A/N: Welcome all to the prequel to The Boy in the Mirror. It is not necessary that you read the first one to understand this, but some of the people that did may catch little things I've slipped into this story.

Also, I started writing this just as a finished Birth By Sleep. I will be using these characters (prequel to Kingdom Hearts, prequel to Boy in the Mirror, you see?) so if you are unfamiliar with them, go learn something. This is more or less a Birth By Sleep AU.

Also, I take a car care class. This has heavily influenced the story, but all you need to know, really, is that a 13 mm refers to a wrench, a caliper is used to depress the brake pads on a car, a Jetta is a Volkswagen, a Camry is Toyota and a Corolla is also a Toyota. Also influenced by my friend Drew's constant maintenance and work on the Camaro in his garage. (That's right, it's not a Camaro, it is the Camaro.)

Note: I don't play Halo Reach. I don't have an xbox. Always willing to make friends on the PSN, though. Sonyyyy. My PSN account will be at the bottom of the story, check there if you care.

P.S. I don't hate any of these characters, don't get the impression that I do by the time you finish this. xD

The Boy in the Mirror: Vanity

I. The Exposition Part 1

"Good as new!" Ventus shook the edges of the mirror and grinned when the glass stayed firmly in place. The soft brown wood didn't splinter, sanded down to baby smoothness. The drawer in the base remained locked, unmoving with even the harshest of treatment. Aqua and Terra smiled, waving their paintbrushes in anticipation. He laughed, picked up his own brush. "Go ahead."

The three simultaneously popped the lids off their paint cans. Together they turned the mirror into their canvas, sprinkling the mirror with splotches of blue, green and orange when the brushes came too close to the reflective surface. In the end, amongst the doodles and phrases painted haphazardly and candidly across the vanity mirror's table and base, they managed to collaborate on one small project. On the very surface of the mirror they each painted a single star, points connecting to form a round sigil at the glass's highest point.

"Wayfinders," Aqua said when they stopped to watch their handiwork dry. Her hair and face were smeared with green and orange, evidence of her friends' boyish horseplay. "That's what we'll call them. If we ever lose our way, they'll lead us straight back here and we can start again."

"Back to my dingy, oily garage," Ventus sighed, smudging a blue streak on his cheek. He saw the residue on his hand and wiped it on his pant leg.

"The greatest dingy, oily garage," Terra humored. Blue and green whiskers were painted across his cheeks, a humorous caricature for his foreboding size.

There was a beeping horn and the friends looked over their shoulders to see Ventus's father waiting impatiently in the drive, tapping his fingers against the old Jetta's steering wheel in quick tempo. Terra and Ven immediately pushed the vanity mirror to the side of the garage, leaving multicolored fingerprints across the wood, while Aqua moved the tarps, brushes and cans. She waved the man into the garage.

When Ven's father laughed at their roughened appearances, Ven and Terra fought over usage of Ven's shower (and with Terra's former experience on the wrestling team, the winner was quite clear) while Aqua headed across the street to use her own.

As his father settled in at home, as his mother hovered in the kitchen, and as Terra scrubbed away their paint battle scars, Ventus sat on the stoop leading from the garage to the kitchen, listening to the house's clutter with his head against the pristine white door. Plates clinked together over the fuzz of water rushing through the rattly pipes, punctuated by his father's odd bark of laughter. The electric switch closed the garage door, shaking and humming mechanically until the rubber stop hit the ground.

"What a cast for this drama," crooned a voice, almost a purr.

Ventus jumped, knocking his head into the door, blue eyes wide, scanning his garage. He heard a chuckle and he scrambled up from his seat, hand groping for the door handle, and, upon finding it, clutching it with frantic fingers, opened the door before fleeing to the safety of the kitchen.

When his father went to investigate the garage, he found no sign of any intruder. Thus, Ventus's first brush with the being ended.

II. The Exposition Part 2

Ventus had grown out of monster stories, had been too old for years and years, so he never had a problem wandering the dark, opening closets, looking under the bed or watching scary movies. They weren't real. Should something manage to fray his nerves, a book or a game would usually dampen his alarm. Ventus wasn't scared of much of anything.

Whatever spooked him in his garage stuck around. Indomitable Ven shirked most garage oriented duties, swapping for dish washing with his father when he could. When he couldn't, Ven finished the chore with haste, eyes seeking the silly wayfinders. Their bright colors calmed him somehow, and while the job wasn't masterful, he got it done. When he would return to the kitchen, Ventus sometimes thought he heard slow applause, but it never led to anything. Nonetheless, Ventus found his collection of books wearing thin and vowed to snatch a few volumes from Aqua (Terra didn't read much, his few books more like text books, fueling his scientific fixation).

