Somebody, Somewhere, Someday

Chapter 1: "And Let the Dream Descend"

Written by Samurai-Nashie

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is owned by Square-Enix and Disney respectively. This is a non-profit literary work written for entertainment purposes, and I have no legal claim to any of the characters used in this fanfiction.

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White.

That was what he remembered in later months, the first impression they ever had on him. That sheer overbearing light nearly blinded his eyes when he first came into the room. And the white did not seem to end. It faded into a non-existent ceiling, and the only reason he was aware there was a floor was because of the fact that there was a huge, gray, strangely-shaped symbol lying below his feet.

He didn't remember seeing his shadow.

He stood right in the middle of the room, surrounded on all sides – by walls? It was hard to tell. There was no ending and beginning in this place that should not have existed. It might have unnerved him or even frightened him – but it didn't. Instead, he dared to gaze up at the black-cloaked figures seated around him, high up on the thrones. The significance of the thrones – and his obvious lowly position – was not lost on him.

For the longest of moments, silence prevailed. He could glimpse none of the faces of the twelve that surrounded him, for all of their hoods were up and their faces were in shadows. He could not even discern which of them had been the one to bring him here in the first place. It was beginning to irritate him that they all seemed to be dissecting him with their eyes.

Hadn't he felt this before?

"He's a child," someone suddenly said from his immediate right, and he could hear the barely repressed annoyance in the monotonous, slightly nasal voice. He bristled at being called a "child" – though, truth be told, he could not recall how old he was. He simply could not remember.

The others seemed to take the thought into consideration. Finally, another spoke, this time from behind him. "I would think that age does not matter in this sort of thing."

"After all, you would be considered decrepit and buried if we allowed people in based on age," a third voice remarked coldly with a cruel snicker.

"No one was asking your opinion."

"He is young. What sort of experience could he possibly have?" yet another voice mused from next to the black-cloaked figure with the cruel voice. It was softly spoken, yet the rich tones made him peer up into the fathomless shadows of the hood in curiosity. He could almost see a pair of eyes gazing down at him in a sort of removed interest. Almost.

He still wasn't quite sure what he was here. The man who had found him wandering the streets had said something about meeting people "just like him". Of course, the man had adamantly refused to tell him more than that. He had considered the fact that a brick wall would have carried on more of a conversation than the man. And he was still in the dark on exactly where they were – someplace huge, he knew that. He sensed that, actually, more than anything.

But, still, none of his questions had been answered.

And it was annoying.

"Excuse me!" he shouted, so suddenly and so harshly that the conversation buzzing over his head came to a complete halt. "Are you going to tell me why I'm here or not? Because your arguments seem pretty pointless to me."

The hush that had fallen over some of the members quickly grew an irritated air, and he was sure that he heard someone mutter something along the lines of "yet another young upstart…". He decided to ignore that comment and turned to look – "glare" is more like it – at the people sitting high above him in those precariously placed white thrones of theirs.

Suddenly, a laugh broke the silence. He spun and turned to face one of the thrones behind him. One of the black figures leaned forward, elbows resting on knees. "You've got guts, kid." He could have sworn he heard a teasing note in that voice, and it didn't do a thing to knock off a spark of his irritation. "The question should be why do you think you're here? After all, no one forced you to come."

He was quiet at that question. Why was he here? Yes, randomly walking around the streets of a foreign town wasn't the best idea in town. But neither was following a stranger who promised answers still left unanswered. He couldn't remember much of anything about his life before waking up on that bridge and looking out over the city, so quiet and bright and…there was something, he was sure, something just out of the corner of his mind that wanted to know…

Ah, there it was. Know what? He wanted to know what happened to him. He wanted to know why he couldn't remember, how he had gotten into a city he couldn't remember. Why had he followed such a strange cloaked figure? Why was the city deserted, bathed in eternal gold light? When had his memory been completely destroyed, leaving only faint…no, not even faint details of a life once lived? Who was he really?

"I…want to know an answer," he finally said, albeit reluctant at having to express that want to this group of strangers. "To my question. I have to find it out."

"What is your question?" someone asked, and this time, he turned to the highest throne in the room. The person's deep, nearly regal tones commanded absolute attention, and it didn't take him long to realize that amongst the group of people in that white emptiness, this person must be the one in charge. When he didn't reply right away, the person continued, "We have all come here with questions that many do not ask themselves. Perhaps…we are the answer you seek."

Perhaps…

"Who am I?" he finally demanded, staring right up into the hood that hid any distinguishable features. "If you have the answer, then tell me."

"We cannot tell you who you are. For that is only something you know. However…what you are may be more feasible."

"That's no answer."

"So you have absolutely no desire to know what you are? If that is the case, then no one is keeping you here. You may leave any time you wish."

He hesitated. It had been offered so simply. They could not (would not?) tell him what he really wanted to know, instead, offering another question just as profound but far less important in its answer to him. And the choices, so very simple: stay or go. Stay and learn an answer that he did not want to know, or go and never find out anything past this pretense.

It was all very simple, really.

"Fine, then," he murmured, swiping a stray strand of golden blonde hair back behind his ear. Very blue eyes lifted from their furious glare at the ground and turned to give the leader a solid stare that would have unnerved any other person. "Tell me – what am I?"

