tsukinofaerii (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tsukinofaerii) wrote2007-10-30 11:59 pm
tsukinofaerii) wrote2007-10-30 11:59 pm
Entry tags:
(KH) The Marble Keyblade 1/2
Happy Halloween everybody! So tell me... is this a trick? Or a treat?
The Marble Keyblade 1/2
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.
"Let me go instead," Sora begged, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Riku. Waves splashed gently up the shore, making the moonlight dance until the shadows under the bridge devoured it. Overhead, the paopu tree cast its own shade, a gentler type that didn't destroy the light so much as soften it. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Please."
The summer wind toyed with Riku's hair and the hood of his coat. He was dressed in his black organization uniform, blindfold dangling from his fingers as he nuzzled Sora's hair. "I know the Darkness. I'm the best choice, and someone has to guard here."
"Something's going to go wrong," Sora insisted, lip poking out in a pout and eyes dark and colorless in the night. "I can feel it. You'll forget me again or— or worse! Don't leave me." The last was almost a sob as the smaller man buried his face in Riku's chest, tears trailing down his cheeks. "Don't leave me," he repeated, breath hitching.
Riku tipped his Sora's chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. There was something desperate in Sora's expression that begged for reassurance. "I'll never forget you," he swore quietly, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. "One destiny, remember?"
"Then share a paopu with me." Desperation made Sora grip Riku's coat in clenched fists, holding him in place. "If it's really one destiny, share one with me."
"That's just an old story—" the objection began, but Sora used Riku's coat to shake him.
"If it's just a story, then it won't hurt anything," he insisted, voice tight with tears. "Please."
After only a moment's hesitation, Riku nodded.
Relief flooded Sora's face. Like a conjuror producing a rabbit, he pulled a small fruit out of a pocket that looked far too small for it. From another he produced a pocket knife.
Riku laughed, the sound carrying over the water and echoing back to them. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked as Sora cut the fruit up.
Full lips pouted up at him. "Just eat the fruit," Sora grumbled, popping a bite in his own mouth and offering Riku the next.
"I intend to." Smiling, Riku leaned down to kiss him, getting his piece of paopu from the best place he could think of.
Pavement flew under Riku's feet as he ran down the center of Play Island Boulevard, colored with asymmetric stars and fanciful shapes that never existed outside of anyone's imagination. Overhead the sky was the endless blue of late autumn, such a deep color that he felt like he was taking a cold drink of water every time he glanced up. On his right the ocean reflected back the color, flashing golden across the wave tops as the sun dipped towards the horizon. The bells of the school were still ringing, announcing the release of its prisoners for the day. Behind him, two sets of sneakers crunched fallen leaves, kicking up flurries of bright orange and red as their owners strove to catch him.
"Wait up!" Roxas tripped over his too-large shoes, laughing as Axel caught his elbow and hauled him upright. The two tugged each other onward, getting in their own way more often than not.
Riku turned to laugh at them, jogging backward. Crisp air burned his lungs, making every breath dance on the edge of pain. The entire world felt fresh and new even as it faded away into a slow death in preparation for winter. Life beat under his skin, hot and thick in contrast to the thin air. He felt like he could do anything, take on any challenger. "Hurry up, you lazy bums!"
"We wouldn't have to if you'd stop running," Axel retorted, brushing his short-cropped hair out of his eyes. It was a red so bright it looked like it shouldn't occur in nature, but Roxas swore it was Axel's real color and Riku had never asked again. "You—look out!"
"What—" Riku turned around just in time for a low garbage can to bang into his knees. His arms wheeled desperately for balance, but his own momentum worked against him. He landed butt-first and kept rolling, eventually tumbling to a stop to stare up at the single cloud in the sky, his head spinning from the tumble.
"You okay, man?" Roxas peered down at him, eyes the exact same shade as the sky. Axel peeked over his shoulder, already tall for seventeen and still growing. Neither one made a move to help him up. "No cracked neck or anything?"
"I'm fine," Riku sighed, half-lying. His head felt light, like it might spin off at any moment. He focused on a crow as it flew overhead, using the dark smudge of it to steady his shaken thoughts. "Just help me up."
Reassured, his friends reached down to lift him up. Axel made a teasing swat at the dirt on his butt, earning the jealous growl from Roxas he'd undoubtedly been trying for. The couple tussled playfully, more best friends than boyfriends. Riku rolled his eyes at them and proceeded to inspect his white and black school uniform. The stains would come out, but he'd have to treat them individually, which could take forever and would earn a scolding from his mother if she caught it. Disgusted, he leaned against the low white fence that bordered the beach.
"Are you two done with the foreplay, or can we go already?"
"There's the grump we know and love," Axel exclaimed cheerfully, not even bothering to take his hands out of Roxas' pockets. He rested his chin on the top of Roxas' head, crushing the blond spikes. "We're already to Keybearer Memorial. What's the rush?"
"This is the rush." He indicated the deep red stains of claw mud, which looked like drying blood against the white of his pants. "If this isn't out by the time she gets home, Mom'll kill me."
"Borrow one of my old ones," the redhead offered generously, doing something with his hands that made Roxas squeak and swat at him. "I just out-grew another one, and my folks'll never miss it. As long as she sees it hanging in the hall, she'll never notice that you're cleaning a different one. I'll swing by home and you can hang it before we play blitzball." He glanced at his boyfriend nonchalantly.
"I'll go with him," Roxas piped up, "to make sure he doesn't get side tracked." He struggled to twist in Axel's arms, cheeks suspiciously red. Riku glared at them both, knowing that he wouldn't see either for at least an hour. Roxas had the decency to blush even more, but Axel just beamed back shamelessly.
"Fine," he sighed, knowing that the gesture was at least half an excuse to make out, but grateful he was getting a uniform loan out of it. Last time they had just vanished in the middle of history class, somehow managing to slip under the desk and out the door without anyone noticing, and had left the explaining to him. "Thanks. Just don't take too long this time."
"Deal! Come on, Eight." Roxas hooked Axel's collar and hauled off his very willing body, moving at least twice as fast as they had while chasing Riku. In only a handful of minutes they had rounded the bend and were out of sight.
Riku waited until they were gone before turning to follow the fence once more. An hour, he estimated, thinking of how fast they’d run off and the blush on Roxas’ cheeks. Maybe two. He grinned to himself. As small as the island was, they would need a creative excuse if they took too long. If it was good enough, he might even try it on his own parents.
Play Island was designed strangely. His grandfather said that it used to be a giant playground, before the Keyblade Wars. After the Wars there had been a flood of tourists and immigrants from other planets, prompting people to build a small community in the heart of the tiny island. Signs of what it had once been lingered, in the sad little half-rotten docks and in the web-laced hollow under the giant tree. Riku had been under there once, on a dare. He'd found two backpacks, still loaded with crumbling books and termite-eaten pencils. The walls had been covered in childish drawings, moments from someone's life that they'd felt the need to imprint on the world.
The cheerful little fence vanished at the bridge, replaced by a foreboding wrought iron masterpiece. Dead weeds wove through its bars, some climbing all the way to the top of the ornamental spikes. Riku let his fingers dance between the bars as he walked, snagging vines and brittle leaves to break off whenever he encountered them. The fence was meant to keep people from the tiny strip of beach best known as the Park, though the sign said Keybearer Memorial Island. There was nothing special about the tiny strip of beach, but what lay beyond the bridge was the focus of more than one stupid teenage joke. On the island just past the bridge was the legendary paopu tree, which somehow bore fruit year-round.
