⚠️ POSSIBLE MATURE THEME ⚠️

***

He saw you in plain daylight but didn't know why-because he vividly remembered murdering you. Brutally, and without mercy. His knife had done such a lovely number on your face and butchered your chest-the lacerations were his beautiful pieces of art. His favorite part had been sliding the rusty knife across your pristine and delicate throat and watching as the inner pig in you released-screaming silently. So why the hell did he see you walking around, wearing a black coat?

When he first saw you, he had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk and rub his eyes, to make sure you weren't a figment of his imagination.

You walked on the sidewalk across from him, your hands in your pockets as you kept a fast pace. His eyes glared daggers, and you felt the tiny tips poke the back of your neck. So you stopped, and your head snapped right towards him as if you'd know he was there the entire time.

...It's you...

You couldn't help but wave at your old friend.

He caught your glare, and for once, the shiver ran down his spine. Dropping a bag of groceries in his arms, he quickly fled from the scene-from your face-and decided he needed to visit you. Your grave, where he thought he'd buried your body.

The sight of him running away like a pussy tugged at your lips.

"So that's where you've been? I'm so happy to have run into you..." You grinned to yourself and looked around. The coast was clear, so you crossed the street and collected his bag. "He'll probably need this, yes, hmm?" You hummed to yourself and followed his path, taking your time. There was only one place he would run to at this hour, and you knew exactly where.

Constantly, he looked over his shoulder as he ran towards your grave sight. It took him a few minutes to find it, but once he did, he threw a rock on the spot to mark it.

Last he had visited, he loved the thoughts that ran through his mind as he knew you were buried there. And only him-a secret he would take to his own grave. Just the tender thought of how your parents would cry over your empty casket after they realized you would never ever come home had sent a surge of excitement throughout his body. Now? His heart beat too fast for him to even consider those thoughts anymore; the excitement or the beauty.

He scrounged the area for a shovel and found the one from ages ago. The exact one he'd thrown into a bush after burying your body. He shoved his arm in, flinching as the budding rose bush pricked his skin and tore it. Pulling it out now was hell as thorns slashed into his body with tiny knives and made him bleed. He ignored the blood and continuously looked over his shoulder-paranoid. He hugged his shovel close to his chest before he spent the next hour digging for your coffin.

He cursed the entire time, imagining what it would be like if he opened your coffin and saw empty space where you were supposed to be. He swore his heart would burst and that he would have a heart attack right there.
Soon the metal of his shovel clanked against the wood of your coffin, nearly impaling it. A small ounce of relief filled his heart; the other half resided inside your coffin.

He jumped back, blinking before he pounced down into the deep grave and caught himself on the sides. His fingers caressed your wooden face. "Still beautiful and fresh, darling... No, focus on digging her up!" He hissed to himself.

He cupped the dirt with his meaty paws and shoveled out the last handfuls himself.

More time passed before he could reach the lid. He tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge. He grumbled through his missing teeth in fear and frustration.

"Looking for something?"

Your killer screamed as something flew past his head, nearly nicking his ear. Blood dripped down and landed on the knuckles of his white fist. First, he looked to his knife that now resided next to his impaled shovel, then looked up to your face. You smirked down at his helpless frame and twirled another knife between your fingers. So cowardly now when he acted so confident when murdering you.

"It was so nice of you to leave a bag of knives for me down there." You giggled, "You like to leave me a lot of gifts, don't you?"

You squatted down, resting your elbows on your knees while your cheeks squished against your curled up palms. The knife was awfully close to your cheek. "Aw. Can't speak? Nobody got your tongue?"

"Y-You..." He gasped softly, eyes wide, "No, no, no, you can't be here. I murdered you. Months ago. You should be rotting in this grave." He pointed to it, trying to convince himself.

"Well, you're gravely mistaken." You giggled in your hand. "At least at one thing: you did murder me, and do things to my body. But I'm no longer rotting in that grave. Look, you can open it for yourself and see."

What a façade you put on.

"Bitch, I know you're in there!" He screamed.

"Hey, hey, quiet down." You held back a loud laugh.

God, sometimes you wondered if the Somebody you used to be was sadistic deep down under; cause that face he bore was actually funny. As a Nobody now, you couldn't feel anger, pleasure, or other emotions. But by god this? The remembrance of vengeance tainted your tongue; you licked your lips with that tainted muscle. "Want to open that coffin then? Maybe prove me wrong. I am forgettable at times when it comes to where I leave my body."

"Bitch, you're insane. You must be some fucked-up twin. Wanting revenge for your whore of a sister?" He hissed, then smirked, but you saw through that obvious mask of his more than he saw through yours. "I tell you: she loved it. Every second of it. The bitch was too dumb to realize I was going to kill her afterward as she begged for it."

"I remember cause I was there." You wanted to laugh, but winked instead. "Nice try. Lie again, I dare you."

"It ain't a lie."

After containing that laugh for what felt like the twentieth time, you tilted your head. "If I'm mistaken, didn't you fondle my body afterward? I know I would never have sex with an ugly fat prick like you. Your receding hairline and greasy beard is a huge turn-off. But boy, oh boy, does it turn on this baby." Pushing your body up to a standing position, you moved your hand in front of you, palm facing forward. Shadows formed into your hand, dropping a weapon into your awaiting fingers. "Baby, I'm so turned on at the moment. See my little gentleman's sword?" You cackled and waved the mortal knife over your weapon as a display. "And it wants you, baby."