Ventus mentally chucked off his list of weekend chores, frowning as the list narrowed down to checking the brakes on the old Jetta. "Something's squeaking," his had told him that morning as he carpooled with his wife. "Check it out, okay? Thanks Ven." He didn't want to, not really, but Ven knew how much his father treasured the dinosaur of a car. However, he was home alone and recently, the garage creeped him out.

Passing through the kitchen to the garage door, Ventus braced and chastised himself. Such foolishness! He walked into the garage, nose assaulted with the familiar scent of car-stink. It was such a comforting scent, full of memories of working on whatever sad vehicle his dad had brought in together with him and glasses upon glasses of lemonade, that Ventus almost forget the nervous chill the garage emanated. With a deep breath of tar-scented air, Ventus pushed on the button to open the greater garage doors, swamping with garage with light and the smells of summer. He approached the Jetta and knelt low by the left rear brake.

Before he could even start inspecting, the same spine-tingling voice echoed into the garage. "Looks like you'll be here a while, Daddy's boy. And here I thought you were avoiding me!"

Ven's head pivoted on his neck, straining to find the stranger. There was no one in the garage, but a crazy stalker could be anywhere outside. He rushed to the button, couldn't close the garage door fast enough, found relief in the shrinking light. The small orange light on the ceiling, once upon a time a drop light, the one they always left on, played eerily on the resulting shadows. The door to the kitchen never looked so far away.

His plan was simple: call his parents, follow instructions, rinse and repeat.

The doorway was there, a white beacon in the swamp of fright making his motions slow like molasses. He glanced at the mirror, seeing his orange-and-dark garage reflected like an alternate world, before those three merciful wayfinders became the center of his attention. They were there, right by the door, so convenient and hopeful...

"Boo!"

Ventus froze. Impossible. The garage was sealed shut. He was the only one around. It was simply not possible, just like the first time he heard it. What was going on?

In the dark, the wayfinders seemed to glow.

Focused so much on the mirror, Ventus saw the two yellow eyes open like doors on the opacity of the glass, burning like fire in the lamplight. Various horror movie scenarios flashed through his mind's eye, impractical and B-movie and viciously grotesque. Thoughts of vampires or demons clashed with his logic and the massacre of his thought process made a grinding sound in his brain. His legs lost their ability to function and his knees hit the ground with the bruising force of his body weight.

Around the eyes, playing with the shadows in the world reflected in the mirror, a face built itself, followed by thick, black spikes of hair, a thin neck, collarbones, and the beginnings of a chest before the edge of the mirror stopped the progression. The boy in the mirror's new lips stretched into something of a smirk. Ventus's stomach sank when he saw himself, the roundness of his face, the wideness of his eyes, in the being. "Hey there, Ven, buddy. Nice to finally talk to you."

Ventus didn't say anything, rather preoccupied with his dying fish impression to even think of passing on any words.

"You can call me Vanitas, okay? Learn it, 'cause I'm rather interested in your...positivity."

III. Hypothesis and Theory

"Positive and negative attract," Terra mused, prying apart two horseshoe magnets. Ventus looked up sharply from Terra's collection of 360 games. They were mostly shooters, but only Aqua ever complained.

Speaking of Aqua, she busied herself with removing Terra's discarded clothes from the floor ("Terra, you are most definitely a guy!") and dumping them into the navy blue hamper behind the door. "That's great, Terra. It's also common knowledge."

Terra looked like he had been snapped from a trance, dropping the magnets. They landed close enough that they attracted each other, skittering across the desk top until their ends clicked together. "What? Sorry, I was zoning."

Ventus glared at the magnets like they'd slapped his mother, feeling something in him continue to fear the creature in his garage, Vanitas. It made him feel trapped in his own home, Big Vanitas watching. After the scare in the garage, Ventus had fled the garage, cowered like a child beneath the covers to Vanitas's resounding laughter. That was where his parents found him, in bed in the silence of the evening. He even called off dinner.

"Magnetism," Ventus mumbled. Then, louder, "Terra, you've got any books on magnetism?"

Terra and Aqua had been bickering - about laundry, school, and nothing, seemingly all at once - and they both watched Ven for a moment. Finally, Terra spun on his swivel chair and pushed himself backwards to the bookcase built into the wall, a lovely addition Terra's uncle Eraqus had installed when Terra moved into the house and they needed another room. He brushed a finger across the spines.

