tsukinofaerii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tsukinofaerii) wrote2007-10-30 11:56 pm
tsukinofaerii) wrote2007-10-30 11:56 pm
Entry tags:
(KH) The Marble Keyblade 2/2
Too big to fit in a single post. Whoops! Here's the final piece.
The Marble Keyblade 2/2
By![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tsukinofaerii
Beta:lyakahime
Rating: SNAP
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Warnings: Violent, Profane, Disturbing, Death, Male/Male
Spoilers: No spoilers
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: Sora/Riku; Roxas/Axel(Roxas)
Summary: History and hearts can go astray, and when they do terrible things can happen. Legends and ghost stories keep Paopu Island sacrosanct, but a young boy named Riku finds himself drawn to it, and into something may not ever let him go. Complete Short Story
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Kingdom Hearts was created and is owned by Tetsuya Nomura and Disney. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
"Mom's going to be so pissed at you," were the first words Riku heard as he stumbled through the front door. His sister Kairi smirked up from her video game with all the smugness her thirteen years had to offer.
"Shut up." Riku dropped his bag in the entry and began to struggle out of his mud-soaked clothing. Every bit of him that wasn't soaking wet was caked in the stuff. Graveyard dirt, he thought with a shudder as he tossed his jacket, sweater and jeans into the laundry room. The incident was already fading away in his memory, almost until he could convince himself that his own imagination had caused it. His skin felt like cold clay under his fingertips, but his outer clothes were so wet they would only chill him even more. Clad only in a plain black shirt and his boxers he headed for the kitchen.
"So where were you then?" she asked snidely, punching the controls of her game rapidly. Her silvery hair had been fashioned into blue-tipped spikes, supposedly "the latest thing" among girls. He'd never noticed female fashion much, and so had been forced to take her word on it. "Or did your fag friends get you another detention?"
"Don't call them that," he responded automatically, reaching into the kitchen cabinet for a bowl. It almost slipped from his grasp as a spasm shook him, his body finally reacting to the warm air of the house. Carefully, Riku lowered the bowl to the counter and gripped the edge, waiting for the shivering to subside. He tried to make it look like he was lounging voluntarily, in case his sister happened to peek at him over the counter. "I just waited out the storm at school. Mom'll understand, and if she doesn't, then Dad will."
Kairi didn't even look up from her game. "Then where'd you get that hickey?'
"Hickey?" Riku's hand automatically flew to his neck. "I don't have a hickey!"
"Yeah, right. Try another one, lover boy." The most infuriating thing was the way she snickered when she said it, packing whole universes of irony into two words. "Maybe you burned yourself on the curling iron; your hair's girlie enough for it."
"Light! Will you shut up already?" Annoyance out-weighed hunger. He put the bowl away and stalked to the bathroom, ignoring his sister's catcalls as they echoed from the living room.
As soon as the door was shut and locked, Riku turned to the mirror to inspect his neck. His hair was tinted dirty gray and brown by a layer of dirt, and clung stubbornly to his fingers as he moved it behind his shoulders. Even with his hair out of the way, he still had to rub off a layer of grime. How'd she see anything under this? he thought disgustedly, rinsing out the washcloth for the third time.
Just under his hairline, where only a sister's instinct for sibling embarrassment could have detected it, was a raised red mark in the rough shape of a kiss. He touched it with light fingers, then more firmly as no sensation registered. It was entirely numb and still bitterly cold to the touch.
Memory of the voice in his ear raised more goosebumps, of the type distinctly unrelated to temperature. He could almost feel the hand against his cheek.
I missed you...
Riku whacked himself upside the head. "Stop thinking about it," he growled aloud, letting his voice fill the bathroom to drown the memory. Resolutely, he turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. The white noise of falling water filled the highly noise-conductive room, chasing away the lingering whispers of what he told himself was his own imagination. Steam filled the white tiled room quickly, and had already fogged over the mirror by the time he stepped under the water.
At first it was almost too hot, but after forcing himself to stay under the spray he acclimated. Heat soaked into him, taking away the chill that lingered in his muscles and bones. Mud dripped out of his hair and down the drain, swirling like blood in a bad horror film. He attacked that first, pouring on a whole palmfull of shampoo and scrubbing the grime from his scalp with his fingertips. Lather dripped down his forehead, forcing him to close his eyes as he removed every speck of grit from his hair.
Hands closed over his, gently rubbing the soap from his eyes. Let me.
Alarm caused Riku's entire body to stiffen as he shoved backwards, head cracking loudly against the tiled wall, eyes opening wide at the pain. Blue eyes, incredibly familiar eyes, stared at him from under the spray of water. He could barely see the figure as more than an outline, though he hadn't steamed the room up that badly. His eyes watered, both from the new pain in his head and from the effort of trying to see the person.
"Who..?" He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until the figure stepped forward, almost touching him. The shower's not that big, Riku reasoned, closed to hysteria even in his own head. It—He— I should be able to see him. He closed his eyes as they threatened to cross when the person—boy—touched his cheek. The wall was clearly visible behind him, making him look less substantial than morning mist. Terror bled into a strange excitement that dried his mouth and made him aware of every inch of his exposed skin. "What are you? Are you a ghost? Who are you?"
Sadness so tangible it felt like molasses filling his chest almost buckled Riku's knees. You've forgotten me, Riku? But... Hands flitted down his shoulders, as real as flesh could feel but burning hot everywhere it touched. They lingered over his heart, pushing against his chest as though the boy would reach in and snatch it. Hades said you'd forget, that you weren't dead, but I didn't believe him, and now you're here... you're here... The touches became frantic, pinning him in place as the water around him began to chill quickly. Ice formed around the edges of the tub. You wouldn't forget, you swore you'd never forget! You swore!
In a flash of cold air, the boy vanished. Heat roared back into the water, burning his skin where it had been chilled by the ghost's touch. Small ice crystals melted away, leaving no evidence of the visitation at all.
Drinks rattled as Riku smacked his open palm down on the table. Nearby students looked up from their meals, then away again when they saw which group was making the noise. "I'm not crazy!" Riku insisted, voice straining to hold to a whisper. "It was a ghost!"
Axel patted his shoulder, subtly forcing him to remain seated. "Easy bud. Did we say you're crazy?"
"Yes." He leveled a glare at his friends. "You did."
"We did?" The redhead sounded surprised as he cocked his head, recalling the start of the conversation. "Huh. Guess we did."
Roxas swatted his boyfriend on the butt, then grabbed the back of his pants and forced him to sit. "Shut up, Axel. You're not helping." He rolled his eyes at Riku apologetically. "You've gotta admit he's got a point. It does sound kind of far-fetched. Why would a ghost haunt you?"
Not looking up, Riku fiddled with his fries, drawing patterns in the ketchup. When he caught himself sketching the outline of a face and wishing ketchup came in blue for the eyes, he shoved the container aside and buried his head in his arms. The couple shifted positions to sit beside him, one on either side. Axel stretched a brotherly arm over his shoulder, while Roxas forced his head up by the chin. People gave their table a wide berth, in case weird was catching.
"Are you sure you should have come today?" the blonde asked bluntly, peeing open one of Riku's eyelids to investigate the bloodshot state of his eyes. "You look like shit. Did you even sleep last night?"
Riku found himself unable to answer, staring at the perfectly sky-colored eyes of someone he'd known so long that he'd stopped actually looking at him. "Blue." The word slipped out before his tired mind could stop it.
"Yes, Riku. Blue." A lanky arm squeezed his shoulders patronizingly as Axel reached for the fry container. "Roxas has blue eyes. And look - red." He held it up. "Ketchup is—OOF!" Riku's elbow caught the taller boy precisely in the solar plexus, leaving Axel hunched over the table and wheezing for air.