It had been there forever. The tree itself was so big that two men couldn't wrap their arms around it, the top so heavy that it drooped almost into the water. Riku had never been there, but he'd never been dared to try. Roxas was terrified of the spot, though he didn't know why, and that was enough to keep Axel quiet on the subject.
Just walking by the Island gave Riku chills, like a skeleton was dragging its bony fingers up his spine. Luckily, it was closed to the public, an edict enforced by the tall fence and stories whispered by candlelight on stormy nights.
Iron bars passed under his fingers like rib bones, one after another insmooth sequence until they brushed through the empty space of an open gate. Riku stumbled at the unexpected absence, reaching back to the previous bar for something familiar to touch. He stared at the lock, an overly decorated piece of black iron that had been cast in the shape of a heart. It hung open, dangling creakily in the breeze with little creaking noises. The gate had been kept open with its own latch, which someone had hooked between the bars of the fence.
Something roiled deep in Riku's stomach as he peered through the open gate, like frozen worms trying to burrow through him. Across the bridge, two figures were seated at the base of the tree by the statue of the Kingdom Key, the white hair of one reflecting back the deepening blue of late afternoon shadows. His feet moved without him, padding across the crumbling bridge towards the elderly couple. One of them looked up as his footsteps rang hollowly. She watched him with sharp lavender eyes, head covered by a black shawl, skin fine and stretched over the hollows of her cheeks. Her companion didn't move at all, his head bowed so his colorless bangs hid his eyes.
"Are you lost, grandmother?" Riku asked politely, pausing just on the edge of the bridge. The ice in his stomach was threatening to crawl down to his legs, rooting him in place on the bridge. "This place is supposed to be closed."
Delicate wrinkles folded in on each other as she smiled, a bitter twist of her lips that had little to do with joy. "We have permission and we're not lost, thank you."
The words slipped out before Riku could stop them. "Nobody has permission."
"Then I suppose we're Nobodies," she snapped, then softened at his stricken look. "Don't worry about it. Really. We're just visiting an old friend." Her thin hand patted the handle of the Key, caressing the pale gold marble. The statue was strange, constructed of tinted stone and without a visible base. It looked like someone had simply slammed it into the ground and left it.
A solemn wind blew Riku's hair into his eyes. He brushed it out of the way impatiently. He knew it would be less windy on the island, with the tree to break the breeze, but he was loath to even stand on what amounted to hallow ground for the majority of islanders. "You're visiting the Key?" he asked, feeling thick and slow under her gaze.
"An old friend," she repeated cryptically. "And we're done. Help me up, if you please." She held up an arm imperiously. Her friend still hadn't moved.
Riku glanced worriedly at the ground, but he'd been raised to be polite, and that included aiding old ladies. Careful, half wondering if Thundaga would crash out of the Heavens to strike him dead for the blasphemy, he inched down the rest of the dock until his sneakered foot rested firmly on the island soil.
Something did flash through him, a glow of frozen warmth that vanished like a snowflake under a light bulb. It rooted him to the ground and turned his knees to water. Something in his head echoed, like a leviathan rolling over so deep underground that the ripples never reached the surface.
...it's you?
In a stolen heartbeat, the moment was gone. The old woman hadn't noticed his pause at all, but was clearly amused by his reluctance. Riku shook the moment off, but not in time to escape the teasing comment, "Don't tell me believe the stories?" Her voice bubbled lightly, almost snickering. "That the Keybearer is buried here and his Keyblade marks the site?"
"Of course not! Only kids believe that stuff." Offended, Riku made himself cross the remaining distance with strong strides. He helped her to her feet gently, even though something about her annoyed him and made him sad at the same time. He put it down to the strangeness old people always caused. They were a constant reminder that life wasn't forever. It gave him the creeps.
She looked at him appraisingly, head tilted slightly. Now that he was close he could see how truly delicate she was. Her wrist felt hollow and brittle under his hand, the skin like tissue paper. Still, he could see the young girl she must have been once. The girl lingered in the stubborn tilt of her chin, and the lively tone as she responded, "You should. They're true."
"How would you know?"
"We knew him." Her smile softened as her eyes unfocused just a little. Riku had the feeling that she wasn't looking at anything in the world he knew. "His name was Sora, and he had the biggest heart I've ever known." With a blink she returned to the present, and the gentleness faded as she let go of his arm and brushed off her long dress. The pink flowers printed on it seemed to dance against their black background. "But I suppose you knew that."
Awkwardly, Riku nodded. "Yeah. My little sister's named Kairi—we get told about the Keybearers all the time."
"I think they'd like that." She smiled suddenly, and he could see the young girl peeking out through her tired eyes. She'd been beautiful, once. "Popular name, Kairi. That's mine, too."
"Cool. I'm Riku." He grinned in embarrassment, but also strangely proud. Sora was a name that showed up everywhere, and Kairi was almost as popular, but Rikus were harder to find.
At the name, the old man looked up. With a shock that moved him back a step, Riku realized that his eyes were milky, only the barest hint of green showing under the film. He was blind. "Is he—"
The old woman glanced down at her friend. "Blind, yes. Sometimes I think it's a kindness, if anything can be for him anymore." She reached down and touched his shoulder. "Up. It's time to go home."
Like a puppet, the man stood, moving first one limb and then the other, as though moving both at once was too much effort. There was nothing in his expression that indicated any awareness of his surroundings. Each motion was precise and as empty as a doll. Riku watched nervously, skin crawling as the man's blind eyes stared straight through him.
"Is he okay?"
"As well as he can be." kairi hooked their arms together, clasping the gnarled hand in her own like a child's. "I do what I can, but he's less than a Nobody these days. He has been for a long, long time."
Nervous, but feeling like he had to say something, Riku asked, "Was— Is he your husband?"
"A friend. Sometimes a rival, but always a friend." She led the old man across the bridge, shoes clicking against the soft wood. The man walked as though unaware that he was blind, moving sideways when she nudged him and pausing when she tugged. Riku trailed behind, not sure of what to do, but also not wanting to be left alone on the island. As soon as his feet left the island, he felt himself relax, though he didn't know when he'd tensed up.
When the star-littered pavement was once again underfoot, the old woman yanked the gate closed with a practiced jerk. The lock took care of itself, sliding smoothly into place with a resounding clonk. Riku hesitated as the woman made sure her friend's jacket hadn't slipped and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.
"Um, do you need—"
"No, thank you." She finished her straightening. "You should go home. This wind is wicked at night."
"I was just going there..."
"Good. Go." She shooed him away, turning to go down the main street towards the ferry without even a good-bye. Riku paused, but she had been right about the wind. Goosebumps were already crawling up his arms, even though his jacket was thick and usually a match for any weather. His feet led him home, but the whole way he imagined he could feel blind eyes one him from somewhere in the shadows.
Riku bent over his history book, head aching with dates as he painfully finished the rough draft on an essay he should have begun weeks ago. He read the opening line aloud, twisting the words in his head until they blurred. There was something wrong with the sentence, but no matter how many ways he repeated it, nothing was working.
"... though the Keyblade Wars happened fifty years ago," he tried again, "their effects can still be seen around the universe... damn it!" He threw his pen down in disgust. If Axel were there, with his complete domination of language and brazen diregard of formalities, he might have continued to try. Without either, he conceded defeat and decided to move onto math.
