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aliceslantern · 5 years ago

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Beyond this Existence: Atonement, chapter 6

Ansem always had a penchant for strays, so it's not at all surprising when he takes in the orphaned child Ienzo. The boy's presence changes everything, far more than Even is willing to admit. Ienzo's brilliance seems promising, but the arrival of a young Xehanort pushes the apprentices onto a dark, cruel, inhumane path which will affect the future of the World. And even once it's all over with--once Xehanort is dead--they still must pick up the pieces, forgive one another, find a way to atone for their atrocities, and struggle to accept the humanity which has been thrust upon them.

Or: Even's journey from BBS through post-KH3 Chapter summary: Vexen returns to Radiant Garden and becomes Even again, but relationships at the castle remain tense and awkward. A new arrival further mixes things up.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

He finds the boy outside, his eyes turned skyward. He looks exhausted; Vexen’s able to get uncomfortably close before Ienzo notices his presence. The boy’s head snaps down.

They hold eye contact for a very long time.

“Even,” he gasps.

He smiles. Sweat is crawling all along his body, pain in his chest; but he tries to remain composed. “Oh, little one. It is good to see you.”

“This was your doing," he says. “You… you could’ve told me, you know.” A wry smile.

“I’m a coward. What else can I say? The thought of speaking to you again was more than I could bear. This was the only way I could begin to atone.”

Vexen can see the weight of exhaustion within him. He’s positive the poor boy hasn’t rested a whit more than was necessary to remain alive. “I suppose you know you were successful,” he says softly. “Xehanort is dead. It’s over.”

Vexen’s feeling faint now. “Is that so,” he says.

“Even?” Ienzo asks. “Are you alright?”

He collapses before he can say anything more.

When he wakes, he’s in his own bed in his old quarters, not the med bay. His fever has broken, leaving him covered in a thin, unpleasant film of sweat. His body feels odd to him, achy. And while he feels a faint throb of remorse, it’s not nearly as strong as after the first reformation. He forces himself to his feet, wincing at the pain in his head.

All of a sudden he feels old; his joints ache in a disorienting way. He knows he’s nearing fifty (or, depending on just how long he’s been hiding, has passed it), but for the first time it’s a tangible number.

Even forces himself to his feet and lurches over to the mirror over the dresser. He’s breathing hard. He looks terrible--flushed, sweaty, his hair disgustingly greasy--but this doesn’t matter.

His eyes are green, not gold. The piece of Xehanort’s heart inside of him has perished. He knows this almost instinctively.

It truly is over.

Perhaps for this reason, he sinks to his knees and sobs.

---

Just because Xehanort is dead and Even is human again, that doesn’t mean there’s time for leisure. He’s weak and underweight from his weeks of hiding, but he tries not to spend undue time in bed unless it’s unavoidable. He stumbles through interpersonal contact--reunions, conversations--in a numb haze.

The castle is exactly the same, but it’s gone through hell. Everything is either filthy, or broken, or misplaced, or some combination therein. His own human clothing, when he roots through the drawers, has been eaten by moths and mice alike. And seeing that Ienzo has co-opted his lab coats for himself--in the moment he needed them far more--he spends more time in those early days sewing than anything. It feels good to make something with his hands.

His lab is desolate, desecrated, fragile glass doors broken, supplies stolen, missing, or compromised. He spends days cleaning and reorganizing. It doesn't seem to do much good.

They've been left another replica by one of the true vessels. It was its user's desire that it go to Naminé. With Kairi presumed dead, it was a logical fallacy to figure out how to seek her heart; he and Ienzo spend hours in circular discussion, but neither of them can come up with anything good. The best they can do is prepare the replica for implantation, and wait. Ansem, quietly, is nearby, as he seeks to apologize to the girl. Apparently he wasn't the only one who suffered a great deal of moral degradation. This is actually a comfort to Even, because as the days pass, his remorse again goes heavier. He lacks composure; often he gives in to fallacies of weakness, breaking down almost distantly when he has moments to himself.

It doesn't take long for Naminé to arrive. It occurs to Even that not everything about the heart is possible to understand. When she wakes, the three of them are there. It will always give him a thrill, to see the replica go from a genderless, colorless sort of mannequin to a realized human being.

She sits up. Slowly. She seems a bit dizzy. Ienzo tries to assuage her, but it's Ansem who speaks first. "My dear girl," he says. "I am truly sorry for what we've all put you through. I realize we have not made your existence easy; that, in fact, I have made it something of a hell. I hope that, with this new chance, you can find peace. And if there's anything--any small thing--we can do to assist you, let me know at once."

Naminé seems to struggle with her words. Even takes her vitals, notes with a distant pleasure how stable they are; she's taken to this body like glue, exactly as easy as Roxas and Xion did theirs. "Where's Roxas?" She asks.

"At Destiny Islands, waiting for you," Ienzo says gently. "Riku has arrived to bring you there, should you desire it."

Her blue eyes gleam. "Yes. That's what I want." She looks slowly at each of them, but it's Ienzo's eyes she seeks (she's had the smallest amount of trauma with him) when she asks, "Kairi… where is she?"

"We're not sure," Ienzo says. "Sora is seeking her… I'm sure he will find her, if he's determined enough."

Even has known Ienzo for years. He knows when he is lying. Zexion was better at it. Despite Ienzo's trepidation, Naminé nods. "Then I should wait for her," she says. "I can just… go?"

"Of course," Ienzo says gently. "I can escort you, if you like."

She shakes her head. "That's okay," she says. "Thanks."

"It's the least we can do." Ienzo gives her a gummiphone, a brief tutorial on how to use it. "So you can be in contact with your friends."

"My friends." She smiles. "He's just outside?"

"Yes. He'll be waiting."

They all watch her go. There are a few moments of awkward silence. Ansem faces Ienzo. "You've done well, my boy," he says gently, and though Ienzo nods, Even can see his eyes on the floor. "You should get some rest. You look exhausted."

"There's still so much to be done," Ienzo says. "The computer must be tidied up--I'm afraid the committee and Sark have--"

Even touches his shoulder, feeling the boy flinch just the slightest at the unanticipated touch. "You've worked so hard. I know human exhaustion is still unfamiliar to you, but your body is more fallible than a Nobody's. You need rest, fluid, and dare I say it, a few square meals." He tries to smile. "Please sleep, Ienzo. You are no longer so alone."

Even wonders if he's imagining it, or if Ienzo's eyes are watering. "I… will try," he says softly. "Please don't hesitate to wake me if you need anything."

"I'd much rather see you healthy," Ansem says. "Go, my boy. It's alright."

They watch him go. And then it's the two of them.

"Well," Even says. "I do have some affairs to attend to. I should like to write a report about Naminé's implantation."

"...Certainly."

Even takes a few steps, then hears Ansem's voice:

"Even?"

"Yes, Master?"

"How are you faring?"

He meets Ansem's rusty eyes. There's still something missing from them. "Healthy enough," he says. "Realizing I am old, as well as a fool. I've no idea where to begin unraveling what I've done."

"You're not the only one," Ansem says. He shakes his head.

"What is it you've done?" Even asks, incredulous.

Ansem chuckles darkly. "More than sit limply in the realm of darkness, I'm afraid."

"...I see." His heart is beating hard--anxiety, and repulsion. "If it's… all the same, I should like to take my leave."

"Of course. You needn't my permission anymore."

He scoffs a little. "I wasn't asking for it."

---

Even doesn't feel quite right; he doesn't feel at home here, and neither, he suspects, do the others. For the most part, they avoid one another aside from the lightest and most superficial greetings. Even knows he needs to confront them, for any number of reasons--their mistreatment of the boy Ienzo, the atrocities they committed in the Organization, the fact that they threw Ansem into the darkness--but he does not feel able. He doesn't feel able to do much at all, actually.

He can feel the basement in his periphery, its suffering, his own follies like a magnet--

Even finds it difficult to consistently keep down foods, to sleep. He knows it is likely stress, and he sees the numbers when he draws his own blood. But how to alleviate any of this pain? How to begin? How to start to atone?

With the weight of his own burgeoning humanity, he feels nearly incapacitated. He tries to write, to create reports detailing all that happened--if so to organize his own thoughts--but often he finds himself staring into space. For the first time he despises his awareness, his intelligence, because Even is acutely aware he is becoming depressed.

Nobodies’ minds largely reject mental illness, mostly to ensure survival of the body. But as a human, it’s all coming back, the repercussions. And if the mental health situation was bad for Radiant Garden before, now it’s completely desolate.

Worsened by facts of the Fall.

Ienzo brings him tidings of it, quietly--the young man went to visit with the restoration committee, to see if there was any more news worth passing on. He’d left his lab coat at the castle. Without apprentice or Organization garb, the boy looks downright strange in civilian clothing. His teal eyes are empty, and drawn from exhaustion. “Even,” he says in an odd voice. “Have you several moments?”

“...Of course. Ienzo? Are you alright? You look ill.”

“Leon was… catching me up on town affairs,” he says slowly. “I knew this world fell, and was restored, but to hear the stories of it…” He swallows thickly and won’t make eye contact. Even gestures for him to sit on one of the stools in the lab; he does, heavily. “He… was kind enough to insist that it was not our fault. But we planted the seeds. Even. ”

“...I know.”

Slowly, Ienzo nods.

“I’m sure what you feel must be overwhelming,” Even says softly. “You’re no longer used to emotion, how it physically impacts the body. But don’t let it weigh so heavily, Ienzo. You were a child--mentally ill and manipulated. This has nothing to do with you.”