"Thanks. Saved me the trouble." Roxas ignored Axel's pained noises and finished his inspection of Riku. "So? Answer up; did you sleep last night? And what about blue? Eat this." The remains of Axel's lunch was shoved into Riku's hands and half-guided to his mouth before Riku remembered his tattered dignity and yanked away. Axel tried to protest, but was ignored.
"I slept a little," Riku mumbled around a bite of burger, staring at the food. When he concentrated, he could feel ghostly hands on him. "And... you've got eyes like he does. Exactly like he does." A shiver raced down his spine, though Riku wasn't sure if it was fear or another, equally primal emotion that caused it. In case Roxas noticed, he added, "It's freaky."
Those blue eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, but Roxas let it go. "Maybe he was a relative. Grandma immigrated from Radiant Gardens. They get some weird eye colors there."
Riku shook his head. "I think he might have been a Keybearer."
"Okay, that's it!" Axel sat up almost straight, his voice still breathy. The tattoos he'd drawn under his eyes that day had smeared slightly, turning two tear drops into diamonds. "You're thinking too much about that stupid statue. Get it off your mind and this 'ghost' will go away."
"At least get some sleep." Roxas added as kindly as Riku had ever heard him, which wasn't very. "Why'd you stay up, anyway?"
How to explain the feeling of something watching? That every time he started to drift off, he could feel the ghost waiting for it? "No reason."
"Yeah." Again, neither boy believed him, but Axel kept Roxas silent by casually slipping his hand under the table and doing something that turned the tips of his ears red. "It's your skin, I guess. You know how to take care of yourself."
"Thanks," Riku answered with a small smile. Roxas was obviously trying to find enough willpower to pull away, which widened Riku's smile considerably.
"And if you don't, we'll get Nurse Brutus to wrestle you into a bed for nappy time."
"... thanks," Riku repeated himself sourly.
White teeth gleamed even in Axe's pale face. "No charge."
Roxas finally freed himself from his boyfriend's ministrations, shifting his chair sideways awkwardly. "Yeah, well, what he said," he coughed, cheeks pink. "If you really think it's a Keyblade thing, you should try and find that old lady. She seemed to know a lot."
"We've never seen her before." A straw waved at both pale-haired boys as Axel made his point. "What are the odds? He should just stick to the ghost. Maybe we can hang out there for Victory Day."
"And miss the parade?" Riku asked. His favorite part of the universe-wide holiday and harvest festival was the parade. "And the food? Moogle games?"
"Good point." Roxas poked Axel in the side for daring to suggest they miss free food. "We'll figure it out eventually. Got to keep our priorities straight."
As it turned out, the odds were pretty good. Riku didn't bother searching the library after class, though he did spend most of their Chemistry Lab explaining the complete waste of paper the school's history books were. Axel, who had been banned from handling any potential explosives at the start of the term, listened intently from the corner that had been dubbed "Axel's Exile" and fully endorsed stealing the books for kindling.
The result of a relatively trouble-free day and no extra-curricular activities meant that the three of them had just gotten to the Park when the old lady appeared out of what seemed like thin air. Riku tripped over himself and barely prevented a fall over his own feet in an effort to keep from running her over.
"You're looking for me," she announced cryptically, adjusting her black headscarf so it shadowed her eyes from the sun. The wind twisted the fringe of it into hopeless snarls, some so bad they looked like mats. She stared down her nose at them imperiously, chin lifted with pride. Even Axel, who towered over her delicate frame, cowered a little.
"Um, not really us," Roxas offered the sacrificial Riku forward with a hard shove that almost sent him stumbling into her again. "He was. We're just tagging along."
"Are you?" White hair fanned forward from under her scarf as the elderly woman leaned forward to inspect their faces closely. "Do I know you three?" she asked intently. "You look familiar.... Paperboys?" All three boys shook their heads violently, Axel so fast that his short crown of red hair flared like a spiky umbrella. A sigh lifted the woman's thin chest. "I thought not. Age, boys. It makes even the most loved of faces fade away..." Giving herself a small shake, she straightened up. "Why were you looking for me, then?"
"How did you know I was looking?" Riku countered, feeling brave as he remembered having already survived one conversation with her. Something about the tired sadness in her voice made him want to apologize, though no amount of thought brought forth something to be sorry for. "We hadn't even started yet!"
"I have ways."
"Hey, buddy?" Axel had already backed himself several feet away. A protesting Roxas was in a headlock under his arm, being dragged along. "You know, I forgot to tell you, we've got something to do today. Very important. Can't wait. Sorry." With every sentence he fell further and further back. "There's a meeting; top secret gay thing—even a handshake. Let us know how it goes okay see you kiss-kiss-bye!" Excuse made, Axel bodily picked up the thrashing Roxas and ran as fast and far as his long legs could carry him.
Riku stared after them, not sure whether to feel betrayed or to look forward to the blackmail opportunities Axel had just dropped in his lap.
"I do believe your friends are afraid of me." Dark amusement bubbled in her eyes. "I don't think anyone's ever been afraid of me before."
Honesty was called for. "You kinda are scary, ma'am."
She sighed again, and this time it carried a lifetime of regret. "I wasn't always. Walk with me." Without pausing to see if he would, she turned and began to stroll down a side street. Riku stayed beside her, wondering which question to ask first. It didn't seem like she had any particular destination, which suited him. He couldn't think of a place to start that didn't sound insane.
After several silent minutes, she spoke without turning her head. "It just occurred to me that I never introduced myself. My name is Kairi—Princess Kairi."
Something in Riku's head went click. "Kairi? That Kairi?" He jogged a few steps ahead and turned around, staring at her unabashedly. Nothing about the thin, tired old woman in front of him was anything like he thought a Keyblade Master would be. "But— but you're a legend! A Princess!"
"I was a legend," she admitted, trailing her hand along the faces of the shops they were passing. "But even legends must eat, and heroes have to pay their rent. And we all grow old. If we're lucky." She smiled at him, wrinkles folding her tissue paper skin. "But it's not me you wanted to ask about. You want to know about Sora."
"The one on the island?"
"Yes." Her head tipped back, strange lavender eyes looking up at the perfect sky. He almost expected her to cry. "Most people don't know the story. It would be demoralizing, the King said. People must have heroes, and heroes must be immortal."
"Why are you telling me this?" A crowd of people pushed passed him, laughing loudly at some joke. They barely touched her, detouring so that it seemed like a bubble of space stood around her on all sides. Kairi kept walking on, her skirt swirling in the breeze made by so many bodies. Then the flood of people passed and they were alone on the street again.
"Because you want to know," she answered in the quiet. "Because I'm dying, Riku may as well be dead, and someone should know the truth, before it dies with us.
"The War killed him. Riku had gone to the darkness to close the Doors there. Only he could go safely—we didn't know why, not then..." Her voice lowered, as if imparting a horrible secret. "We didn't know it had taken a piece of him, and left some of itself. If we had..." Thin shoulders drooped even more. "I was with the King, teaching the worlds to work together against the Dark Keybearers. Sora had stayed home, to guard the Door here." Riku listened raptly as she told the story in her low, sad voice. Her head was lowered, so he couldn't see her face, but he could hear the pain in every word. "When the final attack came, none of us were ready. Just the four of us, against hundreds... I was with the King and Riku when Sora fell." The sky began to darken as a chill wind bit through their clothing. Drops of moisture darkened the pavement under her feet, though the sky was cloudless. Riku pretended not to notice.
"I thought Riku had been killed, at first," she continued thickly. "He just screamed, once, and then... dropped. No movement, no sound. And the Heartless ignored him. When the battle was over, the King tried to call him back, but... he was gone. Just a shell. And then we found Sora. What was left of Sora." Kairi looked up, eyes clouded but no longer crying. "His heart followed Sora. I know it did."
The most burning questions spilled out, tumbling over each other like a waterfall of words. "The man who was with you—that's the real Riku? Why—How'd the Keyblade get there? Is it haunted?"
