann suggests with a smile nothing short of melancholic. He sighs. “There’s a hundred more. If one's here, that means its home world fell to darkness and the others are scattered throughout the worlds. Would you believe it's happened before?”

Nao frowns. “That's like, really sad… Lann, do you want me to order you a milkshake?” “Please,” Lann says without a moment's hesitation. Nao smiles and stands from the table. “Be right back.” She goes inside the café, leaving Caetuna and Lann to converse with one another.

“If all the Dalmatians possess light as powerful as the one which passed us,” Caetuna muses. “Surely each of them will return home unharmed when their world is restored.” These kinds of thoughts are optimistic, according to Miwa at least. She goes to great lengths to keep others’ spirits high, though she herself is ridden with fear and doubt. Her efforts are admirable nonetheless. “I sure hope so,” Lann says, and Nao exits the café with a milkshake. She sets it on the table in front of Lann, and takes her seat once more. “There you go, Lann. If you want, I can help you look for the puppy. I'm sure Sota would be down to help, too.”

Lann takes a sip of his milkshake— then rubs his fingers against both temples. “Ow. Yeah. That would be great, thanks.” Nao gives an enthusiastic smile: exceedingly bright. “I'll tell everyone else to keep an eye out…” The smile falls from her face, and her nostrils flare. “Uh… I think there's a Heartless attack going on? Just got a bad feeling out of nowhere. Does that ever happen to you?”

Without answering the question, Lann stands from the table and sprints off toward the second district, leaving his milkshake behind. “Should we follow?” Caetuna asks, already in the position to rise from her chair. Nao takes a moment of consideration. “Hmmmm, Stella and Lasswell and the others totally have it covered. But if you wanna go anyway, I get it. I'll even go with you! Travel’s better with companions, or whatever they say.” Caetuna stands. “Let us make haste.”

Stella returns her rapier to a resting position as Caetuna and Nao enter the second district. It seems that the threat has been swiftly dealt with. Emina and Miwa are chatting with three new arrivals, Agito cadets at that. Emina hugs one of them, a large man donning a yellow-green mantle. She did mention graduating from Class Fifth before, and that the class wears that color. “Emina has many friends…”

Nao tilts her head. “Depends what you mean by ‘many.’ Quality over quantity, I always say. Unless there's a sale.”

“Quality…” Caetuna thinks aloud. “To see her true smile more often…would be nice, methinks.”

“I see, I see,” Nao says. “I don't really get what you're talking about, but I'm kind of like, picking up on the feelings. So feel free to come talk to me whenever, ‘kay?” Caetuna nods silently in response.

“Naghi,” Miwa says, eyes wide. “Naghi...Class Ninth Naghi?” She cups his cheeks, feeling his face for a familiar shape. “Yes, that Naghi,” Naghi says. He gently pushes Miwa’s hands away. Miwa jumps back. “Sorry! I just…” She wipes at her eyes. “Ahhh. Ahaha… Just uh, I'm glad to see you're doing okay.” Then Naghi hugs her, and she hugs him back with a tear spilling out.

And Carla, the third of the new arrivals, watches as her friends Ryid and Naghi warmly greet their old acquaintances. “So we go from a monster slaughtering frenzy to a hug fest. Can someone please explain to me what's going on?” The words summon Lasswell, with a guidebook in hand.

Naturally, the newcomers plus Emina, Miwa, and Caetuna end up in the hotel's restaurant for dinner. Caetuna does her best to play herself off as mundane and non-noteworthy, which, she thinks, would be easier with Nao’s assistance. But, Nao left to go on a date with her dear Sota, and Caetuna hopes that they have a wonderful night. Still, Emina manages to keep the spotlight off of her for the most part, and for that she is grateful. Emina. Eminent. A dim, flickering light, too stubborn to be extinguished. Commendable, a goal so close yet out of reach. A darkness that rivals her own, a beautifully tainted light, something that makes no sense to crave, and yet Caetuna finds her heart reaching out for that dancing, wavering, undying flame.

Caetuna swallows a mouthful of mashed potatoes. At first sight, she was sure she'd find the texture disgusting. Now the fluffiness is something of a comfort. The conversation at the table registers as nothing more than incomprehensible noise in her ears as she eats, thinking about why potatoes taste so good and how many different ways they can be prepared, and how she wishes she'd gotten to finish her milkshake, and why Heartless herald the arrival of new refugees from Orience, and most of all: what she feels when she sees Emina and why she feels it.

It only started a week or so ago, after a few nights of staying up until ridiculous hours discussing books from one of the stores in the second district, making jokes about the characters and the writing, laughing — laughing out loud, and listening to secrets Emina decided to share about matters inconsequential. Maybe, Caetuna thinks, she's sick. Terribly ill with some disease of the mind and soul, and she'll die, because she can die, because she is human. That would be alright. But Emina wouldn't let that happen. She's too stubborn to sit idly by. Too compassionate. Too incomprehensible. Certainly deserving of friends better than a killer of children, at least. Even if said killer is not at fault. How can she truly not be at fault? If it is true, still, never will she be absolved of the guilt. Perhaps that guilt will be what plunges her into the darkness forevermore. But Emina said, Emina said, Emina said that she would not allow it.

Caetuna takes a sip of water and stands from the table. “Pardon me. I must retire.” She drags herself up the stairs, fighting to banish the swarm of thoughts from her mind. They only return more powerful. Her head throbs with conflict. She feels the darkness thriving on it, rejoicing. What is it? Why all of a sudden, after doing so well, is the darkness seeping out of her skin and polluting the air around her? She clings to the wall, stumbling down the hall toward her room. Succumbing here and now is so tempting, all but a fantasy within arm’s reach, but before that, Caetuna must sate her curiosity. Once she discovers the what and the why and the how, then can she submit.

“Caetuna!”

The back of Urushi’s hand hits Caetuna's cheek with full force, knocking her to the floor. Before Caetuna can properly react, Urushi pulls her to her feet and looks into her eyes with a gaze nothing short of furious. “Don't you even think about throwing it all away.” And that, Caetuna knows, is her most adamant display of kindness.

Urushi brings Caetuna to her room. Takatsugu answers the door, mid-shave and wearing only a towel around his waist. His nose scrunches at the darkness. “I've got this,” Urushi tells him. “Get out.” Clearly inconvenienced but compliant, Takatsugu exits the room without protest. Urushi leads Caetuna to the bed, sits her down, and waves at the darkness like it's no more inconvenient than a gnat. Her stern expression eases into a smile. “Sorry. A slap in the face is my go-to for snapping someone out of it. Now, you wanna tell me what's going on?”

The darkness flares a bit, then settles back down. It starts to circle Caetuna, forming something like a barrier. Urushi leaves it alone for now. Caetuna stares into the darkness with a prominent frown, every crease on her face defined and every word in her vocabulary slipping from her grasp. She reviews her rush of thoughts, the thoughts still gnawing at her. She looks back on the dinner, and seeing Emina hug Ryid. That brought these feelings to the surface.

“Emina has many friends. Good friends, I am certain.” Caetuna pauses, waiting for Urushi to respond. Met only with silence, she continues. “I'd imagine that she values those good people more than she does someone like myself. Ryid is a good man. A good friend. Surely deserving of a hug from Emina.” Her chest feels tight, and the darkness around her grows more dense. “...I feel guilt. I desire that as well, but I am undeserving. I've done nothing but burden her. Why should I expect to be valued in the same manner as Ryid, or her dear Kurasame and Kazusa?”

Urushi says nothing still, but places her hand on Caetuna's shoulder, like a tether to reality as she dives deeper into her thoughts. “So sudden and so awful. I… I crave her darkness and her light. To shine and flicker as she does, to understand and… I cannot grasp what else.” Caetuna sighs, relaxing her shoulders.

Urushi still wears her smile, strong and assuring. “You,” she finally says. “Are one silly goose. Emina’s friendly with everyone, but she's only close with a few people. And that definitely includes you.” She crosses her arms. “And so what if she has a ton of friends? That doesn't diminish anyone's value, especially not yours!”

Caetuna looks toward the floor, biting back the urge to apologize. “It...seems I do not understand quite how these matters work yet. I trust that you do, however, so if you would bestow your observations unto me, I would be in your debt.”

And bestow her observations Urushi does. She puts her hand back on Caetuna's shoulder, and starts waving away at the darkness again with the other. “Maybe you don't grasp the nuances yet, but I can tell from the way Emina looks at you, and how she looks when she's talking about you. She values you a lot. Cherishes you. She doesn't have a secret identity to hide anymore, so if she's being cautious around you it just means she doesn't want to make you uncomfortable. If you want a hug that bad, just ask.”

No. She shouldn't. She couldn't. Caetuna bites her lip softly. She's not a good person like Ryid. How could she ask for a hug from Emina? “I… I am undeserving.”

“Don't make me slap you again,” Urushi sighs. “Even if that were the case, who says you have to deserve it? Emina likes you the way you are, trust me. And get that darkness out of here. She told me, your light saved her when you first started rooming together. Reach for that light inside yourself. It's powerful. Stronger than any jealousy or lack of self-worth.”

Caetuna considers all the things Urushi has told her, all the things she feels and doesn't understand, all the memories she's made with Emina thus far. “I choose to reach for her light instead.” It's a familiar light. A light of safety and warmth. Yes, this is much better than steeping in darkness. Maybe this is what a hug is like. The darkness circling Caetuna fades without fighting back, and Caetuna places her hand over the one on her shoulder. “Thank you, Urushi. This talk has been helpful.”

“Any time,” Urushi says, and she stands up. She sees Caetuna out of the room, and Caetuna gives a quick apology to Takatsugu as she passes him in the hall. An odd jubilance arises within Caetuna as she makes her way back to her room, and she can't say it's unwelcome. When she arrives at her destination, Emina is waiting and, true to kind, pleasant fashion, her first words are “Thank goodness.”

“I had a bad feeling,” Emina elaborates. “But it looks like you're alright.”

“You left dinner,” Caetuna says.

“So I did.”

“Will you return now?”

“I don't intend to.”

“I see.”

Emina takes a small, careful step forward. “I felt darkness. All of a sudden. And then...you.” She places a hand over her chest, over her heart. “Uh...I'm not making much sense. Sorry. I'm just glad you're okay.”

Caetuna would like to believe her. When they speak, Emina always seems so sincere. There’s no obligation, no reason to lie. Still, sometimes — no, frequently — Caetuna struggles to accept the gift of kindness from Emina in particular. If she could only reach out. She taps her index fingers against her thumbs, and averts her gaze to the treasure chest in the corner. “Would you...please hug me?”

Emina's eyes widen with surprise, but just as much twinkle with joy. A smile — her true smile appears, and it's then that Caetuna realizes how silly she's been to fall for the tricks played by her mind. Not that she expects to conquer those thoughts anytime soon, but the hug certainly puts them at bay.

Emina has strong arms. It's a fleeting thought, as Caetuna's mind is all but blank. Emina is warm, and soft, and for the moment incredibly bright. Her hair has a vague floral scent. Pleasant. Her thumbs draw little circles on Caetuna's back, tender. Safe. Would it be possible to remain like this forever? Would it be possible to hold her even closer? What is this emotion? The thoughts come and go, until Caetuna is wholly submerged in Emina's embrace.

When Emina releases her, Caetuna can't think about much. She half-absentmindedly reaches for Emina's hand and holds it, murmuring a recollection: “Nao said that this may represent a powerful bond…” She releases her grip. “It would appear I seek that.”

Emina takes Caetuna's hand, properly entwining their fingers. “You're funny, Caetuna. We already have a strong bond. And this.” She gives a light squeeze. “This can mean so many things. The bond between people. A way to say, ‘I've got your back.’ Or maybe you really need support, or you're giving support, or because you love someone.”

Caetuna looks at their hands. “What would you say that this represents?” For the first time, Emina looks away. Her smile is still apparent, but an uneasy giggle slips through her lips. “Most of what I just said, probably? Keeping you from getting lost. Keeping me from getting lost. Safety. It's like...a hug for hands. It's widely seen as a romantic thing, but there's more to it than that.”

Nao and Sota often hold hands. They seem so very happy when they do so. Caetuna forces a smile. She wants to smile, like those two do. She wants to hold onto Emina's hand, because it is warm and soft and indeed makes her feel...safe. “Going forward, may I hold your hand?”

