Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Those storm clouds on the horizon are gray, swollen like a bruise over a bone. Riku keeps looking for the wisps of rain and can’t find anything. The threat is just hanging there in the sky, no lightning, no thunder, no rain, just a shadow on the dusky horizon. The still, humid air feels like a promise. 

Behind him, the dryer starts rattling loudly enough that Riku can hear it from the open window, and Riku's jaw clenches. For the last six years the dryer has started fights more often than it has successfully dried clothes. It’s another part of his parents’ baggage: bought secondhand when they moved into the house, fundamentally broken, still expected to function. Whether tonight’s fight is going to be about money or laundry (which turns into its own argument about laziness) is anyone’s guess.

Riku should pick the sponge back up in case one of his parents comes out to battle the dryer. He can see his evening laid out in front of him like a trail of molding clothes. He’s going to finish scrubbing the concrete steps, then come inside for dinner, where his parents will pick at each other, reach a stalemate, then pick at him. They’ll bring up last year’s grades, a summer job, technical school, a roulette of painful subjects. Dinner will either end with a lecture or a chore based on whatever they find wrong with him today.

This is the dingy texture of his life: the mind-numbing rattling of a broken machine, words he can’t get out of his head, soap and water that never makes anything cleaner. The longer he stays here, the less he believes in his friends, in the promise he made to the visitor, in worlds beyond the island.

For the past few years Riku has been feeling as if something has been seeping out of him. He's been trying to fight it. He's been trying to escape before his future finds him, before what he has with Sora and Kairi crumbles beneath his feet.

His dad shouts indistinctly and Riku's entire body tenses up. In that moment, he understands. If he doesn't leave now, he'll be trapped here forever.

Riku starts running down the path, past the gate, into the street. In a fit of canniness he weaves over to the dirt trail, the one with tall tangled plants on either side, so no one will see him sprinting on the road and tell his parents. At first Riku runs because stopping would mean coming to terms with what he’s doing. Then he runs for the hell of it, because the raft is in front of him and home is behind him.

With a frantic, selfish kind of desperation he thinks about taking the raft alone, drifting into dark water with nothing to hold him back. It’s his raft. He built it, while his friends were goofing off. It would be a clean end to whatever is left between the three of them.

He makes himself slow down as he steps off the dirt path and back onto the street. The atmosphere is stagnant enough to smother. He breathes thick, wet air.

Things have been off for the last year, if not longer. School was an oubliette. When he was there in body, he wasn’t there in spirit. Now that they’re all together again, the dynamic feels fragile. Riku keeps making things worse, bringing up paopu fruit, making jokes that don’t land, being sincere when everyone else is taking it easy, reviving last year’s raft project when no one else cares. Sora and Kairi keep wandering away from him, and they always wind up together without him. When he left Play Island, they were just standing next to each other on the pier, watching him go.

Maybe they know he’s lost something important. Maybe they’re tired of him. Sometimes Riku wonders how many bad days he has left before they ditch him. Worse, he might not even matter. They’re so wrapped up in each other that he’s not relevant anymore.

It’s all broken, but Riku can’t let go. There’s too much left between the three of them. He won’t be the one who ends it.

Riku starts walking, still stewing in his own longing. If he could brush the dust of this town off of his feet he’d be better. There are things out there he has to find: new worlds, better answers. He could wake up every morning without fighting himself to get out of bed. He’d remind his friends why they need him. He’d be strong enough to protect what matters.

Something flicks his ear. Riku twists around to swat the thing that touched him, only to hear Kairi giggle from the other side. He twists to see Kairi, keeping pace with him, grinning.

Kairi is gorgeous, but after years of battling blind infatuation, Riku has built up a resistance to it. He doesn’t even think about her sharp blue eyes that much, or the way she moves, or her laugh. He can admire how her russet-brown hair brightens to red in the summer without trying to write a poem about it. The problem is that every once in a while he’ll notice something, like the way her fingers move when she’s making something, and it messes him up for days, leaves him pining when she’s absent and devastatingly awkward when she’s near.

What grounds him is Kairi’s wicked streak. Being kind is a choice for Kairi, not a default, and knowing that, her kindnesses mean a lot. Riku can tease her without feeling truly cruel, and she can do the same. She’s the meanest good person he knows, and he loves her for it.

“You’re the worst,” Riku lies.

“Thank you,” she says, still beaming. “So, what’s got you all grumpy?”

“Well, this jerk flicked my ear…”

“Come on, before that. Your face makes the clouds look tame. What’s on your mind? The storm?”

“The storm,” he lies again. “I’m worried about the raft.”

“Me too. You know what’s weird? The clouds keep rolling, but there’s no wind. There’d have to be wind for them to move, right? We’d feel it from here.”

The air never feels like this before a storm. It feels like the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Riku stops and looks at the clouds again. He sees flashes of light this time, but seconds pass without thunder.

Riku asks, “How long have they been doing that?”

Kairi answers, “I dunno, a few minutes?”

“Nobody saw this coming. That’s strange, right? It’s nowhere close to storm season.”

Kairi asks, “Are we still leaving tomorrow morning?”

“I hope we are. My parents are going to skin me alive when they find me.”

“What’d you do?”

Riku looks at her sidelong. “I’m not at home.”

“Ohh, right.”

“Come on, let’s get the raft.”

They walk together in easy silence for a few seconds, until Kairi clears her throat and says, “You could stay at my place tonight, if you want.”

Riku looks over at her but her eyes are trained on the ground, chasing a pebble that she keeps kicking on the road. She has her head partially bowed, letting her hair fall like a curtain between them. She keeps talking.

“They can’t ground you if they can’t find you. I’ve got dinner if you haven’t eaten. The pipes make weird noises, but the house isn’t haunted, just empty. Less empty, if it’s the two of us.”

The last time Riku and Kairi slept in the same house, Riku was ten years old, and by dusk the boys and the girls were shepherded off to different rooms. This is not a sleepover. This is hanging out, with Kairi, in an empty house and probably an empty bedroom. Riku feels like he’s stepped into a strange new dimension.

“I’d like that,” Riku says, feeling like he’s floating.

“Cool.” He can’t tell, but sounds as if Kairi’s smiling.

For a few minutes they don’t need words, just the friendly sounds of crunching gravel as they walk, in synch for the first time in a long time. It still feels like too much is shifting between them but maybe they can get ahead of it.

Then Kairi stops. “Hey. Sora’s house is that way.”

He turns. “Why do we need Sora? It doesn’t take three people to put away a raft.”

“Sora’s gonna see the storm,” Kairi says, slowly, maybe condescendingly, “And when he does, he’ll try to put the raft away. So we might as well get him now.”

“He probably hasn’t even noticed it.”

“That’s worse. If he doesn’t see the storm until it’s bad, he’ll go out onto the ocean when it’s really dangerous.”

The irritating part is that she’s right. It would be just like Sora to miss a problem until it was too big to ignore, then find a risky solution to patch it up. Then he’d apologize for causing the first problem and not the second one. Sometimes Riku wishes that Sora was always lazy, instead of just lazy when things are calm.

“Fine.”

Riku’s being an asshole. He knows he’s being childish, with his tone, with his stomping. It makes him feel guilty, which makes him feel worse, which feeds right back into anger. He’s not the one who’s all over the map, inviting him over just to turn around and make it about Sora, again, always.

At first it looks like Kairi’s going to let it go, but then she sighs and says, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Seriously, what’s bugging you?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s just get to Sora’s house.” It’s spite that makes Riku add, “Are you going to ask him over too?”

“Would it matter if I did? We’ll all be sleeping right next to each other when we’re on a raft.”

Riku sighs. “Forget it.”

For another few seconds they don’t talk. Riku doesn’t know whether to be guilty or angry, because it depends on whether Kairi is mad at him or just letting it go. Then Kairi starts talking, and it’s clear she knows how she feels..

“Tell you what, maybe you should race Sora to decide who gets to stay at my house. It’s my house, but it’s not like that matters, right?”

Riku remembers today’s race and grumbles, “Did Sora tell you about that?”

“And you should definitely talk about it in front of me like I’m not even there,” Kairi continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “Loudly. Like I don’t have ears. Then, once you’re done with the race, you should act like it never happened so that no one comes to my house at all.”

“I was kidding, Kairi. It was a joke.”

“What’s the joke, Riku? Who’s the punchline?”

Riku doesn’t have a good answer to that. Kairi is refusing to look at him, pressing her lips together like she is forcing herself not to say anything else. For a few seconds they walk in awkward silence.

“I want this to work,” Kairi eventually says, like she’s dragging the words out one by one. “I’ve been looking forward to this all year. But I don’t like it when you joke about that, okay? Please don’t do that again.”

“Fine. I’ll back off.” Riku tries to sound careless, even if his insides are roiling. 

“You’re not –” Kairi sighs, running her fingers through her hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this up right now.”

“It’s fine.”