"Yes, that's Riku," she cut him off. "What's left of him. The Keyblade..." Thin lips pursed thoughtfully. "We buried Sora where he would have wanted, and the Keyblade appeared the next day. I don't know where it came from."
"Is it haunted?" Riku pressed, shivering as something hot brushed against his cheek and then vanished. He turned around to walk, so she couldn't see his face. "Does Sora haunt it?"
Kairi didn't seem to mind not seeing his face as they walked side-by-side. They were making a giant circle through the town, and up ahead he could see the fence surrounding the Park. "If he does, I wouldn't be the one Sora would want." Her scarf slipped as she shook her head. "I'm not the one he shared a paopu with. Why do you ask?" The question flew like a razor. "Have you seen him?"
"Erm.." Riku hesitated, feeling a blush creep up his neck, which stood in stark contrast to the chill down his spine. They paused by the locked gate of the Memorial Park, both looking across the bridge to the little marker under the tree. "Maybe."
"Maybe, hm?" She eyed him wryly, a not-smile almost curling her lips.
"Thank you for the story," Riku mumbled uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.
"Thank you for listening." Delicate hands released the gate as she stepped back and away. Her eyes stared hard at him, as though he was a butterfly, stretched out and pinned for her inspection. "You remind me of someone. I wish I could remember who. Be careful."
He nodded, eyes lowered, unable to meet her searching stare. "I will."
Riku sank down into bed that night with his mind whirling with everything he had learned. The darkness behind his eyes enfolded him, comforted him. He'd always liked sleeping, and his bed was someplace nothing could get him. As a child, he'd never been afraid of the monsters in the dark—he'd been afraid of the ones in the light. His bedroom was still as sleep dragged him under and tucked away the waking world.
Something heavy settled on the edge of the bed, radiating heat. The chill of the nighttime air plummeted into freezing. You're here. Where are you?
It's him, came the half-frightened thought. Riku fought to open his eyes, only to find they were already open. Something was folded over them, feeling like a silk scarf, but far more opaque.
It's me, the ghost agreed cheerfully, not at all put out that he could read Riku's thoughts. Hot fingers ghosted over Riku's shoulder, following the line of his collarbone up to his neck. Riku held his breath as a hand cupped his jaw lovingly. Where are you? I can feel your heart, but I can't see you. Let me see you.
"I—" Riku began, hesitating as a thumb pressed against his lower lip teasingly, almost burning him. "I can't see you either."
Let me fix that. The weight shifted, leaning forward. Lips descended on his, prying his mouth open with a demanding tongue and scorching the inside of his mouth with every touch. Automatically, Riku arched up into the touch, wrapping his arms around a waist he couldn't see. He'd never dated at all, but the motions fell into place, like a trigger he'd never known he had until someone tripped it.
How can a ghost be so warm? Teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and Riku obligingly opened his mouth wider. Heat pooled in his stomach, spreading to become an ache in his groin. It was the only thing warm about him, in sharp contrast to the boy above him. His cheeks were going numb by the time the kiss ended, heart thudding as it fought to push blood around his body. The teenager opened his eyes, surprised to see bright blue ones above him. They were solid, as real as the rest of the room. Chestnut spikes topped a heart-shaped face that seemed made to smile and laugh. For a ghost, he looked like the very essence of life. Confirmation, in Riku's mind, that he was dreaming.
A piece of fabric dangled from the ghost's hand—a black silk blindfold, just as Riku thought. I can't see you when you wear this, he chided gently, dropping it to the floor, where it dissipated into the shadows.
Confused, Riku shook his head. "I'm sorry... Sora."
The moment the name left his lips, the ghost's face lit up with a smile so wide Riku had to answer it with one of his own. His face was peppered with burning kisses and even hotter teardrops that faded into flashes of light like stars gone nova.
You remember, Sora kept repeating, between kisses, eyes brighter than anyone sane ever had. I knew you would. I knew you'd remember. Hades was wrong! You're here, and you remember!
Sora's body pinned Riku to the bed, almost melting him to the mattress. Riku found it hard to focus even on that. He was so cold it was everything he could do to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'm not who you think I am," he whispered, breath coming fast. It formed a cloud in the air, condensed by the cold.
Of course you are. Sora kept him pinned, but lifted up to stare at him adoringly. There was nothing in his face that registered even the chance that Riku was right. You're Riku, and you still remember! Even after— The soundless voice stumbled, Sora's face twisting as though fighting off an unpleasant memory. It was gone in a moment, but darkness lingered in his smile. And we'll be together soon, I promise. He leaned down for a last, lingering kiss. My Riku. Mine, mine, mine.
"Not your Riku," he managed against Sora's lips, cold and exhaustion turning Riku's thoughts to lead. He's insane. The thought oozed out so slowly that even the mind-reading ghost missed it. "Not dead."
You are, Sora insisted, breaking the kiss by a breath. You just don't know it. But I'll fix everything. You know I always fix what I've broken. He leaned down to press their lips together again. The last thing Riku remembered before exhaustion and cold thrust him into unconsciousness was the glitter of a tear as it froze on his eyelashes.
Sandy soil gave way under Riku's fingers as he fought to wake up the next morning, hands clawing the ground as he oriented himself. The sun was high and warm overhead, shining with a cheer that echoed the rest of the world. His eyes were crusted with grime, and small rocks poked his knees through his ragged pajama bottoms as he pushed himself to a kneeling position, only to find himself staring uncomprehendingly at the Keyblade. The engraving glinted at him, mica in the stone reflecting the sunlight cruelly.
Two Hearts
Crying out, he scrambled backward off the grave, heart hammering in his chest. His back smacked into someone's knees. A dark skirt wrapped around him, blown by the wind.
"You don't look like someone who meant to sleep here." Kairi's gnarled hand came down on his shoulder.
Shaking with relief, Riku craned his head back, leaning into her presence. The old man stood behind her, motionless as a statue, with an arm of roses deeper in color than blood. The story rushed out of him, relief at a familiar and above-all living faces dragging it out. "I didn't— Sora! He was in my room and— He thinks I'm Riku! The other Riku! And that I'm dead! I'm not dead!" He was hyperventilating, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The first few visitations had been almost a game—frightening, but harmless. This time the game had turned deadly serious, and knowing what Sora wanted from him curled his stomach into an iron ball of fear. "I don't want to die!"
A bouquet of yellow and white roses dropped to the ground and she knelt beside him, rubbing circles on his back. "Calm down, shhh. Deep breaths, you won't help anything by passing out." She pushed his head down between his knees. "Easy, child, easy. Shhh." Slowly, feeling like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill, Riku slowed his breathing until it was almost normal. Each breath seemed precious, now that he knew something wanted to stop them forever.
Once he seemed calm, Kairi let him sit up normally. His back ached and his head swam, but the panic was gone. He could still feel it, waiting deep inside, but it no longer threatened to engulf him. "Now, slowly, tell me what happened."
Word by word, Riku stumbled out the story, starting with the voice on the island. Kairi's hand never left his back, and the small human touch gave him strength. He blushed when the kissing part came up, but her hand never left him. It felt like she was pushing him to finish a story she already knew, or feared she did.
"And then I woke up here," he finished lamely, looking down at his hands. They were grubby with dirt and sand. His nails were cracked and broken, bleeding in some places and simply raw in others. The finger knuckles ached as though he'd developed arthritis. Or like I'd been digging all night, he realized, seeing the long furrows missing from the top layer of the grave. Riku's stomach roiled, and he looked away before he could throw up.
Kairi's head shook slowly, blue-veined hands still on his shoulder and back comfortingly. "I don't think he means to hurt you, but... You must hide from him tonight. Somehow."
"How do you hide from a ghost?" A bird chirped in the paopu behind him, its shrill cry breaking the sound of the waves. Death wasn't the only thing on the tiny island, something he found hard to remember with the Keyblade so close. "Am I supposed to hide forever?"