Emina, gracious and generous, welcomes the idea, and brings Caetuna in for another hug as if she could sense the desire. “As much as you want.” This woman is nothing short of astounding, Caetuna thinks. What a magnificent, enduring flame.

Emina has a strange dream that night. Not exactly a nightmare, but odd. It starts as nothing but a voice, obscure yet perfectly clear. Like reading words on a sheet of paper through a powerful prescription of glass, so clear and crisp and sharp that it cuts. It's darkness, but non-hostile. Familiar, even.

I seek to understand. Everything you feel… Let me taste your pain, your pleasure. Your smile and your tears, show them to me only. If but I could lay claim… Will this suffice? How did this greed come to be? Have I become that which destroyed me? Certainly I can depend on you to keep me afloat, as my lust for your light burns, and my lust for your darkness erupts.

There's a weight in Emina's lap. She can't see it. She can hardly touch it. Her hand strokes the hair on the head of a dark form, halfway slipping through her fingers even as its arms wrap around her waist. I am a parasite. And you would host me still. Willingly, magnanimous as I feed so ravenously. Escape, I beseech you. If you were to wither… No, I've become—

The form clings tighter, becomes more solid in shape, and in the darkness erupts a furious light. So contradictory, such a capricious balance. And if a tip of the scales causes Emina to wilt like a rose atop a prickled stem, sapped of color by a starved tree, then she's okay with that. As long as their roots remain entangled.

Chapter Text

Urushi taps her fingers against her mug. She’s not particularly anxious or anything, just curious. Her leg bounces under the table. It’s the caffeine. She takes a long sip of her coffee. Emina should be down for breakfast any minute. And Caetuna accompanies her to breakfast, nine times out of ten. How did things go last night? Did those two have a nice long heart-to-heart? Caetuna didn’t chicken out of talking about her feelings, did she? Urushi sighs. The troubles of being nosy… Still, she has no clue what to expect.

Emina enters the hotel’s restaurant. Caetuna’s with her. And they’re holding hands. Urushi nearly chokes. The two women sit across from her, and she smiles as usual. “Hey. You two look like you’re in good spirits.” It’s true. She can tell that Emina’s repressing a smile. She seems relieved. And Caetuna is glowing, like she’s tasted bliss. All that from a possible hug? Unless things escalated to something else— no, they’re too dense to hook up so soon. It’s really surprising on Emina’s part; she’s great at reading other people and controlling her own expressions, but it doesn’t look like she’s bothered even attempting to identify her feelings for Caetuna. Friendship of course. That’s the foundation for anything beyond that. Their hearts are connected…

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you, Urushi?”

Hearing her name, Urushi snaps to attention. “Huh? Oh, my bad. Caffeine’s got my brain all over the place. Should’ve just had water. What were you saying?”

Emina laughs it off. “Nothing much. Just how appreciating the little things makes a world of difference.” Urushi hums, thinking back to late last night when Takatsugu had given her a kiss on the cheek. A small gesture, but...nice. Very nice. “Yeah. It really does.” From there, the women pick out food to eat and their conversation turns into smalltalk; it's empty chatter and everyone at the table knows it. Still, it's better than having a meal alone. It might be better than eating with Takatsugu, Urushi thinks. He's not exactly the talkative type.

“Rrrr...rrrrrruff!”

The unmistakable noise interrupts the insignificant banter. “Nao said something about a puppy on the loose, right?” Emina asks. Urushi slowly nods her head. “A Dalmatian.” She whistles and then clicks her tongue. “Where are ya, Buddy?” She scans the area with her eyes, but sees no spotted pattern.

“Did it run away?” Emina frowns. “I hope it'll be okay.” It must be a quick little thing to have not been caught by Lann yet. But if it's quick, that means it's healthy. Urushi decides to share her conclusion as consolation. “Lann’s got a knack for capturing non-human things. If he hasn't caught it yet, that means it's one fast rascal. Which means it's healthy, right?”

Emina perks up a little, but she's obviously still worried. “Right!” And just like that, they return to talking about nothing.

When Urushi gets back to her room, Takatsugu is gone. Probably talking about town security with Lasswell or playing piano somewhere. He's gotten pretty good, actually. There's a certain song he plays once in a while that never fails to catch Urushi’s ear. It's nostalgic, but she'd never heard it in Orience. It sounds melancholic yet hopeful, full of endings and beginnings. The sheet music had the title “Dearly Beloved.” Fitting. In any case, it's nice to know Takatsugu has a passion so...soul-soothing. It'll do him good.

After some consideration, Urushi decides to settle back into bed. It's not like she has any plans. Emina and Caetuna clearly need more time for things to click in their minds. They're going around holding hands for crying out loud. That's practically third base! “Heh.” If she's this invested in their relationship, she clearly needs to focus more on her own. Maybe she can go out later and find a gift. Takatsugu always says they're unnecessary, then turns around and gets her something small but thoughtful. He's a total sweetheart deep down. With a little smile on her face, Urushi closes her eyes. Maybe he'll be back when she wakes up.

Pant, pant, pant.

Takatsugu is indeed back when Urushi wakes up, and he's not alone. He holds a small dog, just a tad bigger than his hand. Judging by the pattern of its fur, it's definitely a Dalmatian. “You caught it?” Urushi asks in a raspy voice. Takatsugu walks over to the bed and sits on the edge next to her. “It ran up to me. Lann said it would be best for me to look after it for now.” And he agreed? Urushi sits up and rubs sleep from her eye. “Who are you and what have you done with my Taka?”

A smile creeps onto to Takatsugu’s face. “What do you take me for? And stop calling me that.” That, of course, is only fuel for Urushi to further tease him. “My darling Taka.” He doesn't refute it this time around. Instead, he stretches out his arms and says, “Hold this.”

And now there’s a puppy in Urushi’s lap, and her heart is full.

The day wasn't particularly eventful, but Caetuna deems it a good time. Miwa, Nao, and some others seemed surprised when she held Emina's hand. That's okay. She doesn't worry about it because the touch puts her at ease. She even spoke with Ryid, who she’d felt envious of because of a hug — how silly — and the conversation was exceedingly pleasant. Today has been wonderful overall. Yes: tea with Stella, purchasing a couple of items from Carla’s new business (founded in collaboration with some moogles and a reluctant Naghi), receiving word that the Dalmatian pup had been safely captured, Prompto taking a photo of her with Emina, roaming the town with Miwa, a board game with Nao and Sota — all such lovely experiences. Right now, Caetuna can say without doubt that she is happy.

“So,” Emina says as she gets into bed, fresh from a shower. “You really like holding hands, huh?” The words wake Caetuna from her bubble-bath induced, half-asleep state. “I do. Is that an issue?” If Emina doesn't enjoy holding hands the way she does, then…

“No, I like it.” Emina shifts around in bed a bit, getting comfortable. “You smiled a lot today. I hope we can look forward to that from now on.” Caetuna hopes so too. She closes her eyes. “Sleep well, Emina. Thank you for today.” A gentle, “You too,” comes from Emina, followed by a yawn. It's time to bid this day farewell and prepare to greet the next.

Then comes the nightmare. They never went away completely, but they haven't been this vivid... ever.

Emina's friend Kurasame, who Caetuna had sacrificed in Alexander's summoning, watches her with piercing eyes from across a battlefield. Between them, Agito candidates, children, battle one another. Not with magic or weapons, but with their bare fists. They snap and stomp on each other's bones, claw away skin, scream and laugh as rage drives them. What disturbs Caetuna most is none of these things. It's the whispers she hears in the back of her mind as the children rip each other's throats out.

Thank you. Beneath the cries of slaughter and mania is something like a prayer. We give thanks for this divine bloodshed. An offering for thine eyes to look upon, Goddess.

Try as she may, Caetuna cannot tear her eyes away from the horrific scene. Is tranquility simply a fallacy? Is the war before her the destiny of her mind? Her heart? Silently, she prays for peace. It may be futile, but it is her wish. And so it shall be.

A great wind blows over the battlefield. A storm of ice shards impales the combat-locked cadets. The spatters of blood fly away in the gust. The combat comes to a still. Every last body frosts over, and the rage burning in their eyes dulls. Only one person moves: Kurasame. He walks through the battlefield, unfazed by the storm. A blade of ice materializes in his hand. He still looks at Caetuna, looks through her. Caetuna can't move.

Kurasame approaches, lifting his sword. He holds the edge against his neck. Through no will of her own, Caetuna reaches for the hilt of the blade. “Peace,” Kurasame says, and the frozen bodies behind him shatter all at once with a cacophony of anguished howls. Then there is complete silence. “...So it shall be.” The blade cuts into Kurasame's neck—

Caetuna wakes up with a racing heart and no air in her lungs. She takes a breath, and reminds herself where she is: the hotel. Safe. It was just a nightmare. No more real than any of the others. It's just her imagination; a sick image she has no conscious control of.

A bout of dizziness strikes, as well as a headache. Caetuna lifts her hands only to see that the skin is a dark purple. She rolls up her sleeves; the color stretches to her elbows. “No…” Around a month ago, she may have willingly given in to darkness. But now, she wants anything but that. Humanity, friends, quiet nights beneath the stars: it's all become so precious. She must not be consumed.

Caetuna eyes water from the headache. Perhaps it's those tears that make her realize how terrified she is. She whimpers, curling into a ball. Death, always. Premature, violent death. Hours, days, weeks pass, but her mind always returns to the lives she'd stolen. The knowledge that she can never, ever atone burdens her, even if she has finally convinced herself that she is not to blame.

“Bad dream?” Emina asks. She's either been awake or she was roused by Caetuna's movements. Whichever the case, Caetuna feels simultaneously guilty and grateful. Emina understands people well. She can probably tell just from the silence how awful Caetuna feels. Still curled up, Caetuna listens to Emina get out of bed and walk toward her. She expects maybe a stroke on the head, or a push on the shoulder to encourage her to talk. Rather than either of those things, Emina wordlessly joins Caetuna in bed and takes one of her darkness-stained hands. Caetuna doesn't know how to express her thanks. She's still unsettled, still disgusted by what her mind had conjured, but there's a great comfort in Emina's hand embracing hers. Like Emina had said, it's like a hug.

Caetuna uncurls her body a little, easing a few muscles. She peeks up at Emina, who looks back at her with tired but kind eyes. “Need a distraction?”

Truthfully, Emina is a distraction all her own. If Caetuna were to guess, she'd say Emina is on her mind a third of the time, when they're apart. If they're together, then it's hard to not think about her. She simply draws attention. Maybe that's why Caetuna feels so much curiosity. “Could you...tell me more about your friends?” When Emina mentions her friends, it’s always brief. She doesn’t reminisce for too long. Would it pain her to do so? “...That is, if the topic is not overtly sensitive.”

“Not at all,” Emina says, and there’s sadness in her eyes. Guilt scrapes at Caetuna’s dry throat. Emina shouldn’t have to go through this for her sake. “Nevermind,” she croaks.

“It’s fine,” Emina asserts. She squeezes Caetuna’s hand lightly. “I owe it to them to remember.” She pauses, silently reflecting. Then she gives Caetuna a wistful smile. “Kurasame used to think he could take on the world. I really wanted to believe he could, too. Kazusa was always the most level headed...even if he’s a total weirdo.”

Something strange happens as Emina speaks. The forlornness in her tone and her face slowly decreases. As she recounts hijinks of days past, her smile becomes brighter and it’s something Caetuna hasn’t quite seen before. This smile is different from her other ones. It’s smile for when she speaks about what is most precious to her. If she weren’t already enthralled by the stories, Caetuna would be captivated by how...beautiful Emina is. Yes, she is a beautiful woman indeed, in the flesh and in the soul. Her words guide Caetuna into the light, into a sleep with less harrowing dreams. If not for one thing, Caetuna’s heart would be at ease; but in the deepest, darkest cracks and corners, she senses it: something is coming.

Chapter Text

Heartless invade the town two days later. No newcomers arrive with them. Lasswell and Stella take out the enemies before Prompto can even get a shot in. Traverse Town returns to its peaceful state before most of the denizens are even aware of the attack, and so everyone goes about their day with no fear of darkness’s threat. The Committee proceeds in its initiative to secure the fourth district.

