Chapter Text
Vanitas doesn’t know why he’s here. He feels like shit, so he supposes that’s the reason for the haze of his mind right now. Not like that matters, he’s long since learned how to function in this state.
He stands with his back held rigid, his entire body tense in preparation for a fight. A fight that’s looking more and more likely as Terra and Aqua stare him down with disgust and burning hatred.
Vanitas doesn’t flinch away from their gazes, both because he’s received worse looks from his own master and because any movement right now ignites a searing pain in his side. But it’s fine, no one will need to know.
“Are you sure about this, Ven?” Terra asks him quietly, almost a whisper. Vanitas resists the urge to scoff, he can still hear them.
“Please? I’ll make sure he doesn’t try anything,” Ventus stands between him and the other two, like a shield. Vanitas doesn’t understand why his other half decided to face them instead of him. They aren’t the threat in this situation.
When Aqua faces Ventus, Terra goes back to watching him. Smart. “Ven…” she says, her face a lot softer, “You know what he’s done.”
“…I know what he’s done?” Ventus looks back over his shoulder. Vanitas resists the urge to shift at how Ventus is somehow locking eyes with him behind his helmet. He’s surprised to see his other half’s face scrunched up in anger, but it’s sensible. The other two have convinced his brother to come to his senses.
“Know what he’s done?” Ventus repeats, whipping around to turn that anger back towards his friends. “Know what he’s done? You want to know what he’s done?!” He gestures back to Vanitas, with no regard for the shock of everyone else in the room. “He brought Sora back! What he’s—?” He cuts himself off with a noise of frustration. “ That’s what he’s done, in case you forgot. And—! And…”
Some of the steam behind his anger dies out, mixing into an emotion that’s difficult to parse. “And he’s my brother. I want him here. That should be enough for you to give him a chance.”
Brother? Vanitas tries not to stare so hard at Ventus. What is he doing? Vanitas was already prepared to walk out of the Land of Departure and find some place to lay low, avoiding any and all keyblade wielders. He doesn’t need the help of Ventus and his friends. He doesn’t need to be here.
So why is Ventus defending him? What changed his mind?
“…If you’re sure,” Terra relents first, something almost knowing in his eyes when he looks at Vanitas. He doesn’t like that look.
Aqua looks between her two friends with a conflicted face. They look back to her, expecting an answer. Huh, so she’s the one in charge. He knows that Terra was finally given his official master title, but he’s not as eager to be big and in charge as he once was. A shame. He would be easier to rile up if he was.
She turns to Vanitas, her face infuriatingly passive and not filled with the hatred from earlier. Anger and hatred and disgust, that he could deal with. This? He doesn’t know what this expression is. He can’t read her.
“You’ve been oddly quiet throughout this whole thing,” She looks him up and down, assessing him. He holds himself still out of habit, but doesn’t back down from her stare.
“You were obviously in the middle of something,” he responds, ”I didn’t care to join.”
She frowns, but it’s still so neutral it makes him want to summon his keyblade just to get an actual reaction out of her. Those kinds of looks are reserved for those like Master Xehanort, not people whose hearts tend to bleed even more than his own forever-wounded one. “I can see that Ven wants you to stay here,” she says, “But why are you here?”
Well isn’t that the fucking question of the day?
“Take a wild guess.” He says instead of an actual answer. What was he supposed to say? People never accept I don’t know as an answer, nevermind the fact that it’d be stupid to admit to any kind of lack of knowledge.
Aqua studies him as if she’s actually considering his answer. Hell, maybe she is. He doubts she knows how to properly interrogate someone, Eraqus would never teach his students any kind of worthwhile skill. She straightens, seemingly making a decision.
“You can stay,” she says simply, not explaining any sort of wild reasoning she must’ve made to reach that conclusion. “But we’re setting some ground rules.”
Ventus grins for some reason. “Thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise.”
You can’t promise that, you dumbass, Vanitas doesn’t say.
“Well what are your ‘rules’ then, Master Aqua,” he says her title as mockingly as he can manage.