"Just tonight." Knees audibly popping, she stood, and pulled him up with her. The other Keybearer still hadn't moved so much as an inch, blind eyes staring out at the waves. "Tomorrow is Victory Day," she explained, gesturing at the roses they'd brought. "The anniversary of the final battle—and of Sora's death. If you can make it through tonight, I think you'll be safe.'
"And next year?" he demanded, trying to brush the dirt off his bare knees. They, too, were scraped and bloody.
"We'll deal with that when it comes," came the reasonable answer. "But now, we must hide you. Do you have a blindfold?"
"I can make one."
"Good. Wear it. He said he can't see you when it's on—maybe that will work." She brushed the mud-encrusted hair out of his eyes with a sad smile. Her fingers lingered over a forming bruise on his cheek. "I can see why he thinks you're his Riku. You look just like him."
"Huh?" Riku shook his head and took a step away, feeling his skin creep at her expression.
Kairi's hand fell from his face gracefully, reaching into her pocket to pull out a worn photograph. She presented it to him like it was a grand jewel, and maybe to her it was. "I remembered why you look familiar. Here."
The edges of the picture were yellowed and brittle under his fingers, and the sharp blue of the ocean behind them had faded to a muddy green. Even with the age of the picture, there was no mistaking the people in it. It was himself, or someone enough like him to be a twin, with his arm around a younger version of the very person who was haunting him. They were grinning at each other, obviously caught in an unexpected moment. Sora looked happy, content, in a way his spirit didn't, as though having the other boy there kept him complete.
"This was... them?" Riku asked hoarsely, holding it as carefully as possible.
"Two years before the War. Be careful, Riku." Her eyes bored through him. "Hearts that have been torn apart don't give up easily, and Sora's heart has been shredded so much, even I can't know what's left of it anymore."
When Riku arrived home just after noon, clean and damp after a dip in the waterfall, his parents both almost had heart attacks from relief. They'd skipped work when they'd woken up and found him gone, and both of his sisters had almost skipped school in the panic. Neither listened to his half-hearted explanation, which he was grateful for. They wouldn't have believed him anyway, and it made things less complicated if they thought he'd been out with a girl. After a sound scolding from his mother and a semi-approving smirk from his father, he was filled with soup and shuffled off to bed with orders to sleep it off. He was exhausted even from the short walk home, and gladly stumbled back to his bedroom.
It was flooded with sunlight from the open windows, looking almost summery in the liquid-gold glare. He left the windows open, wanting the light as long as it would last after the cold darkness of the night before. Before falling into bed, he pulled out an old black t-shirt and used the hem to make a thick blindfold. He tied it on and sank back into the pillows, willing himself to sleep while the sun was up and it was safe.
He woke to the bite of the wind against his cheeks as he staggered forward, still blindfolded but moving with a resolution he didn't actually feel. Icy pavement had already frozen his feet into numbness, to the point where he couldn't feel the rough texture of the cement, or the inevitable rocks that were the bane of every beachfront town. His legs moved of their own accord, dodging obstacles he couldn't see and taking turns he knew were there only by the light posts that brushed his hands.
He's found me, he's found me, he's found me. The mantra repeated endlessly, terror sending his thoughts around in circles. Desperate, Riku grabbed one of the poles and tried to keep from moving forward, but his fingers were as numb as his feet and barely gripped anything at all. It wasn't enough to keep his treacherous legs from continuing onward.
Riku's head swam with disorientation, but he didn't dare remove the blindfold. Certainty of his destination solidified as he heard the distinctive sound of an iron gate swinging open. With an effort that wrenched his shoulders, he grabbed the gate and wrapped his arms through it. His back muscles convulsed as his legs continued trying to move, but he'd anchored himself too firmly. Though it felt as though the muscles would detach themselves from the bone, Riku locked his elbows and hung on, cries silenced as the cold night snatched the air from his lungs.
The battle with his own body was fought in complete silence. Even the crickets were quiet, long ago killed by the coming winter. Iron bars burned into his bare arms like dry ice, not warming even when his arms grew slick with sweat and effort. The sweat froze against the ice, cracking and pulling at his skin. Still, he held on, even when the skin cracked and something warmer than sweat trickled down his arms.
After what felt like hours, Riku's knees finally collapsed from the stress, dragging him to the ground. His bare feet still scraped the cement, trying to find some sort of purchase to wrest him away. They were bleeding too, the blood coating and warming his soles enough to chase the numbness away a little, enough to feel every rock, every thorn, as they dug into his abused heels. Eventually even his feet gave up, too abused to continue the fight, no matter what called them.
Even after his body's capitulation, Riku held onto the gate, grimly determined to stay attached to it through the night if he had to.
Riku? A twig broke behind him.Where are you? Riku!
The desperation in the ghost's voice tugged Riku's heart, but he kept his grip tight and his thoughts still, just in case. Please! Sora's sob traveled down Riku's spine, bringing tears to his own eyes. Something deep in him wanted to cry out, to take the anguish from the other, but a stubborn will to live kept his lips sealed.
I know you're here—I can feel you! Please don't leave me again... Footsteps drew nearer, crunching the ever-present sand. I love you. I love you. Don't leave me. Don't... Remember the paopu? Something clattered to the ground, landing on his shin heavily. He thought it was the gate lock. You swore you wouldn't leave me alone. You swore... The ghost was so close, he could feel the heat leeching from his insides, being snatched away.
Is it because I— I hurt you? Sora was crying, wrenching sobs that Riku could almost feel tearing his own chest apart. I let you go, I love you, I didn't mean to hurt you... I didn't! I let you have that little girl—I let you have everybody! His speech became more broken, frantic as he tried to explain. Even me! I love you, you said you wouldn't leave me alone, you promised so and I let— I couldn't— I'm not Kairi and I tried so hard and you— you—
In spite of his resolve, Riku whimpered as Sora broke down, gravel scattering as he collapsed. A harsh sound ripped out of Riku's chilled throat. "Don't—don't cry," he gasped, arms loosening from around the gate. Even that small movement lanced agony down his back as torn muscles stretched. Before he could cry out, burning hot arms slipped around him, lifting him up and holding him close. Immediately the heat leeched out of him, numbing everything deeper than his skin.
Cotton shredded under Sora's fingers as he shakily ripped the blindfold off. He looked almost normal, alive, and wasn't transparent at all. There were even tear tracks dripping down his cheeks, leaving small blisters where they landed on Riku's skin. Even in the dark, his eyes were sapphire blue, glowing with a light that seemed just under his skin. Riku closed his eyes against the brilliance of it, but it left rainbow spots behind his lids.
You forgive me? For hurting your heartless? Sora asked desperately, fingers scorching trails along Riku's scalp. His steps echoed on the bridge, louder than they should have been, even in the ultra-quiet of the night. You really do? Are you scared? Don't be scared. I love you.
"I don't want to die." The admission came out as an almost inaudible croak, half-muffled by Sora's chest. Riku pushed against the ghost, but was so weak that he couldn't even lift his arms. His heart thudded slowly, fighting the chill and exhaustion. It was losing. "Don't take me."
Don't worry. I'll take care of you. We'll never be apart again. Sora stepped off the bridge with a light hop and kept walking, each step sinking lower and lower into the ground. The entire island was warm against Riku's skin, the air rich and moist with a false promise of summer. It did nothing to ease the leaden weight of his limbs, or to warm the blood he could feel congealing in his veins. Darkness began to fall behind his eyes as the first of the strangely liquid earth started to climb up his legs, the true darkness that had nothing to do with a mere absence of light.
Riku pried his eyes open, unable to even stop the tears from falling as he felt himself fading away. The stone Keyblade shimmered with light as another of dark marble grew up beside it, their hilts crossed so their message could be seen by all. Kisses that felt like coals fell on his face, one on either eyelid and on every tear and the final one on his lips. The message of the stone Keyblades stayed with him, even as the warm earth closed over his head.
