#it'd be a fucking kh crossover you think i'd limit myself to just one world?
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chuckling-chemist · 4 years ago
Text
Chapter ???
(I have become a slave to my own creative whims on this stupid crossover and need to scream into the void so just take this draft since it’s more comprehensible and easier to skip than a fuckload of bullet points. Look, I have a general plot now and its taking a real shape and I’m so mad)
Luxord (well, that’s what he was still intent on calling himself. Much like Xigbar he grew too attached to the name) sat himself down at the nearest plush blue barstool in the jazz lounge, card fiddling between his two fingers. How long had it been since he’d felt like this? He’d been a Nobody for so long, playing his part to a faceless master, watching the eternal servant to the Master of Masters...for how long? Don’t get Luxord wrong, there was a visceral enjoyment to running around Castle Oblivion while Xigbar continued to be none the wiser, but it felt good just to enjoy a gin and juice without dealing with muted emotions.
And, he reminded himself, no more bulky overcoat to keep himself safe from corruption. He had the choice to blend into his actual environment. Or, more likely, fit his aesthetic. Maroon sport jacket and tie, straight out of someone’s fantasy of Las Vegas. Something perfect for sitting in a lounge featuring a live band filled with people pointedly not infected with malaria, playing an actual jazz song. Couldn’t get that luxury back with those pirates, much as that world was his go-to in those days.
Then again, the drinks were cheaper. And, unlike now, he actually knew the generalities of Xigbar’s plan. If that black box didn’t contain whatever was left to return Xigbar’s master, it was at best a clever ruse to keep the other pieces of Xehanort busy while Xigbar put together the pieces to bring his true master back.
Well, you can’t win them all.
“Pretty abnormal to see a Brit come in here. They generally keep to the more touristy places up in the red light district,” the bartender said pleasantly. She was a pleasant looking woman, long dark hair braided down her back and large, round glasses behind brown eyes. Wearing an apron over what looked like a pantsuit.
Another boon: the bartenders are much cleaner now.
“Then again, nothing’s quite returned to normal yet after the whole Phantom Thief fiasco.”
Luxord raised an eyebrow suspiciously. He was a gambling man, after all. Kept his cards close. This was no exception. Phantom Thieves were not something that casually popped up. If nothing else, it was worth the inquiry. 
His gaze swooped the lounge. In the back corner, secluded to themselves sat a young androgynous person in a dark blue cap and peacoat, so quiet as they tapped away on a laptop they might just disappear into the hazy blue of the wall had it not been for the singular empty glass on their table. Two patrons, a young stern woman with silver hair and an old man in a fedora, debated philosophy over a table littered in drinks. Two others, obviously tourists if their pallor skin indicated anything, in dark sunglasses played billiards. An empty lounge, mostly. Thank God for off days, or else he’d worry about Xigbar having ears somewhere. He shifted in his seat, letting him lean closer on the dark wood of the bar and asked, “Phantom Thief fiasco?” 
“Did you not hear about it? A whole string of high profile celebrities and politicians, all confessing to various crimes because of some seventeen year old kid thinking he was changing the world. And, on top of that, this is the same kid who our former prime minister claimed assaulted him! A scrawny high schooler, calling himself a Phantom Thief! Can you believe?” She shook her head, holding back a laugh. 
“And it made national news?” Luxord asked doubtfully. 
Truth be told, in all the iterations of Japan he’s visited over the years - both in his stay with Organization XIII and before - he hasn’t been to this specific iteration for longer than his memory can adequately say. But matters like that he struggled to imagine the government wanting such a controversy getting out of its borders. 
“Eh, you know how it goes. Kids on the internet go crazy for that anti-capitalism, vigilante rogue bullshit. Guess we’re lucky the Americans were still flipping out over some gorilla or else Twitter would’ve been an absolute nightmare that year.”
He flashed the bartender a smile, the kind that indicated he appreciated the conversation, but he also had a drink to attend to. “Quite.”
The song shifted from whatever upbeat tune they were playing to something more somber. The old man in the fedora was up at the bar now, asking for two more cocktails and giving a bit of trivia at the same time.