“I should have known better. And that doesn’t begin to touch what I did after.”

He doesn’t know what to say, where to even begin. “Child--”

He swallows, blinking quickly. “I… I have something I must attend to.”

Even should’ve followed him, tried harder--but he can’t.

---

In strange moments, he finds himself thinking of Demyx. Not quite with fondness, or even concern, but curiosity and a sort of worry. If Xehanort’s heart had been purged from Even, it should have been purged from the boy as well--meaning he’s lost his means to travel. Yet, he worries. What if a piece of Xehanort remains? The others worry about it too, to a smaller degree; they talk about it in hushed voices. Easier to discuss this than the emotional rot.

It turns out he doesn’t have to worry long.

In a moment ripped clean from the past, Dilan approaches him in his quarters. “Have you a moment?”

“That depends.”

“There’s something I think you’ll want to see.”

Dilan brings him not to the med bay, but rather to one of the empty apprentice rooms--one of the ones that, had they been graduated, would likely have belonged to Isa or Lea. Even sees the black heap on the bed. “We found him about half an hour ago,” Dilan says. “He was asking for you.”

Even approaches Demyx slowly. He’s unconscious, shuddering--no doubt in the throes of a fever like Even was.

“Why has it taken so long?” Dilan asks.

“Dilan, I know it’s been a while since we’ve been researchers, but I trust you did not forget about relativity.” If Demyx has been shuffling from world to world--each with its own different time signature--it makes sense that, to him at least, this is only happening now. To his body, Xehanort has only just been defeated. “I know what this is. The part of Xehanort’s heart that’s been instilled in him is dying.” He rolls up the boy’s sleeve, begins taking his vitals, wondering all the while if his were anything like this. Racing heart, fever, low blood pressure. “Would you do me a favor and get the boy some blankets?”

“Will he--” Dilan hesitates, and his lip curls. “What will become of him?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“But this means he is--”

“Unable to leave Radiant Garden, yes.” Even looks at him. “Please. Sooner rather than later. He is very unwell.” As gently as he can, he eases off Demyx’s boots, his ragged and muddy coat. No doubt as soon as the pain started, the boy sought him for help--he knew no one else to turn to. He settles the boy onto his side, a precaution in case he should vomit, and covers him.

Dilan watches this with a sort of morbid fascination. “He really did help you?” he asks, incredulous. “He really… turned against the new Organization?”

“In his own way. I’ve no idea why--but I’m grateful.”

“I should tell the others.” He shakes his head. “Do you remember the boy’s name, from the old life?”

Even frowns. “You know, I don’t,” he says. “I’m afraid I never paid much attention to the neophytes.”

“Very well. I’m sure he’ll tell us when he wakes.” With a scowl, Dilan leaves.

Even brushes a strand of hair out of his own eyes and looks back towards the boy. “You couldn’t bear to let me have a moment of peace, could you?”

Almost as if in response, Demyx shudders more intensely and curls in on himself.

Even sighs. “Very well. My work is cut out for me, I see.” He takes a pen light out of his pocket, pulls the boy’s eyelid back. Unpleasant, yes, but he has to know. The boy doesn’t react hardly at all. Even notes with relief that the small sliver of iris he can see is Demyx’s natural teal. “Get some rest,” he murmurs. “Goodness knows you’ll need it.”

It isn’t long before the cavalry comes. Ienzo and Ansem, in tandem, like nothing’s changed. Ienzo’s expression is stricken; morbidly fascinated. “...He’s not a vessel?”

"I don't believe so. I've already checked his eyes. Not gold. Look." He demonstrates for them.

He hesitates. “Do you think he’s trustworthy?”

"I do not believe he'd cause any harm to us," Even says. "He was rather helpful with the replicas." "The boy holds no ill will. We did not speak much, admittedly, but he seemed all too happy to get a move in edgewise," Ansem says. "I believe he was merely swayed. And we can sway him back to us, if need be." "I'll monitor him, but he should be up and about before long." Even shakes his head. "Nasty business. At least it's all over now." He takes the coat. "I'll put this filthy thing in the wash with mine. Best to hold onto. Just in case." If he’s learned anything, it’s that nothing is impossible.

Ansem follows him out the door, but Ienzo remains, an odd, unreadable look on his face. “...This is what you went through?” he asks softly.

Even looks over his shoulder. “Oh, yes,” he says. “Much the same. It’s just us that went through it this way. He’ll be human before long.”

Ansem nods. “I suppose you and he only have fragments of a heart, rather than a whole one, like the others.”

“...I presume.”

“What does that… feel like?”

Even stares at him. “I’m still puzzling that one out, I’m afraid.”

Ansem nods slowly. Like the rest of them, the clothing he’s bought is secondhand; gone were the days of pristine, professional garb based on their status. Back to patching, darning, mending. He looks more like someone’s grizzled grandfather than a former king.

Even’s sure he himself doesn’t look much better. “I should like to draft a report about this,” he says. “Unless there’s something else you need.”

“We should figure out what to do with the young man,” Ansem says.

Even shrugs. “Demyx is an adult. As… eccentric as he is, he’s capable of deciding his own fate. Nor is he an amnesiac. Once he is well, he can leave.”

Ansem sighs. “Should he have nowhere else to go?”

Even scowls. “You and your strays,” he spits. “All that’s done is get us in trouble.”

The little readability in Ansem’s expression is quickly replaced by indifference. “You’re a different man, Even.”

“Well, what did you expect of me? It’s been twelve years, multiple transfigurations of the self. I’m no longer so amenable, and for that I apologize.” He feels his nostrils flare.

Ansem smiles darkly. “No, you’ve hardened.”

“I would not have survived the alternative.”

The words fall, heavily. Ansem crosses his arms. “...Quite. Well, I’ve my own work to do.”

Even launders both cloaks, revulsion making his skin prickle. Demyx, when he checks, is still unconscious, though his fever has broken. He’ll wake soon. He’ll likely have many annoying questions. Perhaps Ienzo can field that for him--the boy seems to have more patience now that he’s human.

Even, on the other hand, has less.

---

Demyx’s presence does shift things. To Even’s annoyance, the boy truly doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s as though he’s puncturing a hole in their insular world, forcing them to confront things they wouldn’t have otherwise. He’s quieter, less effervescent than he used to be. For the most part, he seems unsure of what to do with himself. This is perhaps the sole thing, aside from their reformation, he and Even have in common.

He examines the young man one last time. Aside from being too thin, he’s otherwise healthy. “Now, tell me, what was the process like for you? I’m still trying to understand it. We were the last two Nobodies whose reformation didn’t necessitate some sort of murder-suicide. It goes against almost everything we’ve learned so far.”

Demyx hesitates, flinching a little. “Painful,” he admits in a low voice.

When he says no more, Even scowls. “I seem to recall a time when I could not get you to shut up. Now, when there’s actually matters of interest, suddenly you become as taciturn as Aeleus.”

Demyx drops his eyes. Even feels his frustration building. Truly, along with anger and guilt, this is all he really feels.

“I’m trying to understand so that I can help you,” Even says slowly.

The boy takes a moment to gather himself. Gone is Demyx’s quick, though nonsensical, tongue. Even wonders if there’s some deeper change, if his sense of self has shifted like Ienzo’s. Of course it would impact the younger members all the harder. Even himself dimly remembers those days (a lot longer ago than he would like to admit), when the struggle to find oneself was a constant. “It just started hurting at one point,” he says.

Even jots that down. “Your heart?”

“Yes. Well, I guess not technically. And then the pain just got worse, and I felt like I was dying, and then I tried to open a corridor to find you, but it took a few tries. I passed out and then when I woke up it was gone.”

That all tracks with Even’s own process. “Yes. Yes, my experience was similar. Did you experience weakness, feverishness, and delirium as well?” He shrugs. “Well I did have dreams--but they’ve stopped.”

Dreams? All Even can recall is darkness. “What kind of dreams?” he prompts, the words nearly coming of their own accord. The curiosity, the desire to know more.

“I… I don’t know. This place I don’t quite remember. Something about Keyblades.” “...Fascinating,” Even mumbles. “I wonder if you were seeing some of Xehanort’s memories.” “...Maybe,” Demyx says, flinching a little.

“But if that fragment had bound to you so tightly, I’m surprised it let go as easily as it did. Perhaps Xehanort willed it when he passed.” If only he had other vessels to interview--

Then again, what kind of fool wants that?

Even looks into his eyes again. Still teal. No visible indication of anything remaining. Then again… if Demyx is dreaming… perhaps it might be good that he’s still here. “I have a favor to ask of you.” He hands the boy a notebook. “Keep track of your dreams to see if anything like that happens again. I will as well. Maybe we can divine some meaning from them.”

He sighs. “Homework?”

This is so typical. Of course he wouldn’t have changed as much as Ienzo.

“This is for the advancement of important scientific research!” Even snaps. “Don’t you see what we can learn?” He shut his eyes tightly, a headache beginning to throb. “Why did it have to be you?”

The boy glares at him. “Good question. I’m gonna go now.”

For several moments Even sits, his head reeling. There’s no need to be nasty to the boy, but yet it rose from him almost involuntarily. More like Vexen than Even. Though much too emotionally soft to be Vexen. He’s crammed somewhere between the two.

I’m too old to be dealing with this.

Before long, though, Demyx is back, this time with Aeleus. Something’s shifted. His eyes are wide, watery, and his breathing sounds wheezy, labored--

A sound of nightmares and hours spent consoling Ienzo--

“My powers,” he says quickly. “Where are they?”