Of course she’s offended. Of course she wants nothing to do with him now, and she doesn’t want him to even mention sharing the paopu with her. Riku is faster, stronger, and smarter than Sora, but Sora wouldn’t make his mistakes. Riku tries harder and cares more, but he can’t make up enough ground to balance himself out. The bad outweighs the good, always.

Kairi cranes her neck to look at him. “You’re angry.”

“I’m not angry.” He’s drowning in regret and resentment, which is not the same thing.

“Yes you are.” There’ a kind of despair in the way she said it that he hates to hear, even now. “Look, I didn’t mean – I’m not saying this to make you angry, I’m trying—”

“Kairi, it’s fine.”

She takes the hint, even if it looks like she wants to air out everything, as if they can solve it all tonight. Neither of them say anything, not even when Sora’s house is in view, not even when they sneak around the fence and into the backyard. 

The house is bright and loud on the first floor; the rest of his family is cooking, talking, playing cards. Kairi doesn't say anything as they skirt around edges of the house, to the corner of the house with Sora's room.

It’s only when they start throwing rocks at Sora’s window that Kairi picks the conversation up again. “We do need to talk, though. Once the raft’s put away.”

“About what?”

Kairi pitches a rock at Sora’s window hard enough to make a sound, hard enough for Riku to look for a crack. “You know what.”

Riku would find something to say but Sora’s light flickers on. Sora opens the window, and sticks his dumb oblivious pretty face out of it.

Sora calls in a stage whisper that carries like a shout, “Kairi? Riku? What are you doing?”

“There’s a storm coming,” Kairi not-whispers back. “We’re putting away the raft to keep it safe.”

“Good idea. Hold on.”

At first Riku expects Sora to lean away from the window, close it, and sneak out the back door, like a normal person. Instead Sora climbs out the window and drops to the ground, rolling his ankle on the landing. 

Riku fishes in his pockets for a potion as Kairi runs to Sora, hands out, hovering over him. 

She hisses, “Why did you do that? You could’ve snuck out the back door!”

“This is foolproof.” Riku can hear the pain in Sora’s voice.

Riku finds a potion and tosses it in the air. “Here.”

He watches the potion dissolve in the air as he tosses it, the way bubbles float down on Sora. Sora turns to him, flashes a smile. In spite of everything Riku feels himself smiling back. The world’s brighter when Sora’s next to him, even on the days when Riku hates him. It’s just fact.

“Thanks,” Sora says.

“Don’t mention it.”

When Kairi crouches next to him and puts her hands on Sora’s ankle, Riku feels a stab of envy.  Sora could rub his own damn ankle, but he never remembers. If Sora weren’t so oblivious, Riku would’ve said that he did it on purpose.

Potions knit bones, muscle, skin, and other body parts back together, but not without side effects. The skin over a healed area immediately goes numb and swells up, and it has an artificial sheen to it, a shiny chitinous texture like a fingernail or a beetle shell. The side effects only go away after the area’s been exposed to friction or heat. For minor injuries a little rubbing does the trick, but for major injuries the area has to be soaked in in warm water before it goes back to the way it used to be, or else it looks disgusting and goes numb.

As referee and judge Kairi usually takes care of healed injuries. She’ll massage an injury until it's fully healed, fussing at them for being careless the whole time. Sora always leans into her touch, infuriatingly casual, nodding in agreement as she scolds him. They look so comfortable together, and it hurts.

Sora is too handsome for his own good. Riku should be immune to his own best friend, but the other day Riku saw Sora standing on the shoreline with his arms folded behind his head, and it messed him up. It was Sora's triceps, the way his shirt rode up and exposed his belly, the distant, pensive expression on his face. Riku had snuck up on Sora and tackled him, which only sort of helped.

Frustratingly, Sora doesn’t even care. For someone so friendly, he doesn’t flirt or respond to flirting. He’s not interested in paopu fruit, and that disinterest seems to make Kairi want him more. He still thinks everything is fine, and the raft is about adventure.

Sora flexes his ankle, nods when he’s satisfied. Kairi stands up, offers her hand, and Sora takes it. Riku waits, not touching anyone, not close to anyone, watching their effortless closeness.

“Let’s go,” Riku says as soon as Sora was on his feet. “We’re wasting time.”

Kairi shoots him a look but Sora chirps, “Coming.”

The three of them walk toward the dock. At first none of them talk, and Riku is grateful. He doesn’t want to pretend to be anything just now.

Then Sora says, “Hey Riku, guess what? I won the three-on-one match today.”

“Cool.” Riku’s not even feigning enthusiasm.

Riku had seen it. There had been nothing else to do for the raft and Kairi was busy making her good luck charm (probably, Riku realizes in hindsight, mad at him). Riku had walked over to the main beach to find Sora getting the shit kicked out of him.

Tidus thinks he’s too special for wooden weapons, and doesn’t seem to understand that getting hit with a metal pole hurts like hell. Tidus is bad enough in a one-on-one match, but when there are two other opponents he turns into a nightmare. Worse, Sora can’t block a hit to save his life, and he leaves himself wide open once he starts focusing on landing more than one hit in a row.

Sora had focused on Selphie first, which would’ve been a great strategy if he’d had any way of dealing with Tidus or Wakka. Tidus caught Sora in the shoulder with a pipe and the sound was so bad that Riku had flinched. Riku would’ve jumped in to murder Tidus if Selphie hadn’t called for a break. Sora said he was fine, and then proceeded to get hit, again, several times. Riku wondered why he was even watching. It was torture.

Then, somehow, Sora started winning. He knocked down Selphie, swatted a ball back at Wakka, and started in on Tidus. Sora hadn’t healed himself (and Riku could’ve killed him for that, Sora had to have a potion on him somewhere) but he took down Tidus, then Wakka. When he knocked out all three of them Sora had whooped triumphantly and then fell flat on the ground, exhausted. It wasn’t a smooth win but it was a win.

Riku was stepping forward to congratulate him, about to leave of the shadow of the bridge, when Tidus said, “Guess she can always count on you too, huh?”

Riku had turned around and walked back to the cove. He’d spent ages out there, waiting for Sora to pass him again. Sora had walked past once, hours later, carrying supplies, barely noticing him. Riku had felt a sunken, rotting feeling in his chest.

Both Sora and Kairi have gone quiet. He can feel Kairi’s eyes drilling into the back of his head, and Sora asks, “You okay, Riku?”

“Fine. The sooner we put the raft away the better.”

“Oh. Well, at least it hasn’t started raining yet. No wind either. That’s good, right?”

Riku doesn’t respond, and Sora doesn’t try to say anything else. Nobody says anything when they reach the pier, when they climb in Sora’s boat, or when Riku starts rowing them to the island. Riku avoids looking at Sora and Kairi’s faces. He can tell they’re watching him like he’s a problem, dead weight.

Riku rows. The raft is behind him, closer with every stroke. The rest of it — his home, his friends — is still in front of him. No matter how much he pushes the boat backwards, drawing himself closer to something else, the thing that hurts him most is still there. Riku keeps his head down and wishes he could disappear.

Chapter Text

The conversation grinds to a halt, which would be bearable if there wasn’t a full metal thermos loudly rolling around the floor of the boat, its contents sloshing inside it. It has to be a coffee. Sora got hooked on the stuff in winter and he’s brought it to the island every day, an expensive habit. Riku’s about to say something when Kairi speaks.

“Do you feel that?”

Riku wouldn’t have considered looking up, but there’s something wrong with Kairi’s voice. Her head is tilted up, face slack in a way that he doesn’t like. Sora looks from her to Riku and back.

“Feel what?” Riku asks.

“I don’t know how to explain,” Her brow furrows. “Just… all of it. There’s so much.”

Sora puts a hand on Kairi’s forearm. “Kairi —?”

“It’s familiar? Nostalgic.” Her speech is slurring together.

Potions knit a body together after an impact, a wound , but they won’t do anything for sickness. There’s a first aid kit with medicine on Play Island, but Riku wouldn’t know what medicine to give to Kairi, or if they even have the right kinds. She didn’t hit her head. Riku doesn’t know anything that could cause this, let alone fix it.

“Ah!” Kairi clutches in both hands and hunches over, cursing, ending with, “Fuck that hurts.”

Riku lets go of the oars, reaches for her, but Sora is already holding her. He looks to Riku, fear in his face.

“Should we go back?” Sora asks.

“No,” Kairi answers, pain still in her voice but speaking clearly. “No. We need to get there. We’ll only catch the storm if we go back.”

“The storm hasn’t started yet,” Sora reassures her.

“It’s here. It’s bad.” Kairi shivers, still clutching her head. “Please, we need to go.”

“We’re almost there,” Riku says, picking up the oars and rowing.

 Every minute they stay on the boat, with Kairi shivering and grasping her head, feels like a minute too long. The tide should be against them but Riku can’t feel it. The water’s as still as the air, which is wrong. He can’t find the moon behind those clouds, but it should be full.