"Name a reason I wouldn't have a book on magnetism. Why do you need one?" There was no judgment, only curiosity. His probing finger stopped on a book with a black spine and slid it from the shelf.

Ven hesitated before he answered."Just having a little problem with something in the garage. I think if I understand more about the problem, I can fix it." They'd never believe him. He wouldn't believe it if he hadn't witnessed first hand Vanitas's tenacity to be seen. Terra thought things through a very black and white, scientific mindset. Aqua allowed for some shades of gray, but she was not the same little girl that would fall for made-you-looks and pranks, always calm, collected and logical.

Ventus was on his own. While Vanitas gave no hint that his cracked theory would work, a theory was a theory and Ven could use all the theories he could get. Every one counted.

Terra shrugged, tossing the thick book onto the bed near Ventus. It bounced once before laying flat. "You're the car guy, you tell me if it's any help."

Ven picked up the book, examined its glossy cover. There was a bar magnet fading into the darkness on it, with electrons doing what appeared to be revolutions around the end. Etched on accident, probably from writing too deep on a paper on top of the book, were faint traces of equations in Terra's handwriting. "Thanks."

"And Ven's inability to study in school bites him in the butt during the summer," Aqua sighed. Ventus ignored her with a mixture of hurt dignity and his sudden fascination with Terra's book.

"Hey, Ven," Terra suddenly spoke. When his voice registered, Ven looked up at him. "You're pretty distracted. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," he answered with a tongue that felt too heavy in his mouth. "I just...I don't know. Guess I'm just not feeling right today." The confessions were on the top of his tongue. He bit the inside of his cheek.

Aqua was upon him in an instant, looking vaguely concerned, before she suddenly looked embarrassed. "So, Ven, you're feeling negative?"

"Huh?"

The wheels of Terra's chair squealed as he rolled back into the conversation. "Guess we'll just have to be positive!" He laughed.

Ventus wanted to laugh along with his friends. But no matter how hard he tried, the corny joke only felt empty.

That night, when Ventus left the thick book a quarter finished on the bedside table, he heard distinct cackling from somewhere in the house. In the morning, his parents said not one word about it, so Ventus bit into his breakfast in silence.

IV. Interface

Knights of ages old went into battle without fear. Ventus wanted to be a knight. Then he remembered that knights also went to battle in clumsy deathtraps of armor, armed to the teeth. Ventus had the ratty gray t-shirt he slept in, Comedy Central-themed boxers, and a handful of experimental fridge magnets. Theory clashed against theory - magnetism, exorcism, mirrors, witchcraft, ghosts, government conspiracies - but theories were all he had. In fact, he severely doubted the magnetism theory (what good could they do against a reflection who probably wasn't even talking about electrons or protons, merely being creepy as all hell?), but a weapon was a weapon, no matter how small. Wasn't that how mace worked?

Ventus sat on the dirty ground at the mirror stand's base, staring into the recesses, meeting his own blue eyes, and twiddled the magnets between his fingers. Waiting was an activity hated by all of mankind, despised by even the most patient of saints, but Ven would endure.

He didn't have to wait very long. His reflection morphed into the image of a dark-haired boy, very nearly his mimic, save for Ven's eyes and blond hair that reached for the sky. "Well, well, well. Scaredy cat came back. Did the little pussy cat get a little curious? You know, the saying goes-"

"Curiosity killed the cat," Ventus finished dryly. His fingers shook against the magnets. At this rate, he'd be running back inside before he could even come up with a lame comeback to the veiled insult to his masculinity. "Questioning my motives, doesn't that mean you are also curious?"

Vanitas laughed. "I'd agree, really, if we were playing on equal grounds. You, kitty, are a little...low on the proverbial food chain." Vanitas leaned toward the glass separating them, the ends of his wild spikes depressing on the surface. "You're a bug. Don't step on my toes, okay?"

Ventus stared at the boy in the mirror. The demonoid was crass and sickeningly confident, arrogant, but his eyes showed no traces of ignorance or stupidity. They were the eyes of one that had seen deep into what the world really was and enjoyed all of it. He gripped the useless magnets tight like a safety blanket. "Kind of hard to step on your toes. If you hadn't noticed, that mirror isn't very mobile."

Vanitas's sneering demeanor faded into an expression so base as to rival the sculptures of long dead civilizations. "Why is the mirror a factor?"