Of course nobody else told him. He guides the trembling boy over to a chair. “It’s our biology,” he explains. “Now that we’re human, we’ve no need for our weapons, our powers.”

“...Our powers are gone?” he asks, his eyes dull.

“In all probability--yes. It’s unusual for humans to have abilities as specific and powerful as we did.” Nobody power is tied to the will, an expression of the self in the absence of a heart--though doubtless Demyx won’t understand this explanation.

“Can I get it back?” “I never thought you cared about fighting.” “This isn’t about fighting,” he says desperately. “Without my sitar, I--” Even’s lip curls. “Oh. That. I’m not certain what I could do for you, Demyx.”

He says nothing, but his eyes are wide, horrified. But really what can Even do? Give the boy false hope? What would that achieve?

“You could have a look in the marketplace. You might find something there that might help you make noise. Now if that is all you’re concerned about, I have work I need to tend to.”

With a quick, pained breath, Demyx leaves. For a moment, Even sits with his head over his notes, trying to conclude. Slowly, like honey, he feels something seeping into him.

There was absolutely no reason to be so short with Demyx. Not when the boy has assisted him.

He groans a little and stands, pacing slowly. After a moment, he holds his palm out, calling gently towards his shield. Sure enough, he feels nothing. It’s gone back to sleep inside of him, no longer needed.

It will only be prudent, to follow up with the others. For his reports.

Dilan and Aeleus both answer in the negative when he asks. And while he knows what Ienzo will say--well, it never hurts to be thorough.

The young man is camped at the computer, where he’s more or less lived these past few days, combing through the disaster that is now their archives. The committee saw fit to completely overtake the computer, and whatever codes it’s been fed to try and decrypt things has it working poorly. Ienzo was never particularly interested in computer science; what does the boy need to know?

“Have you a moment?” he asks.

Ienzo does not even look up, still pulling things this way and that. “Of course. Whatever is the matter?”

"You no longer have any of your Nobody abilities, correct?"

He looks up, squinting. “That is correct. Why is it you ask? You haven't either, have you?" "I have tried, and I cannot," Even says. "I wanted to make sure. He found out." "Who? Demyx?" Even nods. "I wonder if my tone might have been too sharp. He did look rather distressed. But what is it I'm to do? I'm not a miracle worker. And if I'm being honest, I'm quite content with how silent things are around here." "Strictly speaking, there is nothing we can do. Aside from have patience. Oh, that reminds me. I was supposed to have dropped off those clothes. My memory has not been great lately." "You've had a lot on your mind," Even says gently. "I suspect we all have. I'll be glad to not see another one of those infernal cloaks. So drab. So… cult-like."

Ienzo looks back at the screen. "Master Ansem said essentially the same thing. I suppose I should take care of it now." His expression is grim, unhappy. Even’s glad that he’s not the only one feeling negatively about this. "I shall walk with you." The decay has only seemed to grow more noticeable. Water damage and erosion abounds, and everything is full of filth. The heavy carpets, once beautifully embroidered, are threadbare. For some reason Even feels the need to chat, to engage. The boy looks so wilted. "It's a shame. Things here were once so beautiful. If the committee were not so busy we could use their assistance. This place is a shell of what it once was." “You have to admit it feels rather significant.” Ienzo and his metaphors. The boy never did give up reading. "Too on the nose, for my tastes.” He shakes his head. "We're not shells of who we once were. We've changed and adapted. You most of all. I miss being so pliable." But Ienzo does not receive this as a compliment. “So I’ve heard,” he says darkly. “I assure you it is not as easy as it looks.” He wishes Ienzo would tell him about it. “My apologies.” Ienzo hesitates. “If only times were simpler," he says. "I feel as if I've no time to look after myself--what with Sora's disappearance and Demyx's arrival." "Sora's disappeared?" He knew of Kairi’s death--but he figured the fool would be back by now. Ienzo smiles tiredly, and explains in a few clipped sentences that Sora sought to find her heart. Despite the gummiphone, everyone has lost track of him. Even blinks. “How curious. I wonder if there’s any of his data somewhere?” "Sora's? I do not know. I'm not sure how his friends would feel if he were a replica, though." Even sighs. "I've tried to recreate Sora's heart, and we know what happened with that," he says. "As proud as I am of Xion's sentience and personhood, unfortunately his heart is so special that it seems to be a moot option. Best not to give them hope." It’s the hesitation that tells him everything he needs to know. "I thought I'd taught you better," Even says. "You should have heard Riku's voice." "I'm surprised you feel so strongly about him, not when you have such poor memories of him." Riku was nothing but a thorn in their side at Castle Oblivion--defying the odds, resisting all attempts at control. But Ienzo’s reaction is completely inexplicable--he flushes and raises his voice. "That was your replica, might I remind you," Ienzo snaps. Even raises an eyebrow. "The Riku replica? What about it?" He stops cold. “Never mind.” There’s something going on here. “Boy, tell me,” he says sharply. Ienzo’s tensed; his hands hover near his throat (in a flash, Even remembers the bruises, the scars). “Ienzo?” Even prompts. The boy gasps, a pained sound; fear floods his eyes. “Oh, Ienzo.”

"If you must know," Ienzo forces out between breaths, "Axel had the Riku replica kill Zexion." "He did?" Even laughs, despite himself. "Axel killed Vexen." And yet somehow the bastard became a guardian of light. Such brutality. But he has no time to think about such things; Ienzo’s distress is clearly the priority. “How is it you’re feeling?” His voice brings back a gut-punch of memory. “I don’t understand. I don’t understand what it is I’m feeling.” He tries to soften. “Intense, paralyzing panic?” he offers. “Yes--perhaps--” He’s breathing like it hurts. "You should sit down and focus on modulating your breathing," Even says. He helps the boy down to the floor. Aside from his size, it’s almost exactly like all those times before. "It's alright. This is a normal reaction to recalling something traumatic-" "Believe me, I know," Ienzo hisses. "I am perfectly aware of what this is." His eyes belie the opposite.

"Count to ten," Even says. "Deep, steady breaths." Even sees him struggle to bring himself back under control. The wild, barely-contained agony he saw when he first reformed is back, flooding Ienzo’s every breath. He feels his heart begin to ache, dully. “Why is it you do not feel that way?” Ienzo asks. "Perhaps my heart is not quite as developed as yours," Even says. "Perhaps it is that I have not processed it all, yet." Yes, that’s it. No wonder he feels so scrambled. "I do not wish to speak of it at the moment," Ienzo says thickly. He pulls away from Even’s touch. "I must… I must go." By the time he can find the courage to say it, the boy’s long gone. “...Wait… Let me help you…” Perhaps it’s because of Ienzo’s panic attack, but Even finds himself remembering that moment with utter clarity. Begging for mercy, for his life. Being struck, twice, pinned down like one of his own experiments. Then a fire within, so bright and hot and not at all instant. Again, he cannot keep down his dinner. This will not do. Even tries to rest, because he can feel his body crying out for it--but despite what he told the boy, he can’t respect his own weakness. He dresses, flinching as his fingers brush the scars (he still has not seen himself fully in a mirror, and he surely doesn’t plan on it any time soon), and begins walking. He has any amount of things to do, but he cannot bring himself to go to the labs. So he walks, noting the autumn chill. He’s forgotten how frigid Radiant Garden can be in the fall and winter; normally he would not mind, but he no longer has Vexen’s immunity to the cold. “Even? Is that you?” He pauses; but it’s only Aeleus. “On a round?” The man shrugs. He’s wearing no uniform, carrying an old flashlight. “I… was feeling restless. Were you as well?” “...Quite.” “Would you mind if I… joined you?” Even immediately tries to reject the invitation, but finds himself saying instead, “Not at all.” So they walk, for a long time in pure silence. It doesn’t feel awkward, but it’s not comfortable, either. “You’re… alright?” Aeleus asks slowly. Even blinks. “I…” He begins. “I know,” Aeleus says. Their footsteps seem almost deafening in the darkness. The night is so calm, Even notes; with darkness withering, it’s cool as silk. “Tell me something, Aeleus.” He chuckles. “That depends.” “You… do you also feel as though you are in between?” He mulls it over. The flashlight casts strange shadows over his features. “Yes and no,” he says at last. This makes Even laugh as well. “I feel as if… I’m meant to be here,” Aeleus says. “In this place, at this time. I will do what is needed, what is asked of me, humbly. And be pleased my fate is not worse.” “...That so,” Even says softly. “I wish to… find my own ways of atoning,” Aeleus says. “Mostly… I would like to be here for Master Ansem, for Ienzo.” “...Have you spoken to him? Ansem.” “Only for a few moments,” he says. “I cannot find the right words to apologize.” The night seems suffocatingly silent. “You were there, that night?” “I… yes.” He looks at his hand, clenches it into a fist. “It was as though something came over me… enabling all the most evil pieces of myself. To give that final shove… was easier than I want to admit. But it’s his eyes I remember most.” Even cannot catch his breath. “It wasn’t betrayal, not like you think. He… he looked at me, and I could tell he knew, knew what we'd done. He said…” Aeleus exhales heavily. Even touches his shoulder, feels the tension there. “You don’t have to tell me.” ““I thought you were stronger than this.”” “That’s what he said?” “...Yes.” Even gives Aeleus space, silence. He admits slowly, “I was going to run.” “With Ienzo?” “Yes.” He digests this. “I wonder what would have happened.”