Roxas and Axel made it to his house just in time to delivery the promised uniform, but not before the encroaching darkness made it too difficult to play. They'd hung out for a while, and Riku told them about the grave and its visitor, but all three of them had homework, and Riku's parents wouldn't let Roxas and Axel make out. It only took an hour before the other two boys made their excuses and left him to his dirty uniform and books. Riku tried to put the lonely statue under the paopu out of his head, eventually managing it with a calculus book and the loudest music files he could find on his computer. By the time he fell asleep, hunched over a smudged study guide, he'd forgotten all about it.
Dawn brought him awake with a gasp. A voice rang in his ears, shredding through his heart like razors.
It is you!
Riku gripped his desk and fought to catch his breath, dream images swimming in his head. Tears were still warm on his cheeks, dripping down his chin and nose ungracefully. Memories of the dream fell through his grip like water, sliding away into the darkness behind his eyes. All he was left with were tearstains on his homework and a certainty that he'd dreamed about the little island.
He went through the rest of the morning in a daze, eating breakfast and sailing through classes without sparing more attention than absolutely necessary. As soon as the lunch bell rang he was off to the library, where he buried himself in the reference section. The smell of paper and ink surrounded him on all sides as Riku took up a process he seldom found any use for: research. Eventually, his friends tracked him down, engrossed in a recent history of Destiny Islands.
"I told you he was sick," Roxas' voice commented in his ear. Riku jerked his eyes out of the book to find Roxas and Axel leaning over him, one on either side.
"Maybe it's contagious. Voluntary studying." Axel shuddered, as though he'd said possession by darkness. "We should smack him to make sure he's still breathing."
"Just stick a bag over his head," the blond suggested. "When it stops inflating, that's when you hit him."
"Guys!" Riku smacked them both, shoving them out of his personal space. "I was just looking something up."
"What could be so important that you'd miss Pizza Wednesday?" Red hair and pale skin filled his vision as Axel leaned down close to his face. His open jacket pooled on the table, its oversized zipper like a fallen star against the stained wood. "Pizza Wednesday, Riku! That's like cafeteria gold, and you passed it up!"
"It's nothing." Both boys stared at him silently, Axel from the disconcerting distance of three inches. Riku pushed his chair back with an annoyed noise. "It is! Look, you know those old people I told you about?"
"The creepy lady with the blind guy?" Table legs squeaked against tile as Roxas took a seat on the table. "What about it?"
"She was blowing smoke. Look at this." He flipped the reference book around. It was open to a page that showed a chart of the highlights of all three Keybearers' lives. "None of them are dead, so how could one be buried in the Park?"
"I dunno." Thin fingers tapped a staccato against the chart labeled Sora, then dragged down the short list. "These look awfully short for people who're probably a hundred years old."
"Seventy-something," Riku corrected, enjoying the way Axel scowled at him.
"A hundred, seventy—whatever. But these guys were heroes. You'd think they'd have books of stuff about them. Not... this." Axel touched the last item on all three lists, savior of the Keyblade Wars. It was a sad, pathetic little line that didn't do any justice to the stories still told about the monsters they'd fought, or how much they'd given up to save everything in existence.
"Maybe they all died and no one knows." Cloth whispered loudly in the silence of the library as Roxas leaned against his boyfriend in a carefully neutral pose. They were each one more incident from a suspension, and the librarians had been on the watch for them since the desecration of several volumes at the start of the term. "No one even knows their surnames. It'd be simple to lose track of three people."
"People didn't have surnames back then," Riku reminded him absently, flipping the page to a picture of a Shadow Heartless. They'd been destroyed on Destiny Islands for fifty years, but even a picture of the thing made him shiver. The artist hadn't drawn any highlights in its dead yellow eyes, making it look like they were glowing from the inside. "There were only a few hundred people on the Islands before the worlds connected. No one needed them."
"You're shitting me!" Axel yanked the book out of his hands and began flipping through. "Where does it say that?"
"Everyone knows it!" Riku scrambled after the book, managing to hook his fingers in the binding. "Give it back! I'm not done with it!"
"Oh, I think you are." All three boys froze as the shadow of the librarian loomed over them, lips pursed sternly. One arm unfolded to indicate the exit. "I'll not lose another book to you three hooligans. Out!"
Before her whisper had even faded, they'd dropped the disputed text and were running for the door in a panic, dodging around library-goers and the occasional cart of returns. Axel, with his longer legs, just leaped over the carts. His jacket snapped behind him as he ran, edging far enough ahead to hold the door for his shorter friends.
The three of them collapsed against a pillar outside. Riku rested his forehead against the rough stone and let its coolness sink into his skin. Axel and Roxas propped each other up, exchanging weak jibes about escaping from the jaws of bookly doom. Storm clouds rumbled overhead, freshly blown in from the coast by a wind that smelled of sea salt and electricity.
"You jerks," Riku muttered, combing pale strands of hair out of his eyes. "I wasn't done yet."
"The old lady was just screwing with you," Axel announced decisively, sharp chin tilted at a stubborn angle. "She was probably crazy, and you bought it."
The short blond didn't look as sure as his boyfriend sounded, but Roxas nodded anyway. "It's just an old statue, Riku. Even if someone is buried there, they're probably just bones by now." He shrugged. "Just dust, Riku. Nothing to worry about."
"Yeah, dust. And worms," Axel chimed in. Storm clouds slid over the sun, causing his eyes to glow an eerie green, like the fungus that grew on the walls of the Secret Place. "Beetles. All sorts of things sliming and munching away at rotted flesh—"
Riku's stomach roiled. "For Light's sake's!" He snapped, tipping his head back and covering his eyes. "Roxas! Control your pyro!"
"Down, Axel." He didn't have to look to imaging Roxas wrapping himself around the redhead's lanky frame. "Riku missed pizza. That's enough punishment for his stomach, don't you think?"
"I don't think."
Something unzipped. Riku's ears burned. "That's kind of obvious," he muttered, embarrassed for them. It wasn't worth the effort to be embarrassed about them, and neither one seemed to understand the idea of shame, other than as something that applied to other people. "Tell me when I can look."
"You can look."
Wary, Riku peeked out between his fingers first, just in case. Roxas had zipped Axel's coat against the stiff wind that was bringing in the storm. Riku dared to relax. He should have known that they wouldn't risk getting in trouble again.
"See?" Axel beamed, hair flying every which way while the thin strip of his white tie flowed like a banner on the wind. His smile seemed to say, weren't you being silly? It should have been the first warning. "Perfectly safe." With that, he swooped down and pulled Roxas into a scorching kiss. The blond gave only a token protest before twisting his fingers in Axel's short red hair and giving as good as he got. Riku was positive he saw tongue and was about to intervene when someone else did it for him.
You two!" The vice principal bore down on them, sails set and brimming with homophobic fury. Axel and Roxas broke apart with a faintly disgusting pop, looking sheepish.
Riku summed up the situation for all of them. "Oh, fuck."
The early winter storm broke its rage against the walls of the school, rattling windows and blowing sleet in through the door every time it banged opened. Riku ignored it for the most part, having returned to the history section as soon as the final bell rang. He wasn't the only one waiting out the bad weather, and the presence of other students and faculty was a steady background murmur.