Emina and Caetuna sit on the roof of the hotel. It was Emina’s idea; she’d wondered how much of the town was visible from the very top, and if the roof was even accessible. She now knows that the door to the roof is unlocked and that from this height, one can see the entire first and second districts, and a good portion of the third. The view of the stars from here is spectacular as well. Caetuna seems fascinated by the twinkling lights, though they don’t totally distract her from her worries; the color of her forearms isn’t as dark now, and it’s hidden by long sleeves and gloves, but the stress is evident in the lines on her face and the tension in her posture.

“So one time,” Emina says. Her stories seemed to really do the trick last night. “This girl I didn’t even know approached me and challenged me to a duel.”

Caetuna continues to stare at the sky. “On what grounds?”

“She wanted to fight over Kurasame. There were some rumors going around.” Emina scratches her neck. “Actually...even during the war, I think there were still some kids saying we were an item.” It probably wasn’t a good decision to mention the war.

“Were you two romantically involved?” Caetuna asks.

“No way,” Emina laughs in a slightly exaggerated tone. She’s just inadvertently made the situation ten times more awkward. At least Caetuna seems unbothered.

“Good.”

Emina stares at Caetuna in silence. Good? ...Good. The single word makes her want to smile, or even laugh. A lot of things Caetuna says and does make her want to do those things, actually. Or hold her hand, or hug her, or cry. It’s hard to comprehend. Maybe it doesn’t need to be comprehended. Emina looks to the stars. “They're so bright.”

Caetuna stands up. “They are.”

“You leaving?”

Caetuna nods once. “There is a truth that I seek. I will inform you when I've found it.”

So she doesn't want Emina to accompany her on her soul-searching journey. Emina finds it surprising, but she says nothing. If Caetuna wants space, she'll give it to her. Just her not having succumbed to darkness is proof of how strong she is.

Caetuna returns inside the hotel and descends three flights of stairs. She's never been to the Committee’s suite, but its location is common knowledge. What catches her off guard is how different the sixth floor looks from the rest. All the gears remind her of the Crystal’s chamber. She stops in the middle of the hallway for a moment. “May the Crystal…” She pinches herself. That isn’t something to be thinking about now. It’ll just manifest in her dreams like usual. Caetuna continues to her destination and knocks on the door with a loose fist.

Lasswell answers, fortunately. He’s just the man Caetuna wants to speak with. “Lady Caetuna. What brings you here? Would you like to come in?” Caetuna lowers her head slightly and enters. “Thank you.” “But of course,” Lasswell says. “Would you like some tea? Water?” His hospitality is just short of overbearing. He’s truly taken what the Committee stands for to heart.

“I’d like to speak with you,” Caetuna says. “‘Tis somewhat of a...personal matter.”

“The darkness?” Lasswell guesses. Caetuna removes one of her gloves. Lasswell scowls. “Would you like to discuss this in my room?” That would certainly be more private than the common area. “Yes,” Caetuna says, and she follows Lasswell to his bedroom.

Despite the layout of the sixth floor, Lasswell’s room looks similar to the hotel’s other lodgings. The main difference is that his room has a desk, which is covered in books and notes. Caetuna doesn’t dwell on it at all; Lasswell is a hard-working man, so a scholarly mess is far from surprising. “Pardon the mess,” Lasswell says, pulling the desk’s chair away. He offers the seat to Caetuna, which she accepts. “Now, your hand…”

Caetuna removes her other glove, then begins to roll up her sleeves. “Two days ago, I awoke from a nightmare...and this had happened. The skin was darker then. Do you think that this condition will clear with time?”

Lasswell examines Caetuna’s hands and arms. The skin looks healthy apart from the murky gray discoloration. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t say for sure.”

Caetuna unrolls her sleeves, and puts her gloves back on. “Then, I wonder if you could answer me this: How do I banish the darkness from my heart? At times, I find myself close to being consumed. I fight it with all that I am, but it lingers.” If she could break free of this cycle, stop worrying Emina…

“You don’t need to fight it,” Lasswell says. Then, his door opens.

Stella enters without so much as a knock, and closes the door behind her. “Sorry to barge in. I just couldn’t help myself. So, you’re finally talking about it, Caetuna?” Caetuna doesn’t respond right away, so Stella continues: “Your arms, I mean. I could see the darkness. But it sounds like you want to know how to get rid of it?”

“How uncharacteristic of you to waltz in like that,” Lasswell says. “Are you particularly invested in the situation?”

“Caetuna’s my friend,” Stella says. “You don’t mind that I’m here, right?” Stella can definitely be mysterious, and strange — certainly not stranger than any of the other townsfolk — at times, but she bears no ill will and, like she’d stated, she is a friend. “Your company is welcome,” Caetuna says. Stella smiles.

“As Lasswell said, you don’t need to fight it.” Stella snaps her fingers, and at the tip of her thumb appears a single, black flame. Then, it burns white and extinguishes itself. “If it’s your darkness, own it. Accept it as a part of yourself. Even if you’ve got a lot of darkness in your heart, you’re still you.”

“You make it sound easy,” Lasswell says. “It can be tempting to give in to darkness...or to light. Controlling the balance is no easy feat. Right now, my advice is to remember what you hold dear. Keep that love close. It could save you.”

“He’s speaking from experience,” Stella says. She smirks as Lasswell shoots her a glare. “And another thing.” She closes her eyes. “If it’s not your darkness, do your best to cast it out unless you’ve got a really tight leash.” Stella opens her eyes again, and the right has a golden color. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s coming.”

“What?” Lasswell says, now concerned. “What do you mean?”

Caetuna frowns. So, what she felt the other night wasn’t her imagination. And not even the leaders of the town know what it is.

“I mean that we should probably be ready for a fight,” Stella says. She bites her lip. “...I’m scared, Lasswell.”

Stella’s admission of fear touches Lasswell in a way Caetuna has never seen. His eyes widen, then wander around the room before he closes them and inhales, gathering himself. “A keyblade would be convenient in this situation,” he jokes. His lips form a smile. “But I think that we’ll do just fine. The Committee’s top priority is the safety of the townspeople, is it not? Let’s not disappoint anyone.”

Stella crosses her arms. Her right eye reverts back to its original color. “...You’re right. Sorry to shift the subject, Caetuna. Did you want to know anything else?”

“It’s quite alright,” Caetuna says. “I sensed it as well. That ‘something.’ The surge of darkness likely heightened my sensitivity, or something of the sort. But, I will find peace with my darkness eventually.” She wants to laugh at herself. Finding peace with guilt that will haunt her for the rest of her existence? Such folly. But, perhaps, if she feeds herself enough of this ridiculousness, she’ll start to believe it. She was able to come to terms with her humanity, after all.

“If you need to talk to anyone, we’ve always got time for you,” Stella says. Lasswell nods in agreement. This town really is full of kind people. Caetuna stands. “Thank you. Both of you.” “Not at all,” Lasswell replies. “Would you like me to see you out?” Caetuna waves her hand, dismissing the suggestion. “Oh, why go to the trouble? I will...be seeing you.” She has yet to fully adopt all the linguistic changes she’d missed during her time as a l’Cie, but she’s getting there. Caetuna takes her leave, and Stella gives the parting remark of, “See you.”

Lasswell listens to Caetuna’s footsteps as she exits. As soon as he hears the door to the suite close, he turns to Stella. “If she does fall, we’ll have to kill her.”

“She won’t,” Stella says calmly.

“You’re exceedingly confident about that. May I ask why?”

Stella’s answer is but one word: “Emina.”

After her visit, Caetuna leaves the hotel. She could use a meal. Miwa was raving about a particular food cart in the third district some time ago. Or maybe she should gather some ingredients and cook something. She’d watched Takatsugu cook one peculiar afternoon, and she’d been meaning to try ever since. Another option would be to check if the moogles have anything surprising for sale...

“Hey, pretty lady!” Urushi throws her arm around Caetuna’s shoulders and starts laughing. Caetuna pushes her away. “Urushi?”

“Sorry,” Urushi laughs. “I’m kinda drunk, but don’t tell the kids that. Gotta be a good role model and all.” Caetuna only stares. Urushi clears her throat. “Anyway, where’s Emina? You two are together so often.” Finally, something Caetuna understands. “I last saw her atop the hotel. I imagine she’s left by now.”

“All the way up there, huh?” Urushi looks up at the building. “Must be a killer view.”

“It was beautiful,” Caetuna says. “Emina suggested we go there.”

Urushi chuckles to herself. “Of course she did. She’s a romantic gal.” She looks to Caetuna expectantly. Caetuna has no idea what Urushi wants her to say or do. “...Urushi, what do you suggest I eat? I thought I might cook.”

“Ohhh, a homemade meal? Maybe Emina isn’t the only romantic!” What is it with her and romance tonight? Oh. “Urushi, I don’t suppose you’ve developed amorous feelings for someone here in the town?” Urushi gives Caetuna a sudden, completely deadpan look. She grabs both of Caetuna’s shoulders, then quickly releases them. “Caetuna?”

Caetuna’s tilts her head, utterly perplexed. “Yes?”

“Yeah,” Urushi says. “Me and Taka. We’re a thing. We’re fucking. He gives good head. Like really good head. Hallowed Pulse, that man knows what he’s doing. You would not believe how big his— Goodness me, what am I saying? Whew. Anyway, my point is… Emina’s totally in love with you. Just by the way.”

Truthfully, Caetuna only grasped that last part. “Urushi, should I help you to your room? The alcohol has clearly taken an effect—”

“Nope!” Urushi says. “Let’s get you some ingredients. I see a moogle right by the district doors, c’mon.” She slaps Caetuna on the back, urging her to follow as she starts toward the moogle. Caetuna follows Urushi, but her mind is elsewhere. The concept of Emina being in love with her is odd, to put it mildly. It doesn't make sense. Well, it makes sense but it’s hard to imagine that Emina, or anyone, would feel that specific emotion toward her. Sure, Emina shows her great kindness, but Emina is simply a kind person. Surely she’d rush to the side of anyone struggling so deeply with their own darkness. Caetuna thinks back to her conversation with Lasswell and Stella. Hopefully, her darkness won’t be a source of stress for Emina anymore. Although she doesn’t reach out for help much, Emina is struggling too. If Caetuna can find her peace, then she can be strong for Emina in her time of need. They’re friends, good friends. Emina values her friends so much, why would she fall in love with someone like—

“Uh, Caetuna?” Urushi pokes Caetuna’s arm, jolting her from her thoughts. Caetuna looks directly ahead of her to see a moogle playing a saxophone. It’s not just any moogle, either. Caetuna steps forward. “Mogukou?”

Mogukou stops playing their saxophone and speedily flaps their wings in excitement. “My goodness, it’s Lady Caetuna, kupo!” Their wings abruptly slow to a near still. “Oh, that’s right. Please be advised that outside forces may soon attack our fair town, kupo. Should another Heartless invasion occur in the coming days, please follow protocol and take cover indoors. The Traverse Town Committee thanks you for your cooperation, kupo.”

“So, they are wary of the threat,” Caetuna says, more to herself than to Urushi or Mogukou. Still, Urushi questions her. “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Caetuna removes one of her gloves. “If you have the time…”

The next day is peaceful. Caetuna spends most of her time with Emina and Miwa in the third district. They watch several short films, check all the chests in the district (Miwa calls it “treasure hunting”), and shop for clothes. They only end up purchasing a single dress between the three of them. It’s for Caetuna, though the decision wasn’t hers. Miwa had insisted it would look great, and Emina concurred. Now, Caetuna has a bright pink shopping bag with a black dress in it.

The women stop at the district’s café for a break and a snack. Emina orders a parfait, which piques Caetuna’s curiosity, so she orders one as well. Miwa orders...everything on the menu. But, she seems happy with her choice. The first three items to be ready are different slices of cake, and she eats them with a look of bliss on her face. “I think I’m in heaven. I’ll never understand why people get addicted to booze when you can get addicted to cake.” Emina shakes her head, but she’s smiling. Caetuna on the other hand bears a baffled look. “That reminds me...what is ‘fucking?’”

Miwa chokes on her cake. “Uh,” Emina says as Miwa coughs. “That’s uh...like, what part of speech did...uh…”

“Urushi told me yesterday that she and Commander Takatsugu are ‘fucking,’” Caetuna clarifies. Miwa bangs on the table, gagging. Emina swears inaudibly. “What was that?” Caetuna asks.