When they dock, Sora hops out first. Kairi takes three breaths, lets go of her head, and straightens up. She still has her eyes scrunched shut as she gropes for Sora’s hand and he pulls her out of the boat.

Sora offers Riku his hand but Riku climbs out on his own. Sora draws his hand back, makes a face Riku can’t bother to read. Kairi is already opening her eyes, and Riku’s mind blanks at the sight of them.

Kairi’s pupils are so tiny that they look like black pinpricks. It would be like looking into half-finished doll eyes, except there’s nothing else wrong with her eyeball. Riku’s not sure if she can actually see.

“We need to get to the Secret Place.” The pained bleariness has left her voice but she’s way too calm.

“The first aid kit is in the shack,” Riku says, but she’s already walking. “Hey, Kairi.”

He moves in front of her and takes her by both shoulders. “Look at me.”

She makes eye contact, and her pupils dilate, not by much, but enough to make her seem almost normal again. She blinks a few times, puzzled, then gives him a shaky smile. She pats his forearm, which is enough to fluster him. Riku lets go. Sora catches up, stands next to them.

“You good?” Riku asks, still feeling the ghost of her touch.

“The two of you worry so much.”

“That’s not an answer,” Riku says.

Sora says, “That makes me worry more.”

“I’m okay. This storm is messing with me. The safest place to be right now is the Secret Place. That’s all.”

It’s not remotely safe. A big hole in the main cave lets in rain, wind, and worse. A strong storm could trap them inside. Riku doesn’t want to argue, because the caves have always been a Sora-and-Kairi thing, another barb, another wedge. He doesn’t trust himself not to start another argument.

“I’ll get the first aid kit,” Sora says. “Under the stairs, right?”

“Right.”

He runs off. Riku walks with Kairi into the Secret Place. Kairi’s pace is steady. If she were stumbling Riku would offer her his arm. Instead he shoves his hands in his pockets, thinks to himself that it’s weird to obsess over her hand on his forearm when he grabbed her shoulders. He shouldn’t have grabbed them in the first place, wouldn’t have if he didn’t think she needed help. 

She barely even seems to notice he’s there. When they enter the cave, she walks up to the wooden panel in the wall. Something about the panel nags at Riku, an old dream or a memory. Kairi kneels on the soft ground in front of it.

“What are you doing?” Riku asks.

“Trying something.”

Riku watches her press her forehead against the wood, remembers the meteor shower, the moment he could’ve sworn he saw someone fall from the sky. He remembers his old childish theory that Kairi was a fallen star wrapped in human skin, pretending to be a little girl, researching humans for a city of stars. She’s been so familiar to him for so long that he forgot there was anything different about her. In this moment she seems like a star again, distant and unknowable.

Suddenly Kairi sits back, sighing. She rubs her eyes with one hand like she’s trying to push back against a headache. When she drops her hands, she turns to Riku. Her pupils are normal again.

“I guess we’re leaving tonight.”

“In this storm?”

“The storm’s going to make us leave one way or another.”

“What do you mean? What does any of this mean? Stop being vague and tell me what’s going on!”

He knows he’s shouting, and he also knows he sounds like he’s panicking. It’s exactly the wrong time to hear footsteps behind him, to feel Sora’s hand on his shoulder. A rush of feelings ambush Riku and he has to fight to keep control, which is stupid, because it’s just Sora. It’s worse knowing that when Sora lets go, he’ll miss his touch.

“What’s going on?” Sora asks.

 “Yeah, what is going on, Kairi?”

Kairi looks between their faces, sighs again, and asks, “Do you trust me?”

Before Riku can explain that trust is conditional on not being suspicious as hell, Sora just answers. “Always.”

When Kairi looks to Riku, he bites back his other words and says, “Yes.”

“I’m about to say something that’ll sound nuts, but I swear it’s real.” She resettles herself on the ground, back to the panel. “That’s not a normal storm. We all agree on that, right?”

“What else could it be?” Riku asks.

“A symptom. Our world is sick. I felt it on the way here. I thought it could pull through, but now…” Her voice catches.

“What?” Sora asks.

“It’s over. It’s the end of the world.”

Her words hang in the air, too big to process. Sora squeezes Riku’s shoulder hard enough to hurt, but Riku can’t bring himself to tell Sora to let go.

“What’ll happen,” Kairi says, a tremble haunting her voice, “Is that the Destiny Islands will focus on protecting its heart, this cave, and hold on as long as it can. But the heart will give out. We need to leave before it goes, and we need to leave together.”

“What about everyone else?” Sora’s voice is thin, distant. 

Riku turns to face Sora, knowing Kairi’s watching too. His face is bloodless. Sora has a big family: cousins, aunts and uncles, his parents, his older sister and younger brother. He has the most to lose.

“They’ll be scattered,” Kairi says gently, and for the first time tonight Riku doesn’t think that Kairi believes what she’s saying. “If they stay together, they might end up in the same place.”

Riku says, quietly, “Everyone's home. We saw them when we went to get you. Same house, same room.”

“Unless they’re looking for me.”

Kairi is at a loss for words, weary and in pain. Sora’s in a bad place. Someone needs to step up, be the leader. They need him. This is what Riku is for.

“We’ll find them when it’s over, Sora. Right now, we need to make sure we get out of this. Kairi, how do we leave?”

“We need something to hold us together. Like a ship.”

“The raft?”

“If you can get it here. The cove is going to be dangerous soon. The rowboat would be less risky.”

“Our supplies are with the raft.” Riku strategizes. “We’ll go check the cove, see if we can use the raft. If we can’t, we grab the stuff, take the rowboat.”

“I need to stay here.” Kairi says.

Riku feels like pulling out his hair. “Why?”

“Reasons.” When Riku glares at her she gives in. “This place is special. I don’t know if I’m going to get another headache if I go out there.”

“Are you gonna be okay by yourself?” Sora asks.

“I’ll be fine.”

Kairi’s eyes are normal, and she’s not cursing or doubled over in pain or slurring her words. She is slumped against the wall, oddly limp and still. She’s downplaying the fact that she’s hurting, and she’ll double down if Riku worries about her. Riku can’t pretend he’s not worried about her.

Sora’s going to start panicking about his family any second. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he walks outside with Riku, who’s shit with feelings. If Sora’s going to freeze up or break down he’s better off with Kairi.

Then Sora lets go of Riku’s shoulder, and says, “Okay. We’ll be back.”

“No, Sora, stay with her.”

“This place is still safe, right Kairi?”

“Safer than out there.”

“I can handle it alone,” Riku argues.

“Probably, but it’ll go faster with two of us, and we’ve got a better chance of moving the raft.”

The worst part about arguing with Sora is how often Sora agrees with him, and how often Riku loses anyway. “We shouldn’t leave her.”

“I’m fine,” Kairi snaps.

“Don’t give me —”

“The faster we go, the faster we get back,” Sora interrupts. “Don’t fight, okay?”

He starts walking, the stubborn asshole. Riku wants to grab Sora by the back of his collar and pull him back, but Sora’s right. Instead Riku turns to Kairi and crouches next to her.

“You’re really fine.”

“I’m fine.”

“Because if we come back and you’re not fine we’re going to lose our shit, and you know that.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Riku is about to ask why she needs to be careful if she’s sitting in a cave, knowing the answer won’t make him feel better. Before he can open his mouth she gets a familiar, bossy look on her face. Riku looks down, away, at the scribbles on the wall.

“You be careful too. Come straight back. Stay with Sora.”

As Kairi says it, Riku sees the drawing on the wall: Sora’s head, Kairi’s head, the arm with the paopu fruit. He’d been so focused on everything else that he’d forgotten, for a second, what was happening between them. The drawing is part of a history he can’t touch, a secret he was never meant to find.

He looks back to Kairi. This must’ve been what she wanted to talk about. She’d break it to him gently, say she never meant to be cruel. The drawing is so old. They’ve known since they were children.

Riku does the only thing he can do. “I’ll keep him safe. I promise.”

“Both of you better come back safe, okay? Or I’ll never forgive you.” She smiles thinly, trying to frame it like a joke and not her own promise.

“All right.”

Riku stands up, staggers towards the entrance. He’s been fighting for something that died long ago, or else never existed. Kairi and Sora were never going to have a future with anybody but each other. Riku is a detail, soon to be discarded. The world is crumbling and he’ll try to save what matters, but after that, what else is left for him?

Sora is waiting by the entrance of the cave. Riku can’t believe how badly he misread his best friend. Sora was only disinterested in talking about paopu fruit because he made his decision years ago.

When they step outside Riku is expecting wind or lightning, but nothing’s changed. The air is still as heavy and smothering as it ever was, only drier. The clouds are fully covering the sky.

Riku forces a laugh while they’re walking. “Maybe she’s pranking us. That’d be pretty good, huh?”

“I don’t think so.” Sora’s voice is quiet but close, just behind him. “Things are too weird.”

“Come on.”

