Something broke or bent or twisted, and then--

Roxas awoke suddenly in his own room, in his bed by the big window that let in a draft despite everything he ever did to fix it. The loose spring in his matress nudged him

conspiratorially in the ribs, and he rolled over with a grumble of complaint. The dream. What had he dreamed?

Warm sunlight was flooding in through his window and, unable to sleep or to remember anything save haze and colors from his dream, he sat up and undid the latch, opening his room

to the cool morning air. Not that morning was anything special, and not that noon would ever come; the sun in Twilight Town stayed close to the horizon, as though there were some

sort of bully squatting firmly on the zenith of the sky and the earth itself were worth some protection. A coy little breeze played in Roxas' bangs, amusing itself in making them dance

about his eyes. The dream. Something important. Something he ought not to forget.

Below him, he could see someone waving; it took his drowsy eyes a few moments to make out the figure of Olette, and his sleep-smogged brain a few more moments to recognize her

as his friend. He waved back, receeded back inside his room, and closed the window. The breeze sighed with mild regret as he took away its plaything. He turned to his room and saw a

girl, a girl in white, a blonde girl, who was smiling at him and screaming on the inside.

"Who are you?" he demanded, but then something broke or bent or twisted; something changed, and then the breeze sighed with mild regret as he took away its plaything. He turned

to his room and echoed the breeze's sigh as he dressed, the same as he always did. All of his clothes were almost identical. He scarcely bothered tying his shoes, slid on his rings and

wristband, ran his cold fingers through his unruly hair and headed out to meet Pence and Olette; Hayner was still not talking to him, because of the man in black.

The man in black. He was sure, he was so sure. That's where the money had gone. The man in black had taken it. Had, for some reason, wanted to keep them away from the beach. Had

given him that wrenching feeling in his gut which he knew, by now, meant that no one else had seen him. Had spoken four words which had haunted Roxas' every waking moment since.

Outside, the brisk air forced him to turn his face back to reality as Olette greeted him, the same way she always did.

"Roxas! Hey! Come on, Pence is waiting down at the Sandlot, he said there's something going on with the Struggle, or something...well, you know, it's Pence, you can't understand half

of what he says."

"Yeah." said Roxas, who was beginning to wonder if he understood what anyone said. "You go ahead, I'll catch up."

"Is this about Hayner? Because, if it is, you're way overreacting. He's just like that, okay? He's probably not even mad at you anymore. Now come on! You have a Struggle to win!"

"Yeah," said Roxas, and followed her, with the sensation of breaking.