A.N. – more like an introspective piece than a drabble, now that I think about it. Many character-related freedoms taken, same as with the timeline.

And guys, I don't want to own Xehanort. That's enough of a disclaimer for this one ;)

Now, with all that said, I hope you enjoy!

If nothing else, they'll make it by the thirteenth year. Not even Sora can stall their plans for that long- so far, all he's done has been in roughly two years. Or so everyone says.

Maybe this time, the young boy will wait. That means Xehanort- any one of them really, but they refer to the one who truly has that name and isn't merely borrowing- can change the plans. Not much, he's grown accustomed to overly heroic children. So it's heroism proofed, or as far as they have gone with it.

Overly empathic still surprises him. And the youngest might not be the most expressive of them all- that title goes to the free shooter lounging on a tall chair- but he is pleasantly surprised at being granted so easy entry into a heart. No matter how many times the others have mentioned that little detail. Sora will fall easily into most speeches; he might as well regret so many lives lost. Maybe not theirs.

They constantly wonder if they count as one or thirteen.

And they reckon that Sora's empathy, as easily manipulated as it can be, is the only reason why this plan isn't fully heroism proofed. It's too random for that, as they've agreed.

They'll make it by the times thirteen years have gone by, they think, because that's their number. They've nearly jinxed it, made it their own. They have always been thirteen, even if the faces have changed. Most of them are absent now, returning to timelines or worlds or even somewhere no one knows.

By now, they've figured out many things.

Where the heartless go- Seeker says it's cold, but Xigbar (when he chooses to go by that name) says that he never did get the hang of jackets. Or shirts for that matter. And anyways, who of them would wear a jacket zipped up in the darkness. By now, it can't really harm them. It doesn't harm its own, much less its master. They keep using the long coat though, mostly because they are easy to get. Have meaning attached, and thirteen of those flying around will be a sight to see again. They raided the old supplies, and again they jest that at least, they have to be the same size. Or close enough. Saïx still wears his own, not wanting to borrow someone else's and equally unwilling to lend. Maybe because his has extra enchantments, to make up for berserker mode.

Or he still keeps some past life trinkets, and the only reason they haven't pried is because they don't need to. Yet. They might do so later, if the Flame-Wielder proves himself useful, instead of merely an annoyance.

For now, they wait. They've time on their side, haven't they, bending over backwards to their whim. They can wait for the rookies- or almost Masters for that matter, even if the title means nothing now, compared to him- to train up. For worlds to rot down to their hearts, or for every single fragment within them to mature.

Some of them, the scientifically inclined, want to figure out if they will become replicas. They don't think so, they're above such a thing, but they're curious. They all look somewhat alike, at least with the golden eyes.

Shadow eyes, blinking in and out again and again from under dark hoods, devising another cunning plan.

And they can wait. For training, they say, for experiments. To fill in a cosmic deadline, and make it by the thirteenth year, even if it is highly probable that the heroes will barge in before that's due.

One year to go. And everyone says thirteen is unlucky...

Let them fear the number. It's amusing when they do.