With all the extra people, the librarian didn't even notice that he was there, especially since he'd taken time to change out of his borrowed uniform. He'd barely escaped being in trouble with Axel and Roxas, and he suspected that if the vice principal had been able to punish him as well, he would have. Axel and Roxas barely had been able to talk their way out of a set of suspensions, but nothing would get them out of a day of detention. In a hidden corner of his heart, Riku was glad that they were stuck in a classroom. The history books he'd found were a hundred times more fascinating than he'd expected, and they never would have been able to shut up long enough for him to really read.
Riku had never paid attention in history when recent events were brought up. He'd never, in fact, paid attention in history when history was brought up. The past of Destiny Islands was a long series of dittos until the most recent century, and everyone knew about the Keyblade Masters and Wars, so what was the point in listening? His marks were always good enough to please his parents, and that was what counted.
Now that he had actually started paying attention, he was finding a lot of unanswered questions that he was positive no one had told him about before. Entire chunks of the Keybearers' lives were conspicuously absent from every biography he'd been able to find, and no one seemed to be able to agree on the cause of the Keyblade Wars, or how they finished. His textbook claimed that the Dark Keybearer had been possessed and tried to kill the other two. That was the story he'd grown up with. Another book said it was a battle between the Keyblades themselves, with Sora and Riku only along for the ride. The third claimed that the Light Keybearer had somehow caused the universe-wide attack of Heartless. None of the books mentioned the Princess Keybearer much, except they all seemed to agree that she'd been somehow important. Even more annoying, none of them knew what happened after the War. The Keybearers had just... vanished.
You'd think 95% of the island population getting eaten by heartless would make for more accurate reporting. He flipped a few more useless pages and then gave the book up as a lost cause. It was enough to make him think seriously about stealing the books and letting Axel set them on fire.
When the storm finally died away, Riku had given up with disgust and had started doodling mustaches on the various Keyblades pictured in the books. That was another thing that annoyed him. For famous figures of legend, there didn't seem to be any pictures of any of them. He would have liked to see what they looked like. In his head, Sora had grown to twelve feet tall, had eyes that glowed with power, and swung a Keyblade almost as big as he was.
Before he could be caught defacing precious books, Riku shelved his new artwork and slipped out into the evening light. The sun was already nearly down, half-hidden behind the giant tree that dominated the tiny community. He hurried his steps, not daring to run on the ice-slick streets. The wind cut through his jacket, a nearly-solid thing loaded with the cold of the sleet it had just dropped on the islands. After the sun set, the temperature would plummet. Overhead the sky had settled close to land, a sullen gray that turned the ocean dark and drained color from everything. Even the fallen leaves, which had been bright and colorful the day before, had faded to dull brown.
As he passed the iron gate, Riku found his steps slowing involuntarily. Almost against his will, his eyes strained against the growing dark to find the pale figure of the Keyblade under the paopu. He finally stopped, hand pressed to the lock. Something called to him, too strong to just be curiosity and far more irresistible.
"It's a gravestone, right?" he reasoned under his breath, leaning against the bars of the fence. A fading ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and glinted golden off the statue. "If it is, then it'll say something... Here lies Joe, good riddance. That sort of thing." The wind pressed against his back, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and teasing them as he jiggled the lock half-hopefully. He didn't expect anything to happen, so when it snapped open he almost dropped it entirely.
Not believing his luck but willing to take advantage of it, Riku gently set his bag down to block the gate open and padded down the path. Ice and frozen slime slid under his feet. The old bridge was basically held together by rot and rusting nails, turning it treacherous in cold weather. Though he moved slowly and tested every spot fully before resting his weight on it, Riku acquired several scrapes and bruises before reaching Paopu Island.
This time nothing strange happened when he walked across the island, though a superstitious tingle crawled over the back of his neck. The wind died to a sleepy whisper, but that was just the giant tree shielding him from it. Just over the ocean horizon, the dark storm clouds had cleared enough to show the sun as it finished its daily journey across the sky. It was bloody red, a stab wound in the sky that dirtied the ocean and sky. It reminded him that he didn't have much time before sunset.
The stone Keyblade was exactly as he remembered it. It disappointed him. Somehow, he'd expected it to have changed, as though looking at it should have started some dramatic chain of events. Giving himself a good shake and a warming rub of the arms, he began to inspect the stone. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for, though it didn't give him any answers at all.
At the base of the handle on the shaft of the blade, inscribed in a flowing script so ornate that he could barely read it, were the words, "Two Hearts". There was nothing else but the words. Puzzled, Riku sank to his knees, intending to check under the handle for more clues. He gripped the blade for balance, then yanked his hand back with a surprised sound.
It was warm, as warm as living flesh and certainly more so than a piece of stone that had just been in an ice storm should have been. Icy mud slipped under his hands and Riku scrambled backwards through the mud, heart pounding in his throat and breath coming in short gasps. The statue didn't move.
Riku sat in on the soggy ground, silently berating himself when nothing jumped out of the shadows to seize him. The last of the sun vanished entirely, leaving the tiny island wreathed in darkness. Determined to prove to himself that there was nothing to worry about, he slowly rolled to his knees and crawled back to the Keyblade. Even with his best efforts, his skin prickled a warning and fear filled his veins with a thousand different chemical compounds, each of them doing their best to make him flee.
"I. Won't. Run," Riku ground out between teeth locked together with cold and terror. Stubbornly, he reached out and gripped the shaft. It was still warm, and it pulsed under his hand like a heartbeat.
A noise on the wind whispered through the branches, a spectral sound that he felt vibrate deep in his inner ear. It took the terror and wound it into a little ball, deep in his core, where something muffled it.
Don't be scared...
"I'm not scared!" he told it so loudly that it almost felt like the truth. The ground under him seemed to thaw, as though the Keyblade were warming it somehow. He tried to pry his hand off the statue, but it refused to unlock. Panic began to steep through him, eating away from the inside out.
"Just the wind," he whispered fervently, trying to loosen each finger individually. The resisted as though cemented in place, knuckles cracking as he pried at them. "Only my imagination. Only..."
Don't be scared, the wind repeated, wrapping warmth around him like a shroud, like a pair of arms. It weakened his muscles, softened his panic into something bearable. He could feel fingers running through his hair, down his cheek tenderly. Everywhere they touched burned in contrast to the freezing air around him. Hot lips touched his neck, searing the skin. I missed you so much, Riku...
"Please." Words locked in his throat, hissing out in a murmur that he couldn't hear even over his own slowing heartbeat. It was a dream. It had to be a dream "Let me go. Ple—"
His pleading was drowned out by harsh screams from above. A flock of crows took flight out of the paopu, settling down again immediately without light to navigate by. Regardless, the damage had been done. In the space between two moments, the warmth of the Keyblade and ground fled, leaving him wracked with cold. Tears Riku hadn't realized he'd been crying had frozen to his cheeks. They cracked as he scrubbed them.
Light flashed over the ground in a long golden stream. "Oi! Anyone here? No trespassing!"
Trembling on legs almost numb with bitter cold, Riku stumbled to his feet. The flashlight beam crossed his chest briefly, but he staggered forward onto the bridge and past the startled security guard.
"You! Hey, you! Get back here!" The guard's footsteps sounded on the bridge after him, but Riku had a head start and it was dark. Curses carried after him as the man damned everything from children to the weather. Riku grabbed his bag without a break in strike and pounded down the still slipper streets, leaving the grave far behind.