Ventus, for the life of anything, couldn't see a reason why the mirror wouldn't be. Nonetheless, it seemed Vanitas was tired of that thread of conversation, that smirk that promised chaos back on his face.

"You're friend, the big one, he's a pretty cool guy. Strong, smart, sincere. Why couldn't you be like that?" Vanitas's expression switched to something distressed, but his bestial-yellow eyes glimmered with mischief. "You're only a little nancy boy who's just lucky that he's survived this long."

The poison words made Ventus frown, but bullying was not a new idea. It would be just his luck that his mirror (his mirror self?) was an enormous jerk.

Vanitas's next words made him feel cold all over, stamping out that ember of resistance. "And that pretty girl you had over, she was a delight to see. You should really get a headstart on that, 'cause you know, I wouldn't mind taking her for a spin." The boy in the mirror knew he'd struck some kind of nerve with his lewd remark, grinning manically when he saw the crack in Ventus's feeble mask. "Did you see her legs? That's hot. Her breasts are lacking, but I guess that's cute in its own way. Don't you agree?"

"Don't touch her!" Ventus snapped, completely abandoning his cool facade.

Vanitas cocked his head to the side, casual, but he never seemed more closed off. "But Venny-boy, how could I even do so? I thought this mirror wasn't mobile."

He was playing a game. It was a devious cycle of a game and Ventus wasn't so sure he wanted to play. However, if he had to, he would make sure he won.

"And you said the mirror shouldn't be a factor," Ventus told him. The magnets were warm in his hand, uncomfortable. "Mind explaining that crock?"

"Is the kicked puppy trying to bite back? Its nipping at my toes, but where's the backbone? All that's gonna happen is that its gonna be kicked again."

Ventus's frustration mounted. "Fine, I get it. You're a badass flying monkey from the Land of Oz. I get it." Before Vanitas could say anything snide, he continued, "But what do you want from me, your favorite member of the Lollipop Guild?"

For the first time, Vanitas actually looked genuinely interested in whatever Ventus had to say. "Me? What do I want?" There was a pause after the rhetorical. Then, "It doesn't matter what I want. I can't get it right now, anyway." A laugh, almost depreciative. "Patience is a virtue, after all."

The cryptics pushed Ventus's ungainly state further. He threw his collection of magnets at the glass and walked back into the house. All the while, Vanitas laughed like a ghoul. Ventus decided that the boy's name suited him perfectly; the boy was too proud to be tolerated. Somehow, Ven was sure Vanitas knew that and was proud of it, too.

V. Thirteen Millimeters

"Ven," his father called in from the kitchen-garage doorway. Ventus stopped walking, backpedaled until he could see his dad through the archway of the kitchen's entrance. "Have you seen the 13 mm? I need to take the fasteners out of the Jetta's caliper. Again. Every time I fix it, it completely comes undone by the morning."

"No, I haven't seen it. You want help looking?"

The man looked torn between letting his son be the independent teenager he was and admitting that maybe he wasn't so observing as he'd like to say. He decided by saying, "It'd be a lot of help."

Ventus nodded and followed his dad into the garage. He didn't feel oppressed by the garage any longer, only felt mildly irritated, starting in his stomach and sometimes coming to a head. Those times, he had to step outside to avoid taking the pipe wrench his dad kept in the trunk and smashing it into the mirror.

The only reason he hadn't done it yet was that, while Vanitas was horrifically annoying, he hadn't proven to be dangerous. Ventus called his bluffs, even though it never deterred Vanitas from expelling them. As vengeance for the mirror-boy's harassment, Ventus let a film of dust coat the mirror stand.

As they walked around to see the brake-from-Hell, Ventus made a side stop to scribble "wash me" into the mirror with his finger. He smirked, proud of his childish victory. Vanitas never showed himself to others, saving his jeers and cajoles for his favorite blond buttsniffer, as he called him.

Eventually, the two grease monkeys heard the matriarch of the homestead calling, telling the older man to, "Hurry and wash up, if you want a lift to the body shop." It never made sense to Ven that his mother made his father wash off the car-gunk before he had to head to work, but his father always acquiesced without complaint. Ventus assured his dad that while the worked on the Jetta using their caveman, second-best solution, he'd keep his eyes peeled for the missing wrench.

When his parents left (in the working Camry), silence descended upon the house. Ven battled with inappropriate tools in his hands, waiting for the inevitable snarky remark from the mirror, spouting abuse on the subject of mistreatment. Instead, all Ventus heard was a click and a rattle.