“In that context, it means…” Emina takes a breath. “One sec.” She eats a spoonful of her parfait, then stills herself for exactly two seconds. “It means ‘intercourse.’”

Caetuna immediately mirrors Emina’s action and eats her own parfait, as Miwa retches and a chunk of cake jumps out of her throat onto the ground. She takes a moment to catch her breath, then tries another bite of cake. The three eat in uncomfortable silence until Miwa finishes her three slices of cake and gets up to return her dishes.

“So the cafés in Traverse Town…” Emina begins. “They...uh…” She presses her lips together. The situation is awkward, yes, but it shouldn’t be this awkward. Caetuna taps the bottom of her spoon against the table. “Urushi said that you…that…” The words won’t come out. It’s so very odd. No matter how she tries, she can’t bring herself to repeat Urushi’s words. The words that state that Emina is in love with her.

“What did she say?” Emina asks. She looks into her glass. “Nothing bad I hope...heh.”

“Heh,” Caetuna echoes. “Nevermind. It was...just something silly. She was intoxicated.” At that news, Emina sighs. “We all have our days, I guess.”

Miwa returns with a fruit tart and a stack of pancakes. “Hey.”

Chapter Text

“I will accept my darkness,” Caetuna says before bed. “As a part of myself. And I will control it. Then, you will have no need to worry for my sake.”

“Is that the truth you set out to find?” Emina asks.

“Yes.”

“I’m happy for you.” Emina smiles, sincere and bright even though pain undoubtedly still eats away at her. Soon, Caetuna will aid in soothing that pain. She settles under her sheets and faces Emina’s side of the room. “Goodnight. And thank you.”

Emina looks over at Caetuna. “For what?” Caetuna stares at her in silence, then smiles and closes her eyes.

The morning brings unrest. Prompto sits on the couch in the Committee suite’s common area. He twirls his gun in his hand and taps his foot incessantly, while Stella watches the district through the window. “You know, I’m really starting to feel it. Whatever ‘it’ is. Bang…” He pretends to fire. Stella doesn’t offer any banter in reply. “This could be bad, huh?” Prompto remarks. “If you’re this stoic… Say, you see anything?”

Stella looks over her shoulder and tosses an elixir to Prompto. Prompto smirks. “What, you worried about me now?”

“It might not be enough,” Stella says, resuming her watch.

Prompto frowns at the vial. “Huh. Guess I’ll have to use this wisely, then.”

“Prompto.” For once, Stella’s voice takes a harsh tone. “Don’t die.”

Prompto stores the elixir in his pocket and matches Stella’s sternness. “I won’t.”

Stella takes a mental note of the stars; several shimmer and fade away. Something greater than this town and its inhabitants’ original worlds is at work, and she may find out soon or not at all. Below, Stella spots Sota and Nao exiting the hotel. They know how to fight, but Stella doubts they're prepared for the coming battle. “I'm going downstairs.” And she does so, taking her rapier and leaving Prompto to twirl his gun again and again.

Downstairs at the checkout desk, Stella gives Moggon a quick instruction — “Put the barrier up.” — and exits the building to search for Sota and Nao. They're easy to sniff out, what with their potent lights. Stella finds them in the convenience store buying snacks.

“Stella, ‘sup?” Sota asks. He and Nao have been made aware of the situation, but perhaps the threat should have been stressed more. Stella can practically smell it now: darkness, deep and potent. “Go back to the hotel,” she says. “For your safety. Please.”

“That's kinda scary,” Nao says. “You're really worried, huh? Sota, let's head back, ‘kay?” Sota shrugs, slinging a bag of goods over his shoulder. “For your safety and Boss Lady's peace of mind? You got it, babe.” Nao smiles and takes Sota’s arm, and Stella follows them out of the store. As soon as she steps outside, Stella looks at the sky. It's covered in clouds.

“Go, now,” Stella urges, and the teens break into a sprint. Stella tails them to ensure they reach their destination safely, then turns toward the center of the district. She takes a battle stance. Seconds later, Lasswell drops from above and rolls forward, drawing his blade as he takes a place beside her. “You didn't jump out of the window, did you?” Stella asks.

“Time is of the essence,” Lasswell offers as an excuse. “...It's here.” Thunder rumbles in the sky. The wind picks up, and one of the streetlamps flickers. Then, a crowd of Neoshadows materializes across from the pair. “I'll take the left,” Lasswell says, and he dashes toward the foes. His sword parries the claws of the Heartless, and slices through them one heavy swing at a time. Stella keeps her distance and casts Dia against her opponents. The magic proves effective, and the Neoshadows burst into flames of light with indistinguishable screeches. To finish off his portion of the enemies, Lasswell swings his sword in a full circle, slashing through them with a glimmer of light.

“What's next?” Stella mutters to herself. Just as the words leave her mouth, a pool of darkness begins to form beneath Lasswell’s feet. He jumps back to regroup with Stella. “This one may be trouble. Do take caution.”

A giant, clawed hand emerges from the darkness and slams onto the ground, shaking the entire town. A head with shining yellow eyes peeks out, then arms, a torso, and soon an entire humanoid form, black as night and as tall as the Citadel. Stella casts a barrier of light over herself and Lasswell, then one of darkness. The Darkside stares down at the two, silent but exuding an air of complete, unmitigated rage. It lifts its left hand into the sky, conjuring a red, pulsing ball of energy. “Quickly,” Stella says. “We should sever the limbs.”

Just as Lasswell prepares to attack, a pair of golden, glowing chains wrap around the Darkside’s wrist. They link back to Lann, who dons a gauntlet on each hand. He pulls himself through the air toward the Darkside’s wrist, then swings behind it and pulls the giant foe’s hand straight into its head. The red ball disappears with a small explosion, searing the scraggly tendrils around the Darkside’s face. Its head tilts back, and a bullet penetrates its chest.

Prompto runs to Stella's side. Lann lands beside him and dismisses the chains. “Now it's a party,” Prompto says. Stella takes a guarding stance. “So it seems. Get ready to dance.”

A horde of Invisibles appears as the Darkside recoils. Lasswell draws his second sword. “I don't need to say this, but don't get hit.” Two enemies thrust at him with their weapons, and he deflects the attack with his swords. In a flash of purple, he swings his weapons against the assailants. They don't return to darkness, but the blow leaves them visibly inhibited. Just as Prompto takes aim at one weakened Invisible’s head, a bench flies into it and a beam of light takes out the other.

Sota and Nao wave from the front of the hotel. They're within the transparent barrier’s perimeter, Stella notes. It's certainly strange that they seem to have recovered the powers they once had in the “Game” they'd told her about soon after their arrival, but now’s no time to question it. “Thanks for the assistance. I assume Moggon told you about the barrier? Stay there.” Thankfully the two are eagerly compliant, prioritizing each other's safety above all else.

“Lann,” Prompto says. He shoots an Invisible between the eyes, and Lann stabs it from behind with a blue dagger. A messy, darkness-enhanced removal of the dagger finishes the foe. Lann wastes no time in summoning chains to bind the next enemy, and Stella stabs it clean through the chest with her rapier.

All the while, the Darkside lifts its hands to the sky, once again conjuring its ball of dark energy. The waves of power ripple through the clouds, and the ball draws bolts of lightning. Sota sets three more of the Invisibles on fire, and Nao shoots beams of light to take them out. Lasswell cleaves through another enemy, then rushes for the Darkside.

“Lasswell!” Stella shouts. “Curses. Lann, your ability. Can you…?” An abnormal, toothy grin appears on Lann’s face. “Can I? We… Yeah, I can.” He stretches both arms in front of himself as Prompto and Stella continue to fight and Lasswell runs toward the gargantuan Heartless. Bright blue cubes form around the Darkside’s feet, then they expand. They fuse together as more cubes sprout from them, encasing the legs, then the torso, the head, the arms, and finally the hands holding the dark energy. “Huuuhp!” With one more push of effort, the cubes meld into one singular rectangular cage around the Darkside.

Lasswell examines Lann’s work. “Splendid indeed.” He falls back to reconvene with his allies. “How long will it hold?” “I'm not done,” Lann says. “Hey Sota! Nao! You'll wanna head inside.” Despite his vaguely ominous words, his smile persists.

“You sure, man?” Sota shouts. Nao places a hand on his shoulder. “We should take his word for it. Those attacks made you tired too, right?” Sota’s posture slackens and he lets out a quiet laugh. “I can't fool ya, huh? Let's get back then.” “Be safe!” Nao calls, and the two retreat inside.

Lasswell shifts to a new battle stance. “I'll strike.”

“No,” Lann says. He clenches his fists. “Brace!” The cage around the Darkside shrinks, squeezing it. Lasswell changes stances again. “So that's your intention. Whether you can manage it or not… Stella—”

“I know,” Stella says, erecting a wall of light to defend the party. “Man, you're crazy,” Prompto remarks as the cage crushes the Darkside’s limbs and contorts its body. The ball of energy in its hands explodes within the cage, disintegrating its creator. The blast cracks the cage, and seconds later shatters it, sending a wave of dark energy in every direction. Signs outside of buildings fly away, glass all around the district shatters, street lamps go dark, and the sky clears. The barrier protecting the Citadel shines, guarding the building at full power. Even with Stella's protection, the Committee is knocked back. Where the Darkside once stood, a Dark Corridor births the figure of a man.

Stella regains her balance, grimacing from the impact. She fixes her eyes on the new enemy. “Wait. Prompto, that's…” Prompto stares at the man as the shadows recede into the Corridor, revealing his features. His hair is completely black, and his hands have blood red claws. Purple veins protrude all over his body and a dark aura separate from the Corridor’s shadows surrounds him. His face is defined by frown lines, bared fangs, and shining red eyes.

Prompto steps in front of Stella. “Long time no see, Noct.”

An inhuman cry of rage precedes Noctis’ speedy charge toward Prompto. Prompto fires at his head with no hesitation. The bullets become lodged in Noctis’ skin, and darkness almost instantly weathers them away as the wounds patch themselves up. Lasswell jumps in front of Prompto and uses a light elemental attack. Noctis hisses and jumps back. “He's all darkness,” Stella says. “A swift elimination would be best.”

Prompto turns to Stella for a moment, searching her face for any signs of hesitation. “...You heard the lady.” He reloads his gun with bullets glowing with light as blue silhouettes of weapons appear one by one around Noctis. A sword materializes in his hand and he starts toward Lasswell. Stella distances herself from the group, casting consecutive Banish spells. Noctis avoids all but one. His shoulder burns with white flames and he lets out a screech, but his darkness quickly swallows the light. He sharply alters his course to pursue Stella, and Lasswell follows.

Noctis lunges for Stella, and she avoids the attack, giving him a light-imbued slash from her rapier as the steps away. Prompto shoots Noctis’ calf, this time making him kneel. Lasswell attacks from behind and stabs straight through Noctis’ back.

The blood is like ink. Lasswell withdraws his weapon and triggers a new gush of blood, but the wounds start to heal in only seconds. Stella goes for Noctis’ chest, but an explosion of darkness pushes both her and Lasswell away. Noctis turns and sets his sights on Prompto once more, snarling. “Pr...o...mpt...o…” He throws his sword, then teleports to it. Mere feet away, Prompto shoots Noctis’ head, neck, and chest. Noctis recoils, and Lann makes a cage around his legs. The cages shrink and snap the bones, sending Noctis to the ground with a demonic howl. Lasswell strikes him again with a Thunder spell, and Lann binds him with chains. Still quick as ever, the darkness works at repairing his body. “Dark…” Noctis mumbles. Lasswell stabs him again before he can get up. Then again, and again. Prompto turns his head. “Dammit, why won't he return to darkness?”

“PROMPTO.” Noctis’ phantom weapons appear all at once and circle him ferociously, pushing his opponents away. Darkness still seeping from his wounds, he moves to Prompto almost instantaneously and seizes his throat. Prompto gags, reaching for the trigger of his gun. Noctis throws him all the way to the door leading to the first district. His back hits the wood with a loud thump, nearly breaking the door, and he falls to the ground, completely limp.