He flinched, pushing himself into the dirt wall that was supposed to hold your body for months, but now he was doubting it. Sprinkles of dirt peppered the top of his head, smudging with the sweat as he tried to hold the spot.

"What the fuck?" He asked under his breath. "What the fuck are you woman?"

You saw the reflection of yourself in his dull blue eyes, and you truly didn't feel anything.

"You can say a nobody drunk off vengeance. I think it was the last emotion I drank until I kicked the bucket because of you."

"I have no idea of what you're talking about, woman."

"Oh yeah! You're from here. What an idiot I am." You flicked your head with a giggle then shook it. "Oh, it doesn't matter anymore, honey, you don't need to know. You just need to die-and that's what I'm going to do to you. I'm so glad this world lets you do it."

"NO, GODS, PLEASE NO."

You had no mercy for his screams and raised the knife he would've used on another woman that he fancied. As he tried to climb out the side of the grave, you chucked the knife, hitting him in the back of his skull and killing him instantly with inhumane speed. He dropped down onto his back, cracking open the lid of your coffin.

Oh the irony as he called out for the Gods as if they'd help him after all he did...
"Can't believe you had the decency to actually put me in one of those." Sighing to yourself, you shook your head, "Then you gone and broke it."

You could've let him suffer, and feel what you had once before. Cut out one of his eyes or stab him in an area where it would bleed him out like a pig and kill him gradually. But as someone who had felt the stinging pain of a slow and brutal death, you still did not want to cause that to a single human being-even if your bloodlust for vengeance was the strongest emotion you felt as a nobody-or if he deserved it.

No sense of satisfaction came from killing him. Not like you came to this world to kill him-it had just been a coincidence you'd saw him walking the plaza.

Or had it? That's where you first met him. He had flowers and offered to a sad lady that day...

Your sadistic mask dropped and you groaned, scratching the back of your head. What are you going to do now? It's late and you needed to RTC.

Taking one final glance to the gap in his head where the inhuman force of the knife caused his head to split in two-you turned around and placed both hands on the back of your head with your weapon raised high over you.

A sudden bright flash of light shined in your face, causing you to flinch and squint your eyes. A commanding voice followed, screaming, "FREEZE!"

Naturally, lifting your arm with the weapon caused instant suspicion, and regret on your side.

Oh shit-

"HE HAS A WEAPON! AIM, FIRE!"
Multiple bullets blasted, all hitting you through the chest. You gasped, dropping your weapon and grabbing your chest. More bullets cut through your body, forcing you to back up. You felt burning pain, then nothing as your boot tripped over the empty space you neared. You cried out as you tripped down into your grave.

The darkness surrounded you just as you fell down into the pit, and you disappeared into crumbling darkness.

Cops soon surrounded the grave and looked down into it. One of them-a male-lifted his radio clipped to his shoulder and spoke into it, "Target down. Seems as though we caught him in the act of burying his next victim, over," he said then looked to his partners that aimed their flashlights and commented softly at the sight of the body.

"Get over here," he ordered them over with the wave of his hand. "Get some body bags. Target is dead and I think he has another victim." He repeated, placing his hands on his hips. "I just wish we weren't too late. Poor girl."

***

What felt like hours later, you stirred from your slumber. There was metal above your head, and it jiggled-making some clanking noises before you bounced forward. Your body moved along with a tray that you laid on until your feet felt the cold air, then your face met its brightness. Quickly, your arms raced to shield yourself from the blinding white light. You groaned at the feeling at the aching in your head.

Two figures stepped next to you, one on each side-you heard their boots clicking on the floor before you saw them. One grabbed your wrist and moved one of your arms away from your face. A man with silver hair and amber eyes leaned down to examine you-your boss.

"Xemnas," you breathed out, but the air thickened. Just barely, his lips smirked.

"Don't forget me too, toots," said the man to your left. Then the familiar man with an eyepatch leaned over you, holding your other wrist; together, the two men restrained your arms.

"Xigbar..."

You tried to process everything, at least until Xigbar spoke again, "So, toots, care to explain why we found you in a morgue, of all things?"

"I'm in what?"

Xigbar scoffed, stepping out of the way to motion towards the white colored room. If not for some things that wouldn't be there, you probably would've mistaken it for a hospital.

"They bury the dead here," Xemnas answered.

"I know that. How did you even find me?"

"You were late, and connection cut out. But luckily not all the way, cause we felt a faint connection of you here." Xigbar smirked and tapped the center of your chest. You slapped his hand away and squeezed your eyes shut as another wave of pain stabbed your body. "Care to explain why you are here now?"

You groaned, feeling queasy as you sat up with the help of the two, and held the thin white cloth around your naked, and assumed dead, body. "I don't know. I just woke up and everything is foggy. I can explain later, but I need some rest. Can we head back to the castle?"

The two men looked to each other, Xigbar shrugging before he looked to you and grinned. "Need a spare coat? Or do you want to continue with the nice show you got for us?"

"Oh, eat shit Xigbar."

***

One thing didn't cross your mind:

Were you a Somebody, or a Nobody now? Who did they pull out of the grave? Whatever it was... It was a mistake heading back to the castle now.