Onward
The Marble Keyblade 1/2
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.
"Let me go instead," Sora begged, keeping his arms wrapped tight around Riku. Waves splashed gently up the shore, making the moonlight dance until the shadows under the bridge devoured it. Overhead, the paopu tree cast its own shade, a gentler type that didn't destroy the light so much as soften it. "I've got a bad feeling about this. Please."
The summer wind toyed with Riku's hair and the hood of his coat. He was dressed in his black organization uniform, blindfold dangling from his fingers as he nuzzled Sora's hair. "I know the Darkness. I'm the best choice, and someone has to guard here."
"Something's going to go wrong," Sora insisted, lip poking out in a pout and eyes dark and colorless in the night. "I can feel it. You'll forget me again or— or worse! Don't leave me." The last was almost a sob as the smaller man buried his face in Riku's chest, tears trailing down his cheeks. "Don't leave me," he repeated, breath hitching.
Riku tipped his Sora's chin up, forcing him to meet his eyes. There was something desperate in Sora's expression that begged for reassurance. "I'll never forget you," he swore quietly, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. "One destiny, remember?"
"Then share a paopu with me." Desperation made Sora grip Riku's coat in clenched fists, holding him in place. "If it's really one destiny, share one with me."
"That's just an old story—" the objection began, but Sora used Riku's coat to shake him.
"If it's just a story, then it won't hurt anything," he insisted, voice tight with tears. "Please."
After only a moment's hesitation, Riku nodded.
Relief flooded Sora's face. Like a conjuror producing a rabbit, he pulled a small fruit out of a pocket that looked far too small for it. From another he produced a pocket knife.
Riku laughed, the sound carrying over the water and echoing back to them. "You planned this, didn't you?" he asked as Sora cut the fruit up.
Full lips pouted up at him. "Just eat the fruit," Sora grumbled, popping a bite in his own mouth and offering Riku the next.
"I intend to." Smiling, Riku leaned down to kiss him, getting his piece of paopu from the best place he could think of.
Pavement flew under Riku's feet as he ran down the center of Play Island Boulevard, colored with asymmetric stars and fanciful shapes that never existed outside of anyone's imagination. Overhead the sky was the endless blue of late autumn, such a deep color that he felt like he was taking a cold drink of water every time he glanced up. On his right the ocean reflected back the color, flashing golden across the wave tops as the sun dipped towards the horizon. The bells of the school were still ringing, announcing the release of its prisoners for the day. Behind him, two sets of sneakers crunched fallen leaves, kicking up flurries of bright orange and red as their owners strove to catch him.
"Wait up!" Roxas tripped over his too-large shoes, laughing as Axel caught his elbow and hauled him upright. The two tugged each other onward, getting in their own way more often than not.
Riku turned to laugh at them, jogging backward. Crisp air burned his lungs, making every breath dance on the edge of pain. The entire world felt fresh and new even as it faded away into a slow death in preparation for winter. Life beat under his skin, hot and thick in contrast to the thin air. He felt like he could do anything, take on any challenger. "Hurry up, you lazy bums!"
"We wouldn't have to if you'd stop running," Axel retorted, brushing his short-cropped hair out of his eyes. It was a red so bright it looked like it shouldn't occur in nature, but Roxas swore it was Axel's real color and Riku had never asked again. "You—look out!"
"What—" Riku turned around just in time for a low garbage can to bang into his knees. His arms wheeled desperately for balance, but his own momentum worked against him. He landed butt-first and kept rolling, eventually tumbling to a stop to stare up at the single cloud in the sky, his head spinning from the tumble.
"You okay, man?" Roxas peered down at him, eyes the exact same shade as the sky. Axel peeked over his shoulder, already tall for seventeen and still growing. Neither one made a move to help him up. "No cracked neck or anything?"
"I'm fine," Riku sighed, half-lying. His head felt light, like it might spin off at any moment. He focused on a crow as it flew overhead, using the dark smudge of it to steady his shaken thoughts. "Just help me up."
Reassured, his friends reached down to lift him up. Axel made a teasing swat at the dirt on his butt, earning the jealous growl from Roxas he'd undoubtedly been trying for. The couple tussled playfully, more best friends than boyfriends. Riku rolled his eyes at them and proceeded to inspect his white and black school uniform. The stains would come out, but he'd have to treat them individually, which could take forever and would earn a scolding from his mother if she caught it. Disgusted, he leaned against the low white fence that bordered the beach.
"Are you two done with the foreplay, or can we go already?"
"There's the grump we know and love," Axel exclaimed cheerfully, not even bothering to take his hands out of Roxas' pockets. He rested his chin on the top of Roxas' head, crushing the blond spikes. "We're already to Keybearer Memorial. What's the rush?"
"This is the rush." He indicated the deep red stains of claw mud, which looked like drying blood against the white of his pants. "If this isn't out by the time she gets home, Mom'll kill me."
"Borrow one of my old ones," the redhead offered generously, doing something with his hands that made Roxas squeak and swat at him. "I just out-grew another one, and my folks'll never miss it. As long as she sees it hanging in the hall, she'll never notice that you're cleaning a different one. I'll swing by home and you can hang it before we play blitzball." He glanced at his boyfriend nonchalantly.
"I'll go with him," Roxas piped up, "to make sure he doesn't get side tracked." He struggled to twist in Axel's arms, cheeks suspiciously red. Riku glared at them both, knowing that he wouldn't see either for at least an hour. Roxas had the decency to blush even more, but Axel just beamed back shamelessly.
"Fine," he sighed, knowing that the gesture was at least half an excuse to make out, but grateful he was getting a uniform loan out of it. Last time they had just vanished in the middle of history class, somehow managing to slip under the desk and out the door without anyone noticing, and had left the explaining to him. "Thanks. Just don't take too long this time."
"Deal! Come on, Eight." Roxas hooked Axel's collar and hauled off his very willing body, moving at least twice as fast as they had while chasing Riku. In only a handful of minutes they had rounded the bend and were out of sight.
Riku waited until they were gone before turning to follow the fence once more. An hour, he estimated, thinking of how fast they’d run off and the blush on Roxas’ cheeks. Maybe two. He grinned to himself. As small as the island was, they would need a creative excuse if they took too long. If it was good enough, he might even try it on his own parents.
Play Island was designed strangely. His grandfather said that it used to be a giant playground, before the Keyblade Wars. After the Wars there had been a flood of tourists and immigrants from other planets, prompting people to build a small community in the heart of the tiny island. Signs of what it had once been lingered, in the sad little half-rotten docks and in the web-laced hollow under the giant tree. Riku had been under there once, on a dare. He'd found two backpacks, still loaded with crumbling books and termite-eaten pencils. The walls had been covered in childish drawings, moments from someone's life that they'd felt the need to imprint on the world.
The cheerful little fence vanished at the bridge, replaced by a foreboding wrought iron masterpiece. Dead weeds wove through its bars, some climbing all the way to the top of the ornamental spikes. Riku let his fingers dance between the bars as he walked, snagging vines and brittle leaves to break off whenever he encountered them. The fence was meant to keep people from the tiny strip of beach best known as the Park, though the sign said Keybearer Memorial Island. There was nothing special about the tiny strip of beach, but what lay beyond the bridge was the focus of more than one stupid teenage joke. On the island just past the bridge was the legendary paopu tree, which somehow bore fruit year-round.