Utilizing her distance, Stella prepares another attack. A glowing, golden rune appears behind her. As Noctis clashes swords with Lasswell, she shouts, “Come, l'Cie!” The words put a smile on Noctis’ twisted face. Beneath his feet, the ground freezes, and the effect spreads throughout the entire district in a matter of seconds. Lasswell and Lann have no time to avoid the ice, and their feet are frozen in place. Noctis parries Lasswell’s swords and throws his own toward Stella, as she sets the ice ablaze with a Firaga spell. As the elements snuff each other out, Noctis warps to his weapon and Stella summons a bolt of lightning from the cloudless sky. Noctis uses his blade to defend against the magic, and Stella grips his face with her hand. Darkness begins to flow from Noctis into her. Breaking free of the melting ice, Lann catches Noctis off guard with chains and throws him into the sky. Before Noctis can slice through the chains, Lann pulls him to the ground. Lasswell follows up with a buff to himself, then a mighty swing of both swords. In the split second he has to recover, Noctis summons a shield. Lasswell’s swords hit the shield with a bright spark, and the collision pushes each of the men back. Noctis swaps his freshly-cracked shield for a greatsword, and wastes no time charging forward. Lann tries to create a cage, but Noctis slips through as if his physical state is transient. Stella repeatedly casts Banish, blowing holes in Noctis’ body, but he keeps going. Lasswell stands ready.

A sudden storm of ice and fire consumes Noctis at the edge of Lasswell’s blades. Noctis swings his sword against the elements, but his movements are met with a flurry of attacks that cut right through his defenses. His phantom weapons encircle him again for protection, but a column of light strikes him from above. Stella carefully closes in, calling down another pillar from the heavens. The light, fire, and ice drown Noctis completely, and the only visible sign of his presence is each of his weapons, flying toward Lasswell from multiple angles. Stella places a barrier around him, and Lann makes a cage around the barrier.

It's not enough.

Stella, Lann, and Lasswell have exhausted themselves, and their fatigue shows the longer they fight. The fire and ice disperse with a last flare of magic energy, shattering Lann’s cage. Some of Noctis’ weapons break through Stella’s barrier, and Lasswell must defend using his swords. When the beam of light concentrated on Noctis disappears, little more than a skeleton with darkness seeping from it is left. And still, the muscles and skin regenerate. Lasswell falls to his knees, spent and bleeding from two wounds on his right side: one in the thigh and the other straight through the chest. “Finish it,” he breathes, clutching the wound in his chest. Blood soaks through his clothing, and his lower muscles fail him. Losing his balance, Lasswell falls gracelessly and silently to the ground.

Lann says nothing. He's probably in shock, or paralyzed with fear. Whatever the case, Stella rushes to move him out of the way of Noctis’ wrath. As she runs, however, chains wrap tight around Noctis’ neck. Does Lann intend to crush his windpipe? Or behead him? Will that even work? If that body is able to come back from the strongest attacks Stella and Lasswell can muster at the time, there probably isn’t any way to defeat it without extracting the darkness itself. And that will prove more difficult than the fight thus far, with Lasswell out of commission. It may even be impossible.

Stella almost laughs at herself. The concept of what is or isn’t possible never meant much to her brothers in arms. Why should she heed any doubt now? Noctis snatches Lann’s chain and pulls the boy toward him, calling his weapons to aim at his young opponent. Stella instantaneously appears between the two, with an Aerora spell cast around her body to push them in opposite directions. She pursues Noctis with the tip of her rapier pointed at his chest. Noctis blocks her attack with his sword, knocking her weapon from her hand. Despite this, Stella does not relent. Adrenaline conquering fatigue, she pivots her foot and slips behind Noctis, then uses the very last of her magic for an Almagest attack. An opaque ball of darkness encapsules Noctis, then shatters into light as his weapons fly toward Stella. The light dematerializes Noctis’ weapons and leaves him temporarily stunned. “Fool!” Stella shouts, grabbing Noctis’ shoulders as light burns him as quickly as he heals. She absorbs more of his darkness, hissing from how foul it is but not letting up. “Sleeping as the world crumbled around you and then looking to me for shelter!” Noctis snaps back to attention and punches Stella’s gut, sending her flying. As she lands, she sees the purple bolts of a Thundaga spell, raining down from a cloudless sky. If Lann gets hit, he might not be able to escape. If Prompto gets hit, he might be done for. If Lasswell gets hit, it’s over for him. And if she gets hit, the peaceful home they’ve made of Traverse Town will be lost.

...As if she’d allow it. In this moment of foolhardy stubbornness, Stella hears the chime of a clock. As she struggles back to her feet, time seems to slow. The Thundaga misses Prompto, and Lann manages to create a cage large and sturdy enough to defend himself and Lasswell against the magic as he rushes toward the injured man. Then, everything pauses. “It looks like you could use some help,” a familiar voice calls. A young man with brown hair and glasses appears at Stella’s side, with a sword drawn. He’s translucent like a ghost but he permeates light, and his mere presence seems to revitalize Stella. “Did you go back to your world and become a god, Sigma?” she asks, stepping away to retrieve her rapier.

“Not quite,” Sigma says. “But I may know someone. Now, you’re trying to purge the darkness from the vessel, right?” Stella nods her head. The sword in Sigma’s hand disappears. In its place, he brandishes a larger but similar-looking weapon: his keyblade. Stella flashes a smile, then looks to Noctis, checking that he doesn’t move. “...A keyblade, too? Not that I’m surprised. You are worthy. Lasswell, too. I always expected one to suddenly appear in his hand.”

“I agree,” Sigma says. “He’d be a Master, without a doubt. I think you would be as well.” He takes a battle stance. “I’ll unfreeze him, then we attack. Blows from my keyblade should eliminate some of the darkness possessing his body, and you can continue absorbing darkness when you find an opening. We’ll have to make it quick; my time here is limited.”

“Understood,” Stella says. How convenient for help to arrive at such a critical moment. It can’t be a coincidence. Her heart must have been calling out, or maybe Sigma just knew. He’s clearly picked up a few tricks since his world was restored. Whys and hows aside, Stella won’t let this chance go to waste. Energy like fire flows through her veins, and a melody of power sounds in her ears.

“Let’s go,” Sigma says, and Noctis runs on all fours toward him and Stella. The phantom weapons encircle him once more, and Stella charges straight ahead. She cloaks herself in darkness and disappears. Noctis looks left and right for her, then targets Sigma, who murmurs a quick incantation. Four slanted pillars of light emerge from the ground, trapping Noctis’ limbs. Stella reappears inside Noctis’ circle, and she places her palm against his forehead. The phantom weapons flicker bright blue, then they burn with darkness and fade away. Stella locks eyes with Noctis, draining away the darkness that fuels him as he writhes in an attempt to escape the burning light against his skin. The effect of Almagest wears off, but Sigma shoots a multitude of light orbs from the tip of his keyblade to weaken Noctis. The attack gives Stella an extra second absorb darkness before Noctis’ phantom weapons appear again, bright blue with two edges pointed at every body in the district.

“Don’t even try it,” Stella says grimly, snapping Noctis’ neck with a single motion. The weapons dim but do not disappear. Small cracks appear in Sigma’s pillars of light. Stella jumps away before they shatter, and glances at Lann’s still, unaware face, just an arm’s length from the edge of an axe. Then she looks back to Noctis, forcing his way out of Sigma’s trap, wanting for nothing but blood. Stella’s eyes glow gold.

Around the district, numerous gold glowing runes appear. From them spawn phantom rapiers, in the image of Stella’s own. Each clashes with one of Noctis’ weapons, overpowering them and forcing them to disappear. Then, Stella’s phantom rapiers group together and fly toward Noctis as he lunges forward. They pin him to the ground, and Sigma follows up with a stab from his keyblade. Like a geyser, darkness pours out of Noctis as he wails. And for once, even though this Noctis is corrupted and possessed by a darkness not his own, even though this Noctis is not the Noctis that Stella knows, it hurts to see him like this.

“Perfect timing,” Sigma says. Stella’s phantom rapiers fade, leaving no physical damage, and Noctis doesn’t move. Right now, he’s nothing more than a body with memories and probably some leftover darkness, but no heart. Stella will have to return it to him later. There are more immediate matters to tend to. The manifestation of Sigma glows brighter. “I’ll see you sometime in the future, Committee Chair.” As he shines and fades away, time resumes. Stella’s eyes widen. “Lann.” She hurries to Lann, now tending to Lasswell. “Lann, Lasswell!”

Lann continuously casts Cure, each spell weaker than the last. Lasswell only grimaces and grunts in pain. Stella’s eyes constantly flicker between Lasswell, Lann, and Noctis. “I have…” She digs in her back pocket for any sort of medical supplies. She has only an anaesthetic shot and a Phoenix Down. She pops open the vial of Down and spreads the shimmering feathers over Lasswell’s wounds. They sparkle and fizzle out. Miwa sprints out of the hotel, but Stella pays her no immediate attention. She removes her shirt and tears it in two, giving one piece to Lann. “Put pressure on the thigh. I have the chest.”

“How can I help?” Miwa asks as she approaches. Stella glances at her for a half second. “Keep pressure on this.” She hands Miwa her piece of torn cloth and guides her hand to the wound on Lasswell’s chest. “I'll administer an anaesthetic. Noctis shouldn’t attack again.”

“It's best not to feed people false hope,” Lann says. Stella tears the anaesthetic shot from its packaging. “I mean what I say. Even if we can't save Lasswell, or if Prompto doesn’t wake up. No one else is getting hurt.”

“Stella, what's with your eyes? They’re yellow.”

“I'll tell you later.”

“And you’ve got some gray hairs.”

“Not now, Lann!”

“And we joke so often about Lann and Prompto being brothers,” Lasswell says quietly. “You two could be siblings, with your bickering.”

“Quiet,” Stella admonishes. “You'll make it worse. I'll cast Panacea. It'll hurt but it should get rid of—”

“Stella.” Lasswell smiles briefly. “Everyone. You’ve done fantastic work. But, please don’t waste your efforts. These kinds of wounds corrode not only bodies, but hearts. They cannot be healed.” Yes, that's right. When deciding what to write in the guidebooks, Lasswell and Stella had chosen to leave this information out, among many other tidbits the average citizen needn't know. These wounds can’t be identified until it’s too late, and knowing about them, knowing there’s no way to recover… That wouldn't help anyone. “My heart will disappear,” Lasswell continues. “And you'll forget me. It has truly been an honor.”

“Enough!” Stella stands. In a flash like stardust, a keyblade forged in the likeness of Etro’s watchful eye with a star-shaped keychain attached appears in her hand. Lasswell stares at the weapon, then locks eyes with Stella. “How convenient. I think it suits you.” He smiles again. Stella sighs. “I’d have preferred if it appeared sooner. Now could you please wipe that fake smile off your face?”

“I have to set an example for the next Committee chair,” Lasswell says. “Though, I suppose you already know everything I might have to say to you.” He turns his head to look up at the sky and blinks rapidly. “Oh… I’m a bit dizzy. I should make this quick, then.” His head lolls to the side, and he captures Lann in his vision. “I’m grateful to have lived here in this town. I hope that you will continue to defend this place and the people here, until new guardians claim the torch. Thank you. I will...rest now.” Lann watches as Lasswell closes his eyes, breathing softly as blood continues to spill out despite the pressure on his wounds. Miwa bows her head. “I don’t want to forget,” Lann chokes out.

Stella points her keyblade at Lasswell’s chest. “You won’t.” A light shines at the tip of her weapon, and then another shines inside of Lasswell’s chest. “You’ve still got so much to do. As if I’d let you die.” The light in Lasswell’s chest leaves his body, and floats above him for a moment. It transforms into a heart-shaped emblem and lingers, as if giving a final parting remark. Maybe it is. Lann stares at the heart as it slowly spins in place. He forces a smile, and nods. At that, Lasswell’s heart flies into the sky to return to Kingdom Hearts. Lasswell’s body dissipates into light, slipping through Lann’s and Miwa’s fingers and drifting into the night.

“Lann, are you okay?” Miwa asks, on the verge of tears. Lann waves a finger. “Hey. Turn those corners up. Or your happiness will spill right out.” The words confuse Miwa for a few seconds, but she looks at Lann’s smile and does her best to smile, too. “Yeah. Gotta keep that happiness in. For Lasswell’s sake. Wait, I remember!”

Stella dismisses her keyblade. “I released his heart before it could be destroyed. When his world is restored, he should be there.”

“That’s amazing,” Miwa says. Stella shakes her head. “This was my fight, and he paid the price. So, I’ll spend however long it takes making it up to him.”