Curious, he looked at the mirror. His normal reflection blinked back at him, mimicking his dumbstruck face to the very detail. Ven's eyes strayed to the base and saw the little drawer he couldn't open when he first found the beaten up mirror stand by the dumpster, instantly falling in attraction with his new pet project. He had concluded the drawer locked or broken or the tumblers rusted stuff. But now, the drawer was popped open just an inch, a tantalizing dare. He let his fingers rest on the drawer's edge, just in reach, and gently pulled it open.

Ventus looked inside. A 13 mm wrench with a green paint stain that he remembered from years back sat on the little wooden bottom. "Vanitas...?" he whispered, heart hammering. No, the drawer didn't work. His dad never touched the mirror. There was no way.

Tentatively, Ventus took the wrench from the drawer, half-expected it to snap shut, severing his fingers. But nothing happened. With cautious hands, he slid the drawer back into the stand. It was noiseless.

A comment from days ago echoed in his skull. He repeated it aloud on a breath. "Why is the mirror a factor?"

That night, Ven's father called the police. In the still of the night, the family had been startled awake by numerous horrendous crashes and a storm of broken glass. Armed with a baseball bat procured from Ven's grandfather from way before Ven's birth, his father had entered the orange-tinted garage, the home of such ruckus, commanding through angry fear that Ven and his mother stay back, watch out.

Ven watched his father's fingers go loose around the bat, jaw drop. For the first time, the man looked vulnerable, a shaky pillar of strength. "Dad, what is it? What'd they take?"

"Ventus," he replied. The use of his whole name was the equivalent to the law of the middle name - if it was used, it meant serious business, don't talk back, just do as instructed. "Bring me the phone."

Ven left the safety of his mother's clasping arms, her tremulous, thin limbs, and grabbed the black handset. He approached his father with caution, craning his neck to try to see the damage in the garage. In the back of his mind, he kind of hoped that the mirror had broken. Before his father pushed him back, he only saw shards of glass. "Stay back, Ventus." There was a quaver in his voice, an undercurrent of rage.

"Why?" Ven demanded, trying to slip passed his father's arms. After several failed attempts, he finally managed to careen through the door and into the garage. Not expecting the sudden success, he stumbled down the narrow stairs and tumbled to the ground.

The first thing he noticed was that it hurt. His hands, knees and shins broke his fall, but broken glass dug mercilessly into his skin. He felt the warm hand of his father on his shoulder, pulling him up, muttering soothing words he could not hear passed the blood pumping in his ears. He opened his eyes to a scene of vehicular carnage.

The Jetta's hood had been beaten in with the pipe wrench, all windows but the windshield busted out from the inside to lay in shatters on the ground, doors teetering on busted hinges. Fluids leaked from ravaged hoses, black and clear and green. The 13 mm wrench pierced the windshield with a glass necklace, cracks spider-webbing to the far corners of the glass. Carved into the jet black paint on the side of the car, "wash me" could be seen in chicken scratch.

Through the pain and shock, Ventus's eyes locked onto the mirror. Dripping coolant was drying on the glass in the shape of a cackling emote. The dust had been wiped clean.

VI. Experiment

The garage was deemed insecure, used for no purpose. The Camry was parked down the street, the various tools headed towards a storage facility or his father's shop. His parents decided, while Ven was waiting to be picked up from the hospital, that the mirror would stay. They wiped the strange graffiti from the glass, avoiding the ring of wayfinders, and moved the vanity mirror to the free space in the den.

When Ventus returned home and saw the mirror standing desolate against the wall like a foreboding sentinel, he almost choked on his tongue. His mother made doting, hen-like clucks as she tried to make them both comfortable in their home. Ven took a few slow steps toward the mirror, saw a flash of a victorious grin, broad and toothy, then changed his thinking. Excusing himself, Ven stiffly turned from the den and made his way to his bedroom. He didn't plan on resurfacing.

The phone on his table rang shrilly as he shut the door. With tired eyes, Ventus saw Aqua's name flash on the I.D.. Weary, he grabbed the phone, thumbing the call button, falling into the bed with only minimal discomfort from his injuries. "Aqua?" he croaked.

"Ven!" Terra's voice crackled on the phone, followed by some muffled words in Aqua's voice. "We've been calling all day! Are you okay?"

Ventus didn't know how to respond. Habit and social consciousness told him that saying he was okay was good, expected, but then he would be left alone to deal with Vanitas - the imp was now inside his house and perfectly destructive. Breaking down the issue made the decision easier. With a deep breath, he said, "Hey, can you two come over? Don't worry my parents, just say we're going to play Reach or something. I really need to talk to you about something."