He took another sip of his gin, running through what he knew once more. First, Xigbar was not Xigbar. Luxord knew that from the start. No one pulls two Keyblade wielders, Dandelions no less, from the first war as Nobodies and manages to strip them of their memory of such without knowledge of such. He’s lucky Xehanort was apparently a bigger fool than Luxord initially took him for, or else that would’ve tipped him off right away. But, unlike Xehanort or Xigbar, Luxord never moved until he knew he had a good deal.
Second, while Xigbar likely had the box, and acquisition of said box wasn’t great news for Luxord, Xigbar would not ever be able to find the Book of Prophecies. Xigbar, Luxu, he was smart after all. He’d know the best place to hide something is right under the searcher’s nose, and would know it would be somewhere in Radiant Garden. But while he was focused on kissing Xehanort’s ass, he never once thought to check someone. And taking a book from a child, the one remaining totem of his home before Radiant Garden? From the good master’s ward, no less? Why, such would get him thrown out of the castle immediately.
(There were moments Luxord worried Xigbar knew who exactly carried around the Book of Prophecies like his lifeline around the castle, and grew concerned the reason why Xemnas was so willing to consider a teenager as his second in command was Xigbar’s own meddling. But, if such were the case, he likely would have done more to stop Saix and Axel’s Castle Oblivion Massacre. His long con worked out in the end albeit in an unexpected fashion: illusions work well for hiding what you’re holding.)
Third, and most worryingly of all, the damn Foretellers were back. Theoretically, this was a point directly in Xigbar’s court. He was a Foreteller after all, albeit not the leading Foreteller. And all of the Foretellers worked directly for their master. However, in the past, the Foretellers have been incapable of working together the second hardship arises. If fortune fell in his favor, history would merely repeat itself. If it didn’t, it could be tricky.
He finished his drink. If there was any time to check how his deck was stacked, now was as good a time as any.
He swooped the card into the sleeve of his jacket, exchanging it for a different card from a different deck and letting it drop onto the table.
The Fool. 
He swooped up the card and planted it back into his sleeve. In any other world, he’d blow it off and draw again. For matters like this, drawing the Fool meant literally anything. The beginning of a journey, with roads and challenges yet uncovered. A non-answer and a sign his tarot cards had enough of his shit for the day. But he wasn’t in any other world. He was in a world ruled by cruel gods and the humans that chose to surmount them. In a jazz lounge where all the walls looked to be the same dreamlike, hazy blue. No, this was a person.
A thief, if his intuition had anything to say about it.
“Ma’am, one more question. If you will.”
The bartender strolled over with an inquisitive look and grabbed his drink, topping off the gin and juice. 
Funny enough, Luxord used to hate gin. He acquired a taste for it, spending days at a time in Port Royal, downing gin and tonics to keep the mosquitos (and the malaria, fuck that malaria) away.
“The supposed Phantom Thief high schooler. Do you know their name?”
The bartender frowned. “Can’t say I recall it, no. His lawyer fought hard to keep it out of the press. But if you want to talk to her, she’s right over there.” She pointed behind him, back to the table where the heated debate sounded like bickering. “Nijima. Absolute beast in the courtroom. Can’t believe she turned to defense.”
“And the man with her?”
“Sakura. He runs a tiny hole in the wall coffee shop down the way. Leblanc, I think? Named after a French painter, I think. Been there once or twice, but coffee’s not really my thing, you know?” She shrugged helplessly. “Anyway, they’ve come in together every now and then and end up arguing politics every time. You think he’s trying to get with her? Cause that’s what I’ve been thinking.”
Luxord fought back the urge to snort. He was too dignified for that. “Not the way they’re arguing. You said she was a defense attorney, yes? Probably just helping her blow off steam.”
“Eh, I think if he wanted to do that, he’d make her free coffee. I don’t know much about Sakura, but he pours a damn good cup of coffee.”
“Hm.” He pulled out his card from before and threaded it between his fingers. Old habits die hard, after all, and cards were an ancient habit of his. “Do you think he plays cards?”
She rolled her eyes. “Hell if I know. You’ll have to go to Leblanc yourself and ask him yourself.”
Approaching someone like Nijima for the name of a particular Phantom Thief wouldn’t yield results. Not if she was unwilling to name him for the media firestorm. However, if she’s getting drunk on the regular with this Sakura man, he might know. Might even tell Luxord, if he’s lucky. “I think I will, thank you.”
The bartender grinned. “No problem! Hope you enjoy your game!”
He grinned. The game was on. “I believe I will.”
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