Two Hearts, One Destiny
The Marble Keyblade 2/2
By
tsukinofaeriiBeta:
lyakahimeRating: SNAP
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Warnings: Violent, Profane, Disturbing, Death, Male/Male
Spoilers: No spoilers
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: Sora/Riku; Roxas/Axel(Roxas)
Summary: History and hearts can go astray, and when they do terrible things can happen. Legends and ghost stories keep Paopu Island sacrosanct, but a young boy named Riku finds himself drawn to it, and into something may not ever let him go. Complete Short Story
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Kingdom Hearts was created and is owned by Tetsuya Nomura and Disney. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
"Mom's going to be so pissed at you," were the first words Riku heard as he stumbled through the front door. His sister Kairi smirked up from her video game with all the smugness her thirteen years had to offer.
"Shut up." Riku dropped his bag in the entry and began to struggle out of his mud-soaked clothing. Every bit of him that wasn't soaking wet was caked in the stuff. Graveyard dirt, he thought with a shudder as he tossed his jacket, sweater and jeans into the laundry room. The incident was already fading away in his memory, almost until he could convince himself that his own imagination had caused it. His skin felt like cold clay under his fingertips, but his outer clothes were so wet they would only chill him even more. Clad only in a plain black shirt and his boxers he headed for the kitchen.
"So where were you then?" she asked snidely, punching the controls of her game rapidly. Her silvery hair had been fashioned into blue-tipped spikes, supposedly "the latest thing" among girls. He'd never noticed female fashion much, and so had been forced to take her word on it. "Or did your fag friends get you another detention?"
"Don't call them that," he responded automatically, reaching into the kitchen cabinet for a bowl. It almost slipped from his grasp as a spasm shook him, his body finally reacting to the warm air of the house. Carefully, Riku lowered the bowl to the counter and gripped the edge, waiting for the shivering to subside. He tried to make it look like he was lounging voluntarily, in case his sister happened to peek at him over the counter. "I just waited out the storm at school. Mom'll understand, and if she doesn't, then Dad will."
Kairi didn't even look up from her game. "Then where'd you get that hickey?'
"Hickey?" Riku's hand automatically flew to his neck. "I don't have a hickey!"
"Yeah, right. Try another one, lover boy." The most infuriating thing was the way she snickered when she said it, packing whole universes of irony into two words. "Maybe you burned yourself on the curling iron; your hair's girlie enough for it."
"Light! Will you shut up already?" Annoyance out-weighed hunger. He put the bowl away and stalked to the bathroom, ignoring his sister's catcalls as they echoed from the living room.
As soon as the door was shut and locked, Riku turned to the mirror to inspect his neck. His hair was tinted dirty gray and brown by a layer of dirt, and clung stubbornly to his fingers as he moved it behind his shoulders. Even with his hair out of the way, he still had to rub off a layer of grime. How'd she see anything under this? he thought disgustedly, rinsing out the washcloth for the third time.
Just under his hairline, where only a sister's instinct for sibling embarrassment could have detected it, was a raised red mark in the rough shape of a kiss. He touched it with light fingers, then more firmly as no sensation registered. It was entirely numb and still bitterly cold to the touch.
Memory of the voice in his ear raised more goosebumps, of the type distinctly unrelated to temperature. He could almost feel the hand against his cheek.
I missed you...
Riku whacked himself upside the head. "Stop thinking about it," he growled aloud, letting his voice fill the bathroom to drown the memory. Resolutely, he turned away from the mirror and turned on the shower as hot as he could stand it. The white noise of falling water filled the highly noise-conductive room, chasing away the lingering whispers of what he told himself was his own imagination. Steam filled the white tiled room quickly, and had already fogged over the mirror by the time he stepped under the water.
At first it was almost too hot, but after forcing himself to stay under the spray he acclimated. Heat soaked into him, taking away the chill that lingered in his muscles and bones. Mud dripped out of his hair and down the drain, swirling like blood in a bad horror film. He attacked that first, pouring on a whole palmfull of shampoo and scrubbing the grime from his scalp with his fingertips. Lather dripped down his forehead, forcing him to close his eyes as he removed every speck of grit from his hair.
Hands closed over his, gently rubbing the soap from his eyes. Let me.
Alarm caused Riku's entire body to stiffen as he shoved backwards, head cracking loudly against the tiled wall, eyes opening wide at the pain. Blue eyes, incredibly familiar eyes, stared at him from under the spray of water. He could barely see the figure as more than an outline, though he hadn't steamed the room up that badly. His eyes watered, both from the new pain in his head and from the effort of trying to see the person.
"Who..?" He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until the figure stepped forward, almost touching him. The shower's not that big, Riku reasoned, closed to hysteria even in his own head. It—He— I should be able to see him. He closed his eyes as they threatened to cross when the person—boy—touched his cheek. The wall was clearly visible behind him, making him look less substantial than morning mist. Terror bled into a strange excitement that dried his mouth and made him aware of every inch of his exposed skin. "What are you? Are you a ghost? Who are you?"
Sadness so tangible it felt like molasses filling his chest almost buckled Riku's knees. You've forgotten me, Riku? But... Hands flitted down his shoulders, as real as flesh could feel but burning hot everywhere it touched. They lingered over his heart, pushing against his chest as though the boy would reach in and snatch it. Hades said you'd forget, that you weren't dead, but I didn't believe him, and now you're here... you're here... The touches became frantic, pinning him in place as the water around him began to chill quickly. Ice formed around the edges of the tub. You wouldn't forget, you swore you'd never forget! You swore!
In a flash of cold air, the boy vanished. Heat roared back into the water, burning his skin where it had been chilled by the ghost's touch. Small ice crystals melted away, leaving no evidence of the visitation at all.
Drinks rattled as Riku smacked his open palm down on the table. Nearby students looked up from their meals, then away again when they saw which group was making the noise. "I'm not crazy!" Riku insisted, voice straining to hold to a whisper. "It was a ghost!"
Axel patted his shoulder, subtly forcing him to remain seated. "Easy bud. Did we say you're crazy?"
"Yes." He leveled a glare at his friends. "You did."
"We did?" The redhead sounded surprised as he cocked his head, recalling the start of the conversation. "Huh. Guess we did."
Roxas swatted his boyfriend on the butt, then grabbed the back of his pants and forced him to sit. "Shut up, Axel. You're not helping." He rolled his eyes at Riku apologetically. "You've gotta admit he's got a point. It does sound kind of far-fetched. Why would a ghost haunt you?"
Not looking up, Riku fiddled with his fries, drawing patterns in the ketchup. When he caught himself sketching the outline of a face and wishing ketchup came in blue for the eyes, he shoved the container aside and buried his head in his arms. The couple shifted positions to sit beside him, one on either side. Axel stretched a brotherly arm over his shoulder, while Roxas forced his head up by the chin. People gave their table a wide berth, in case weird was catching.
"Are you sure you should have come today?" the blonde asked bluntly, peeing open one of Riku's eyelids to investigate the bloodshot state of his eyes. "You look like shit. Did you even sleep last night?"
Riku found himself unable to answer, staring at the perfectly sky-colored eyes of someone he'd known so long that he'd stopped actually looking at him. "Blue." The word slipped out before his tired mind could stop it.
"Yes, Riku. Blue." A lanky arm squeezed his shoulders patronizingly as Axel reached for the fry container. "Roxas has blue eyes. And look - red." He held it up. "Ketchup is—OOF!" Riku's elbow caught the taller boy precisely in the solar plexus, leaving Axel hunched over the table and wheezing for air.
"Thanks. Saved me the trouble." Roxas ignored Axel's pained noises and finished his inspection of Riku. "So? Answer up; did you sleep last night? And what about blue? Eat this." The remains of Axel's lunch was shoved into Riku's hands and half-guided to his mouth before Riku remembered his tattered dignity and yanked away. Axel tried to protest, but was ignored.