It had been there forever. The tree itself was so big that two men couldn't wrap their arms around it, the top so heavy that it drooped almost into the water. Riku had never been there, but he'd never been dared to try. Roxas was terrified of the spot, though he didn't know why, and that was enough to keep Axel quiet on the subject.
Just walking by the Island gave Riku chills, like a skeleton was dragging its bony fingers up his spine. Luckily, it was closed to the public, an edict enforced by the tall fence and stories whispered by candlelight on stormy nights.
Iron bars passed under his fingers like rib bones, one after another insmooth sequence until they brushed through the empty space of an open gate. Riku stumbled at the unexpected absence, reaching back to the previous bar for something familiar to touch. He stared at the lock, an overly decorated piece of black iron that had been cast in the shape of a heart. It hung open, dangling creakily in the breeze with little creaking noises. The gate had been kept open with its own latch, which someone had hooked between the bars of the fence.
Something roiled deep in Riku's stomach as he peered through the open gate, like frozen worms trying to burrow through him. Across the bridge, two figures were seated at the base of the tree by the statue of the Kingdom Key, the white hair of one reflecting back the deepening blue of late afternoon shadows. His feet moved without him, padding across the crumbling bridge towards the elderly couple. One of them looked up as his footsteps rang hollowly. She watched him with sharp lavender eyes, head covered by a black shawl, skin fine and stretched over the hollows of her cheeks. Her companion didn't move at all, his head bowed so his colorless bangs hid his eyes.
"Are you lost, grandmother?" Riku asked politely, pausing just on the edge of the bridge. The ice in his stomach was threatening to crawl down to his legs, rooting him in place on the bridge. "This place is supposed to be closed."
Delicate wrinkles folded in on each other as she smiled, a bitter twist of her lips that had little to do with joy. "We have permission and we're not lost, thank you."
The words slipped out before Riku could stop them. "Nobody has permission."
"Then I suppose we're Nobodies," she snapped, then softened at his stricken look. "Don't worry about it. Really. We're just visiting an old friend." Her thin hand patted the handle of the Key, caressing the pale gold marble. The statue was strange, constructed of tinted stone and without a visible base. It looked like someone had simply slammed it into the ground and left it.
A solemn wind blew Riku's hair into his eyes. He brushed it out of the way impatiently. He knew it would be less windy on the island, with the tree to break the breeze, but he was loath to even stand on what amounted to hallow ground for the majority of islanders. "You're visiting the Key?" he asked, feeling thick and slow under her gaze.
"An old friend," she repeated cryptically. "And we're done. Help me up, if you please." She held up an arm imperiously. Her friend still hadn't moved.
Riku glanced worriedly at the ground, but he'd been raised to be polite, and that included aiding old ladies. Careful, half wondering if Thundaga would crash out of the Heavens to strike him dead for the blasphemy, he inched down the rest of the dock until his sneakered foot rested firmly on the island soil.
Something did flash through him, a glow of frozen warmth that vanished like a snowflake under a light bulb. It rooted him to the ground and turned his knees to water. Something in his head echoed, like a leviathan rolling over so deep underground that the ripples never reached the surface.
...it's you?
In a stolen heartbeat, the moment was gone. The old woman hadn't noticed his pause at all, but was clearly amused by his reluctance. Riku shook the moment off, but not in time to escape the teasing comment, "Don't tell me believe the stories?" Her voice bubbled lightly, almost snickering. "That the Keybearer is buried here and his Keyblade marks the site?"
"Of course not! Only kids believe that stuff." Offended, Riku made himself cross the remaining distance with strong strides. He helped her to her feet gently, even though something about her annoyed him and made him sad at the same time. He put it down to the strangeness old people always caused. They were a constant reminder that life wasn't forever. It gave him the creeps.
She looked at him appraisingly, head tilted slightly. Now that he was close he could see how truly delicate she was. Her wrist felt hollow and brittle under his hand, the skin like tissue paper. Still, he could see the young girl she must have been once. The girl lingered in the stubborn tilt of her chin, and the lively tone as she responded, "You should. They're true."
"How would you know?"
"We knew him." Her smile softened as her eyes unfocused just a little. Riku had the feeling that she wasn't looking at anything in the world he knew. "His name was Sora, and he had the biggest heart I've ever known." With a blink she returned to the present, and the gentleness faded as she let go of his arm and brushed off her long dress. The pink flowers printed on it seemed to dance against their black background. "But I suppose you knew that."
Awkwardly, Riku nodded. "Yeah. My little sister's named Kairi—we get told about the Keybearers all the time."
"I think they'd like that." She smiled suddenly, and he could see the young girl peeking out through her tired eyes. She'd been beautiful, once. "Popular name, Kairi. That's mine, too."
"Cool. I'm Riku." He grinned in embarrassment, but also strangely proud. Sora was a name that showed up everywhere, and Kairi was almost as popular, but Rikus were harder to find.
At the name, the old man looked up. With a shock that moved him back a step, Riku realized that his eyes were milky, only the barest hint of green showing under the film. He was blind. "Is he—"
The old woman glanced down at her friend. "Blind, yes. Sometimes I think it's a kindness, if anything can be for him anymore." She reached down and touched his shoulder. "Up. It's time to go home."
Like a puppet, the man stood, moving first one limb and then the other, as though moving both at once was too much effort. There was nothing in his expression that indicated any awareness of his surroundings. Each motion was precise and as empty as a doll. Riku watched nervously, skin crawling as the man's blind eyes stared straight through him.
"Is he okay?"
"As well as he can be." kairi hooked their arms together, clasping the gnarled hand in her own like a child's. "I do what I can, but he's less than a Nobody these days. He has been for a long, long time."
Nervous, but feeling like he had to say something, Riku asked, "Was— Is he your husband?"
"A friend. Sometimes a rival, but always a friend." She led the old man across the bridge, shoes clicking against the soft wood. The man walked as though unaware that he was blind, moving sideways when she nudged him and pausing when she tugged. Riku trailed behind, not sure of what to do, but also not wanting to be left alone on the island. As soon as his feet left the island, he felt himself relax, though he didn't know when he'd tensed up.
When the star-littered pavement was once again underfoot, the old woman yanked the gate closed with a practiced jerk. The lock took care of itself, sliding smoothly into place with a resounding clonk. Riku hesitated as the woman made sure her friend's jacket hadn't slipped and smoothed his hair out of his eyes.
"Um, do you need—"
"No, thank you." She finished her straightening. "You should go home. This wind is wicked at night."
"I was just going there..."
"Good. Go." She shooed him away, turning to go down the main street towards the ferry without even a good-bye. Riku paused, but she had been right about the wind. Goosebumps were already crawling up his arms, even though his jacket was thick and usually a match for any weather. His feet led him home, but the whole way he imagined he could feel blind eyes one him from somewhere in the shadows.
Riku bent over his history book, head aching with dates as he painfully finished the rough draft on an essay he should have begun weeks ago. He read the opening line aloud, twisting the words in his head until they blurred. There was something wrong with the sentence, but no matter how many ways he repeated it, nothing was working.
"... though the Keyblade Wars happened fifty years ago," he tried again, "their effects can still be seen around the universe... damn it!" He threw his pen down in disgust. If Axel were there, with his complete domination of language and brazen diregard of formalities, he might have continued to try. Without either, he conceded defeat and decided to move onto math.