“First,” She says, taking a step towards him. “Hand me your keyblade.”
Vanitas raises a high eyebrow, not that she can see it. After a long and tense moment of obvious reluctance, he braces himself and summons his blade. He raises it to hand over, feeling the skin around the wound on the other side tighten and pull with every shift of his body. He’s had worse.
She takes his keyblade, looking it over in detail and holding it with a sense of respect he knows she’s never had for its wielder. This time Vanitas doesn’t hold back from scoffing. These three have obviously been taught to respect any and every keyblade they come across, which is a completely unnecessary and wasteful practice. What’s the point? It's not like it's going to do any favors.
“It’s a rarity for this to even exist,” Aqua says as she shifts its weight between each hand. Something passes quickly over her face as she studies it, something like surprise. What’s she doing, anyway? “…A shame it’s been used for so much harm.”
Vanitas rolls his eyes. These people are too sentimental about inanimate objects.
Aqua holds up two fingers, magic gathering around her. There’s a silent moment before she draws a line in the air, pulling out a glowing chain from the ether. She wraps it around the handle of his keyblade and hands it back. Vanitas isn’t dumb enough to think he’d be able to pull it back off.
“The first rule is: under no circumstances will you summon your keyblade. Do not use it and do not hurt anyone or hit anything. I will know if you do. Got that?”
“Whatever.”
“The second rule is,” she pauses, “Let someone know where you are and if you’re going somewhere. If you go outside you must have someone else with you.”
Vanitas rolls his eyes at that, not that they can see it.
“And keep your helmet off,” Terra adds, “It’ll be better if we can see your face.”
Ventus freezes, obviously uncomfortable. Oh. Oh. This’ll be fun. “Wait, guys—”
“No, no, Venny boy. You heard them,” Vanitas laughs, letting it disappear from his face. He sees the moment the two masters realize and laughs harder, ignoring how piercing the pain in his side is in response. The look on their faces! Their wide eyes and stunned expressions, it's like he hurt to look at. How weak. “It’s the rules! You can take it back at any time if you want to ignore the monster with your precious Sora’s face.”
He’s laughing, but a sudden taste of bitterness swells in the back of his throat, almost choking him. He redirects it out of habit, having it form behind him instead of coming out the much more unpleasant way.
Then Aqua and Terra summon their keyblades and he realizes what he’s doing. Shit.
Vanitas whips around before they can even try to do anything and grabs the little half-formed emotion by the head, ignoring the tearing in his side that makes his vision black out for a moment that feels too long.
“…’kay, it’s okay!” Ventus had been apparently saying, “He’s already got it!”
Aqua and Terra both lower their keyblades, but don’t dismiss them. Terra is an easy man to read, he’s angry and confused, yet cautious and wary. He’s learned. Aqua is easier to read than earlier, with her anger plain on her face, but something underneath is unfamiliar. He doesn’t like it. Ventus looks between him and the other two with worry, his heart so obviously on his sleeve.
Vanitas asks himself for the hundredth time why he’s here.
“Fourth rule,” Aqua says through gritted teeth, eyeing the strangled Unversed with caution. It hangs in his hand, wiggling around like a small scared animal. “No Unversed, I don’t want to see any of them running around here. Am I clear?”
There was once an old “training” exercise his old master made him do, in order to test his limits. Outside of all the killing of his own emotions to make him stronger, Xehanort had wondered if Vanitas could produce stronger Unversed by letting it build. The man’s hypothesis wasn’t exactly wrong, so he made him keep pushing those limits.
Vanitas knows his own limits better than most people could understand in their lifetime. And he knows how to ignore them.
Vanitas tightens his hold around the head of the barely formed Unversed, crushing it in his grip with a splatter and cutting off its erratic squirming. It goes limp, dangling lamely for a moment before melting into darkness and getting absorbed back into his being. It doesn’t hurt anywhere near as much as the pain radiating from his side, worse than before. He watches three pairs of eyes widen, and wonders why they're so surprised. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.
“Fine.”
No Unversed until they kick him out of here. Judging by how things are going so far, that won’t be too difficult.