“I mean it. Remember how you were looking at those star charts, and we just couldn’t find part of the sky?”

“It was overcast.”

“Not too overcast to find everything.”

 Beyond Sora’s voice, there’s no sound but the crunch of their shoes on the compact sand, which is wrong in a way that Riku can’t place.

Sora speaks again. “There was also that guy.”

“What guy?”

“The stranger wearing a brown coat, in the Secret Place. He was kind of a jerk. He showed up, said stuff about other worlds and darkness, called me a moron, and left. Did you see him?”

“No. Are you and Kairi pranking me?”

Sora’s footsteps stop. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“This isn’t funny, Riku.” He catches up, walks next to him, keeps trying to catch up. “I’d never try to freak you out like this, and neither would she. I wouldn’t — I wouldn’t joke about my family.”

Riku lets himself look at Sora’s face, and feels a pang of regret. Sora is legitimately terrified. He can keep a secret, but he can’t lie. There’s always too much in his face to lie.

Sora looks behind him, and whispers, “The waves.”

Riku turns around and realizes what’s been missing. The constant, muted rhythm of the waves is gone. The water, which has never stopped moving before, is just sitting at the edge of the sand, not even rippling. It’s like someone turned the ocean into a pond.  Beyond that, the lights from the distant shore are winking out one section at a time.

“This is bad,” Sora says. “This is exactly as bad as she said it would be.”

Riku thinks about the way Sora asked about his family first, the fact that he didn’t have to think it over when Kairi asked him to trust her, the fact that Sora still does things like help people out of the boat and get the first aid kit and offer to grab the raft when everything is falling apart. He doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t choose. He just acts, every time, like there’s nothing in his way. 

The worst thing Riku can say about Sora is that he doesn’t think, that he’s lazy when things are going well, that he’s childish, spoiled by good times and good people. Riku can say so much worse about himself. Sora is wholesome, built good. Kairi would be dumb not to choose him.

When Sora looks at the dark eating into their little town, he’s horrified. He should be horrified. Horror is the right response, what a good person would feel. The feeling in Riku’s chest isn’t horror.

“Go back to Kairi,” Riku says.

“What? No! Just because I’m scared doesn’t mean I won’t -”

“She needs you.”

“You need help.”

“I can handle this.” Riku looks up at the sky. “I’m not the one getting headaches. Go watch her.”

“But the raft -”

“We won’t need the raft. The sail won’t do anything in this weather. I’ll grab the stuff and come right back.”

Sora stands there for a few seconds, then he does something baffling. He grabs the silver chain off of his neck, touches his lips to the crown charm, and then throws the chain over Riku’s neck.

“What’re you doing?”

“You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right. So if something weird happens, hold onto this.” He taps the crown charm, which is hanging right over Riku’s sternum. “Kairi said there are good luck charms that help people find each other. I don’t have a charm like that, but I’ve worn this for a long time. Maybe you get some of my luck, this way.”

“Your luck.”

“Yeah.” Sora flashes a nervous smile that’s gone in seconds. “I mean, there are other worlds, and I’m on this one.”

“And it’s falling apart.”

Sora shrugs, but he’s looking at Riku like there’s too much to say. Riku doesn’t know what’s happening or how he should respond to it, so he coughs and tries to pretend his cheeks aren’t warm. Sora seems uncomfortable too, after a second, so he awkwardly drops his hands to his sides.

“Come back soon, Riku. We need all the luck we can get.”

“Right.”

Sora runs with that same awkward arm-swinging gait he’s had since they were kids, and Riku watches him go. He holds the charm in his hand, runs his gloved thumb along the edge, wondering if he should touch the place Sora kissed.

It doesn’t make sense. Maybe this is charity, or a consolation prize. The necklace is a literal silver medal; Riku’s made fun of it before. But why would Sora kiss it?

Riku is tempted to kiss it himself, for reasons he can’t explain. Instead he stuffs the charm and the chain under his shirt, metal on skin, and goes to grab the stuff off of the raft. He finds the bag where they left it, tosses the sack over his shoulder.

Then he feels something. At once he understands why Kairi was so vague. It’s not a feeling that belongs in a rational world with cars and buildings and homework.

First Riku focuses on the sensation. It’s as if everything that belongs in the night — the paralyzing fear, the 3 AM lonely sadness, the heart-thumping anxiety, the wild-eyed potential of being alone on a moonless night — has been pulped down into one overwhelming feeling. He can’t touch it, but it’s in every breath, a smell and a taste and gooseflesh up his arms, raised hair on the back of his neck.

Then Riku focuses on the pull. It reminds him of standing in the stream that leads off the waterfall, water rushing over his toes, but the river he remembers is shallow. Whatever this is is unfathomably deep; it’s Riku that’s shallow, so walled off from this massive pulsing current that he can only understand this aftertaste, these flickers of feeling.

Black wisps gather around him, airy and warm, and every time a wisp passes through him it burns and sizzles, as strong and resonant as human touch. Riku looks up to see something tearing apart the sky, lightless, tar-black, sparking, pulsing red and purple in its center. There’s low whine in the air that makes his teeth hurt.

“It’s real,” Riku says.

That means his house has been ripped to the foundations, crumbled to smithereens, the dryer pulverized into nothing and eaten by the current. His parents are lost or, Riku suspects, dead, pulled away into this darkness.

“Good riddance.” The words are ripped out of him, like the black wisps, like the rest of the island.

Kairi’s wrong. This world isn’t sick, it’s connected. They’ve all been bobbing along the top of this current, crammed into a locked cage. Now the dark is bubbling up, oozing through every gap it can find, corroding the lock and opening the door.

Something catches his eye, standing next to the zipline tower. A hunched figure in a brown hood raises their arm, pointing towards the other side of the island. Riku takes the first step, ready to finish running away.

Chapter Text

The stranger seems to keep disappearing and reappearing at first, until Riku realizes what they’re really doing. The stranger can dip into the current, surfacing in a different spot each time. Sometimes when they slide in they leave a hole behind, a hole that patches itself up behind them as the light seals the gap.

“So that’s how I leave,” Riku says, following them out of the cove, up to the bridge, to the rocky outcropping by the paopu tree. “How do I know where I’m going?”

If the stranger knows, they don’t say. By the time Riku’s close enough to touch the bark of the paopu tree they’re gone, no trace left behind. Riku’s alone again, as he was meant to be.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” he says aloud, to himself. “Anywhere’s better than here.”

He thinks about where he wants to go when he closes his eyes. He thinks about all the things his home could never be: dignified, magnificent, part of the current instead of amputated from it. Then he can feel it: cold stone, old books, petrol.

All he has to do is open the way and disappear. Sora and Kairi could ride the current behind him, if he kept it open. Or they could stay behind. For once he’d make the choice first, and the others could deal with it. 

Riku opens his eyes and sees his new home overlaid onto the island: white stone walls, light, a castle looming massive and incredible in front of him. The current laps at his feet, wisps of dark licking his ankles. He looks around to find Sora and Kairi below him on the beach, almost a world away.

He opens his mouth to tell them that the door is open, that there is so much out there to fear but he’s not afraid. He reaches out in their direction, letting himself yearn, wallow in how much he wants them.

“What the fuck is that?” Kairi yells.

Past the layer of the other world, Riku sees the monster on the beach, a darker-than-black horror with gas-lamp-yellow eyes. It’s shaped like a bug the same way that a balloon can be shaped like a bug; the monster looks like a shadow puppet peeled off the wall and swelled up. It leaps at them, swiping. Sora smacks it down barehanded and its claw tears into his arm.

The current flees as the other world seeps away, leaving Riku to face his friends and a horde of monsters rising up from the ground. Riku sprints, jumps off the edge of the cliff, lands on the beach with a thump, keeps running until he’s next to Sora and Kairi. The monsters swarm like real insects, cluttering the beach.

Riku dodges one monster and punches the next one as it leaps up behind Sora. He flings it away before it can rake its claws across Sora’s back. Riku can’t count them all, but he can see that some of the monsters are lurking several feet away, swaying, moving in the same patterns as if that’s all they know how to do.

Now that Riku can see her, Kairi looks much worse. She’s sallow-skinned, reacting slowly, like every movement hurts. Sora’s doing most of the work. It’s not bad for someone fighting with their bare hands, but Sora is panicking, which is making him stupid.

Riku punts one of the monsters into the ocean. It folds in on itself and flickers away before it hits the water. A new monster unfolds out of space and reappears at the edge of the beach.

“We need to go,” Riku says, reaching out for Sora and Kairi’s shoulders. “I don’t think they like water, we need to —”

As his fingers brush Sora’s sleeve the feeling is burning, intense, like touching a lightbulb when it’s still hot. There’s a flash of light that passes through them; when Riku scrunches his eyes shut on reflex the light shines through his eyelids. Once Riku blinks the spots away, Sora is holding what can only be a magic sword.