"I slept a little," Riku mumbled around a bite of burger, staring at the food. When he concentrated, he could feel ghostly hands on him. "And... you've got eyes like he does. Exactly like he does." A shiver raced down his spine, though Riku wasn't sure if it was fear or another, equally primal emotion that caused it. In case Roxas noticed, he added, "It's freaky."
Those blue eyes narrowed at him in suspicion, but Roxas let it go. "Maybe he was a relative. Grandma immigrated from Radiant Gardens. They get some weird eye colors there."
Riku shook his head. "I think he might have been a Keybearer."
"Okay, that's it!" Axel sat up almost straight, his voice still breathy. The tattoos he'd drawn under his eyes that day had smeared slightly, turning two tear drops into diamonds. "You're thinking too much about that stupid statue. Get it off your mind and this 'ghost' will go away."
"At least get some sleep." Roxas added as kindly as Riku had ever heard him, which wasn't very. "Why'd you stay up, anyway?"
How to explain the feeling of something watching? That every time he started to drift off, he could feel the ghost waiting for it? "No reason."
"Yeah." Again, neither boy believed him, but Axel kept Roxas silent by casually slipping his hand under the table and doing something that turned the tips of his ears red. "It's your skin, I guess. You know how to take care of yourself."
"Thanks," Riku answered with a small smile. Roxas was obviously trying to find enough willpower to pull away, which widened Riku's smile considerably.
"And if you don't, we'll get Nurse Brutus to wrestle you into a bed for nappy time."
"... thanks," Riku repeated himself sourly.
White teeth gleamed even in Axe's pale face. "No charge."
Roxas finally freed himself from his boyfriend's ministrations, shifting his chair sideways awkwardly. "Yeah, well, what he said," he coughed, cheeks pink. "If you really think it's a Keyblade thing, you should try and find that old lady. She seemed to know a lot."
"We've never seen her before." A straw waved at both pale-haired boys as Axel made his point. "What are the odds? He should just stick to the ghost. Maybe we can hang out there for Victory Day."
"And miss the parade?" Riku asked. His favorite part of the universe-wide holiday and harvest festival was the parade. "And the food? Moogle games?"
"Good point." Roxas poked Axel in the side for daring to suggest they miss free food. "We'll figure it out eventually. Got to keep our priorities straight."
As it turned out, the odds were pretty good. Riku didn't bother searching the library after class, though he did spend most of their Chemistry Lab explaining the complete waste of paper the school's history books were. Axel, who had been banned from handling any potential explosives at the start of the term, listened intently from the corner that had been dubbed "Axel's Exile" and fully endorsed stealing the books for kindling.
The result of a relatively trouble-free day and no extra-curricular activities meant that the three of them had just gotten to the Park when the old lady appeared out of what seemed like thin air. Riku tripped over himself and barely prevented a fall over his own feet in an effort to keep from running her over.
"You're looking for me," she announced cryptically, adjusting her black headscarf so it shadowed her eyes from the sun. The wind twisted the fringe of it into hopeless snarls, some so bad they looked like mats. She stared down her nose at them imperiously, chin lifted with pride. Even Axel, who towered over her delicate frame, cowered a little.
"Um, not really us," Roxas offered the sacrificial Riku forward with a hard shove that almost sent him stumbling into her again. "He was. We're just tagging along."
"Are you?" White hair fanned forward from under her scarf as the elderly woman leaned forward to inspect their faces closely. "Do I know you three?" she asked intently. "You look familiar.... Paperboys?" All three boys shook their heads violently, Axel so fast that his short crown of red hair flared like a spiky umbrella. A sigh lifted the woman's thin chest. "I thought not. Age, boys. It makes even the most loved of faces fade away..." Giving herself a small shake, she straightened up. "Why were you looking for me, then?"
"How did you know I was looking?" Riku countered, feeling brave as he remembered having already survived one conversation with her. Something about the tired sadness in her voice made him want to apologize, though no amount of thought brought forth something to be sorry for. "We hadn't even started yet!"
"I have ways."
"Hey, buddy?" Axel had already backed himself several feet away. A protesting Roxas was in a headlock under his arm, being dragged along. "You know, I forgot to tell you, we've got something to do today. Very important. Can't wait. Sorry." With every sentence he fell further and further back. "There's a meeting; top secret gay thing—even a handshake. Let us know how it goes okay see you kiss-kiss-bye!" Excuse made, Axel bodily picked up the thrashing Roxas and ran as fast and far as his long legs could carry him.
Riku stared after them, not sure whether to feel betrayed or to look forward to the blackmail opportunities Axel had just dropped in his lap.
"I do believe your friends are afraid of me." Dark amusement bubbled in her eyes. "I don't think anyone's ever been afraid of me before."
Honesty was called for. "You kinda are scary, ma'am."
She sighed again, and this time it carried a lifetime of regret. "I wasn't always. Walk with me." Without pausing to see if he would, she turned and began to stroll down a side street. Riku stayed beside her, wondering which question to ask first. It didn't seem like she had any particular destination, which suited him. He couldn't think of a place to start that didn't sound insane.
After several silent minutes, she spoke without turning her head. "It just occurred to me that I never introduced myself. My name is Kairi—Princess Kairi."
Something in Riku's head went click. "Kairi? That Kairi?" He jogged a few steps ahead and turned around, staring at her unabashedly. Nothing about the thin, tired old woman in front of him was anything like he thought a Keyblade Master would be. "But— but you're a legend! A Princess!"
"I was a legend," she admitted, trailing her hand along the faces of the shops they were passing. "But even legends must eat, and heroes have to pay their rent. And we all grow old. If we're lucky." She smiled at him, wrinkles folding her tissue paper skin. "But it's not me you wanted to ask about. You want to know about Sora."
"The one on the island?"
"Yes." Her head tipped back, strange lavender eyes looking up at the perfect sky. He almost expected her to cry. "Most people don't know the story. It would be demoralizing, the King said. People must have heroes, and heroes must be immortal."
"Why are you telling me this?" A crowd of people pushed passed him, laughing loudly at some joke. They barely touched her, detouring so that it seemed like a bubble of space stood around her on all sides. Kairi kept walking on, her skirt swirling in the breeze made by so many bodies. Then the flood of people passed and they were alone on the street again.
"Because you want to know," she answered in the quiet. "Because I'm dying, Riku may as well be dead, and someone should know the truth, before it dies with us.
"The War killed him. Riku had gone to the darkness to close the Doors there. Only he could go safely—we didn't know why, not then..." Her voice lowered, as if imparting a horrible secret. "We didn't know it had taken a piece of him, and left some of itself. If we had..." Thin shoulders drooped even more. "I was with the King, teaching the worlds to work together against the Dark Keybearers. Sora had stayed home, to guard the Door here." Riku listened raptly as she told the story in her low, sad voice. Her head was lowered, so he couldn't see her face, but he could hear the pain in every word. "When the final attack came, none of us were ready. Just the four of us, against hundreds... I was with the King and Riku when Sora fell." The sky began to darken as a chill wind bit through their clothing. Drops of moisture darkened the pavement under her feet, though the sky was cloudless. Riku pretended not to notice.
"I thought Riku had been killed, at first," she continued thickly. "He just screamed, once, and then... dropped. No movement, no sound. And the Heartless ignored him. When the battle was over, the King tried to call him back, but... he was gone. Just a shell. And then we found Sora. What was left of Sora." Kairi looked up, eyes clouded but no longer crying. "His heart followed Sora. I know it did."
The most burning questions spilled out, tumbling over each other like a waterfall of words. "The man who was with you—that's the real Riku? Why—How'd the Keyblade get there? Is it haunted?"
"Yes, that's Riku," she cut him off. "What's left of him. The Keyblade..." Thin lips pursed thoughtfully. "We buried Sora where he would have wanted, and the Keyblade appeared the next day. I don't know where it came from."