He heard shuffling on Terra's end before, "We're at Aqua's, we'll be right over!" The line went dead and Ven turned the phone off. He listened for the tell-tale sounds of his friends, waiting until he heard the front door squeak open with Terra announcing, "Honey, I'm home!" There were softer words he couldn't make out between his friends and his parents before footsteps, not too fast, but certainly not slow, approached his door. Shyly, Aqua peered into his room, smiling when he waved her in. She swung in the door open fully, pulling Terra from gregariousness and into the room. As the door closed once more, their smiles dissipated, becoming the figureheads of seriousness.

Aqua perched on the edge of the bed, tilting her body low to see his face. Her eyes traveled down to the white bandages on his hands and her concern accentuated on her motherly features. "Ven, we're here. What happened? Did you know there's a police cruiser outside your house?"

Ven knew, having seen the decals on the car in the driveway. "It's probably going to patrol," he muttered into his pillow.

"You didn't answer my other question."

"Huh?"

"What happened last night, Ven?" Aqua pulled her legs up onto the bed, sidling closer. Ven shut his eyes. He didn't want to think about her legs. "There were cops and an ambulance. Your hands, they're hurt. Ven?"

He grinned sardonically. "My knees and legs, too. Fell on broken glass."

"Ven!" Aqua cried. He opened his eyes to see her face close to his, her eyes hard, but teary. "Please, talk to us."

"You called us over," Tera said from the doorway, toeing absently at a rubber band ball on the floor. It had been a project between the three from the summer previous. "We won't leave until you've said what you need to say."

Ventus didn't want them to leave anyway, but words were hard to come by. He spluttered out a few fragments of human speech before he had to pause and start over. "Guys, do you believe in monsters?" When they looked at him in confusion, he continued, "Because I didn't. I don't know, but suddenly, the monster in the closet seems a lot more plausible."

The story was hard to tell. The absurdity itself left Ventus stumbling on words, caught between lying to save the last legs of his sanity in the eyes of his friends or telling them the truth, fantastical and scary. But Terra and Aqua were patient and quiet save for the rare interrupting question. Ven was surprised by their rapt attention, especially Terra's, whose science-mind couldn't possibly swallow such drivel.

Yet it was Terra who called for action first. "So this Vanitas character is giving you trouble, right? Let's just get rid of him."

The idea was gorgeous. "I've been thinking of smashing the mirror since I saw the garage last night."

"We'd better move it back into the garage," Aqua suggested. "Your parents won't appreciate having that thing fall to pieces on their nice carpet, right?"

Ventus bit his lip. It felt raw. How often did he do that? He couldn't remember. "They won't let me into the garage. Since the first time I told them I heard Vanitas until last night, Dad's had it up to Olympus with the garage. Guys, he wants to move."

There was a moment of silence as they mulled the situation over. Then Terra smirked before he collapsed onto the bed between his friends, pushing and nudging to make room even as they protested. "It's summer vacation, so what's so strange about three friends having a little sleepover, staying up way later than their hosts' bedtime?"

Aqua caught on. "Then we could move the mirror without problem! Ven, you're okay with this idea?"

Ventus nodded. "I'm only worried Vanitas will catch on. He's shown that he can manipulate things outside the mirror. The mirror isn't a factor." He bit out.

"Worry about it later," Terra said firmly. He stretched until his fingers reached the TV remote on Ven's nightstand, pressed the power button so that the old 26'' box crackled to life. "We've got hours to burn and your parents think we're playing HALO. Shall we?"

VII. For Whom the Bell Tolls

They're footsteps seemed to thunder in the hall leading to the den. Ventus hated how his mind worked at night, amplifying every sound. Trying to keep stealthy made the mental amplifiers twice as strong. Moon and lamplight pouring from the windows through translucent fabric blinds guided the trio's steps, like a pathway forged especially for them by faery.

Night time was a completely different world than day time. The things that go bump came to life in the spindly shadows, turning tree branches into grasping claws and any noise could be from a nightmarish clan of ghouls huddled together in the next room. But these disillusions were not the targets of tonight's excursion. The hall led straight to the den where their mark presumably lay in wait, perhaps anticipating Ventus's arrival. Did he want to scare him? Because it had worked too well.