Sora barely glances at it before he brings it down on the monster closest to him. The sword tears through the monster and it dissolves as if it was never there. Something pink and transparent, like a rhinestone, glitters in the air. Riku blinks and it’s gone.

The monsters are all watching Sora. Kairi sways; Riku catches her. When Riku starts leading Kairi toward the boat, the monsters don’t even notice. They part to let them pass.

As he backs up, Riku calls to Sora, “Stop fighting! Get to the boat!”

“I can beat them!”

As if to prove his point he kills another two monsters, but there are so many of them. Sora’s quickly flanked by teeming monsters. Sora’s being careless, focusing on one at a time.

“Your left!” Riku calls as another monster scuttles closer, flattening to the ground and moving like a shadow under a swinging lamp. 

Sora turns around and swings but in doings so he turns too far, swings too wide, and the monster in front of him leaps, claws catching his side, tearing into his clothes. He doesn’t see blood, but Riku feels all the air leave him. Kairi is slumping in his arms but she gasps.

“Holy shit don’t die!” she shouts while Riku helps her onto the docks.

Riku yells even though it feels like something stomped on his chest. “It’s not one person, stop putting so much into every swing!”

“Don’t - tell me - how to fight!” Sora yells back between swings.

Riku has to focus on making sure that Kairi can get into the boat, so when she shrieks he nearly lets go in shock. As Kairi stumbles into the boat Riku turns around to see Sora with one hand over his face.

“Sora!” Kairi shouts, throwing the potion before Riku can reach into his pockets.

“Block you dumbass!” Riku yells as he sprints.

“What are you doing, get back on the boat!” Sora says, taking another swing like that’s not blood on his hand, like the skin over his left eye isn’t chitinous, like every lazy afternoon duel hasn’t suddenly turned into something real and unforgiving.

Riku lunges for the first monster he sees and picks it up. The monster thrashes, reaching for Sora, and Riku has to fight to keep a grip on it. He can feel it slipping away, retreating into something that might be the current. Riku starts counting, and after a count of four it retracts, folds into a ball of purple-black darkness, reappears on the edge of the crowd.

They’re still not treating Riku like a threat. Sora’s still taking them one at a time. If Sora’s not going to block then Riku will do it for him. He catches the monsters as they come, holds on to them until they dissolve out of his fingers. At first it feels like this is what he’ll be doing for the rest of his life, and then the swarm thins out.

The last five go easily. Sora is breathing raggedly, and when he drives the sword down on the last one he stands in place, holding the sword. Now that Riku can actually look at the sword, it’s bizarre. It has a boxy brass hilt, a chain and a charm dangling from the bottom. The tip of the blade has unnecessary bits of metal jutting out of it. It kind of looks like a giant key. It’s one of the weirdest swords Riku has ever seen, and it’s achingly, horribly familiar.

Then the sword shimmers and disappears into nothing, leaving just Sora, wild-eyed, looking around as if he doesn’t believe it’s over. Before Riku knows what he’s doing he has Sora in a rough, squeezing hug.

Riku is so scattered that the only thing he can ask is, “Okay?”

“Okay,” Sora lies, but he’s alive.

They have to get back to the boat. Riku is going to have to let go. Sora’s hair is already in Riku’s mouth. Riku only loosens his grip when Sora starts pulling away.

Sora takes Riku’s hand almost immediately, as if he wants to grab it before Riku can shove it in his pocket. There’s still something deeply unsettled in his eyes, but he nods. Riku nods back. They jog to the boat together. They only let go when they’re both sitting in the boat, across from each other, Kairi in the middle.

Kairi still looks like she’s in pain, but that doesn’t stop her from fussing over Sora. She starts rubbing at the knit-together skin on Sora’s face, and he bows his head to let her. Riku sits back, puts his hands in his lap to stop from reaching out. They look like they fit together, when they sit side by side. There’s no room for him.

Riku closes his eyes and tries to find the current again. He thinks of the exhaust, the cold, the smell of old paper. Just as he feels the edges of the new world, a hand thwacks him on the forehead. 

When he opens his eyes he sees Kairi squinting at him, and Sora, confused. The boat rocks as Kairi comes closer, takes Riku's arm.

“Damn, Kairi, use your words.” Riku rubs at his forehead.

Kairi reaches for the first aid kit and swabs a tiny scrape on Riku’s arm. “Don’t zone out, we need you.”

Close up he can see the swollen pink-purple bags under Kairi’s eyes, the veins in her hands. Behind her, Sora’s knee is beginning to bounce. She’s right, they need him. He’ll stay until they don’t.

Meanwhile Sora’s beginning to shake the boat. Riku taps Sora’s ankle with his foot. He looks up, startled, but stops.

“Sorry.”

Riku knows he shouldn’t pick at this right now, but he can’t resist. “How the hell did you get a magic sword?”

“Keyblade,” Sora says.

“You named your magic sword,” Riku says flatly.

“I didn’t name it, that’s just its name.”

“Come on.”

“Yesterday I had a nightmare. Those monsters were in it. The sword was in it. Now we’re awake but it’s all here. Simple,” Sora explains, gesturing.

“Oh sure, the end of the world is confusing but dream swords are fine,” Kairi mutters, putting the first aid kit away.

“How do I get a magic sword, Sora?” Riku doesn’t even try to hide the desire in his voice.

“I don’t know! Have a weird nightmare that starts with a bunch of stained glass and questions about what kind of person you are? Fall asleep in the middle of the day?”

“Wait a minute.” Riku feels like a blood vessel in his forehead is about to burst. “Yesterday? The middle of the day?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You got a magic sword while I was working on the raft?!?”

“Sorry.”

There are so many things to be upset about but this is the final straw. Riku covers his face in his hands because the alternative is punching, or maybe yelling, or maybe getting out of the boat and swimming off the edge of the world. What this means is that he doesn’t realize what’s happening until the boat starts moving.

At first he thinks it’s sinking but when he opens his eyes he realizes it’s much worse. The water’s receding, tsunami-drastic and fast. He grips onto the edge of the pier and grabs Kairi’s arm as the boat falls, held up only by the rope. Sora grabs the edge of the pier on his own, his other hand clasping around Kairi’s opposite arm. They wait until the boat is hanging uselessly, prow digging into the silt, to drop her down, and then Sora and Riku let go. It’s not a large drop; the pier was never built for real traffic.

The silt beneath them is so dry and cracked it looks like a desert. Riku can see beached algae, a dozen plants and animals dying in the distance. As Riku frantically tries to remember the tsunami drills from school, the world cracks.

It starts with a sound so loud that Riku feels like it’s splitting him apart. Then the ground tilts, and he’s thrown on his back as the land in front of him crumbles, chunk by chunk, until he’s scrambling back to make sure he’s not on the next piece that falls. 

The ground beneath him starts crumbling, and then Riku feels this tug, like he’s falling backward. Then feels someone hook their arm around him, pulling him back before the dirt beneath him tumbles into the void.

Riku lands on Sora, but the ground beneath them is stable. Sora lets go, and Riku moves off of him. Kairi looks like she might throw up. Instead she takes three deep breaths, and fakes a smile.

“Okay, well, we can use what’s left of the pier as a raft when the rest of it goes to shit. At least we survived that, right?”

As if on cue, there’s a terrible creaking and groaning. Riku sees it first because he has his back to the edge of the world. A giant emerges from the trees in the center of the island like the hill is nothing but an eggshell, swatting at the core of the island with its massive hands. Wreckage flies up towards the purple-black gap in the sky. The giant is a massive inflated-shadow-puppet with lamp-yellow eyes and writhing snakelike hair, and it’s destroying everything it can touch.

“That’s just mean,” Kairi huffs.

“Not again,” Sora whispers, like a mantra. “Not again, not again.”

“This thing’s from your dream too?” Riku asks.

Sora doesn’t answer but the sword appears in his hand. As soon as it’s there the giant turns toward them, yellow eyes focusing in. It keeps its eyes on Sora as it razes the island around it, as the world keeps collapsing. Trees and rocks from the island are torn to shreds in a gale that swirls around the rim of the world, fragments peeling away into the sky.

Sora, who got a magic sword by doing nothing at all, who used to flinch at every creepy noise, who fought Riku twelve times yesterday and only stopped after he’d beaten Riku three times in a row, reckless, bullheaded, carefree Sora gets to his feet, crouches in his fighting stance.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kairi whispers.

“I can’t let it go.”

“Sora, that thing will kill you.”

“I can’t.” Sora’s voice is strained. “There’s no running from it.”

Riku wants to hate Sora right now. It’s incredibly frustrating that he can’t. It would be wonderful if Riku didn’t have to care about what’s about to happen.

A plank falls nearby on the ground, debris from the deck. Riku grabs it as he gets to his feet, swings it experimentally with one hand. Gripping it is awkward and it’s more than likely to snap in half on the first good strike. This is the best thing Riku is going to get.