He told him.

The others watched as a shock-dulled expression of disbelief slowly crept into the boy's face. His fists tightened at his sides, and he ultimately looked away after the leader had finished explaining. For another long, long moment, silence reigned supreme in the room, as oppressing as the thrones and the sheer whiteness itself.

Some who sat on the thrones, watching as the news began to register with the boy, had never felt the sudden emptiness that such information brought with it.

Others who sat on the thrones had.

He is still very young…what could possibly have happened to him?

Poor runt. Doesn't even know what he's getting himself into.

Way to drop the bomb on him, Superior. Why not just say you killed his puppy too?

Is he even important enough to join us?

The wheel of fate has turned again. Take your place on it, or you will be left behind, boy.

He cannot be seriously thinking of putting him with us!

Their thoughts were unheard by all except themselves, and the man with the firmness and regality in his voice continued to tell the blonde-haired young man in front of him of what it meant to be…non-existent. To be a simple shell. To simply not…be.

But there was a catch. There was always a catch. But this time, the catch promised salvation. The man told him, watching as the boy's face remained completely and utterly blank, staring at the ground in a sort of a vapid concentration. That one bit of hope – as small as it was, it could move mountains. Brows knitted over very blue eyes and he looked up once again at the throne. "There is another way, then?"

"That is our goal," the man simply stated.

"Then it's my goal too," he replied quietly. The suddenness of his decision startled some of those sitting in the thrones above. No one had excepted that readily – no one. And he had said it without missing a beat. Those very blue eyes were set with determination, a frown of consideration gracing his cherub-like features. "I'll join your organization if it means…it seems as if I have nowhere else to go."

If it means I can find out who I am.

He did not express those final sentiments aloud.

The man in the highest throne straightened his posture – not that his posture had been slacking at all at any given point in the conversation.

"The decision is made. Welcome to the Organization, Number XIII."

His shoulders stiffened at the label. There may have been many things he couldn't remember. But there was one thing he did know – and it certainly wasn't this number. He caught and held the invisible gaze of the man seated so high above him, and scowled.

"I'm not a title. My name is…" He faltered, trying to recall what the man had said to him so many hours before. Some sort of concoction of something that may or may not have existed. "My name is Roxas."

"And the thirteenth member to our little group," came the laughing voice from before. Roxas tossed a dark glance over his shoulder, as the man removed his hood. The smirk would always be the first thing he remembered later. That smirk and dancing green eyes that seemed to take amusement in his annoyance. "Which makes you Number XIII." A pause, and then helpfully, "Got it memorized?"

"We're actually letting him into the Organization?" someone protested loudly. The removal of the hood revealed a very beautiful and very dangerous face. Pale blue eyes flickered. "We don't even know if he can do anything. For all we know, he's a liability."

"The decision has been made, Number XII. Or would you prefer to return to your position as lowest ranking member in this Organization?" The threat in the leader's voice was very, very clear. The blonde woman stiffened, and said nothing else, but continued to stare spitefully at the young man standing at the center of the room.

"Y'know, that sort of has a ring to it," said the person sitting on the throne next to the man with the green eyes. A brief wave of the hand, and a shrug of one shoulder. "Organization XIII. Sort of like a bad luck charm, don't you think?"

"Hopefully not bad luck for us," another male voice chuckled, this time from the one sitting next to the leader's throne. He lowered his hood, and gave the previous speaker a thoughtful look with his one good eye. "That would totally lower our morale."

"When he says things like that," the first voice from before muttered darkly, "it always lowers our morale."

The person in question removed his hood, and Roxas found himself staring at youth that couldn't be much older than him. Sea-green eyes flashed in annoyance. "Someone sure is moody today."

"Enough!" the leader commanded, with enough force to shake everybody into silence. He did not lower his hood, but the feeling of knowing his eyes were watching every single one of them was enough to render them mute for the moment. "Number XIII's position is precarious. Whether this new arrangement suits your personal whims or not is not something of importance in the growing importance of our mission."

The man turned his imperceptible glare towards every single black-cloaked figure in the room. "Number XIII will be treated as one of our own." The statement left no room for discussion. It was quite clear that the matter would never be brought up again. With that simple instruction, the boy's place in the Organization had been cemented, as if writ with blood. Just as it had been the last six members.

But their stories began far differently than that of the Key of Destiny.

Their stories would end far differently as well.

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Author's Note (1 Dec 06): So much snow outside! You would think I would have a snow day from work, but no. Bleh. Ten lovely inches.

I don't have a beta reader, so there will probably be continuity mistakes aplenty. Gomen nasai! You'll have to forgive me. The last time I played Kingdom Hearts II was back at the end of summer, so a lot of stuff I'm basing my shabby memory. Thank god for YouTube.

Eh, this is going to be one of my shorter fanfiction ventures – with a total of only nine chapters. But I think it's definitely going to be a fun one – I absolutely love the Organization, and writing backgrounds for the Number XII through XIII (well, technically XII) is going to be interesting, to say the least.

All the chapters will be lines from various songs. Kudos to anyone who can figure out ALL nine songs by the end. Double kudos to anyone who can correctly guess which Organization members actually said anything in this chapter.

Please read and review!