---

There’s no point in thinking about what might have happened. Because it didn’t. Even isn’t naive enough to believe fate steered him on this path; he’s done this all to himself, to the boy, and to the others as well. The guilt cuts him like a knife. Where to begin? The question cycles in his mind over and over again. As he composes his reports, sitting there, alone, like nothing has changed and yet everything has changed. Where has the time gone? They’ve all suffered and aged, but have they grown at all, the way he told Ienzo they have? Himself, especially? How can he begin to erase his sins? Can he plan while his heart feels like it’s rotting?

#beyond this existence: atonement #even (kingdom hearts)#ienzo #ansem the wise #aeleus #demyx #dilan #beyond this existence #vexen

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sparkadreama · 5 years ago

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List of all my current threads and their status. This is not meant to rush replies but merely serve for organization (in other words my own sanity) and as a reminder of sorts as well! If you know we have a thread and it is not listed here then let me know as I may have forgotten it! Also let me know if anything has been mislabeled (like something marked as Waiting On has already been replied to) or if you’d like to drop any of the threads here! No reason needed! If you’re not feeling it anymore let me know!

Total: 75 Questioning: 4 Dropping: 0 My Turn/Continue Pending/Starter Pending: 18 Waiting On: 56 On Hold: 1

***A bold x has a link to latest reply. Will add/fix other links later!

@1stclasszackfair

Lost Devil [x] - Lucifer & Zack (Waiting On)

Kiss From An Angel [x] - Adam & Zack (My Turn - In Drafts)

Wings Of A Monster Angel [x] - Adam & Zack (Waiting On)

A Time To Finally Relax [x] - Adam & Zack (Waiting On)

Comfort After A Bad Day [x] - Adam & Zack (Waiting On)

@amourfeint

Reunion in Auradon [x] - Snow White & Evie (Waiting On)

Another Day in Gotham [x] - Dodger & Gabriel (Waiting On)

TBA [x] - Damon & Trevor (Waiting On)

No Biting [x] - Damon & Gabe (Starter Posted)

Cold Case Number....Who Knows [x] - Damon & Gabe (Waiting On)

@atonings

Do You Deserve Mercy? [x] - Mercy & Lohgain (Waiting On)

@awreckageofstarss (idk if you wanna continue any of the older ones, lemme know!)

Sketches [X] - Izayah & Hiccup (Waiting On) (?)

A Kiss…Or Two… [X] - Izayah & Hiccup (My Turn - In Drafts) (?)

Trapped In A Spiderweb [X] - Kiran & Moth (Waiting On) (?)

Snowfall In Gotham [x] - Katherine & Jack Frost (Waiting On - TO BE MOVED!!) (?)

A Quiet Moment [x] - Izayah & Hiccup (Waiting On)

@ciirquemagique (On Hold)

A Carnival of Demons [x] - Jack & Primavera (My Turn - In Drafts)

@crcwnedjewels

Escape [x] - Jasmine & Sofia (My Turn - In Drafts)

@dakilain

TBA [x] - Adam & Zachraiel (Waiting On)

@deadmenanddemons

Death at the Graveyard [x] - Death & Undertaker (Starter Posted)

@diamcndclaws

Inspection [x] - Dodger & Selina (Waiting On)

Lost Again [x] - Kirara & Selina (My Turn - In Drafts)

@disgusstful

Emotions at the End [x] - Death & Disgust (My Turn - In Drafts)

@escxpetoskullshores

Cats And Bunnies [x] - Fluttershy & Andy (Waiting On)

@fairestfall

Stranger [x] - Khojin & Snow (Waiting On)

@ghaisgeach

Adjusting To The City [x] - Cerise & Bigby (Waiting On)

Hunting The Spider Queen [x] - Annabelle & Hiro (My Turn - In Drafts)

Darkness From Another Realm [x] - Adam & Shida (My Turn - In Drafts)

Not Much Of A Break [x] - Sophie & Mako (Waiting On)

Royal Inn [x] -Snow White & Naofumi (Waiting On)

@goofymuses

Return to Agrabah [X] - Jasmine & Sora (Waiting On)

The Void Between Everything [X] - Veillios & Riku (Waiting On)

Pure Magic [x] - Unicorn & Sora (Waiting On)

Light in the Dark [x] - Unicorn & Darkness (Waiting On)

@hcwlingwind

Confronting Father [x] - Khojin & Shan Yu (Waiting On)

@kindcstguardian

Palace Monkey [x] - Jasmine & Abu (Waiting On)

Angel’s Lab [x] - Veillios & Mercy (Waiting On)

Stranger in the Tower [x] - Zel & Ayden (Waiting On)

@lifespentinadream

The Dragon Catches the Princess [x] - Izayah & Briar (Waiting On)

@mayourheartsbeourguidingkey

A Gift [x] - Merlin & Terra (My Turn - In Drafts)

Two Hearts Touched By Darkness [x] - Veillios & Riku (My Turn - In Drafts)

@morningstaroflux

Finding the Boss Man [x] - Annabelle & Lucifer (Waiting On)

@myfatherthetraitor

Highlander vs Hun [x] - Khojin & Ebony (My Turn - In Drafts)

What? How? [x] - Diamond & Ebony (Waiting On)

Destiny Troubles [x] - Merlin & Ebony (Waiting On)

@muzaixnoxasashin

Bar Fight! [x] - Mirra & Akuma (Stater Posted)

Within the Forest [x] - Lucifer & Akuma (My Turn - In Drafts)

@nxghtprincess

Waking The Moon [x] - Tempest & Luna (Waiting On)

@pluslesmuses

Not In Salem Anymore [x] - Kitty & Cleo (My Turn - In Drafts)

@rollingsnowsmasher

Unwelcome Escort Mission [x] - Inuyasha & Itsuki (My Turn - In Drafts)

@saccharineflora

Failed Test [x] - Veillios & Moira (Waiting On)

@snxckersnxckisms

Old Words [x] - Veillios & Mal (Waiting On)

Therapy [x] - Emily & Mal (Waiting On)

Traveler [x] - Emily & Mal (My Turn - In Drafts)

TBA [x] - Nizsm & Mal (Waiting On)

On The Run [x] - Veillios & Mal (Starter Posted)

@starsweepers

Street Cats [x] - Dodger & Mira (Waiting On)

@starastrae

New Singer [x] - Izayah & Astra (Waiting On)

@starryburglar

Lost Nekomata [x] - Kirara & Angel (My Turn - In Drafts)

Near Escape [x] - Veillios & Brigitte (My Turn - In Drafts)

@strcngered

A Change Of Perspective [x] - Lucifer & Carrie (Waiting On)

Place To Rest [x] - Entei & Mewtwo (Waiting On)

What’s That Smell? [x] - Minty & Trevor (Starter Posted)

More or Less Alive [x] - Death & Hector (Waiting On)

Trying to Understand [x] - Death & Hector (Waiting On)

They Always Return [x] - Death & Hector (Waiting On)

@we-thefairfolk

Withering Forest [x] - Death & Cadence (Waiting On)

Bog Frog Hunting [x] - Merlin & Enya (Stater Posted)

TBA [x] - Misto & Tugger (Starter Posted)

A Failure... [x] - Lucifer & God (Waiting On)

@withinyourimagination

Spirit of the Inn [x] - Snow White & Dezel (My Turn - In Drafts)

What’s A Pick-Up Line? [x] - Zel & Sylvain (My Turn - In Drafts)

TBA [x] - Zel & Prompto (Starter Posted)

Do You Not Hear That Often [x] - Jack & Prompto (Continue Posted)

Offer Of A Date [x] - Jack & Prompto (Continue Posted)

#thread tracker tag tba

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aithne · 5 years ago

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(Illume) July 1st - July 6th, 1583: Bad Blood

From Lady Yukiko's Journal

7/1/1583 Sapporo late evening

I walked into the library where I'd heard raised voices coming from into the most extraordinary scene. My father was at one end of the room, Reiko at the other, the rest of my retinue in the middle. My father and the shaman weren't *quite* glaring at each other, but had the shaman been in her fox form I am certain her ears would have been pinned back to her head. The anger in the room as electric, the small hairs on the back of my neck stood up, prickling.

Funitsu glanced from one to the other. "Are you going to play nice, or are we going to have some unpleasantness here?"

My father growled, "I have been told by my daughter that the kitsune is valuable to her. I will not kill her--today."

"And because he's Yukiko's father, I won't try to kill him. Today, at least. But you and I have had an appointment for six centuries, Demonbane. I fully intend on keeping it."

I broke in. "Demonbane? Six centuries? Could somebody please explain to me what is going on here?"

"I was explaining why Emi had wanted me under control, but I need to go get someone to show you something. I will be back in five minutes." My father strode from the room, leaving silence in his wake.

I rounded on the kitsune. "Reiko. What, exactly, is your problem?"

"Remember those dreams I've been waking from screaming? Your father plays a starring role, Yukiko. I'll let him explain to you, though. It should be...interesting." She would say no more until my father came back, a very handsome young man in tow.

"I am, among other things, a necromancer. About six centuries ago, my son was killed by a kitsune. He was meant to either die in battle or commit seppuku, not be drained to death by an immortal. And so I created these warriors, to hunt down and kill all immortals. But especially kitsune. Before Setto died, I hunted demons that were plaguing humans. Afterwards, I knew that all immortals needed to die."

My mind was reeling already. My father, a necromancer? I thought he was a warlord. And six centuries old... I heard the shaman who was standing next to me take in a hissing breath, and as I glanced at her she sidled over a bit so she was standing behind Panda and Gryphon. I didn't blame her, honestly.

