The morning after the goddess's awakening felt quieter than it should have. The sea no longer raged, the skies cleared, and the scent of salt had softened into something almost sweet. But beneath that calm was a hum — faint, rhythmic, wrong.
They stood near the edge of the newly-formed cove, where shards of green stone glittered in the shallows. The islands were alive again, but their heartbeat was uneven.
Skuld turned toward the inland village. "The people will need help rebuilding due to heartless attacks. Maybe there are clues there—something to lead us to the missing piece of Te Fiti."
"Then go," Kurai said flatly. "You're better at smiling and fixing huts than I am."
Skuld frowned but didn't argue. She knew that tone — the one Kurai used when she'd already decided to work alone.
"Just don't start another volcanic eruption," Skuld said, half-joking.
Kurai gave no response except a faint smirk and turned away, and vanished into a dark corridor.
The two groups parted paths: Skuld, Maui, and Moana toward the stilt village, Kurai toward the blackened cliffs that overlooked the sea.
The wind grew quieter when she appeared on higher ground. From there, Kurai could see the horizon in full — the ocean still fractured with thin streaks of darkness that refused to fade. Her instincts sharpened. Someone had been watching them since yesterday; she could feel it. A pressure on the back of her neck, the kind that made every muscle itch to draw her weapon.
But she said nothing to Skuld.
If she mentioned it, Skuld would insist on tagging along — asking questions, trying to "help." And Kurai was tired of her optimism, tired of her endless light. She needed silence. She needed space.
Her shadow stretched across the water like ink. It flickered, and for a heartbeat, another shadow flickered back — something foreign, thin, and rippling like sound waves. Kurai narrowed her eyes.
"Found you," she whispered.
The ocean below was not still.
Beneath the waves, the ruins of what once might have been Te Fiti's temple lay half-buried in coral and sand. Statues of forgotten gods leaned sideways, their faces eroded into formless shapes. Threads of bioluminescent algae swirled in slow spirals, pulsing to a rhythm that wasn't natural. It seemed their battles had changed the topography on the ocean floor.
And there, floating lazily between two collapsed pillars, was Demyx.
"Alright, mission log…" he muttered to himself, voice muffled by the water bubble surrounding him. "Subject T-F fragment remains unaccounted for. Energy field: stable but moody. Local fauna: too friendly. Personal mood: damp."
He strummed his sitar once. The note rippled outward, forming concentric rings that shimmered blue through the water. The ripples touched the ancient carvings — and the carvings sang back.
Images flickered within the current: a goddess creating islands, shaping oceans, smiling upon mortals… and then breaking apart in sorrow.
"Oh, that's so above my pay grade," Demyx muttered. "Just needed to record, not figure out what this all means."
He plucked another chord, softer this time — a technique he called Aqua Resonance. Each vibration stored emotional data as sound, letting him "listen" to the memories left in the water.
"Whoa," he breathed as a melody took form — beautiful and sad. "Guess this is what a goddess sounds like crying. Neat. Depressing, but neat."
He floated backward, scribbling mental notes. "Note for Xiggy: fragment still emotionally active. Recommend we don't—"
"—play tourist in another world's graveyard?"
The voice cut through the water like a blade.
Demyx froze. Slowly, he turned.
Kurai stood at the edge of a ruined archway, her shadow forming even underwater, as if light itself refused to touch her. Her cloak of shadow flowed like liquid night, her eyes gleaming silver in the dark.
"Oh, great," Demyx groaned. "You again. Or—uh—hi! Didn't see you there! Fancy running into someone else down here! Just me, the coral, and my… bubbles! I'm just visiting, so I'll be going now."
Kurai tilted her head. "If you're going to lie," she said, voice smooth as poisoned honey, "do it somewhere that isn't literally underwater."
She flicked her wrist; the currents trembled. "Sound doesn't travel well in water when it's laced with darkness."
"Wow. That's a neat fun fact. You must be so popular at parties," Demyx said with a grin.
Her grin was sharper. "And you must be an idiot."
"Ouch! Rude! I'll have you know I'm an accomplished recon—"
"—coward?" Kurai interrupted.
He gasped theatrically. "You wound me! Look, I'm just here collecting samples, alright? You know, sea foam, emotional residue, maybe a haunted seashell or two."
Kurai took a slow step closer, shadows curling off her boots like ink in the water. "Try again."
He gulped. "Fine, fine! I'm with the Organization, okay? Recon division! Low-level! Harmless! I don't even like fighting!"
"Then you'll love what comes next."
Demyx blinked. "Wait, what—"
The water behind him exploded into movement. A shadow surged outward — her doing. Kurai was already gone from his sight, vanishing with Umbral Step.
He yelped, spinning and raising his sitar just in time to block the first slash. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the sea, scattering fish and dust alike.
"Hey! No fair! We're underwater!"
"Then you'll just have to drown," Kurai replied coldly.
She swung her keyblade — Shadow Sovereign — in a wide arc. The blade trailed darkness that burst into fiery embers even beneath the sea.
Demyx retaliated, strumming rapid notes. Water around him coalesced into shimmering figures — a full Water Clone Chorus forming a defensive wall.
Each clone moved in rhythm, strumming their spectral sitars in sync. Waves of sonic distortion pulsed toward Kurai like rolling spheres of pressure.
Kurai's expression didn't change. She spun once, creating a cyclone of shadow around her — Nightfall Vortex — the dark energy devouring the oncoming waves. The clash of water and darkness churned the ocean into chaos.
Demyx darted backward, shouting, "Man, you're like Xiggy but meaner!"
Kurai smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment."
She raised her free hand and unleashed Shadow Flare Storm — a dozen dark fireballs erupting in a spiral around her before converging on Demyx's position.
He barely dodged, his clones taking the brunt of the explosion. The sea lit up in flashes of violet light and bubbles.
When the smoke cleared, Demyx was panting, clutching his sitar. "Okay, okay! Message received! You're scary, I'm leaving!"
He strummed a rapid ascending chord. The sound wrapped around him, forming a spinning barrier of water — a makeshift escape technique.
Kurai extended her hand, the darkness flaring at her fingertips. "You can leave," she said softly, "after telling me why you're really here."
"I did! Recon! Simple recon! Not even the fun kind!"
"Who sent you?"
"Didn't I already say the Organization! Oh, well, you probably don't know what that is, right?" he shot back — but his grin was nervous, his tone strained.
The barrier burst outward, throwing her back a few meters. He didn't waste a second — kicking off the sea floor and vanishing in a trail of bubbles.
Kurai steadied herself, watching him flee toward the surface. "Coward," she muttered, lowering her weapon.
She turned to leave, but something glinted near where he'd been floating — a shard of crystal half-buried in the sand. It pulsed faintly, emitting a low hum like the echo of a heartbeat.
Kurai knelt and picked it up. The hum grew louder.
Within the crystal, ripples of light formed — not words, but music. A fragment of melody, hauntingly familiar.
Kurai frowned. "Residual frequency…" she murmured. "Did he encode his report as music?"
The hum deepened until the water itself vibrated around her, whispering a single phrase —in sound.
Her eyes narrowed, and she clenched her fist around the crystal until it cracked. The hum stopped instantly.
"Useless," she whispered, standing. "Next time, I'll have to torture Demyx. Organization XIII must be after Te Fiti's Nobody. The real question is, should I chase him off?"
She ascended toward the surface, her trailing shadows curled like smoke — leaving the ruins silent once more.