Roxas and Axel made it to his house just in time to delivery the promised uniform, but not before the encroaching darkness made it too difficult to play. They'd hung out for a while, and Riku told them about the grave and its visitor, but all three of them had homework, and Riku's parents wouldn't let Roxas and Axel make out. It only took an hour before the other two boys made their excuses and left him to his dirty uniform and books. Riku tried to put the lonely statue under the paopu out of his head, eventually managing it with a calculus book and the loudest music files he could find on his computer. By the time he fell asleep, hunched over a smudged study guide, he'd forgotten all about it.
Dawn brought him awake with a gasp. A voice rang in his ears, shredding through his heart like razors.
It is you!
Riku gripped his desk and fought to catch his breath, dream images swimming in his head. Tears were still warm on his cheeks, dripping down his chin and nose ungracefully. Memories of the dream fell through his grip like water, sliding away into the darkness behind his eyes. All he was left with were tearstains on his homework and a certainty that he'd dreamed about the little island.
He went through the rest of the morning in a daze, eating breakfast and sailing through classes without sparing more attention than absolutely necessary. As soon as the lunch bell rang he was off to the library, where he buried himself in the reference section. The smell of paper and ink surrounded him on all sides as Riku took up a process he seldom found any use for: research. Eventually, his friends tracked him down, engrossed in a recent history of Destiny Islands.
"I told you he was sick," Roxas' voice commented in his ear. Riku jerked his eyes out of the book to find Roxas and Axel leaning over him, one on either side.
"Maybe it's contagious. Voluntary studying." Axel shuddered, as though he'd said possession by darkness. "We should smack him to make sure he's still breathing."
"Just stick a bag over his head," the blond suggested. "When it stops inflating, that's when you hit him."
"Guys!" Riku smacked them both, shoving them out of his personal space. "I was just looking something up."
"What could be so important that you'd miss Pizza Wednesday?" Red hair and pale skin filled his vision as Axel leaned down close to his face. His open jacket pooled on the table, its oversized zipper like a fallen star against the stained wood. "Pizza Wednesday, Riku! That's like cafeteria gold, and you passed it up!"
"It's nothing." Both boys stared at him silently, Axel from the disconcerting distance of three inches. Riku pushed his chair back with an annoyed noise. "It is! Look, you know those old people I told you about?"
"The creepy lady with the blind guy?" Table legs squeaked against tile as Roxas took a seat on the table. "What about it?"
"She was blowing smoke. Look at this." He flipped the reference book around. It was open to a page that showed a chart of the highlights of all three Keybearers' lives. "None of them are dead, so how could one be buried in the Park?"
"I dunno." Thin fingers tapped a staccato against the chart labeled Sora, then dragged down the short list. "These look awfully short for people who're probably a hundred years old."
"Seventy-something," Riku corrected, enjoying the way Axel scowled at him.
"A hundred, seventy—whatever. But these guys were heroes. You'd think they'd have books of stuff about them. Not... this." Axel touched the last item on all three lists, savior of the Keyblade Wars. It was a sad, pathetic little line that didn't do any justice to the stories still told about the monsters they'd fought, or how much they'd given up to save everything in existence.
"Maybe they all died and no one knows." Cloth whispered loudly in the silence of the library as Roxas leaned against his boyfriend in a carefully neutral pose. They were each one more incident from a suspension, and the librarians had been on the watch for them since the desecration of several volumes at the start of the term. "No one even knows their surnames. It'd be simple to lose track of three people."
"People didn't have surnames back then," Riku reminded him absently, flipping the page to a picture of a Shadow Heartless. They'd been destroyed on Destiny Islands for fifty years, but even a picture of the thing made him shiver. The artist hadn't drawn any highlights in its dead yellow eyes, making it look like they were glowing from the inside. "There were only a few hundred people on the Islands before the worlds connected. No one needed them."
"You're shitting me!" Axel yanked the book out of his hands and began flipping through. "Where does it say that?"
"Everyone knows it!" Riku scrambled after the book, managing to hook his fingers in the binding. "Give it back! I'm not done with it!"
"Oh, I think you are." All three boys froze as the shadow of the librarian loomed over them, lips pursed sternly. One arm unfolded to indicate the exit. "I'll not lose another book to you three hooligans. Out!"
Before her whisper had even faded, they'd dropped the disputed text and were running for the door in a panic, dodging around library-goers and the occasional cart of returns. Axel, with his longer legs, just leaped over the carts. His jacket snapped behind him as he ran, edging far enough ahead to hold the door for his shorter friends.
The three of them collapsed against a pillar outside. Riku rested his forehead against the rough stone and let its coolness sink into his skin. Axel and Roxas propped each other up, exchanging weak jibes about escaping from the jaws of bookly doom. Storm clouds rumbled overhead, freshly blown in from the coast by a wind that smelled of sea salt and electricity.
"You jerks," Riku muttered, combing pale strands of hair out of his eyes. "I wasn't done yet."
"The old lady was just screwing with you," Axel announced decisively, sharp chin tilted at a stubborn angle. "She was probably crazy, and you bought it."
The short blond didn't look as sure as his boyfriend sounded, but Roxas nodded anyway. "It's just an old statue, Riku. Even if someone is buried there, they're probably just bones by now." He shrugged. "Just dust, Riku. Nothing to worry about."
"Yeah, dust. And worms," Axel chimed in. Storm clouds slid over the sun, causing his eyes to glow an eerie green, like the fungus that grew on the walls of the Secret Place. "Beetles. All sorts of things sliming and munching away at rotted flesh—"
Riku's stomach roiled. "For Light's sake's!" He snapped, tipping his head back and covering his eyes. "Roxas! Control your pyro!"
"Down, Axel." He didn't have to look to imaging Roxas wrapping himself around the redhead's lanky frame. "Riku missed pizza. That's enough punishment for his stomach, don't you think?"
"I don't think."
Something unzipped. Riku's ears burned. "That's kind of obvious," he muttered, embarrassed for them. It wasn't worth the effort to be embarrassed about them, and neither one seemed to understand the idea of shame, other than as something that applied to other people. "Tell me when I can look."
"You can look."
Wary, Riku peeked out between his fingers first, just in case. Roxas had zipped Axel's coat against the stiff wind that was bringing in the storm. Riku dared to relax. He should have known that they wouldn't risk getting in trouble again.
"See?" Axel beamed, hair flying every which way while the thin strip of his white tie flowed like a banner on the wind. His smile seemed to say, weren't you being silly? It should have been the first warning. "Perfectly safe." With that, he swooped down and pulled Roxas into a scorching kiss. The blond gave only a token protest before twisting his fingers in Axel's short red hair and giving as good as he got. Riku was positive he saw tongue and was about to intervene when someone else did it for him.
You two!" The vice principal bore down on them, sails set and brimming with homophobic fury. Axel and Roxas broke apart with a faintly disgusting pop, looking sheepish.
Riku summed up the situation for all of them. "Oh, fuck."
The early winter storm broke its rage against the walls of the school, rattling windows and blowing sleet in through the door every time it banged opened. Riku ignored it for the most part, having returned to the history section as soon as the final bell rang. He wasn't the only one waiting out the bad weather, and the presence of other students and faculty was a steady background murmur.