My father continued. "These warriors are designed, in particular, to kill kitsune. Warrior. Reveal yourself." The handsome young man standing beside my father shook his head and....unfolded.

Seven feet of gleaming carapace and scythe-like front legs stood before us. It looked nothing so much like a very mantis--if mantises were that tall and their front legs were edged in metal. The warrior stood and looked at us, surveying the room with faceted eyes.

"I call them Thrykeen warriors. Their human form is beguiling, and draws kitsune to them like moths to a flame. And when the kitsune attempts to feed, they get a very unpleasant surprise. I have about six thousand of these warriors, waiting to be woken. That is why Emi needed me under control--Arenro would have found an instant, completely controllable army quite useful."

"How successful have they been in killing kitsune?" Funitsu wanted to know.

"I would estimate that there are perhaps a few dozen kitsune left in the world."

Reiko, her voice quiet but deadly. "And we breed very, very slowly. Even if you stopped killing us today, it would be millennia before we could rebuild our number."

"When I am done, there will be no more kitsune living. And when the last kitsune dies, I will finally be able to rest."

Panda spoke into the silence. "And you're not immortal yourself? You are, after all, six hundred years old."

"I will die someday. But not until my work is done and my son is avenged."

Reiko stepped out from behind Panda, gave a cool glance to the mantid standing next to my father, and said, "Setto chose his death. He asked me to be his instrument of seppuku. He had to do some very fast talking to get me to agree, and being the instrument of his death nearly destroyed me."

He looked at her, his eyes holding an expression I've seen only once from him--when he discovered that one of his samurai had betrayed him. "Kitsune are liars, every one of them. I would believe that only if I heard it from the mouth of my son."

Her eyes narrowed. "This may be able to be arranged."

The librarian broke in at this point, saying, "Wait. This person wants to kill Reiko. Why are we not killing him again? Isn't he evil?"

Panda said, "Because he's the Lady's father. He is our ally, archivist. His enmity with the kitsune seems to be personal, and they've agreed to call a truce for the moment."

And the shaman remarked, "And evil is in the eye of the beholder. I am reasonably certian that the hatred on both sides is fairly earned--though genocide seems to be an overreaction, really."

I was amused at the librarian, though smoothing his outburst over took a bit of doing. Protective of our little kitsune much?

It turned out that a couple of hours before, two ships, heavily loaded with Thrykeen warriors, had departed for the south, presumably to Arenro. My father asked, "You have a wu jen among you, correct?" We indicated Tadaki. He handed Tadaki a crystal that would allow him to control the Thrykeen that were on the ship.

A few more arrangements, like deciding to take Karasuko and a midwife along with us (Karasuko more as company for me, I believe; the midwife because my time is approaching in about two months), and we were off chasing the ship to the south. My father gave us a dozen of the Thrykeen, under Tadaki's control. He saw how they were looking at the kitsune, and said, "All of you, stay three feet--wait. How long are your swords?"

The Thrykeen replied in a dry voice, "Four and a half feet."

"Stay at least seven feet away from the kitsune at all times. You are not to harm her."

It was nearly dusk by the time we caught up with the ships--both flying the Scorpion flag, oddly enough. Tadaki changed and flew over to the two ships. He came back and said, "The vessel on the left is actually a war ship; the one on the right is actually a merchant vessel, and is carrying all of the Thrykeen warriors. Someone was trying to wake them, and I took control, told them to wake, and kill everyone on the ship. That should take care of our problem, pretty much."

Evidently, the warship had figured out that something was wrong. As we sailed around them, giving them a wide berth (and doing the nautical version of whistling innocently while walking through a bad neighborhood), they opened fire on the merchant vessel, sinking it quickly. We picked up a wounded Thrykeen from this ship, and it was revealed that the Thrykeen had indeed killed everyone on board, except for the person in the iron chamber, which they had not been able to breach.

We sailed out to sea for the night. We'll return in the morning.

7/2/1583

This morning, we sailed back to where the merchant vessel had sunk. The warship had departed, and we found the place where the ship had gone down. Much engineering happened, and we finally managed to drag what looked like a very large iron box to shore. There was a Scorpion symbol on it, and below that was a slot for a key. Funitsu pressed his signet ring into the slot and the box slid open.

Inside was an orb that looked much like Tadaki's, and a monk. We asked him who he was, and he wrote on the wall, "I will answer one question from each of you, absolutely truthfully. Be careful what you ask."

Funitsu asked what the orb was, and the monk replied, aloud, that it was meant to contain the spirit that belongs to Akechi, much like we have in our possession the orb that collects Hideyoshi's spirits.

Reiko asked what he was doing in the box. The monk told us that the Scorpions were very, very wary of him, and were transporting him away from Hideyoshi and Arenro, fearing that he would fall into their hands.

Gryphon asked how to get to Skyhome (I recalled that was where he was from, and he didn't know how to get back). The answer was that there are three pieces of the key, one of which we already have. The other two pieces are located in Tokyo and the catacombs beneath Nagasaki--and we would find the lock that the key fits in Nagasaki.

I was mulling over my question, and instead of any one of the number of other questions I had, I elected to ask what the three spirits that had caused all this trouble.

The answer was...surprising. I will set down the story as best I remember him telling it.

The story comes down from the past, so many generations gone now, that its time is lost to us. But it begins like this:

The Gods were born and drawn from their image they created the first shining ones, the first Japanese. The gods waited and watched as their images grew and came to understand how to create children. They watched them practice and watched them succeed. The first woman was with child, but not one but three children. They watched as her stomach grew and they watched as she gave birth to the first one in the dark of the night, the next was born in the time between, night and day and the last was born full into the light. They watched as the three brothers grew and they watched as they grew into men. The gods were impatient and they created more people, but they watched the first ones with greater care.

Their names are lost now in the mists of time, so we shall call them as they were born, child of the dark(Kurada Riku), child of the twilight (Matsuo Riku) and child of the sun (Ishimaru Riku). Like all brothers they fought, but Kurada took things too far. One day while watching Ishimaru and Ishimaru's wife, he grew covetous of the wife. Kurada made some advances and was rejected. His hatred grew of his lucky Sun Brother and in the dark of the night when Kurada ruled, he killed his brother's pregnant wife. Ishimaru's rage was great and he lashed out at his brothers, not knowing which had betrayed him. He killed both Matsuo and Kurada's wives and children.

The gods saw them fighting and took each of them up to the heavens, where they took a single drop of blood from each and dripped them onto the earth. Where the drops landed, the 3 islands of Japan formed. Each brother was assigned an island, Kurada the north island, where it was cold and sun never shined much. Matsuo the larger island in the middle was to be a buffer between the two more headstrong brothers, and Ishimaru was given the south and sunniest. They created water between them and let their anger cool over the centuries. The gods watched as they remarried and watched as they had children, but they had neglected one thing--the children grew up and had children and they had children and on and on it went, never growing old and never dying. They decided that all things must die to make way for new growth, so they instilled in the others the ability to grow old and die. And die they did, but the brothers as they grew older, the land started to act strangely. Created from the blood of the brothers who were now dying, the land was dying with them. In the end the gods had to make them immortal again so the land of Japan would never die.

In time, men learned to sail and upon seeing other men in their lands who were strangers to them, they learned to make war. The three brothers learned again of each others existence and they warred upon each other. The anger had never went away, it had just smoldered until they saw each other again. Japan's waters ran red with blood.

The gods could no longer abide these wars and decided to let them fight it out, whoever lived, their island would stand and the rest would fall. Fate sometimes lends a hand to things, the three brothers met in battle. They killed each other at the same time. There would be no Japan if they all died and so the gods decided that they would live, but not in the way that they were before. They took the bodies of their first children and burned them and then divided the ashes into 75 urns, 25 for each body. Thinking that it would be just that if all the lands were to live in peace a portion of each body was buried on each island. So 25 urns were buried on each of the three islands, eight urns of the brothers whose island it wasn't and nine for the one that it was. Each urn was identical to the other, so there was no way to tell whose urn was whose.

Time passed and the gods forgot, but man had grown and some of the urns had been found. Some were worshipped, others were lost in people's piles of things, and others still buried and forgotten. Emperor Yoshikuni took interest in the urns and for the rest of his life and the lives of 4 of his generations, collected the urns.

So it was that Yoshikuni the Fifth found himself in possession of 75 urns. Now that you had them what do you do with them? He brought together the greatest minds of the times and sought the source of their powers. They yielded no secrets to him but one, that they were the spirits of another age. He crafted with others three orbs of power to be able to communicate with the spirits of the urns, but cut into so many pieces the spirits were unable to talk coherently. He opened the urns and trapped each spirit piece into an orb. Soon they were able to talk again and the anger arose again and each tried to influence Yoshikuni into absorbing the spirits of the dead into him. Yoshikuni was a smart man and had listened to them talk over the months of the hatred they had for each other and how if one of them truly died, part of Japan would die with it. Yoshikuni locked them away in the imperial vaults for all eternity, its secrets only passed on to the emperors of Japan.

After that tale, we sat in silence for a few minutes, trying to absorb that information. Haku finally asked where some scrolls from his home village were, and he said that the Dragon clan had them somewhere.

The librarian asked an odd question. "What are the things I don't want to know?" The monk whispered in his ear for a few minutes, leaving the librarian pale and shaken.

We decided not to ask any more questions, and the monk will be traveling with us for a while.

Off south; Funitsu has some more or less urgent business with his clan, and we're going along for the ride. The Scorpion is looking quite worried these days. He's not asking for help, though, and until he asks I can't really offer.

