He can feel it, not as his own but almost as an extension of himself, a sort of sixth sense attached to all his darkness. Vanitas feeds off that negative emotion, it was why he'd felt so powerful when those grave were around— all that despair in one place, circling him like water in a drainpipe. Vanitas' pupils dilate, and he doesn't straighten, but his center of gravity shifts in preparation.

"You can't protect anyone," He launches back, venomous and aiming for the lowest, most vulnerable point he can.

Riku steps around the bar and opens himself up. There aren't any tables or chairs between them. Vanitas could lunge forward without anything getting in his way— but that won't give him the satisfaction he's craving. Feeling, watching, others cave to their darkness— that's so much more potent than striking first. Vanitas spreads his arms, taunting.

"Everyone said you're immune to darkness, but I don't think you are, Riku."