Lann stands up and stretches his legs. “I guess you could start with the damages. And maybe checking on Prompto. And that guy...Noctis, right?” Stella nods. She looks at Noctis, broken from battle and nearly hollow. “Lann, why don’t you go hang out with Sota and Nao? You like that Tin Pin game, right?”

“Stella, I’m okay,” Lann says. Miwa places a hand on his shoulder and starts walking toward the hotel. “I totally suck at Tin Pin. Mind practicing with me? Oh, why don’t we get some food too?” She chats him up, throwing ideas too quickly for him to escape as she guides him away from the battle site. Stella whispers her thanks, and looks around at the district. There’s a lot of glass to clean up, medical attention to be given, and guilt to process. She looks up to the sky, at stars shining red and blue.

“...Thank you.”

Chapter Text

It feels real. Not like some hazy nightmare. But, it's still hard to believe. It seems as if Lasswell could turn the corner any minute and ask about that Dalmation puppy. He won't. For all intents and purposes in this town, Lasswell is dead. Every time Emina looks at Miwa’s face, she remembers that fact. No one really knows what to do, save for those few familiar with the concept of properly mourning. When Miwa suggested a ceremony to honor him — a "funeral," Stella shot her down. Her reasoning was that Lasswell isn't dead, which is true. But, there's still a sense of loss that, Emina imagines, is the vacancy left when someone — when a friend dies. She'll never see Lasswell again. The chances of seeing Kurasame or Kazusa again are little to none but she clings to her foolish hope and holds on tight to Caetuna's hand in this town of second chances and new kinds of pain.

"I wonder if I could have done anything to change the outcome," Caetuna says, staring at the new portrait of Lasswell hung on the wall of the hotel's entrance hall. Emina reads the small plaque below it: Sir Lasswell, Second Chair of the Traverse Town Committee: A king in his service to the people. May his heart be his guiding key. A man willing to give his life for those he owes nothing to. That is pretty kingly. It's no wonder Stella would describe him as such. It's hard to imagine anyone else wrote this. She'd said he left this world with a smile on his face, and if that's the case, then this outcome is one he's satisfied with.

"He fought so that we wouldn't have to," Emina says. "If he had no regrets, then why should we have any?" Her words are weak, because she's having a hard time believing in them herself. Lasswell would want everyone to be happy. Still, it's hard to pretend everything's fine. Hard, but not impossible. Emina smiles. "Let's go see Miwa."

Emina and Caetuna return to where they'd last seen Miwa, in the recovery building. She's still there, having a quiet conversation with Stella as Noctis rests between sleep and death in one of the beds. Emina recalls the time she'd been in one of these beds, waiting for Caetuna to wake up. She's really come a long way since then, thank goodness. The pair quietly take seats on vacant stools in the room as Miwa and Stella continue back and forth.

"I'd wished to see him for so long," Stella says. "With all my heart. It seems I was able to will him here, but…"

Miwa taps her fingers against her knee. "I've been wanting to see someone, too. So badly. But if he ended up like Noctis was, I don't know if I could take it."

"Kurasame, right? If he's the guy you and Takatsugu and Urushi say he is, then you don't need to worry. Don't you agree, Emina?"

Emina nods her head. Kurasame, even after everything he's been through, has a strong heart. Stronger than hers. Maybe stronger than anyone's. If his heart and body were somehow rendered asunder, the sheer force of will left in his body would keep him from being a pawn of darkness. "I've known the guy for nearly a decade. There's no way he'd fall to darkness. Don't give up. Wish with all your heart, Miwa, and I'll wish with all of mine."

Miwa perks up. "Yeah… Yeah! Let's bring Kurasame back. And Guren, and Kotetsu, and Kazusa too. I wonder if that's selfish."

"So what if it is?" Emina asks. "You're allowed to follow your own desires."

"That's right," Stella adds. "Traverse Town may be temporary, but I urge you to pursue joy here, as chair of the Committee and as your friend."

Emina ruminates over the words. Even if she's found a new home here, it is temporary. One day, she'll fade away and that will be the end of it. But maybe, if Divine Pulse would be so kind, she can keep the memories made in this town as she returns to nothing.

Caetuna places her hand over her chest. "I shall wish as well, with all my heart, for your friends to arrive safely." She's got an earnest look in her eyes, like she's looking forward to it. The confidence is contagious. Kurasame and the others will come. Emina smiles, just a little bit. "Caetuna, thank you. I think our hearts will be able to lead them all here."

"Excellent," Caetuna says. "I hope for a joyous reunion. And, Emina, that you will laugh."

The last part catches Emina off guard. "Sorry?"

"You've seemed kinda off these last few days," Miwa says. "We're all down because of Lasswell, yeah. But you seem…pensive? Out of it? Wistful?" Her face intensifies. "Don't tell me! You fell madly in love with—"

"I wanted to be like him," Emina reflects, not letting Miwa finish the thought. "Strong. Capable. Someone who can help others. But, that isn't exactly my forte."

"I call bull," Miwa says. "You saved Kurasame that day, didn't you?"

"Not by myself."

"You saved me," Caetuna says. "Please do not downplay your good deeds. And… take your own advice."

Emina bites the inside of her cheek. Caetuna's right. The Crystals had l'Cie do terrible things — and that isn't their fault. Though she had free will, her choices under the Empire's orders — her choices for survival — were limited. And that isn't her fault. Why not take some pride in what good she's been able to accomplish? "Sorry. You know how it is. But, I'll try. I'll try to laugh for you, Caetuna." At that, Caetuna smiles, and suddenly Emina feels…cozy, like Caetuna reached inside her and gave her very heart a hug.

A dry groan from Noctis' bed draws the attention of everyone in the room. Stella is at his side in the blink of an eye. She watches him intensely as his facial muscles twitch. He opens his eyes, blue and bleary. He sees Stella, and the single word leaves his lips. "Wow…" Instantly, he returns to unconsciousness. Despite not getting to say a single word to him, Stella snickers. Maybe that's exactly why. "It really is you. It's good to see you again, Noct."

“You two really are close, aren't you?” Miwa observes. Stella brushes the bangs on Noctis’ forehead to the right with her fingers. As soon as she's done, they slide back into their original position. “We're your typical star-crossed lovers. Well, maybe not ‘typical.’ Strangely enough, we may yet find our happy ending.” She smiles at Noctis’ sleeping face. It’s shocking. Emina has only seen Stella be this tender once, when she'd said something about Lann’s wellbeing the previous day. Stella's been much more openly nurturing toward him since Lasswell left them. That's understandable. Lasswell was an excellent role model. “Noct,” Stella continues. “I am happy you're here. I truly, truly am. And I doubt that you can hear me now, but if your heart is listening, I'd like you to know something.” Her voice becomes quiet, nearly a whisper. “If you should fall to darkness, if you should pose a threat to this town...I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“That's the Committee chair for you,” Miwa says. “You're strong, Stella.” Then her stomach growls. Loudly. “Uh… I guess I should get second dinner.”

“Never change, Miwa,” Emina says. “Want company?”

Miwa stands. “Nah, I'm gonna scarf something down and play Tin Pin. Sota’s hosting a tournament and Carla has her eyes on the prize munny. Honestly I think Ryid has it in the bag.”

“Keep me posted,” Emina says as Miwa takes her leave. She looks to Caetuna. “Did you want to go do anything?” There isn't much to do, considering the third district got temporarily closed off after the attack and most shops are undergoing window repairs, but Caetuna might like to do something in the hotel like play cards or paint each other's nails.

“I'd like to hold your hand while sleeping,” Caetuna says, without hesitation as if she's been thinking about this for some time. “But, our beds are too far apart. Rearranging the furniture may work, but Citadel regulations likely prohibit this.”

Emina stands up, and takes a step toward the door, cueing Caetuna to follow with a tilt of her head in the direction of the hotel. This is probably awkward for Stella to hear...even though she's seen them holding hands plenty. “Let's go back and we can figure it out.”

Caetuna stands up. “Thank you. Your assistance will undoubtedly be valuable. Goodnight to you, then, Lady Stella.” Stella nods with a neutral hum as Emina and Caetuna leave.

It's like before, Emina thinks. Walking toward the hotel with Caetuna by her side. Of course, now Caetuna is much brighter, much more confident, embracing life. Emina's efforts weren't in vain. Caetuna's smile is a hard-won prize for both of them. If laughing will get her to smile more, then Emina should laugh. It's not so hard when she thinks about the good things that have happened here: that look on Miwa’s face when she's full but refuses to leave any food on her plate; Lann and Sota getting fired up over Tin Pin Slammer; Ryid, Carla, and Naghi practicing the authentic pronunciation of “kupo” with the moogles; even some overly dramatic scenes from screenings in the theater. It's all... funny. Emina chuckles and Caetuna takes her hand.

Without discussing it, Emina has come to acknowledge the handholding as less of an “I need support” thing and more of an “I like the way your hand feels” thing. That's excellent progress, for both of them. But when they return to the room, Emina instantly remembers one thing that still poses a challenge to them both: sleep. Or, more specifically, dreams. Regardless of how much they might enjoy any given day, dreams are out of their control. That must be why Caetuna wants to hold hands while they're asleep. As twisted as her own nightmares can be, Emina can't imagine what Caetuna sees in her sleep on a regular basis. The days of waking up shrouded in darkness are gone, hopefully, but that certainly doesn't nullify the scars on their hearts and minds. Whether Caetuna needs comfort or just wants her close, Emina is fine with lending her hands or...anything else, really. Because, it's mutual. It's nice to have Caetuna closeby. It might not be the easiest thing to understand or explain, but being together, having that safety in a vulnerable moment, feels good.

An hour later, it's finally time for bed. Emina's hair isn't quite dry from her shower, but wrapping it in a towel should keep her pillowcase dry for the most part. Caetuna is still sitting up in bed, visibly tired but reluctant to sleep just yet. Her eyes wander around the room. It looks like her brain is working away at…the bed issue, probably. Emina crosses the room and climbs into bed beside Caetuna. “This is the easiest way,” she says, taking Caetuna's hand. Almost instantly, Caetuna's traveling eyes stop shifting. Had she not thought of this solution?

“I was unsure if you would be comfortable with this arrangement,” Caetuna says in a soft tone. “This seems the only option for us to be able to hold hands… Of course, if you would rather not, I understand.”

Emina lies down, lightly encouraging Caetuna to follow with a gentle tug on her hand. “We've held hands this much. This is hardly different in terms of comfort. For me, at least…” She yawns. “Let's get some rest. I'll do my best to fight off your nightmares.” If only Emina could actually dive into Caetuna's dreams and defend her. But, she can't. The quicker they go to sleep, the less room there is for more embarrassing words.

“You knew?” Caetuna asks. Emina gives an affirmative hum. Caetuna finally lies down, and sighs. “Goodnight.” There's a smile in her voice. “Goodnight,” Emina responds. She closes her eyes, and wonders what sleep has in store for the both of them.

It's bright. Emina is surrounded by light. No, it's more than that; she's submerged in it. But, not drowning. This light is the light of creation, of sanctuary and of clarity. Caetuna is there, too. She's...beautiful. She doesn't look any different from any other day or any other dream, but the smile on her face leaves Emina speechless, breathless. Their fingers rest loosely entwined as their palms come together. Close. Caetuna's very close, coming closer. Another hug? No, that's not it. Emina waits, curious but not at all cautious. Caetuna's hair tickles her face. Smells like… Oh, right. That conditioner in their bathroom. A little citrus, a little melon, faint but pleasant. Familiar. Like Caetuna's hand. Oh. Their lips are touching...

Chapter Text

Caetuna is no longer holding Emina's hand when she awakes, which is expected; she can't exactly control her body when she's unconscious. Her current position, though, may be better than the one she fell asleep in: Indeed, having her head cradled against Emina's chest and being halfway hugged by an unchecked arm is surprisingly comfortable. It makes Caetuna not want to open her eyes, and return to her peaceful rest. But, nothing lasts forever, and Caetuna's quiet sigh seems enough to coax Emina out of sleep.

Emina's legs move slightly, bumping into Caetuna's. Then she opens her eyes. Caetuna feels Emina's body stiffen. She looks up. Emina's cheeks are undeniably flushed. The room isn't particularly hot, and Emina certainly hasn't been drinking. She doesn't display any signs of physical exertion. So...embarrassment? It's true that the two of them are in a position that might be considered intimate. Does Emina mind? Caetuna doesn't.