We're going to sail down the western coast and stop by Akita on the way so Panda can see Nibori again. She seems quite excited (in her usual understated way) by this. Perhaps, indeed, she's found out how much fun certain things can be. I'm glad Nibori seems to be working out in that way--I didn't know what sort of man he would turn out to be, but if he can handle Panda, he very likely has much to recommend him.

7/3/1583 at sea

I tracked down the shaman. She was easy to find on account of four of our remaining six Thrykreen warriors were alternately pacing exactly seven feet in front of her and sitting in front of her, staring. Reiko was sitting cross-legged on a crate, looking as if she were trying to meditate and failing.

She opened her eyes as I approached. "Afternoon, Lady. What can I do for you?"

I looked at the warriors. "I was hoping to talk to you privately. But..."

Reiko rolled her eyes. "Every time they finish with a task and Tadaki hasn't told them what to do, they come bother me. It's very, very unnerving. And, I might add, irritating."

"One moment, I think I saw Tadaki on deck a couple of minutes ago..." I headed to the back of the ship where I found Tadaki sitting and watching our wake. "Wu jen? Could you please tell the mantises to do something other than bother Reiko for a few minutes? I'd like to have a word with her in private, and, well..."

The Sparrow raised an eyebrow. "Are they at it again? I'll think of something that will keep them at this end of the ship for a while."

"Why don't you tell them to stay farther away from her? I can imagine what it would be like to be stared at all day long by people who, if they weren't under command, would kill you very, very dead."

He shrugged. "It's not that big of a ship. Besides, it's good to feel hunted sometimes. Builds character. I should know. Foxes eat sparrows, you know."

Sometimes, certain members of my retinue make little sense to me. "If she goes mad from this, I am holding you responsible."

"How would you tell? She's already crazy."

"Just call them off for an hour or so, all right?"

I went back to Reiko, the Thrykeen coming past me single-file. Their beauty is disturbing, when you know what lies just beneath.

The shaman had loosed her hair from its habitual bindings, and was combing her fingers through it, letting the wind play with the strands. I eased myself up beside her, trying to settle myself comfortably and only managing to find a position that was slightly less uncomfortable than the others. She glanced over at me, and said, "Thank you. I know they can't hurt me, but being stared at like I'd be something good to eat is going to drive me batty." She grimaced. "Of course, according to everyone, I'm already nuts so there's not a lot of difference there."

I looked at the little shaman, her face half-hidden by her hair. "All right, Reiko. I know there's bad blood between you and my father, and I know you haven't told us the whole story. Something's waking you screaming at night, and it's connected to him. I need to know what it is."

She turned towards me, settling herself nearly facing me. "It is not a pleasant story, Lady, and it...reflects badly on almost everyone involved. Including your father."

"I imagined it would. I just found out that he's a centuries-old necromancer as well as the warlord I've always thought of him as; I'm braced for anything at this point."

She nodded. "All right. It doesn't reflect well on me, either, just in case you were wondering." She took a breath, seeming to wonder where to begin.

"I am nogitsune, Lady. A Wild or Void kitsune. My Celestial kin are--well, were, since I don't know if any still live--bound to Inari and serve as temple guardians, but we Void kitsune are bound by no law and no vows. A bit over six centuries ago, before I fell in love with and later married Setto, I was spending some time near Akita--playing pranks, tumbling most of the village lads and not an insignificant portion of the girls. The usual kitsune games. I was a three-tail then, and a hunter came upon me as I slept deeply one afternoon and captured me. He was carrying a cage meant to contain demons and shapechangers, and since I am counted as both, I was well and truly stuck.

"I'd have managed to work my way free eventually, but I was brought back to Akita, where I'd never been before, and they called a man whose name I'm sure will be familiar to you. Takumi Yamashita. I knew him then as the Demonbane; his fame was spread far and wide in those days, since he had made a career out of capturing, binding, and killing demons. We felt about him much as you would someone who, for no apparent reason, was killing humans in a deliberate and often quite brutal manner. He was a menace, a terrifying one, and he'd declared a war on us we wanted no part of."

She paused, reflecting. "All right, the kitsune wanted no part of it. The gaki were quite happy about it, actually. Anyway. So the Demonbane comes to see me, forces me to change to my human form, and then binds me. He bound my powers, my ability to shapechange, and my ability to feed. And then he told them that in two months without feeding I would starve to death, and gave me to the village."

She had pulled both knees to her chest, seeming to want to make herself as small as possible. I asked, gently as I could, "What happened?"

Her voice was bitter. "I was bound, in the form you see me in now, and helpless, and the Demonbane told them I was not human and not a thinking being. I was...used." She choked; I waited for her to continue. When she did, her voice held a vast anger. "They kept me, and starved me, and raped me over and over again, Lady. I have an appreciation for the atrocities humans can think up when they have in their possession a being that looks female but that they believe is not sentient. Fifty days passed, and I was nearing death, when a choice of sorts was presented to me."

She had been looking out over the ocean as she spoke, and now looked at me. "This is the part that does not reflect well on me, Lady. I was not, then, the person I am now. I am shamed by little of my life, what I remember, but this is an exception to that. There was a visitor in from Kyoto who wished to see me--and, I assume, make use of me. They sent in the daughter of the headman to wash and clothe me in preparation. She was an untrained shujenja with the Water element, and she unknowingly washed away the sigils on my skin that bound me.

"I was free. And I was starving; the pain in my bones and muscles had nearly crippled me. The girl was an innocent, and young--perhaps thirteen or fourteen. I spent nearly the last of my own life to enthrall her, and then drained her to death."

Her hand was raised to her throat, her fingers caressing a pendant I hadn't noticed the shaman wearing before. It was a topaz in a plain setting, the yellow of the topaz nearly matching the kitsune's amber eyes. "Her name was Mei. Before I killed her, I learned that she was a very bright young woman, smarter than most of her age-mates in the village, and she intended to become the leader of Akita after her father. Autumn was her favorite season, and she had a tree behind her house that she would climb and dream away summer afternoons. I got to know her, magically seduced her, and then killed her to save myself.

"I went a little bit mad after that. After Mei, I drained dry the next three men I met. With that power, I took control of the minds of the ten best warriors in the village, and with their help butchered every adult in Akita. Innocent or guilty, I hated them all. The worst ones I had my warriors hold down while I opened their bellies for them. Wounds like that take a long time to kill people, and they die screaming." She recounted the story mercilessly, not bothering to try and justify her actions. I could hear, in her voice, still that deep anger, tinged with self-loathing. "And when I was done, when those I'd ridden had killed each other, I set the village on fire and walked away."

The shaman was looking out over the ocean now, her eyes distant. "The Demonbane knew exactly what would happen to me when he bound and left me there. He wasn't expecting me to survive the experience. I swore I would kill him, but he was as difficult to catch as a ghost, and my memory of what he looked like was somehow distorted. When I began dreaming of Akita again, my one consolation was that time had done its work and the Demonbane was dust for five centuries. Imagine my shock when I finally remembered his face--and he was your father. And Setto's father, as well. I cannot even attempt to kill him, and doing so would be certain death for me anyway, since I am not the kitsune I once was. And so, here I am. Yamashita's creatures watch my every move, he has decimated my kind, and he blames me for Setto's death--which I was responsible for indeed, but I was only doing as my husband asked."

Emotions warred in me as I listened to the fox speak. If she was telling the truth--and I have no reason to believe she was not, and the enmity between my father and her was real enough--then my father is not the man I thought he was. I felt protective of him, but also felt angry on behalf of the little shaman, who had been forced to such terrible things that I never wanted to know existed, much less know had been done to--and by--a member of my retinue.

I remembered something that my father had said. "He said that if he can talk to Setto and settle things with him, then he will no longer hunt your kind. He's one of your spirits, isn't he? Couldn't you arrange that?"

She shook her head slowly. "We would have to bring him back to life, I think. We know it can be done, now, since Lin did it. But...I don't know."

"Wouldn't you want to have your husband back with you? You've said before that you love him."

She gave me a small, tentative smile. "It would be nothing but wonderful to have him back with me. But losing him once nearly killed me, even though I had his shade with me. I do not know if I could willingly embrace that pain again. I can't count on catching his spirit, when he dies the second time around. And now...I am not the woman he married. I am much changed, and it's been five centuries, even if I don't remember most of them. It was a different age entirely when we were married. One wonders if there would be room for him in my life, or room for me in his. Or even if we would love each other as we did half a millenium ago."

"What does Setto have to say about it? Isn't he listening right now?"

"He hates the story of what happened in Akita, even if it was the event that made me develop enough of a conscience to be able to fall in love with someone as honorable as he is. He's been out of earshot since I started telling the tale; he, ah, prefers to not hear it again. But, to answer your first question, he's not being helpful. He just shrugs and says that it's my decision." She shifted, pulling her hair over one shoulder. "If I did not know that my spirits can be stripped from me, I wouldn't even consider it, but as it stands, I may lose him either way. I just don't know. The farther I get along this journey, the more I wonder if I'm up to it. The more I remember what I used to be, the more I despair of what I have become and my ability to protect my family." She started, blinking, as she remembered who I am. "I am sorry, Lady. My tongue ran away with me. I'm sure you didn't need to hear all of that."

I smiled at her. "It was most enlightening, Reiko. I confess to not knowing you well; you were more Akechi's confidante than mine. But I have to say that you seem much saner in the past few days than you have for a long time."