Sora’s face is grave. Riku claps him on the shoulder and he flinches; Riku almost regrets it. Sora turns to him and Riku realizes he has to say something.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Riku teases.

“Not a chance.” Sora’s voice wavers, but at least he doesn’t look like he’s facing down his own death anymore.

“Good for you. I’m terrified,” Kairi says, walking up between them. “What’s our plan?”

“How many potions do you have?” Riku asks.

“Four. You want them?”

“No, you’re our potion master. Watch us, and throw something out when we get hurt.” Riku unhooks two his potions from his belt and hands them to her, along with the bag of supplies from the raft. Riku saves a potion for himself.

She takes them. “The pier’s still our best option. Hold out until we can leave.”

“It’s not invincible,” Sora says, with shaky conviction. “Look - it’ll punch the ground to make more of those creatures, and it shoots stuff out of its chest, but it’s not fast. Go for the hands. And if it looks like it’s doing something weird, run circles around it so it won’t hit you.”

Riku scoffs. “What have I said about the running in circles thing, Sora?”

“Trust me.” Sora looks to Riku. “On three, my count?”

Riku adjusts his stance, ready to run. “On three.”

“Good luck,” Kairi says.

Sora counts down and both of them sprint forward. The thing sees them draw in and kneels, crushing every last bit of rubble to dust beneath it. It draws its arms to its chest and flings them out, demolishing the last of the shack, the bridge, and the waterfall. It draws a purple-white ball of energy out of itself, shakes as it sends bolt after bolt through the island, crashing through everything.

Sora goes after its right hand, Riku goes after its left. Dark lightning screeches past them; Riku feels the heat of it as it flies past him. The plank snaps on one of the strikes, but it leaves a point like a spear. As Sora said, the monster stands up after a few seconds, punches the ground. Both Riku and Sora run to the new portal of darkness, Sora swinging at the hand, Riku jabbing at it.

Riku stares down at the monster, face looming front of them, its arm stretching out like a path. Riku grabs its massive wrist, hauls himself up, starts running on plaster-smooth skin.

The visitor lied to him. Riku has enough raw talent for people to look his way. He works twice as hard for half as much, but that’s not worth anyone’s loyalty or love. There’s no keyblade for people like him, no fallen-star magic, no destiny. All he has is the shrieking dark current in his head, a broken plank, and more anger than his heart can hold.

Riku leaps up and drives the rest of the plank into the giant’s eye with all the strength he has. It hits true, wedges itself into the eye. Unflinching, the giant bats him to the ground. 

In the air Riku feels his broken ribs, the horrible sensation of falling. He twists before crashing into the ground, but his shoulder and back crunch beneath him, and his head thuds against the sand. As the pain sets in so does the potion, and he can feel his bones knit back together and his insides plump out while still feeling every break. He’s distantly aware that his friends are screaming.

It’s agony to pull himself to his feet, but Riku manages, ready to run again. Then the same shattering sound splits his eardrums. He makes it a few steps before the ground starts to drop away beneath him.

Riku staggers for the ledge and grabs it, but he can’t pull himself up. He tries not to look down because he knows there’s nothing under his feet. His legs are dangling over void, an endless fall.The dark current throbs in the back of his mind. All he needs to do is let it sweep him away. He tries to find that cold, magnificent place but he can’t. He’s too exhausted, too sad.

He’s worthless. There must be a place for worthless people to disappear quietly, some kind of hell.

The current presses another place into his mind. It smells like tobacco and rich food with a rancid petting-zoo undertone. Music weaves between shouting and turns into a cacophony he can sink into. The dark licks at his ankles, and he feels it take him in.

Then something grasps his forearm, fingers digging into his skin. Riku looks up and he sees Sora behind layers of light and color, behind the press of bodies. He can barely see Sora’s face, and while he knows Sora must be shouting, he can’t make it out.

As Riku opens his mouth to say something, the dark rises in streams, wrapping around him, wrapping around Sora. The current envelops them both, and Riku knows only darkness.

Chapter Text

Riku wakes up with his head pressed into the dirt. The smell of animal shit assaults him. He gets up, aware of light, aware of sound, aware that his entire body and brain feels like they’ve been scraped raw. The rest comes to him slowly as he limps forward.

He’s in the kind of place he’s only seen in illustrations and movies. Flashing signs are everywhere. People are teeming around him: moving, shouting, laughing, brushing against his shoulders and bumping into him. The music is loud enough to wash out the shouting, so it just hits Riku as an indistinctive slurry of noise. Riku smells frying fat, burnt sugar, tobacco-smoke. His head already aches to the point of nausea; the smell makes it worse. He would vomit if there was anything in his stomach. Instead he dry heaves, and some asshole jeers and skitters away when Riku wheels around, snarling. Every piece of him feels exposed.

Riku drags himself down the road - it is a road, lined by buildings, glutted with strangers - and tries to find a place to sit. He ducks into an alley, leans against a foreign brick wall, nearly retches again at the smell of piss and garbage.

The recent past clicks into place as he tries to breathe through his mouth. He’s on another world. Sora was grabbing onto him. Riku has no idea where Kairi was when he slid into the current. Home is gone.

There’s a weight around his neck. Riku pulls on the chain, grips the crown between his fingers, focuses on the way the metal feels in his hand. Riku blearily wonders if he can still cry, or if he’s too exhausted.

He looks out again to the herds of bodies moving up and down the road. They all seem to be boys of different ages with plain clothes, no belts, no jewelry. Sora or Kairi would stick out immediately. No one will hear him, but Riku yells their names anyway as he staggers into the road again.

In the distance he sees a giant mechanical wheel, and a roller coaster with tracks that loop around the park. The next biggest landmark is the gate a few blocks ahead, the one with a giant pale robotic face that looms over the road, its eyes darting back and forth, teeth gnashing on nothing, grotesque like a festival mask. Riku blankly stumbles toward it.

This must be some kind of hell, though there’s no king in sight, no order to the chaos. This place feels like a gaping mouth, like the sounds and the smells are chewing on him, rasping him down into something digestible.

Something grabs the hem of his shirt from the side and the sensation is a jolt, like shocking a corpse to make its muscles twitch. Mechanically he grips the hand, thinking of monsters, thinking of jerking it down and snapping the wrist. What stops Riku is the sudden whimpering, and how small the hand feels in his grip.

He’s grabbing a kid who can’t be more than ten years old, his short brown hair parted in the middle, wearing a small white hat. He’s wearing blue trousers and a blue shirt with a red tie on the front. His pink face is scrunched like he’s about to cry.

Riku lets go. “I’ve had a long day. Don’t touch me.”

“Are you Riku?” the kid asks, pointedly massaging his wrist.

“Who wants to know?”

The kid is already running away, pushing through the crowd. Riku rushes after him, a knot growing in his stomach. Maybe there is a king in this place, and they’ve found him.

“Hey stranger, where are you going in a hurry like that?” A self-satisfied nasal voice calls from behind him.

Riku stops, turns, ready for a new threat. Behind him is a boy who’s twelve or thirteen, accompanied by some kind of robot. The boy is a redhead in brown: brown trousers, brown hat, brown vest, brown jacket. The robot has a wooden facade: painted-on black hair, blue glass eyes that focus on Riku. All of its clothing is discrete from its body: red shorts, a white shirt, and a pair of white gloves.

“I’ve had a long day,” Riku repeats. “If you want to tell me something, say it. Otherwise stay out of my way.”

“To the point. My kind of guy.” The redhead beams, showing off buck teeth. “You look like you’re running from something. Or toward something. Want to know who’s on your tail?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

The robot leans over and asks, “Lampy, what’s a thefuck?”

“Shh, I’m working.” The huckster’s grin stays in place. “Name’s Lampwick, Lampy to my friends. See, stranger, two different people asked me to find a guy named Riku. You strike me as a guy who might not want to be found. I’ll tell you who’s looking for you, for a price.”

The robot looks from Riku to Lampwick. “But, Lampy, Sora said he’d give us -”

“Shut up Pinocchio,” Lampwick hisses.

Riku’s heart skips a beat and he finds himself reaching for the pendant. “Where’s Sora?”

This place will grate on him worse than it grates on Riku. Sora can barely stand it when lights buzz or people chant off-rhythm. Riku needs to make sure he’s okay.

Lampwick says, “No, that’s not how this works. I told you the free stuff. Everything else is going to cost you.”

This is the sleaziest kid Riku has ever seen. He looks like a sideways-bully, the one who never has to throw a punch because he’s running the show. Riku could easily fight him, but he already feels guilty for hurting the other kid.

Riku turns out his pockets and tosses his pouch of pretty stones to Lampwick, who catches it and inspects it. Riku has nothing after this, no food, no water. Kairi had the supplies. Lampwick looks over the stones, hums as if unimpressed, and pockets them anyway.

“Right. Sora’s got a manhunt out for you and some girl, asking everyone he sees. The twerp you’re chasing isn’t the only one running back to him.”