"Is it haunted?" Riku pressed, shivering as something hot brushed against his cheek and then vanished. He turned around to walk, so she couldn't see his face. "Does Sora haunt it?"
Kairi didn't seem to mind not seeing his face as they walked side-by-side. They were making a giant circle through the town, and up ahead he could see the fence surrounding the Park. "If he does, I wouldn't be the one Sora would want." Her scarf slipped as she shook her head. "I'm not the one he shared a paopu with. Why do you ask?" The question flew like a razor. "Have you seen him?"
"Erm.." Riku hesitated, feeling a blush creep up his neck, which stood in stark contrast to the chill down his spine. They paused by the locked gate of the Memorial Park, both looking across the bridge to the little marker under the tree. "Maybe."
"Maybe, hm?" She eyed him wryly, a not-smile almost curling her lips.
"Thank you for the story," Riku mumbled uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot.
"Thank you for listening." Delicate hands released the gate as she stepped back and away. Her eyes stared hard at him, as though he was a butterfly, stretched out and pinned for her inspection. "You remind me of someone. I wish I could remember who. Be careful."
He nodded, eyes lowered, unable to meet her searching stare. "I will."
Riku sank down into bed that night with his mind whirling with everything he had learned. The darkness behind his eyes enfolded him, comforted him. He'd always liked sleeping, and his bed was someplace nothing could get him. As a child, he'd never been afraid of the monsters in the dark—he'd been afraid of the ones in the light. His bedroom was still as sleep dragged him under and tucked away the waking world.
Something heavy settled on the edge of the bed, radiating heat. The chill of the nighttime air plummeted into freezing. You're here. Where are you?
It's him, came the half-frightened thought. Riku fought to open his eyes, only to find they were already open. Something was folded over them, feeling like a silk scarf, but far more opaque.
It's me, the ghost agreed cheerfully, not at all put out that he could read Riku's thoughts. Hot fingers ghosted over Riku's shoulder, following the line of his collarbone up to his neck. Riku held his breath as a hand cupped his jaw lovingly. Where are you? I can feel your heart, but I can't see you. Let me see you.
"I—" Riku began, hesitating as a thumb pressed against his lower lip teasingly, almost burning him. "I can't see you either."
Let me fix that. The weight shifted, leaning forward. Lips descended on his, prying his mouth open with a demanding tongue and scorching the inside of his mouth with every touch. Automatically, Riku arched up into the touch, wrapping his arms around a waist he couldn't see. He'd never dated at all, but the motions fell into place, like a trigger he'd never known he had until someone tripped it.
How can a ghost be so warm? Teeth tugged at his bottom lip, and Riku obligingly opened his mouth wider. Heat pooled in his stomach, spreading to become an ache in his groin. It was the only thing warm about him, in sharp contrast to the boy above him. His cheeks were going numb by the time the kiss ended, heart thudding as it fought to push blood around his body. The teenager opened his eyes, surprised to see bright blue ones above him. They were solid, as real as the rest of the room. Chestnut spikes topped a heart-shaped face that seemed made to smile and laugh. For a ghost, he looked like the very essence of life. Confirmation, in Riku's mind, that he was dreaming.
A piece of fabric dangled from the ghost's hand—a black silk blindfold, just as Riku thought. I can't see you when you wear this, he chided gently, dropping it to the floor, where it dissipated into the shadows.
Confused, Riku shook his head. "I'm sorry... Sora."
The moment the name left his lips, the ghost's face lit up with a smile so wide Riku had to answer it with one of his own. His face was peppered with burning kisses and even hotter teardrops that faded into flashes of light like stars gone nova.
You remember, Sora kept repeating, between kisses, eyes brighter than anyone sane ever had. I knew you would. I knew you'd remember. Hades was wrong! You're here, and you remember!
Sora's body pinned Riku to the bed, almost melting him to the mattress. Riku found it hard to focus even on that. He was so cold it was everything he could do to keep his teeth from chattering. "I'm not who you think I am," he whispered, breath coming fast. It formed a cloud in the air, condensed by the cold.
Of course you are. Sora kept him pinned, but lifted up to stare at him adoringly. There was nothing in his face that registered even the chance that Riku was right. You're Riku, and you still remember! Even after— The soundless voice stumbled, Sora's face twisting as though fighting off an unpleasant memory. It was gone in a moment, but darkness lingered in his smile. And we'll be together soon, I promise. He leaned down for a last, lingering kiss. My Riku. Mine, mine, mine.
"Not your Riku," he managed against Sora's lips, cold and exhaustion turning Riku's thoughts to lead. He's insane. The thought oozed out so slowly that even the mind-reading ghost missed it. "Not dead."
You are, Sora insisted, breaking the kiss by a breath. You just don't know it. But I'll fix everything. You know I always fix what I've broken. He leaned down to press their lips together again. The last thing Riku remembered before exhaustion and cold thrust him into unconsciousness was the glitter of a tear as it froze on his eyelashes.
Sandy soil gave way under Riku's fingers as he fought to wake up the next morning, hands clawing the ground as he oriented himself. The sun was high and warm overhead, shining with a cheer that echoed the rest of the world. His eyes were crusted with grime, and small rocks poked his knees through his ragged pajama bottoms as he pushed himself to a kneeling position, only to find himself staring uncomprehendingly at the Keyblade. The engraving glinted at him, mica in the stone reflecting the sunlight cruelly.
Two Hearts
Crying out, he scrambled backward off the grave, heart hammering in his chest. His back smacked into someone's knees. A dark skirt wrapped around him, blown by the wind.
"You don't look like someone who meant to sleep here." Kairi's gnarled hand came down on his shoulder.
Shaking with relief, Riku craned his head back, leaning into her presence. The old man stood behind her, motionless as a statue, with an arm of roses deeper in color than blood. The story rushed out of him, relief at a familiar and above-all living faces dragging it out. "I didn't— Sora! He was in my room and— He thinks I'm Riku! The other Riku! And that I'm dead! I'm not dead!" He was hyperventilating, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The first few visitations had been almost a game—frightening, but harmless. This time the game had turned deadly serious, and knowing what Sora wanted from him curled his stomach into an iron ball of fear. "I don't want to die!"
A bouquet of yellow and white roses dropped to the ground and she knelt beside him, rubbing circles on his back. "Calm down, shhh. Deep breaths, you won't help anything by passing out." She pushed his head down between his knees. "Easy, child, easy. Shhh." Slowly, feeling like Sisyphus pushing the rock up the hill, Riku slowed his breathing until it was almost normal. Each breath seemed precious, now that he knew something wanted to stop them forever.
Once he seemed calm, Kairi let him sit up normally. His back ached and his head swam, but the panic was gone. He could still feel it, waiting deep inside, but it no longer threatened to engulf him. "Now, slowly, tell me what happened."
Word by word, Riku stumbled out the story, starting with the voice on the island. Kairi's hand never left his back, and the small human touch gave him strength. He blushed when the kissing part came up, but her hand never left him. It felt like she was pushing him to finish a story she already knew, or feared she did.
"And then I woke up here," he finished lamely, looking down at his hands. They were grubby with dirt and sand. His nails were cracked and broken, bleeding in some places and simply raw in others. The finger knuckles ached as though he'd developed arthritis. Or like I'd been digging all night, he realized, seeing the long furrows missing from the top layer of the grave. Riku's stomach roiled, and he looked away before he could throw up.
Kairi's head shook slowly, blue-veined hands still on his shoulder and back comfortingly. "I don't think he means to hurt you, but... You must hide from him tonight. Somehow."
"How do you hide from a ghost?" A bird chirped in the paopu behind him, its shrill cry breaking the sound of the waves. Death wasn't the only thing on the tiny island, something he found hard to remember with the Keyblade so close. "Am I supposed to hide forever?"