Her voice was soft. "Worry about that, Yukiko. Remember the story I just told you. Remember that I am nogistune. And think about this: if I am no longer kept bound and confused by my spirits, what will I become?" The immortal that I had seen flicker in her eyes before was there again, this time stronger. "I will do what I have to to survive, and ensure the survival of my family. Fortunately, Lady, that includes you. And now, I think I'm going to take advantage of the absence of our little mantid friends to go do some serious meditation. It's very difficult to calm one's mind when you're being stared at by very, very attractive death."

She scooted to the edge of the crate and jumped off, landing soundlessly on the boards of the deck. She walked with that feral grace of hers towards the bow of the ship, leaving me to my thoughts.

The kitsune, as time goes on, is becoming a bit unnerving. And now I have to wonder, indeed, what she is going to become. I know Akechi's spirit is working within her, but whether it's going to be enough, I have no idea. Can a kitsune change its colors?

Perhaps. And perhaps not.

7/6/1583 Akita

The city's cleaned up a bit--Nibori has evidently reasserted control over the army and has been keeping the worst of the rabble off the streets. Panda's off for the evening, leaving Haku as my only bodyguard for the evening. When Nibori came to escort her away, he mentioned that there was a Unicorn samurai hanging out in town. Not doing anything, but we might want to speak with him anyway.

Well, what else were we going to do? Knowing that Unicorn is currently the only uncorrupted clan, we decided to go have a chat with this fellow.

Funitsu and the Unicorn sparred verbally together for a while. Storming Bear was the name he gave us, and he was a giant--over six feet tall, wearing hide armor, with a cloak that looked like it was made from a wolf of some sort on a chair next to him. He said he was there for battle, and he was hunting someone named General Jiro. The odds were very long that a lone warrior could overcome Jiro and his retinue, but he was sworn to try anyway. When asked why he was after Jiro, he said, "He was attempting to disrupt the leadership of my clan. I am assigned to disrupt his life in as fatal a manner as possible."

Quite bloodthirsty, these Unicorns. I rather liked him, really.

He then invited us to join him for the battle, and Funitsu misinterpreted him, thinking that he wanted to fight against us rather than with us. I couldn't correct him without causing Funitsu to lose face, so I had to listen helplessly as Funitsu backed down from what he thought was a pointless fight.

When we got back to the ship, I told Funitsu that Bear was trying to invite us to fight with him, and pointed out that it might be useful for the Unicorn to owe us a favor.

We're going to go back tomorrow morning and offer to join him in this battle, I believe.

The gryphon quite likes pickled eggs. I need to remember to pick some up as treats for him.

7/7/1583

Panda returned this morning with a half-grown dog in tow--a gift from Nibori, she said. We're becoming quite the menagerie these days--the fox, the sparrow, the gryphon, my cat, Panda's dog.

We went and talked to the Unicorn named Bear again, and agreed to join him in battle. We unloaded our horses (and hired some for the Thrykeen, who we brought with us) and rode off north to join battle. Bear had much useful information about the foe--Jiro had a retinue of six warriors and two Wang-Liangs, a kind of giant who could turn invisible when they wanted.

We caught up with Jiro and his retinue. Spying from a distance, we saw that they all looked a little battered, as if weary from battles. Evidently, crossing the Unicorn Clan isn't the best of ideas. Tomika agreed to guard me, Reiko turned Gryphon invisible, and we agreed to let Bear kill Jiro, send the Thrykeen against his human retinue, and we'd take on the Wang-Liang.

Once we could see one of the two giants, Reiko snapped out a word or two that froze it in place, and we made short work of it. The librarian hit the other, and it dealt him a great blow, enough to knock him unconscious. Reiko healed him, baring her teeth at the giant and then kneeling to kiss the worst of his wounds closed. Panda, Haku, and Funitsu closed with the last giant and after a brief but fierce battle it fell, the giant almost killing of Funitsu in the process.

When we looked up from that battle, all of the human retinue were dead, and Bear was delivering a last blow to Jiro. He fell to his knees, stunned, and the samurai took his head.

And again, a spirit rose from the corpse and flashed into Tadaki's orb. One more piece of Hideyoshi's spirit, safely contained.

Bear thanked us for our help and said that the Unicorn clan now owes us a favor. We took a few things off the various corpses, buried the bodies, and rode out to the coast to meet the ship, which Thomas had been sailing up to meet us.

We're sailing south this evening, and we'll be in [get city name] in another week or so, if the winds are kind.

I cannot help mulling over what my father is, now. So many years I have loved him--how do I integrate what I know now about him? It troubles me greatly, disturbing my sleep, and the thoughts I hear from the child within me are also somewhat disturbed. I can grow used to so many things--I am almost used to the fact that I have no idea what my child is going to be when he is born--but this? The father who I love, whose strength I've always counted on, is in the process of committing genocide on a race of immortals.

And yet--what indeed is the role of the kitsune in today's world? The world belongs to humans, now, not spirits and immortals.

I'll have to think more about this. And watch the shaman closely.

Quotes:

"Yak's blood! Yak's blood!" "What are you on about?" "It's a Winnie the Pooh song." "I have led a sheltered life." (Graham and Bryan)

"Don't confuse the gryphon. If you can't see it, you can't see it biting your ass." (Tadaki, as I recall.)

"Is pooping on things an attack?" (Gryphon)

"You're not a fighter, you're a damn mage!" "He's got a wakizashi and he feels entitled to use it." "His family isn't really known for its brightness, is it?" (Tadaki and Haku, talking about Funitsu)

#so queued #gaming recaps: illume #D&D recap

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turnupswritessometimes · 7 years ago

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SoRiku - Hearts of Ice and Fire - Ch11

Title : Hearts of Ice and Fire

Word Count : 2570

Summary : Prince Sora of the Destine Isles has been kidnapped by Maleficent. Held in a cell, he comes into contact with the Prince Maleficent has been training his whole life, Riku. As Sora unpicks Riku’s attitudes, Riku finds himself reconsidering everything he has been taught.

Home turned out to be pastel coloured beach houses lining up in spirals to a fort at the top of the cliff. The ‘castle’, Riku assumed, was small, with a crimson roof and more ivy growing up it than there were rocks. It was mostly wooden docks swarming with people, like a beehive.

Sora sharply turned the boat into the harbour, nearly capsizing them in the process, and was hopping off of the boat before Riku could even regain his balance.

“This is it, Riku,” Sora said, starting own the docks like one in a trance.

“It’s – nice,” Riku said. In truth – it was too loud. It was too bright. Everyone’s eyes – staring in astonishment at Sora – bulged grotesquely in his peripheral vision. Why were there so many people?

Ordinary people. A noisy kingdom. The sun prickling the back of his neck.

“Yeah, hi, everyone – I’m back,” Sora was grinning at everyone – his hand easily slipped into Riku’s as they headed through the masses of people. “And I’ve got a friend with me.”

Riku kept his head down. Counted how many planks he could pass with one step. His fingers twitched in Sora’s. How was this so easy for him?

Then again, he had lived here all his life.

This would have been where Riku would have lived.

He glanced up. The docks they were on now were bursting with stalls selling trinkets. Windchimes and shells and furniture made from driftwood. Painted shells, starfish, normal fish served up on the side and ready to be eaten.

Sora was pulling him past the stalls eagerly, but his interest was piqued now. Would he had grown up wearing shell necklaces and arguing about the crabs he’d caught like the children sat with their legs in the water?

Why was that idea both appealing and repulsive?

They reached the castle too quickly for Riku’s liking. Suddenly they were stood in front of the doors – it wasn’t guarded, of course, and Sora was still talking.

“-I can’t wait for you to meet Kairi – I’m sure you two will get on like a house on fire – and my parents-“

That’s when Sora skidded to a halt, and turned to Riku with wide eyes.

“My parents,” he breathed. “Should I introduce you as my boyfriend? Would that be okay?”

Riku’s stomach performed an intricate acrobatic routine.

“Maybe you should…think about putting on a shirt first?” he said instead, holding the said article of clothing out to Sora – who just laughed and slipped it on.

He pushed the doors open so wide that they crashed into the walls and servants turned to stare.

“I’m back,” Sora said simply.

The servants gave each other wide eyed looks for a moment, before they stumbled over each other as they said they would fetch the King and Queen. Sora asked them to prepare food and for them all to meet each other in the dining hall.

It was empty when they got there – but the room was warm. Sunlight cast perfect squares through the windows.

Sora squeezed Riku’s hand.

“You’re doing great,” he told him.

“I – don’t know what you’re talking about,” Riku stammered – with what little dignity he had left. He had so much of it barely more than a week ago. But then Sora had happened. And all of that ice melted.

Sora laughed. That uncaring laugh he’d been playing non-stop since Riku had got him out of the castle. That laugh that reassured Riku every decision he had made was the right one.

A red-headed girl appeared in the doorway. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Sora.

Then she was sprinting across the room towards Sora, her arms opening –

As she swung her fist in a left hook.

Sora’s head snapped around, but he was laughing and hugging the girl and she had tears in her eyes and she buried her face in his shoulder.

“You scared me half to death – you dozy, old-“ the girl released a string of good-natured swear words that Sora grinned at.

“I missed you too Kairi,” he said.

Kairi. The King’s Ward, Riku realised.

She pulled away and glared at him suspiciously.

“Kairi, this is Riku – he helped me escape from Maleficent’s castle,” Sora said.

Kairi continued to glare impassively at Riku, who couldn’t even muster an awkward ‘hi.’

He was saved, perhaps luckily or unluckily, by the arrival of Sora’s parents.

They both paused at the doors, staring at him as though they could not believe he was real.

He had the King’s pale skin, but his mother’s eyes. Dark blue eyes that filled with tears as she stared at him.