“Has Sora found the girl?”

Lampwick hesitates, probably wondering if he can charge him extra, and then relents. “The island is boys-only. Sora’s out of luck.”

Sora’s okay. Sora’s looking for him. Riku feels a mix of relief and, oddly, dread. Before he can unpack that Lampwick is talking again.

“Not counting the witch who’s looking for you. Gray skin, horns on her head, looks like she eats bones for breakfast. Says you’re promising.” Lampwick raises his eyebrows, but if there’s an innuendo it’s lost on Riku. “Lucky for you, most of the kids avoided her, but I saw the Coachman talking to her. Steer clear of him if you want to steer clear of her.”

In Riku’s experience, the adults who call him promising are all looking at an ‘if only.’ If only Riku didn’t fuck up, if only he followed directions, if only he ‘cared more.’ Most adults don’t see him, they see the nebulous ‘if only’ over his head. They’re always disappointed when Riku’s not who they think he could be. Maybe the visitor was like that too.

The witch could be from another world. She could be in the current. For once, he might want to be the person the witch is looking for. 

Sora’s looking for him. A park as overwhelming as this is going to be hell on Sora. One thing at a time.

“Take me to Sora.”

Lampwick buffs his fingernails on his jacket. “You paid for information, not service. What else you got?”

“Nothing. I’ll find him on my own.”

“All right, you drive a hard bargain,” Lampwick says, throwing up his hands like Riku’s the one extorting him. “We’ll take you to him.”

Riku keeps a healthy distance between himself and the two grifters, though the robot fascinates him. He can’t see the machinery; it really does just look like a puppet. After a while Riku starts wondering, and then he realizes he doesn’t care about offending the people who just took his stuff.

“It’s Pinocchio, right? Are you just… made of wood?”

“Damndest thing, isn’t it?” Lampwick answers for the puppet.

“How did that happen?” Riku says, still trying to look at Pinocchio, who has halfway turned to look at him.

“The Blue Fairy,” the puppet answers matter-of-factly, as if that explains everything. “I’m gonna be a real boy one day.”

That just raises more questions, and Riku is too tired to ask them. His stomach growls. Neither Pinocchio or Lampwick hear it, or if they do, they don’t offer to stop. It’s for the best. The thought of food is still sickening.

It turns out the real reason why Lampwick wanted to lead Riku to Sora is because Sora is less than two minutes away. The other kid made it to Sora first. Sora’s kneeling in front of him, checking his wrist, mussing his hair. 

Sora looks fine. There’s no tension in his face or his fists. He moves naturally, responds immediately. Riku looks away, guilty for hurting the kid, but also frustrated. Sora doesn’t need him. He doesn’t even look upset that Riku’s missing.

Lampwick interrupts. “Hey, look who we found!”

Riku is looking down so he only feels Sora crash into him, Sora’s weight knocking the wind out of his chest. Riku feels like a raw electric corpse again and barely avoids hitting Sora. Sora immediately steps back, cautious, and Riku looks at Sora’s hands instead of his face.

“You’re here,” Sora says, his hands moving to his pockets.

Riku tries to sound normal, stop feeling like something scraped the top layer off of his skin. “I’m here.”

Behind Sora, the kid whimpers, “He grabbed me.”

“I’m sorry,” Riku says, to Sora and no one else.

Silence makes Riku worry more, so he risks a glance at Sora’s face. He doesn’t seem angry. Instead, Sora looks worried.

“What happened?” Riku asks.

Sora says, “I woke up in an alley. I don’t know if I got here before you. How long have you been awake?”

“Minutes. You?”

“Couple hours.”

“Have you found Kairi?” Riku asks, daring to hope that Lampwick was wrong.

“No sign of her, but we’re looking.”

Lampwick clears his throat. “This is touching. When do we get paid?”

“No fair,” the sailor kid whines. “I found him first! The reward’s mine! And he grabbed me.”

Sora, who has way too much patience, reaches for his pockets. “You’ll both get -”

“I already paid Lampwick,” Riku interrupts. “Everything in my pockets.”

Sora looks up to scowl at Lampwick, who shrugs and grins that bucktooth grin. “Can’t blame a guy for trying. Come on, Pinocchio. We’re done here.”

As Lampwick and the puppet leave, Sora turns to the kid. “Okay, Alexander, this is for you. Fold your thumb like this.”

Riku watches Sora teach the kid how to make it look like he’s detaching his own thumb from his hand and reattaching it seamlessly. The kid mimics it, giggles, and wanders off. Riku feels like he’s in a fever dream as Sora refocuses on him.

“I’ve found us a place. Follow me.”

Sora leads him through a maze of empty, mostly-smashed houses, until they come across a yellow one with a red door. Sora pushes his way inside, takes them through a little kitchen and into a bedroom. There are two beds in opposite corners, and a table in the center of the room with two chairs, an unlit fireplace between them. 

“Are you okay?” Sora asks. “We should look at your back.”

“Later.” Riku avoids Sora’s eyes he slumps into a chair. “Where are we?” 

“We’re on another island. Nobody I’ve met is from here, they’re all from the mainland and here on vacation. They call this Pleasure Island.” Sora says, pulling a map out of his pocket and unfolding it as he sits next to Riku. “Everything’s split into districts. We were between the Gambler’s Gambol, which is casino stuff, and Prankster’s Paradise, which has more games and rides. Now we’re in Demolition Row, which is where they keep the model houses for smashing things up. You can usually grab a bed here, so long as no one’s chopped it to pieces. People usually wake you up before they start destroying your room.”

Riku studies the glossy map that cuts the island into a neat grid. The first thing he notices is the gate in Prankster’s Paradise labeled ‘ENTRANCE,’ and the lack of any other marked exits or docks. The edges of the island aren’t labelled at all; there’s just a gap between the districts and the outline of the island.

“How do we reach the mainland?” Riku asks.

“The Coachman says that the next ferry comes tomorrow night.”

“Who’s this coachman? What’s his name?”

“Dunno. He’s just the Coachman. He’s the only adult here, and he runs the island. Most of the people here are kids or teenagers like us.”

“That is so sketchy.”

“What?” Sora looks at Riku like he’s blindsided by the insight.

“Nothing.”

Riku didn’t think he had the energy to be truly angry, but it surges in him. Sora expects that everything would work out fine, because it always has, because the inside of Sora’s head is empty fucking sunshine. Now Sora, who is currently trapped in hell and too dumb to realize it, is looking at Riku like he’s the problem.

“I’ve asked some friends to help look for Kairi.” Sora’s mention of friends - that a friend is something he can make in a handful of hours - jabs at Riku like a pin. “If they see her, they know to come here. We can rest in the meantime. Have you eaten?”

Sora grew up coddled, that’s the problem. He’s never been picked apart by two people who hated him almost as much as they hated each other. Riku is a living cicada husk, while Sora is wholesome and unblemished because people like Riku handle everything for him. Of course Sora’s the nice one, built good, never has to choose it. No one’s ever tried to break him before.

Just once, it would be nice to get Sora on his level.

“Hey, don’t worry. We’ll find her,” Sora says, which is the last straw.

“We’ll find her,” Riku repeats, feeling the word warp in his mouth.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay, Sora? Because I nearly died after you picked a fight with a giant?”

“We couldn’t run,” Sora says uneasily.

“It’s hard to run from anything when your back’s just been broken.”

“I’m not gonna let you get hurt like that again,” Sora promises, his earnestness like kerosine. “I can take care of this part. You rest up. I’ll handle everything.”

“Like you handled the raft?” Riku asks. “Sora, we’ve been picking up after your shit for ages now. You goof off and leave Kairi and me to handle your dead weight all the time. Now you have the nerve to turn around and play hero?”

Riku is living for the look on Sora’s face. “That’s… I really do that?”

“I built the raft. She planned for the trip. You did nothing, as we expected, because we’ve never been able to depend on you. Honestly, it was a chore to find things you could do without fucking up,.” Riku sneers, cruel, vicious, alive. “I don’t know why she wants you around. You’re just baggage.”

The awful thing is that Riku never has to raise his voice. It always surprises him that people think shouting is the way to win a fight. His mother only shouts when she knows she has nothing left that will wound.

She’s probably dead now. Riku’s alive, the mess everyone else left behind. Sora looks so wounded and it’s the best Riku’s felt in ages. Then Sora opens his mouth.

“I’m sorry, Riku. Let me fix this.”

“You still don’t get it,” Riku says, relishing Sora’s hurt. “I know what you are. I’ve been putting up with your shit for years. You don’t know how to do anything but take, and you don’t have it in you to learn better. You’re a leech.”

It’s refreshing to see Sora’s face as he reacts to the word. They’re both picturing the same eyeless limbless bug, bloated with stolen blood. Riku has heard the word so often that it barely cuts anymore, but Sora’s injury and horror is raw.