"Just tonight." Knees audibly popping, she stood, and pulled him up with her. The other Keybearer still hadn't moved so much as an inch, blind eyes staring out at the waves. "Tomorrow is Victory Day," she explained, gesturing at the roses they'd brought. "The anniversary of the final battle—and of Sora's death. If you can make it through tonight, I think you'll be safe.'
"And next year?" he demanded, trying to brush the dirt off his bare knees. They, too, were scraped and bloody.
"We'll deal with that when it comes," came the reasonable answer. "But now, we must hide you. Do you have a blindfold?"
"I can make one."
"Good. Wear it. He said he can't see you when it's on—maybe that will work." She brushed the mud-encrusted hair out of his eyes with a sad smile. Her fingers lingered over a forming bruise on his cheek. "I can see why he thinks you're his Riku. You look just like him."
"Huh?" Riku shook his head and took a step away, feeling his skin creep at her expression.
Kairi's hand fell from his face gracefully, reaching into her pocket to pull out a worn photograph. She presented it to him like it was a grand jewel, and maybe to her it was. "I remembered why you look familiar. Here."
The edges of the picture were yellowed and brittle under his fingers, and the sharp blue of the ocean behind them had faded to a muddy green. Even with the age of the picture, there was no mistaking the people in it. It was himself, or someone enough like him to be a twin, with his arm around a younger version of the very person who was haunting him. They were grinning at each other, obviously caught in an unexpected moment. Sora looked happy, content, in a way his spirit didn't, as though having the other boy there kept him complete.
"This was... them?" Riku asked hoarsely, holding it as carefully as possible.
"Two years before the War. Be careful, Riku." Her eyes bored through him. "Hearts that have been torn apart don't give up easily, and Sora's heart has been shredded so much, even I can't know what's left of it anymore."
When Riku arrived home just after noon, clean and damp after a dip in the waterfall, his parents both almost had heart attacks from relief. They'd skipped work when they'd woken up and found him gone, and both of his sisters had almost skipped school in the panic. Neither listened to his half-hearted explanation, which he was grateful for. They wouldn't have believed him anyway, and it made things less complicated if they thought he'd been out with a girl. After a sound scolding from his mother and a semi-approving smirk from his father, he was filled with soup and shuffled off to bed with orders to sleep it off. He was exhausted even from the short walk home, and gladly stumbled back to his bedroom.
It was flooded with sunlight from the open windows, looking almost summery in the liquid-gold glare. He left the windows open, wanting the light as long as it would last after the cold darkness of the night before. Before falling into bed, he pulled out an old black t-shirt and used the hem to make a thick blindfold. He tied it on and sank back into the pillows, willing himself to sleep while the sun was up and it was safe.
He woke to the bite of the wind against his cheeks as he staggered forward, still blindfolded but moving with a resolution he didn't actually feel. Icy pavement had already frozen his feet into numbness, to the point where he couldn't feel the rough texture of the cement, or the inevitable rocks that were the bane of every beachfront town. His legs moved of their own accord, dodging obstacles he couldn't see and taking turns he knew were there only by the light posts that brushed his hands.
He's found me, he's found me, he's found me. The mantra repeated endlessly, terror sending his thoughts around in circles. Desperate, Riku grabbed one of the poles and tried to keep from moving forward, but his fingers were as numb as his feet and barely gripped anything at all. It wasn't enough to keep his treacherous legs from continuing onward.
Riku's head swam with disorientation, but he didn't dare remove the blindfold. Certainty of his destination solidified as he heard the distinctive sound of an iron gate swinging open. With an effort that wrenched his shoulders, he grabbed the gate and wrapped his arms through it. His back muscles convulsed as his legs continued trying to move, but he'd anchored himself too firmly. Though it felt as though the muscles would detach themselves from the bone, Riku locked his elbows and hung on, cries silenced as the cold night snatched the air from his lungs.
The battle with his own body was fought in complete silence. Even the crickets were quiet, long ago killed by the coming winter. Iron bars burned into his bare arms like dry ice, not warming even when his arms grew slick with sweat and effort. The sweat froze against the ice, cracking and pulling at his skin. Still, he held on, even when the skin cracked and something warmer than sweat trickled down his arms.
After what felt like hours, Riku's knees finally collapsed from the stress, dragging him to the ground. His bare feet still scraped the cement, trying to find some sort of purchase to wrest him away. They were bleeding too, the blood coating and warming his soles enough to chase the numbness away a little, enough to feel every rock, every thorn, as they dug into his abused heels. Eventually even his feet gave up, too abused to continue the fight, no matter what called them.
Even after his body's capitulation, Riku held onto the gate, grimly determined to stay attached to it through the night if he had to.
Riku? A twig broke behind him.Where are you? Riku!
The desperation in the ghost's voice tugged Riku's heart, but he kept his grip tight and his thoughts still, just in case. Please! Sora's sob traveled down Riku's spine, bringing tears to his own eyes. Something deep in him wanted to cry out, to take the anguish from the other, but a stubborn will to live kept his lips sealed.
I know you're here—I can feel you! Please don't leave me again... Footsteps drew nearer, crunching the ever-present sand. I love you. I love you. Don't leave me. Don't... Remember the paopu? Something clattered to the ground, landing on his shin heavily. He thought it was the gate lock. You swore you wouldn't leave me alone. You swore... The ghost was so close, he could feel the heat leeching from his insides, being snatched away.
Is it because I— I hurt you? Sora was crying, wrenching sobs that Riku could almost feel tearing his own chest apart. I let you go, I love you, I didn't mean to hurt you... I didn't! I let you have that little girl—I let you have everybody! His speech became more broken, frantic as he tried to explain. Even me! I love you, you said you wouldn't leave me alone, you promised so and I let— I couldn't— I'm not Kairi and I tried so hard and you— you—
In spite of his resolve, Riku whimpered as Sora broke down, gravel scattering as he collapsed. A harsh sound ripped out of Riku's chilled throat. "Don't—don't cry," he gasped, arms loosening from around the gate. Even that small movement lanced agony down his back as torn muscles stretched. Before he could cry out, burning hot arms slipped around him, lifting him up and holding him close. Immediately the heat leeched out of him, numbing everything deeper than his skin.
Cotton shredded under Sora's fingers as he shakily ripped the blindfold off. He looked almost normal, alive, and wasn't transparent at all. There were even tear tracks dripping down his cheeks, leaving small blisters where they landed on Riku's skin. Even in the dark, his eyes were sapphire blue, glowing with a light that seemed just under his skin. Riku closed his eyes against the brilliance of it, but it left rainbow spots behind his lids.
You forgive me? For hurting your heartless? Sora asked desperately, fingers scorching trails along Riku's scalp. His steps echoed on the bridge, louder than they should have been, even in the ultra-quiet of the night. You really do? Are you scared? Don't be scared. I love you.
"I don't want to die." The admission came out as an almost inaudible croak, half-muffled by Sora's chest. Riku pushed against the ghost, but was so weak that he couldn't even lift his arms. His heart thudded slowly, fighting the chill and exhaustion. It was losing. "Don't take me."
Don't worry. I'll take care of you. We'll never be apart again. Sora stepped off the bridge with a light hop and kept walking, each step sinking lower and lower into the ground. The entire island was warm against Riku's skin, the air rich and moist with a false promise of summer. It did nothing to ease the leaden weight of his limbs, or to warm the blood he could feel congealing in his veins. Darkness began to fall behind his eyes as the first of the strangely liquid earth started to climb up his legs, the true darkness that had nothing to do with a mere absence of light.
Riku pried his eyes open, unable to even stop the tears from falling as he felt himself fading away. The stone Keyblade shimmered with light as another of dark marble grew up beside it, their hilts crossed so their message could be seen by all. Kisses that felt like coals fell on his face, one on either eyelid and on every tear and the final one on his lips. The message of the stone Keyblades stayed with him, even as the warm earth closed over his head.
Two Hearts, One Destiny