With all the extra people, the librarian didn't even notice that he was there, especially since he'd taken time to change out of his borrowed uniform. He'd barely escaped being in trouble with Axel and Roxas, and he suspected that if the vice principal had been able to punish him as well, he would have. Axel and Roxas barely had been able to talk their way out of a set of suspensions, but nothing would get them out of a day of detention. In a hidden corner of his heart, Riku was glad that they were stuck in a classroom. The history books he'd found were a hundred times more fascinating than he'd expected, and they never would have been able to shut up long enough for him to really read.
Riku had never paid attention in history when recent events were brought up. He'd never, in fact, paid attention in history when history was brought up. The past of Destiny Islands was a long series of dittos until the most recent century, and everyone knew about the Keyblade Masters and Wars, so what was the point in listening? His marks were always good enough to please his parents, and that was what counted.
Now that he had actually started paying attention, he was finding a lot of unanswered questions that he was positive no one had told him about before. Entire chunks of the Keybearers' lives were conspicuously absent from every biography he'd been able to find, and no one seemed to be able to agree on the cause of the Keyblade Wars, or how they finished. His textbook claimed that the Dark Keybearer had been possessed and tried to kill the other two. That was the story he'd grown up with. Another book said it was a battle between the Keyblades themselves, with Sora and Riku only along for the ride. The third claimed that the Light Keybearer had somehow caused the universe-wide attack of Heartless. None of the books mentioned the Princess Keybearer much, except they all seemed to agree that she'd been somehow important. Even more annoying, none of them knew what happened after the War. The Keybearers had just... vanished.
You'd think 95% of the island population getting eaten by heartless would make for more accurate reporting. He flipped a few more useless pages and then gave the book up as a lost cause. It was enough to make him think seriously about stealing the books and letting Axel set them on fire.
When the storm finally died away, Riku had given up with disgust and had started doodling mustaches on the various Keyblades pictured in the books. That was another thing that annoyed him. For famous figures of legend, there didn't seem to be any pictures of any of them. He would have liked to see what they looked like. In his head, Sora had grown to twelve feet tall, had eyes that glowed with power, and swung a Keyblade almost as big as he was.
Before he could be caught defacing precious books, Riku shelved his new artwork and slipped out into the evening light. The sun was already nearly down, half-hidden behind the giant tree that dominated the tiny community. He hurried his steps, not daring to run on the ice-slick streets. The wind cut through his jacket, a nearly-solid thing loaded with the cold of the sleet it had just dropped on the islands. After the sun set, the temperature would plummet. Overhead the sky had settled close to land, a sullen gray that turned the ocean dark and drained color from everything. Even the fallen leaves, which had been bright and colorful the day before, had faded to dull brown.
As he passed the iron gate, Riku found his steps slowing involuntarily. Almost against his will, his eyes strained against the growing dark to find the pale figure of the Keyblade under the paopu. He finally stopped, hand pressed to the lock. Something called to him, too strong to just be curiosity and far more irresistible.
"It's a gravestone, right?" he reasoned under his breath, leaning against the bars of the fence. A fading ray of sunlight peeked through the clouds and glinted golden off the statue. "If it is, then it'll say something... Here lies Joe, good riddance. That sort of thing." The wind pressed against his back, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and teasing them as he jiggled the lock half-hopefully. He didn't expect anything to happen, so when it snapped open he almost dropped it entirely.
Not believing his luck but willing to take advantage of it, Riku gently set his bag down to block the gate open and padded down the path. Ice and frozen slime slid under his feet. The old bridge was basically held together by rot and rusting nails, turning it treacherous in cold weather. Though he moved slowly and tested every spot fully before resting his weight on it, Riku acquired several scrapes and bruises before reaching Paopu Island.
This time nothing strange happened when he walked across the island, though a superstitious tingle crawled over the back of his neck. The wind died to a sleepy whisper, but that was just the giant tree shielding him from it. Just over the ocean horizon, the dark storm clouds had cleared enough to show the sun as it finished its daily journey across the sky. It was bloody red, a stab wound in the sky that dirtied the ocean and sky. It reminded him that he didn't have much time before sunset.
The stone Keyblade was exactly as he remembered it. It disappointed him. Somehow, he'd expected it to have changed, as though looking at it should have started some dramatic chain of events. Giving himself a good shake and a warming rub of the arms, he began to inspect the stone. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for, though it didn't give him any answers at all.
At the base of the handle on the shaft of the blade, inscribed in a flowing script so ornate that he could barely read it, were the words, "Two Hearts". There was nothing else but the words. Puzzled, Riku sank to his knees, intending to check under the handle for more clues. He gripped the blade for balance, then yanked his hand back with a surprised sound.
It was warm, as warm as living flesh and certainly more so than a piece of stone that had just been in an ice storm should have been. Icy mud slipped under his hands and Riku scrambled backwards through the mud, heart pounding in his throat and breath coming in short gasps. The statue didn't move.
Riku sat in on the soggy ground, silently berating himself when nothing jumped out of the shadows to seize him. The last of the sun vanished entirely, leaving the tiny island wreathed in darkness. Determined to prove to himself that there was nothing to worry about, he slowly rolled to his knees and crawled back to the Keyblade. Even with his best efforts, his skin prickled a warning and fear filled his veins with a thousand different chemical compounds, each of them doing their best to make him flee.
"I. Won't. Run," Riku ground out between teeth locked together with cold and terror. Stubbornly, he reached out and gripped the shaft. It was still warm, and it pulsed under his hand like a heartbeat.
A noise on the wind whispered through the branches, a spectral sound that he felt vibrate deep in his inner ear. It took the terror and wound it into a little ball, deep in his core, where something muffled it.
Don't be scared...
"I'm not scared!" he told it so loudly that it almost felt like the truth. The ground under him seemed to thaw, as though the Keyblade were warming it somehow. He tried to pry his hand off the statue, but it refused to unlock. Panic began to steep through him, eating away from the inside out.
"Just the wind," he whispered fervently, trying to loosen each finger individually. The resisted as though cemented in place, knuckles cracking as he pried at them. "Only my imagination. Only..."
Don't be scared, the wind repeated, wrapping warmth around him like a shroud, like a pair of arms. It weakened his muscles, softened his panic into something bearable. He could feel fingers running through his hair, down his cheek tenderly. Everywhere they touched burned in contrast to the freezing air around him. Hot lips touched his neck, searing the skin. I missed you so much, Riku...
"Please." Words locked in his throat, hissing out in a murmur that he couldn't hear even over his own slowing heartbeat. It was a dream. It had to be a dream "Let me go. Ple—"
His pleading was drowned out by harsh screams from above. A flock of crows took flight out of the paopu, settling down again immediately without light to navigate by. Regardless, the damage had been done. In the space between two moments, the warmth of the Keyblade and ground fled, leaving him wracked with cold. Tears Riku hadn't realized he'd been crying had frozen to his cheeks. They cracked as he scrubbed them.
Light flashed over the ground in a long golden stream. "Oi! Anyone here? No trespassing!"
Trembling on legs almost numb with bitter cold, Riku stumbled to his feet. The flashlight beam crossed his chest briefly, but he staggered forward onto the bridge and past the startled security guard.
"You! Hey, you! Get back here!" The guard's footsteps sounded on the bridge after him, but Riku had a head start and it was dark. Curses carried after him as the man damned everything from children to the weather. Riku grabbed his bag without a break in strike and pounded down the still slipper streets, leaving the grave far behind.
Onward