They rushed to him and asked desperate questions that Sora merely smiled at and raised his hands.

“I will explain everything after a nice, hot meal,” he said.

Sora gave Riku much too much credit in his version of the story. He left out the part about Riku punching him. He left out any parts that would show Riku in a bad light – even though they both knew he deserved it.

Sora made him sound like a hero.

“Riku…” the king said softly once Sora had finished and had his mouth full of several potato-based dishes. “So that’s what happened to you.”

“Is it really that hard to guess?”

Riku hadn’t meant to snap. Hadn’t meant to sound rude. But suddenly he despised the man in front of him.

“You’ve only really got one enemy, right? Why is it such a surprise that that was where I’d disappear to?”

“If I’m honest,” the King said, slowly. “I thought you were dead.”

“But it’s so wonderful to hear that you’re – alive – and –“ the queen gave a little shrug of her shoulders. She was smiling.

Riku felt slightly guilty for a moment.

“And - my[Sophie Tu1] mother – my real mother…is she…?” he trailed off, already guessing the information from the way the Queen’s gaze swooped downwards and how the King’s moth tightened into a thin line.

“I’m sorry, Riku,” the King said.

Riku clenched his jaw. He didn’t trust his mouth. He wanted the imps back. To hurt one. To hurt several.

Not that he was grieving – he never knew the woman.

But it just wasn’t fair.

“Riku makes an interesting point,” Sora finally said. “You knew where I was, right? You had to have…so why didn’t you try and come get me?”

“Sora, son, you know we don’t have the resources to,” the King said.

Sora stood. He clenched his fists on the table.

“I’m sick of having no defence,” he said. He hadn’t raised his voice. Wasn’t angry. But there was a quiet thunderstorm underneath his words. A danger that Riku had never heard from him before. “This is why Maleficent is going to destroy us.”

“Sora, wait,” the queen stood too, but Sora was already storming from the room.

Riku took a last glance at his untouched food, then followed, fuming just as much.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said to Sora’s retreating back. “You knew, didn’t you? And you didn’t tell me?”

Sora paused on the flight of stairs, he unclenched and turned to Riku.

“I didn’t really have the opportunity,” he said.

He wasn’t meeting Riku’s eyes. He had a point – but it wasn’t shame that was gnawing at him.

“I’m sorry,” Riku said. “About…them.”

“Me too,” Sora said. He was high enough on the stairs to press his forehead against Riku’s. “I just feel like a trained dog, all the time – you know?”

“Yeah,” Riku said. He wrapped his arms around Sora’s waist, suddenly feeling very heavy.

It hit him all at once. The fatigue.

He could feel Sora’s breath on his face. Sora’s arms around his shoulders. Warmth. Warmth Riku felt he would never tire of.

“I didn’t want this to be sad,” Sora said. And swallowed heavily. “I wanted this to be happy – let’s make this happy – I’ll show you my room.”

He laced a hand into Riku’s and pulled him down the hallway. He was bobbing slightly. Making a deliberate effort to be happy. To make Riku happy.

To make this all work.

Sora’s door had a plaque on it. Not that it needed it – with the carved, golden archways all around it. But there was a plaque, all the same – Prince Sora, Red 4’s Pilot.

What a nerd, Riku thought as his heart skipped a beat.

“You can stay in here tonight, if you want,” Sora said. “I thought, you know…”

“Yeah,” Riku said. “I’d like to stay – in here.”

With you. The words had been on the tip of his tongue. Because it felt like they had been travelling across the sea forever. He wasn’t ready to think about Sora not being at his side

Because, truth be told, the room was –

Cluttered.

Sora had plasted paintings and pictures and tapestries over every inch of wall, let his clothes cover the floor and had so many knick-knacks they were piled on top of each other on every surface.

The bed was huge. A four poster.

Riku sat on it hesitantly – because there was even general junk on the sofas – and watched as Sora got the fireplace roaring to life.

A fireplace. When this place was already so warm.

A fireplace. That made Sora’s eyes glisten as he headed back towards Riku. Basically sat on top of him.

“Do you like it?” Sora asked. With a slightly bemused smile. A teasing smile.

A smile that made Riku want to kiss him.

“It’s very…you.” Riku said.

Sora tilted forward. Riku stopped him from getting closer by putting a finger to his lips.

“Aren’t you…still upset?” he asked.

Sora pouted up at him for a moment. Then pulled Riku’s finger away.

“Kinda…but I don’t want to think about that. I want to forget all about Maleficent and wars and…who knows when we’ll be alone together next?”

He had another point –

Riku hadn’t finished rationilising it before Sora’s lips were on his own and he couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t think at all. All he could think about was how Sora’s mouth was moving against his own.

How Sora’s hand was in his hair. Almost tugging it.

How Riku’s hand seemed to fit perfectly around Sora’s cheek. And Sora’s cheek was soft. And warm.

Sora shuffled into Riku’s lap. To get closer. Closer.

It was hot. The fireplace made it hot. Their bodies and their breath and the sheer force of the kisses made it hot. Sora was missing RIku’s mouth – making his chin and cheeks damp.

Riku struggled with the laces on his doublet. Sora had it off in seconds.

Riku’s fingers felt ice cold against Sora’s bare waist. Bare back. The slight outline of his spine.

Sora helped free Riku from his shirt. Pressed against him with his complete body wait.

His fingers brushed against Riku’s back. The scars.

Again.

Sora pulled away, frowning.

The air was cold on Riku’s face. He paused, not registering what the problem was.

Sora crawled aound –

And gasped when he saw the lines and lines of scars.

“She…did this…?” Sora whispered.

“Not her – personally,” Riku pushed a clump of silver hair out of his face. “It was the imps.”

He heard Sora sniffing. Felt his forehead rest against his back. Wet eyelashes.

“She’s a monster.”

Sora’s voice broke. Riku had never heard it break like that. Like it was all too much for him.

He turned and took Sora’s wrists in his hands.

��Stop. Don’t worry about it. It’s in the past now,” he said. Because that was normal. It was normal then. And we wasn’t about to make it a thing now. “I have you now.”

Sora madde a small sobbing noise. And rested his head against Riku’s collarbone.

Riku hugged Sora to his chest. Closed his eyes.

No one should care this much. Not about me. I’m not worth it.

“What happened to being happy?” Riku asked. Sora’s hair was pricking him in the face.

Sora shook his head against Riku’s arms.

“I can’t,” he said. “Not now.”

“Okay,” Riku said. He kissed the crown of Sora’s head. “That’s fine.”

The fatigue was coming again.

When had Riku slept last?

He would just rest his eyes…just for a few moments…a few more…

Riku woke with a dead arm. Sora was still lying on top of it.

As if on cue, he rolled over-

And his elbow hit Riku in the face, making him cry out and scramble away from Sora.

Still half-asleep, Sora clung to Riku’s midriff like a monkey.

“I’m home,” Sora said.

“You’re home,” Riku confirmed. Not ‘we’ not ‘I’. This was not his home.

Would it ever be?

“How many days?” Sora murmured. His nose pressed against Riku’s collarbone. “Till Maleficent comes.”

Riku wasn’t sure. He had lost count.

“Not enough,” he replied. His fingers played with a tuft of hair at the nape of Sora’s neck. A baby curl.

Sora sighed.

“I kind of understand why she’d target us,” he said. “We’re pretty low-hanging fruit, huh?”

“Honestly? I don’t know how you’re still a country,” Riku said.

Sora chuckled.

“Because I’m an artful seducer,” Sora murmured, reaching up to kiss the tip of Riku’s nose.

He fel his face flame red and turned away as much as he could, muttering an unconvincing-

“Yeah, right.”

Which only made Sora laugh more. There was a moment when Riku couldn’t breathe – as Sora leant on his chest and clambered over him.

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry – I’m going to go get something to eat,” Sora was still talking as he was heading out of the room –

Before Riku could stop him.

He was left alone. For the first time in what seemed like years.

He closed his eyes. Pressed a hand over his eyes.

Jafar’s face flashed before his eyes. A dead face.

Blood. Everywhere. He felt sick all over again.

Something was wrong. He hadn’t lied convincingly. They had gotten away too easily.

The door re-opened.

“Maleficent knows that I killed Jafar,” he said.

“What?”

That wasn’t Sora’s voice. It was a girl’s voice.

Riku sat up to find Kairi standing in the doorway, half-staring and half-glaring at him.

She turned full glare when she saw that he was half-naked.

“What are you doing in Sora’s room?” she demanded. In the tone of a teacher trying to catch a student out.

“Uhhhh,” Riku said, eloquently, pulling the covers up to his chest.

“Kairi,” Sora stopped in the doorway, laden with a tray. “What are you doing in my room?”

Kairi just turned the questioning glare to Sora.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “The threat of impending war and you’re messing around-“ at this point she cracked a small smirk. “I would say good job, if I would have thought there would be any chance he’s not using you.”

And with that, she stormed out of the room.

Sora rolled his eyes, and placed the tray on the bed. It was full of orange fruit. Riku hadn’t seen fruit that vibrant before.

“She doesn’t know,” Sora said, and frowned slightly. “You…you’re not, right?”

Riku placed a hand over Sora’s.

“I’m not using you,” he said. And pressed his forehead against Sora’s. “I don’t know what Maleficent’s planning but she’ll want to kill me for this.”

Sora gave him one last look, then closed his eyes and nodded. He whispered-

“it was true love’s kiss,” under his breath. As though that would reassure him.

Riku swallowed.

And ate breakfast.

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