"Hi," Emina says in a voice husky with sleep. "Good morning," Caetuna replies, making no move to separate herself from the half embrace. Perhaps out of courtesy, Emina makes no move to push her away. In fact, she doesn't move at all. Caetuna ponders how long they'll remain like this; maybe she should be the one to move first. But, being like this is so pleasant.

The deciding factor on when to get out of bed is a series of three knocks on the door. Caetuna sits up, and Emina springs out of bed. Caetuna's guess is that their guest is Urushi. No one else really stops by. Emina opens the door, and her immediate reaction tells Caetuna that she was wrong.

Emina's body tightens and she stands still, silent. Caetuna begins to climb out of bed, concern drawing creases on her brow. "Emina?"

"We wished for a miracle," Emina half-laughs. The door opens further as she throws her arms around two men: one wearing glasses, and one with a mask. Caetuna remembers the masked man: the man she'd killed, Kurasame. So, based on reasoning and Emina's stories, the other man must be Kazusa. They truly are her dear friends; the joy and relief in their eyes is bright enough to light up the entire room and they haven't set foot inside. "Glad to see you, too," Kazusa says.

Caetuna observes how happy they all are, greetings quickly turning into familiar chatter as if they'd never been separated.

"Miwa kept trying to take my mask off."

"What do you mean, 'trying?' She succeeded twice. I have to agree with her; you look better without it."

"I'm not sure your opinion counts."

"Never change, Kurasame. By the way, Emina, I heard you're rooming with Lady Caetuna?"

Hearing her name, Caetuna squeezes one of her hands with the other. Suddenly, her nerves are all over the place. Emina looks over her shoulder. "Yeah. Caetuna, I'd like you to meet two people very important to me." This invitation is an honor, Caetuna thinks. But a question born from fear overshadows any excitement. Will they accept her? How would the kind people Emina holds in the highest regard view a grand thief of human life, so deeply engulfed in darkness once upon a time?

"Oh, did you want to change out of pajamas first?" Emina asks, her keen eyes capturing Caetuna's reserved posture. She reaches for the doorknob. "One minute, guys."

"Not necessary," Caetuna forces herself to say. She makes for the door. "I shall meet them immediately. Good day, Sir Kurasame, Sir Kazusa." The men seem surprised. Is it because she knows their names?

Emina places a hand on Caetuna's tense shoulder. "No need for formalities. We're all friends here." It's one thing to simply say that, but…

"But, I did kill you," Caetuna says to Kurasame, regret clear on her face. Kurasame shakes his head. "The war killed me. I know it can be hard to absolve yourself of guilt, but please consider your position at the time. My death is not your responsibility." It's like what Emina had told her time and again. It's not her fault. She knows this. She knows it but sometimes she can't help but believe that she could have done something differently.

Caetuna takes Emina's hand to ground herself. She spies a mysterious glimmer in Kazusa's eyes. He's a scientist, she recalls. He very well may be constantly analyzing information presented before him, seeking truths unseen. Kazusa brushes his bangs out of his face and tucks them behind his ear as an unmistakably mischievous smirk emerges. "It seems you've been keeping busy in our absence."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emina asks with a slight glare. Caetuna looks to Kurasame, who appears just as confused as she is. "What is that supposed to mean?" Kurasame asks. Kazusa throws an arm over his shoulders, only to be pushed away instantly. Then, he laughs. Caetuna doesn't quite understand why he's laughing, but the laughter is certainly genuine. What an interesting man. In a day's time, she'll come to find herself having quite the odd conversation with him.

"The human body is a beautiful, mysterious thing. For a long time, my dream has been to build one with my own hands." Kazusa sips a fresh tea blend new to the Citadel's restaurant. A satisfied smile graces his lips, like he's savoring the taste before continuing.

Caetuna can't quite fathom the desire to create a body. However, she can understand the desire to understand the human body in its entirety. Kazusa speaks on the topic with such passion, going on and on about the infinite variances from person to person. It's hypnotic in a way; if he were trying to persuade Caetuna into researching human physiology, he very well may have succeeded. "Of all the bodies I've seen," he says. "No, 'see' would be an understatement. Examined. Experienced. To me, Kurasame's is by far the most interesting. When you love someone, the desire to know more…" He chuckles to himself. "Or maybe it's a need. Addiction? In any case, curiosity is at a high." He sets his cup on the table, taking in a long breath simply because the air is there.

"I do hope your curiosity has been sated by your observations," Caetuna says in an attempt to keep the conversation flowing smoothly. "That is, I hope that your examination has yielded answers to your questions regarding his body."

"Some," Kazusa says. "But, I find myself wanting to revisit regardless. Tell me, what would you like to know about Emina?"

Everything. No, that's not right. No, wait, it's true. But, it's not right. Right? Caetuna frowns. "All that I could learn. Is that… acceptable?"

Kazusa chuckles. "I'm probably the wrong person to ask about that, but I encourage you to seek it out: 'All that you could learn.' You're in love with her, right?"

Caetuna thinks back to Urushi's words about Emina being in love with her. If that were true, assuming the vice versa were true wouldn't be too farfetched. But how are others drawing these conclusions? They're good friends. That's all. "She is my dear friend."

Kazusa adjusts his glasses. "A decade ago, I received orders to investigate the possibility of Emina being a spy. That process involved dosing her with powerful drugs and thoroughly examining her body. I'm sure many would have loved to be in my shoes. But I assure you, I abhorred every moment." Caetuna's expression hardens with an instinctive, inexplicable anger. "Emina's body is of minimal interest to me from a scientific standpoint," Kazusa continues. "But, it does tell a story. Perhaps you'd be able to appreciate it."

Caetuna scratches her head, beyond perplexed. "Why tell me this? You wish for me to examine Emina's body?"

Kazusa reaches for his cup of tea. "I want you to sate your curiosity." It sounds like a challenge or a mission. Caetuna doesn't think herself one to play into the hands of others, but she'll participate in this particular "game," if only because the thought of Emina being seen and touched in such a vulnerable state against her will does not sit right at all with her. Maybe it's some twisted desire born from the lingering darkness in her heart, but now she simply must see. And learn. On Emina's terms. "Then, I shall. Thank you for your insight, Kazusa."

With that, Caetuna offers a smile. What greater potential joy could there be than learning more about Emina and becoming even closer?

Chapter Text

Emina stares into her book, not actually reading it of course because her mind is preoccupied with Caetuna’s strange behavior. Is Caetuna simply acting this way to lure Emina into inquiring, or is there something weighing heavily on her mind that she can’t bring herself to speak about just yet? The past day and a half she’s displayed the same pattern: a look of determination and a word forming on her lips, followed by meek silence and shifty eyes, fidgeting fingers and a clenched jaw. It’s probably not deliberate — probably. Caetuna isn’t the type to trick people, but she’s perfectly capable. She’s capable of many things. Maybe, if she’d decided to fight that fateful day, she could have even helped to prevent Lasswell’s untimely demise. A woman with command of her darkness isn’t something to be overlooked. Or, maybe she would have perished, too. In that case, Emina is thankful that Caetuna decided to heed the warnings and stay with her, safe in the hotel.

The faint sound of Takatsugu playing the piano bleeds through the walls, crafting a calm atmosphere despite the curiosity distracting Emina from her book. What is she waiting for, really? Caetuna clearly has something to say and marginally awkward silences do nothing for either of them. Carbuncle’s Kingdom will have to wait. Emina closes her book and swings her legs over the side of her bed. “Hey.”

Caetuna looks up from her own book — Oddity of Life — and attempts a smile. It’s a good try, but her wavering gaze and the fact that she’s only a few pages into her book where she’d normally have read through half by now give away her facade. “Hey,” Caetuna says back, then the two women promptly return to silence.

Emina purses her lips as Caetuna looks to the pages of her book once more. “Uh...you know you can talk to me about anything, right? Even if it’s super weird. We’re confidantes.” Or something like that. Several lines have been blurred and trying to define them now would be a pain.

Caetuna closes her book and sets it aside. She moves to mirror Emina’s position and straightens her posture, clasping her hands as she prepares to speak. She stares at her lap, taking the time she needs. Emina waits patiently. With an audible breath, Caetuna lifts her head and looks Emina directly in the eyes. “I would like to examine your body.”

Emina doesn’t know what she was expecting to hear, but it certainly wasn’t that. She takes a deep, slow breath. What good would it do to freak out? Remaining calm is the best option for this situation. Even if she can feel her pulse in her throat and the room suddenly seems several degrees hotter.

“I spoke with Kazusa,” Caetuna continues. Kazusa. Of course. “When he told me that he was tasked to examine you in such a way, I felt...no, I still feel anger.” That anger is momentarily visible as her eyes widen slightly. “This is nothing more than my own selfish wish. I would like to learn more about you, to understand on a new level. But, only with your permission. So, I ask: May I feel you? May I see you?”

Even if it’s a setup by Kazusa or some perverted curiosity, Emina finds herself seriously considering Caetuna’s question. Maybe the twisted thoughts are hers, and the temptation is what pushes her to further consider the suggestion. “May I experience you?” Maybe if it were a different evening, and Emina had better judgement, and every word to roll off of Caetuna’s tongue didn’t sound like poetry and her hands didn’t feel like home, and if every facet of her weren’t painfully beautiful, if Caetuna didn’t have the grace of a queen and the appearance of a goddess, if she hadn’t asked with such earnest, if Emina didn’t want just as much for Caetuna to lay herself bare and to learn all of her, then perhaps she would have refused. But, those conditions are mere hypotheticals.

Emina begins to lift her shirt, nodding silently before she can manage any words. The sounds of her heartbeat, the piano, and static fill her mind as she folds the cloth in her lap. She sets it aside, then slips her thumbs beneath the waistband of her sweatpants. She keeps her head down, pushing the pants toward her ankles and doing everything in her power to remain calm which, admittedly, doesn’t amount to much. The embarrassment and excitement have certainly manifested as some hue of red on her face. Why? It’s not like they’re having sex or anything. Really, Emina ponders, this could be considered more intimate than sex. She folds the pants and places them by the shirt.

Biting her lip, Emina does away with her undergarments and lies flat on her back. She stares at the ceiling for maybe an entire minute, hearing no footsteps or even Caetuna's weight shifting off the bed. She never actually answered the question, did she? “...Go ahead. Do whatever you like." It's no concession. That is Emina’s firm answer. Caetuna may do as she pleases. Caetuna would never harm her. Caetuna is safe. And, whether their motives are the same — that part is about as clear as the undefined lines and unspoken words between them — Emina finds that she longs to be seen and known as much as, if not more than how much Caetuna wishes to experience her.

Emina watches Caetuna stand and cross the room. Their eyes don't quite meet. That's understandable. As close as they are, this is still awkward. At least, it's awkward for Emina. Embarrassing. Mind-scrambling. She's at a complete loss for words now, as Caetuna sits on the edge of her bed and slowly reaches out for her face. Caetuna's hand is like always: strong, warm, but careful with Emina, giving her cheek a gentle guiding caress so that their eyes meet. It's somewhat of a relief that even through her assuring smile, nervousness is apparent on Caetuna’s face.

"Thank you." Two words. Two words that, in this situation, carry a considerably heavier weight than usual. Two words that add a splash of color to the picture Emina had failed — had neglected — to see. Why did she deny it in the first place? Just as Caetuna is seeing her, she is finally beginning to see the emotions she'd been trained to suppress.

Caetuna's thumb traces Emina's lips, slow and delicate and studying. Then her fingers move up, graceful, feeling along Emina's brow, the cartilage of her ears, the tips of her eyelashes. Emina's eyes fall shut as Caetuna's hand moves away, almost like she's been put to sleep. Except, of course, there are no sedatives involved and she's agreed to this of her own volition. It's better she keeps her eyes shut, really; the shallow darkness can act as a thin shield against the unshakable perturbation.

Caetuna's fingers touch the top of Emina's neck, followed by her palms. They feel each shape and the pulse beneath her skin. Caetuna's palms leave the surface, and her fingers follow Emina's arteries to the collarbone, unhurried and curious. So curious, in fact, that those studious hands drift into Emina's hair. Caetuna examines different brunette locks, lifting them, twirling them around her fingers, combing through them over and over. It seems she's taken Emina's permission to do whatever she likes to heart, making no haste in this thorough exploration.