Ventus turned into the den first, eyes seeking out the bright wayfinders to find the mirror. When he found them, he froze. A figure was standing before he mirror, idly tracing the stars with a finger. It must have known Ven was standing there, holding back his friends with a universal symbol of "wait", because it certainly gave off no action betraying surprise. It was cloaked in black and red, tight-fibered clothes seemingly made of thick cords, a bizarre suit that outline powerful abs and pectorals. On its head was a mask, black as the shadows, but even though it lacked features Ven got the impression he was being stared at. Then the figure was gone, the familiar half-nude form of Vanitas sneering from the other side of the glass. In seconds, he too banished, leaving only the den's reflection.

Releasing a shuddering breath, Ventus waved his friends forward. Together, they hauled the heavy mirror through the house, stumbling and whispering curses as they went. Ventus unlocked the door in the kitchen, opening it wide to allow them access. Terra suggested tossing the mirror down the steps, but Ventus told him no. He had another idea that would be a much better, more personal, cold dish.

When they finally settled the mirror back in the garage, feeling weirdly large without any junky car occupying the space, the first thing Ven sought out was the bat his father had brought in, lying forgotten in the corner. It was an old thing, red paint chipping to a dull tarnish underneath, the head dark and beat up. Ventus mentally prepared for the crash and his parents' righteous fury, then swung the bat at the mirror. His reflection, his reflection, looked as savage as he felt.

The bat never struck the glass. The strange figure from the den appeared from nowhere, grabbing the bat mid-swing, holding it firmly in place even has Ven pushed against him with grit teeth. The trio expressed their shock through various oral mediums, but Ven could not be bothered to keep track as his reflection in the stranger's mask stared back, horrified.

"Ventus, Ventus," the figure spoke, the voice mocking and familiar. "Look who grew some balls! But didn't I tell you? Don't step on my toes." Vanitas twisted the bat sharply and Ventus let go before he broke his wrist. He dragged the bat to the door with a high scraping sound on the garage floor before he used it to jimmy lock the kitchen door.

"Hey!" Terra called out, the first to break from his surprised paralysis. He rushed Vanitas, arms ready to grapple the mirror creature.

"Get out of here!" Aqua backed him up, rushing from behind in a pincer formation. As soon as they were to descend on Vanitas's earthbound form, he vanished and the two collided.

"Too slow," Vanitas cooed. He dropped down behind Aqua from the location of who-the-hell-knows. Ven didn't. "Too bad, I was going to do beautiful things to you. Hey, Venny-boy, you wanted to know what I wanted?"

Ventus saw it in slow motion. Vanitas extended his arm, the gloved fingers of his hand sharpening into wicked claws, and they plunged into Aqua's back. Her skin ripped open like tissue paper, blood sprinkling in an arch behind her. He was sure he screamed - Terra definitely did. As the older teen rushed forward to help, Vanitas's hand carried through Aqua's chest cavity, her heart grasped tightly in his hand. The spray that struck Terra in the face made him freeze, disbelief and terror twisted his friend's handsome features into something unfamiliar.

"I want hearts. I have the strength to take them now, isn't that great?" Vanitas answered. He squeezed the organ until it finally burst like a morbid water balloon, finally extracting his closed fist from Aqua's body. She fell into a heap on the floor, eyes dull and empty.

The kitchen door rattled. "Ven! Ven!" his parents shouted from the other side. Vanitas traveled casually to the power box on the far end of the garage. He popped it open and with his bloody claws, cut the wires. The orange light of the garage went black.

"Whoops, I think that might've included a landline or two," Vanitas quipped from somewhere. "Your dad mentioned something about not believing in cell phones, right?"

Terra screamed, and while Ven thought it would have been outraged, his heart sunk when he realized the painful sound was terrified. There was a gross squelching sound while his scream rose in volume. Vanitas chuckled beneath his mask. "Terra!" Ven cried, running into the blindness, seeking his friend by sound.

"M-my eyes!" he heard Terra utter. "My eyes!"

Arms wrapped around Ven's middle like a tender embrace, cold like death, and he was forced to halt. "Terra, you're heart isn't the kind I want. But I'd have to take something, right? Everyone likes a souvenir." Vanitas's voice came from right besides Ven's ear. He couldn't hear the other's breath, only Terra's haggard gasping and unavoidable whimpers. "But little Venny here is pretty interesting."

"Stay away from him!"

Vanitas's arms slid up his front, claws catching on his clothing, finally stilling his hands on Ventus's left pectoral. His heart thudded at breakneck speeds, making him wonder if he would die like a frightened rabbit, just having his heart give up on supporting its host. "He's noisy. Don't worry, you won't need to deal with him much longer. Right, Xehanort?"

