Atop the roof of a building that flanked the Accessory Shop, one could see a absent minded boy, his stare fixed onto the twilight of the night sky. The boy's name was Nero, a survivor of the infamous Hallow Bastion, and one of the newest residence of Traverse Town. As his hand lifted to course through his spiked blonde hair, his eyes would divert back down the sketch pad that resided in his lap. Upon the once blank page now sat drawings and doodles of many a thing. Some seemed to be portraits of others, where as some seemed to be depictions of a rather well known breed of monsters- the Heartless. As his eyes scanned over his own creations, he tore the page form his pad with a heavy sigh as he drew a pencil once more from his pocket.

As the tip of the utensil hit the paper, a sudden inspiration washed over the boy as he rapidly began scribbling upon the page. At first, what seemed to be a random series of straight lines slowly formed into the shape of a key... Though this was not any normal key. In fact, this was the weapon that appeared the night his home had been taken by Heartless. Pausing a moment, his mind flickered back to the moment he held the weapon in his hand, facing off against one the devilish shadows as it appeared as a glimmer of light in his hand. It was that memory that caused the boy to erase a portion of what he had drawn, extending the length of the blade slightly as he began to memorize the artifact more clearly.

It was only when he heard the faint sounds of conversation shatter the silence, that Nero turned his attention from his latest creation and towards the duo a distance away. As his eyes settled upon them, he couldn't help but notice a distinctly familiar item they both shared.

"No... It can't be," Nero thought, his eyes glancing back and forth between his sketch and the two carrying the physical form of it, "There's more of them?" Nero couldn't help but grin. After all this time, he thought he was something special, something that would be the savior of his former friends and his past home. However, it seemed that fate had other plans. Tucking his pad beneath his arm, he'd begin scurrying about the roof tops as he positioned himself for a better angle. Though he did his best to remain from sight, he attempted to get close enough to hear whatever conversation arose.