Emina takes a breath in through her mouth as Caetuna begins to touch her shoulders. There's a light squeeze that seems to emphasize the slight asymmetry of the muscle mass, and it makes Emina stiffen. She exhales. There's no need to get tense. In spite of these thoughts, her muscles tighten further as Caetuna's hands move along her arms and meticulously map out every muscle and long-faded scar. There's an inescapable sense of alarm building for a reason Emina can't understand, or maybe can’t remember. She's starting to feel scared, sick— then Caetuna's hands are holding hers. Right. It's okay. No matter what reactions might pop up in the back of her mind, she's safe here.

Caetuna's fingers linger in the spaces between Emina's, fingertips softly rubbing over knuckles. This lulls Emina to a calmer state, and her breath gradually slows. When Caetuna releases her hands, Emina opens her eyes, and more color drips into the big picture. Indigo interest and the green of Caetuna's eyes, looking at all of her and each little part of her with overwhelming intrigue. Caetuna touches her breasts, feeling the shape of each. Her fingers feel over every stretch mark, and every scar hidden among them; below and between, rougher and softer skin, up and down all the way to firm nipples.

Emina closes her eyes again. Caetuna's hands follow the shape of her ribcage, every dip and protrusion, occasionally pressing but never poking, careful of bones weaker than the others. This attentiveness continues with the abdomen: feeling every shape, the firmness of the muscle, the texture of the skin, completely unrushed. Caetuna's hands next take to Emina's hips, guided by the bone and slight, involuntary twitches on Emina's part. Thumbs dip to her groin, then interest moves to her thighs, assessing the muscle and fat with light squeezes and following the pattern of every last stretch mark back up to and down from her hip. When that curiosity is seemingly satisfied, Caetuna rests one hand over Emina's pubic bone.

"I'd like to once again ask permission," Caetuna says, feeling the stubs of hair with her fingertips. In contrast to her curious but uniquely confident touches, her voice trembles. "For...specifically…"

"Yes," Emina says. "Go ahead." She turns her cheek into her sheets, hiding half her expression of...goodness knows what she looks like right now, but her instinct is to make it disappear. Her stomach stirs as Caetuna's finger slides between her lips — a sweet, hot scarlet that paints her mind blank as Caetuna examines her most sensitive skin and swelling glans. How unbelievably crude of her to draw a sharp, audible breath when Caetuna's thumb glides over her.

"My apologies."

"No, my bad."

And that's it. The next thing Emina knows, Caetuna's hands are on her knees feeling the shape of her bones and how they’re connected. She presses and squeezes and caresses, almost like a massage with how surprisingly comfortable it is. Emina's stomach begins to settle down and actual thoughts, though fleeting, start to enter her mind again. Caetuna takes her time in examining Emina's ankles and feet, moving the joints like a puppet's and feeling each texture, round, and edge of skin and nail. And then she releases Emina, stops touching her, leaves her to decide.

Emina's "decision" — it's more impulse, really — is to roll over onto her stomach. So, Caetuna starts again, first touching Emina's shoulders, then her shoulder blades, inquisitively feeling the scarred ink on the right. Emina hisses from the pain. Or, the memory of the pain. They're one and the same. It hurts. It hurts so much. Caetuna lifts her hand immediately. "I am sorry. I will avoid that area." Emina manages a stifled, "Mhm." Maybe it's because she was caught off guard. She feels weak now. But that's okay, she reminds herself. It's just Caetuna here with her. Safe. Safe. Her muscles relax some, and only then does Caetuna continue.

Caetuna follows the contours of Emina's back, the tiny scars, the muscle and the bone, treating her body as if it truly is a detailed map. How wonderful it is, Emina thinks, to be touched by someone on her own terms, to be touched and not receive any bruises, to be treated so cautiously, for everything she loves and everything she hates about her body to so wholly captivate someone so incredible as Caetuna. Pink, orange as Caetuna's hands grace her hips again, grip the shape of her cheeks, squeeze her thighs and her calves, chart every last detail to be seen or felt, and paint the highlights and shadows in Emina's mind.

"I've finished," Caetuna says. "Thank you. I've learned much from this." Emina rolls onto her back and opens her eyes, forcing herself to look at Caetuna now. "Like what?" she asks. She sits up and brings her knees to her chest. She really is naked…and that really did just happen. A flare of red lights up her cheeks, but she awaits Caetuna's answer all the same. Caetuna pauses, perhaps making the same acknowledgement Emina just has. "...I learned that I love you."

This is the time for an awkward silence. The time for everything to be still and for breath to be held. But Emina’s body moves on its own, and she seizes Caetuna's shoulders, and she kisses her, white and gold and silver.

It’s glaringly clear now. It’s a rush of excitement and a relief, both fear and emboldenment. The thrill of unexplored territory. For what may be for the first time in her life, Emina can admit and embrace it: romantic love for another person; amorous, tender passion that warms her — burns her to the depths of her soul. This is better than, nigh incomparable to the dream she’d had before. It’s so much more than anything she could have ever dreamt of, period. And damn it, she just might have to thank Kazusa later.

Emina can hardly fill a cup with water the next morning before Urushi pulls her aside, with a giant smirk practically tearing her face in two. “You’re glowing, Emina,” she nearly sings. “And Caetuna is too…” She lowers her voice. “Congrats on the sex.” Talk about nosy. Emina rolls her eyes. “There was no sex,” she asserts. Urushi gives a flat hum of doubt.

“We just kissed a little,” Emina elaborates, and just the memory brings heat to her face. “Okay, maybe more than a little. But since when are you invested in my and Caetuna’s personal business? It’s not something anyone could’ve predicted.” She gives Urushi a light jab with her elbow.

“Please,” Urushi scoffs. “I’ve been waiting for you two to hook up since day one.” Emina rolls her eyes. They didn’t “hook up,” they— whatever. Explaining right now would be fruitless. Urushi motions towards a four-person table, where Caetuna sits sipping hot chocolate for the first time. “Now, let’s not keep your lady waiting.” Emina watches Caetuna’s eyes widen with surprise at the sweet taste of the beverage. Has she always been this cute? A big smile complete with goo-goo eyes and dimples sneaks onto Emina’s face. “Right.”

Chapter Text

It’s been just over a week since the abrupt start of her relationship with Caetuna, but Emina is already quite comfortable using the word “girlfriend” at every given opportunity. Caetuna’s eyes always light up when she says it, too. Right now, though, her eyes are shining for a different reason.

Guren had been the one to suggest a visit to the fifth district after Stella’s announcement that the entire town had been secured. All in all, the Committee works pretty quickly, which is great because the fifth district is gorgeous, even more so from this height. No one was expecting a ferris wheel, but practically everyone is riding it now, except for Prompto, who got stuck operating it, and Stella, who’s now mostly seen going or coming from some destination or another, or at the side of the recovering Noctis. Despite the pressure of being the Committee chair, she takes care of her duties impeccably and with a smile. Lasswell would be proud.

“Oh!” Caetuna’s gaze moves from the massive garden below to the sky, where a colorful explosion makes the shape of a moogle. “Lights?” Oh, that’s right; Caetuna’s never seen fireworks before. Blue and red bursts color the sky, with loud pops and fizzles.

“They’re called fireworks,” Emina explains. Really, who would’ve thought to light some? Stella, most likely. “Sorry about the noise. You okay?” It seems like it, since Caetuna’s face is nearly pressed up against the glass of their passenger car. A set of three fireworks explode and create the shape of a heart. “Magnificent,” Caetuna says, completely engrossed by the display. That’s just one of the many cute sides to her. Emina smiles, watching her girlfriend — her girlfriend — more than the fireworks. She looks good in red lighting. And white. And green. And magenta. Emina shakes her head. This is just like those novels everyone was into way back when she was a cadet. Albeit less steamy.

“I think I read somewhere that some people wish on fireworks,” Emina says. If she were to wish for something right now, it would probably be to stay in this odd, marvelous town for the rest of her days. Maybe that’s messed up. Maybe she doesn’t care anymore. “...Do you want to wish for something?”

Surprisingly, Caetuna hears the words through the sounds of the fireworks and her fixation on the spectacle. “Yes. I’ve held a certain wish close for quite some time. I’d like to believe that now, I am finally ready. I’d like to see a friend of mine.”

Emina sits perplexed for a moment. All of Caetuna’s friends would be those she made here in the town— “Oh. Gotcha.” Emina finally gives the show its due attention, watching several differently colored fireworks shoot up into the sky and burst into the shape of a crown. “I’ll wish for your wish to come true. With all my heart.”

The women settle into a comfortable silence — barring the explosions. It’s kind of surreal, looking back on everything that’s happened. So many people from Orience — from Rubrum — appeared here, given a chance at a peaceful life. Relatively peaceful, at least. On top of that, many of them were already connected in some way through Akademeia. It’s as if they were hand-picked to come here. And who’s to say the population of Traverse Town couldn’t double this instant? And then there’s all the stuff about worlds and light and darkness and Kingdom Hearts. It’s the stuff of fantasy novels. Or fever dreams. But it all worked out. Even if they were all to disappear at this moment, Emina wouldn’t really mind. She’s gotten to experience so much. In a way, Traverse Town is far more vast than Orience. It’s not as if this place is some haven free of pain or death. But at least here, when someone dies, it means something.

“Emina?” Caetuna is totally ignoring the fireworks now, giving Emina a look of concern. “Is something on your mind?”

Emina leans forward in her seat. “Just how weird this town is.”

“Don’t you simply adore it?” Caetuna leans forward also, reaching for Emina’s hands.

“I can think of something I adore more.”

“That’s corny, Emina.”

Caetuna still laughs, so Emina counts it as a win. She lifts Caetuna’s left hand between their faces and kisses her knuckles, looking her in the eyes as she does so. “I love you.” As predicted, Caetuna crosses her ankles and closes her eyes momentarily. It’s the little things, Emina thinks, smirking.

“I...I love you, too,” Caetuna says, reopening her eyes and awkwardly readjusting their hands so that she can kiss Emina’s knuckles. What a dork. A giant dork that Emina just can’t get enough of. Who would’ve thought that in any lifetime, any timeline, things would end up like this? No matter how or why it happened, Emina is grateful. She leans in even closer as a succession of fireworks brighten her vision. How is it, she wonders, that every time she sees Caetuna’s eyes shimmer, she falls in love all over again? “Thank you.” It’s so disgustingly sappy to admit, but it feels like she’s wanted exactly this for a lifetime. She loves Caetuna. Caetuna loves her. Maybe some things are that simple. Caetuna’s kiss mere seconds later reaffirms that. There’s really no need to think twice about it.

Some hours later, Kurasame and his tonberry accompany Miwa to the item shop in the first district. Kurasame no longer wears his mask, and is now seen smiling more than he has in recent years, but much like Takatsugu, he is no less sharp. Upon exiting the shop, Kurasame senses a presence. The first one to actually lay eyes on the newest arrival to town is Miwa. She examines his attire as he looks right back at her from the bench a small distance away. He’s muscular, no, chiseled. The scar on the left side of his face adds an extra layer of toughness as well. His clothes look like they could be related to Akademeia...

Miwa thinks and thinks. Does she know this guy? Should she know him? She stares at the golden Vermilion Bird decoration over his torso. Vermilion Bird...tough...kind of a menacing vibe...weird but Akademeia-ish clothes… “Kurasame, do you know that guy?”

Kurasame doesn’t reply immediately. He first exchanges a glance with his tonberry, then scratches the back of his neck. “Well, Miwa, if you don’t know who someone is, there’s an easy way to find out.”

Miwa nods. “Yeah… Yeah! I’ll just ask him! It doesn’t look like he’s got anywhere to be.” She leaves Kurasame’s side and walks toward the bench, double-checking her posture as she approaches the stranger. The man watches her with an unreadable expression.

“Hello,” Miwa says. “My name is Miwa. I’m a cadet from Class Fourth. It’s nice to meet you. May I ask your name, sir?”

Kurasame can’t hear Miwa’s words, but even from this distance he can tell the conversation is going very awkwardly, judging by Miwa’s unnaturally stiff posture.

Surprisingly, the man stands from the bench, which serves to make him even more intimidating. He nods to Miwa, acknowledging her in some respect. “Cadet Miwa, greetings. My name is Zhuyu Voghfau Byot.”