The name was one Ven didn't recognize and the only answer was the lack of one. Then, Terra bellowed, "No, stay away! Get off! Let go!" There was a sound of shuffling, scuffling. "No!"

"Terra!"

"Don't worry," Vanitas purred. "It won't last much longer." With that, his hellish claws bore into Ventus's chest, the digits cold and sharp and tearing - Ventus screamed until his breath caught, blood speckling his lips, felt those claws brush his heart before shock set in and numbed everything. Every sound muffled, but clearly he could hear Vanitas's madman's laughter, gleeful like a child's.

"Ventus, no!" Terra yelled, his voice far away.

He couldn't understand what was happening, feeling like an amnesiac. Who was screaming? What was happening? Who was he?

Ventus. Ventus. Ventus.

Sound returned to him at full blast before fluctuating with his gasping breaths, the laughter, screaming, the splishing of blood and the pounding on the door. "Nnn," Ventus keened, the word he wanted being uncooperative. Vanitas tickled his heart and Ventus saw starbursts. "Nnn...No!"

The single strained word echoed in the dark place. Somewhere in the darkness a shining light suddenly pierced through like a lance, blue and radiant. "Ven!" Terra called on a gasp. He didn't speak again and another strange light, orange, pierced the dark. In its radiance Ventus saw through blurry vision another black figure standing before Terra, face indescribable, a gloved hand wrapped tight around his throat, his other hand across where Terra's eyes should have been, red waterfalls leaking down the boy's face.

Ventus tried to yell, to scream for his friend and for himself. But he was dying; too little blood reached his brain, struggling with what had been done to his body, resistance nigh impossible with cold, unresponsive limbs. Vanitas plucked on whatever was there in his hollowing chest. Terra...Aqua...!

A final light radiated from the throes of the darkness, green like the grass on a lovely spring day. It hurt Ven's eyes, but he could ignore it easily due to sudden elation, as the lights made Vanitas withdraw. Ventus couldn't feel the wound, but somehow he managed to turn as his legs gave beneath the immense weight of death and saw his tormentor's mask crack.

It broke into shards, raining like black glass to the garage floor. For once Vanitas's steadfast cockiness was nowhere to be found, not a trace, and Ventus was delirious with blood loss and happiness, so delighted with the slip. Vanitas looked a little scared and a lot lost. Oneupmanship was something Ventus never really participated in, but Vanitas had certainly fallen from Ven's good graces.

"How...?" The whisper escaped Vanitas's lips. "The wayfinders...?"

Ven's hearing and his sight were fading again, but he was sure that Vanitas's black spikes were becoming a warm chocolate brown, those hell-yellow eyes darkening to an honest blue. He thought he heard Terra's voice bellow, "Vanitas, we don't have ti - No!" There was a flash of light, overwhelming darkness, and Ventus knew no more.

VIII. Ouroboros

A little paint-smeared vanity mirror rested against the side of the dumpster. A tall boy with long, white hair stood beside it, drumming his fingers on the table. He looked at the woman next to him through sunglasses.

"Thanks for helping me move this," his friend's grievous mother said. "It means a lot, Terra."

"It's no problem, ma'am. Ven only fixed it up to donate away, anyway. Someone will find it here and take it home. This dumpster has a reputation, you know?"

She nodded. "How are your eyes? The trauma got your hair, but the doctor said - "

The boy tapped his sunglasses. "I'll make a full recovery," he told her. Looking nervous, the woman accepted the answer, murmured a quick farewell, and made her way home to the house blocked off by police tape just weeks ago. The boy sighed, looking into the mirror. "But you, Vanitas, I wonder if you'll recover from actually having a heart? As your master, I must say, I'm disappointed. All the trouble to feed you and get me a new body and - "

"Is that yours?" The boy looked up. A Corolla rolled up slowly. "The mirror, is it yours?" The woman in the passenger seat asked through the window.

"Did you want it?"

"Oh, yes! We'd just need to paint it white and it would look great in my daughter's room. Dear, wouldn't Kairi love it?"

The boy smiled, removing his sunglasses. His eyes were gold, a most unusual color. "It's all yours, ma'am."

A/N: AND WHOA, when's the last time I've ever written something so long...oh wait, I haven't. Enjoy!

PS3 fans, if you want to add me, I am Hayley0wns. With a zero. Not an "oh".

Also, should I make this rate down to T? I have a feeling it's just a little violent and subtexty. Let me know!