They’re interrupted by the sound of rattling wood. Someone is pounding on the window shutter; they must be able to see light through the slats. Riku feels like his body is a string instrument and bow after bow is just dragging across him. For once, Sora looks as bad as Riku feels.

“Sora! We saw Riku!” A voice calls from the shuttered window.

Sora looks like he’s going to cry, but he takes a deep breath, and says in a relatively even voice, “Yeah, I found him.”

The next voice chimes in cheerfully. “Great! Is he ready to fight? We’ve got some more guys, we’re ready for a rematch!”

Riku’s anger is split. Even without seeing Sora’s face, his voice gives him away. Sora’s a bad liar, but these assholes don’t even care enough to hear it. 

Yet Sora is trying to preserve his dignity, and that makes Riku furious. Sora doesn’t get to pretend. He’s not allowed to run from this.

Sora’s breath is steady but his eyes are wet. “Not tonight! Maybe tomorrow?”

“Okay!”

Riku listens for footsteps and waits a few seconds after that. Sora catches his breath. Riku’s vicious feeling is cold, honed like a needle.

“New friends,” Riku says. “New people to do your work for you.”

“You’re wrong.”

Finally, after all of this, Sora seems angry. Riku is ready for a real fight, and is only disappointed when Sora keeps talking.

“I’m sorry. I messed up badly if you feel this way,” Sora says, meeting his gaze, eyes wet, voice firm. “I won’t stop working until I make this right.”

“Sora, our home is gone!” Riku nearly shouts, and he knows he’s losing because he raised his voice first. “Kairi’s probably dead—”

“—Don’t—“ 

“— Don’t? There’s no fixing this, Sora! You want to help? Leave and never bother me again. You make me sick.” 

He waits, living for the agony on Sora’s face if nothing else. Let him live this ending, and relive it, over and over again. Let it sit with him. Let it hurt him as much as it hurts Riku, and let him beg for it to stop.

Then something shifts, a set to Sora’s jaw, something in his eyes. “That’s what you want?”

“More than anything.”

“Okay.” Sora runs a hand through his hair, stands up, doesn’t look at him as he says, close to tears, “Okay. Um. The house is yours. I’ll let everybody know to stop looking for you, and I’ll stay out of your way. I’m sorry. Goodbye.”

Then he just leaves. It’s not the theatrical stomping show, with stops for parting jabs. Sora just goes out the door. He doesn’t even look back.

Everything holding Riku up, all that ferocious righteousness, flees as soon as Sora’s gone. Riku’s parents are dead, his home is gone, and if Kairi’s not dead she’ll hate him more than she does already. He had one friendship left, and he destroyed it for the sake of watching something burn.

A dark shape flutters in the fireplace and Riku’s head snaps up, ready to fight, until he sees the beak and the talons. It’s a crow. As Riku starts to think about feeding it, wonders whether he can stand up without spooking it, the crow takes off and flies back up the chimney. Nothing can stand being around him.

If Riku goes to meet a witch, and she kills him, erases him from time and space, there’s no one left to mourn him. He has nothing to lose. Riku can’t sleep anyway.

Chapter Text

It’s hard to focus as Riku wanders Demolition Row. He’s not friends with Sora anymore. He can’t remember a time that he wasn’t friends with Sora. It’s like one of his lungs is missing.

The argument that should’ve been, where Sora stuck up for himself, keeps playing out in Riku’s head. Sora could’ve said that he did everything he asked them to, and Riku would’ve said that Sora never planned anything or took charge. Sora could’ve said there was nothing left to plan, and it wasn’t like Riku or Kairi did anything all by themselves, and getting stuff was still work. Then Riku would’ve brought up how much time Sora spent away from him, and maybe Riku would’ve had the guts to bring up the cave drawing, and maybe…

… Maybe Sora would tell him why he turned his back on the ailing love of his life and ran for Riku, to pull him off the edge of a crumbling world.

Sora’s pendant is a nuisance. Riku doesn’t like big metal jewelry, like bangles or pendants. They’re too loose, too heavy, impossible not to fidget with. Riku keeps running his fingers along the chain. Maybe the stupid jewelry is the excuse he needs to start the fight they should’ve had.

When he turns around he sees the witch, standing in front of a sacked temple of a house. She is worse and more splendid than he imagined, a spindly black-clad figure of myth. It takes Riku a few seconds to remember that theater exists, to notice the tools of the trade. 

The witch has an oval-shaped face, pallid gray-green skin, high cheekbones, and a sharp chin, but the black horned headdress makes all of that more pronounced. Her eyes are hauntingly intense, but her eyes and eyebrows are so black they have to be lined with something, and the purplish tint between her brow line and her eyelid can’t be an accident of nature. Her hands are bony claws, but since the rest of her is covered in a black purple-lined robe that dwarfs her body, of course any exposed piece of her would look bony and fine by comparison. Her nails, too, are painted purple and shaped deliberately into talons.

This is a woman who does her homework, who knows what she wants people to see when they look at her. To see this offstage is a mark of devotion to an aesthetic, which either means that she’s a grifter or that she’s fanatically certain of herself. When she quirks her eyebrow as she meets his eyes, not beckoning him over but not pushing him away, Riku still isn’t sure which one she is.

“Do you recognize what this place is?” she says by way of introduction, in an arch voice that sounds like it should be prophesying doom in a stone cave.

Riku keeps his cool. “I asked for hell, I assume it gave me hell.”

She laughs like a noblewoman. “Hells are darker, deeper, and more beautiful than you would anticipate. This is something else entirely. A crossroads tainted by its own despair, warped twice over. You’d do wise to leave before it decides what to do with you.”

“I’d be wise not to take advice from strangers,” Riku says, crossing his arms.

“Then let’s not be strangers.” Her friendly voice is worse than her doom voice, the ominous slickness is more threatening when she’s quiet. “Maleficent.”

“Well, Maleficent, you don’t seem like the type to wander into a trap without knowing the way out.”

“You flatter me. More so because your flattery is accurate.” She gives the impression of preening without lifting a finger. “But it’s no mere escape. As I’m sure you’ve realized, running is pointless without a destination.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A place of learning and power.” She smiles. “A home, for industrious people like myself, for those who look into Darkness without flinching.”

Riku remembers stone walls, books, the smell of petrol. “How are you getting out? The current?”

“What a quaint turn of phrase,” she says, and she definitely means it as an insult. “It’s apt, I suppose. Darkness flows like a current. I was impressed to hear that a novice could travel in the Corridors of Darkness so easily. With training, you could do it again.”

“And you’re looking for someone to train.” The shape of the person she wants him to be is coming into focus. “Why? What would you want from me?”

“Dear boy,” she answers, all coy artifice, “All I want is to see you prosper. A heart like yours will do wonders connected to the Darkness.”

“Hm.”

“Come” she says, holding out her hand.

Riku has nothing to lose. Sora won’t know he’s gone. Riku will be out of sight and out of mind. Sora could take care of himself, since he’s in such a hurry to prove himself.

The truth weighs so heavy on him that Riku has to say it aloud. “There’s somebody else here. I can’t leave him.”

The witch tuts and says, “Ah, I see. Baggage. This offer is yours and yours alone.”

Riku remembers Sora’s fingers digging into his arm. If it weren’t for Riku, Sora would be with Kairi now. Kairi would be better for him.

“Your erstwhile companion will pass through this place like a gallstone,” Maleficent says. “He lacks the complexity that puts you in such a dangerous position.”

Sora found a place with two beds and a kitchen table in the same room, a place with a built-in promise to be close. There were only two beds, so Riku would’ve been kicked out as soon as they found Kairi, but still. Sora made an offer.

Maleficent continues, “At this very moment he’s surrounded by a herd of other fools. He replaced you so easily. Let him play hero. Let him win as many people as he thinks he needs. He won you, but you’ve seen through him. He’ll move on to the next mark.”

“That’s not how he works,” Riku mutters. 

“It’s how you and I work. We see Darkness. We see the world as it is. That boy’s mind is calcified by Light. Show him Darkness and he will try to erase it. Show him the contents of your heart, and he’ll see the heart of a monster.”

Riku keeps thinking of the drawing in the cave and aching. He also keeps thinking of that little bedroom. Riku threw that away, spat in Sora’s face.

“You talk a big game for someone who doesn’t know shit,” Riku finally says.

“I know that this is not a place that calls to happy people. You were taken here as prey. You weren’t built to be prey. It is a waste to see you weak like this.”

“I’m only strong so I can protect what matters!”

“You think you matter to him as much as he matters to you? You pitiful fool.” The disdain in her voice is worse than anything else. “You escaped a world of people who twisted you into a shape that made sense to them, afraid of what you could become. He thrived in that world, as he thrives in this one. You already resent what you are because of him. Protect your power, Riku. That boy would rob you of it at every turn.”

“Come with me.” Unsmiling, she extends a hand, palm upturned, a final gesture in a hypnotic monologue. “Cast off these false dreams. You belong in the Darkness. You are a terror, and they are right to be afraid.”

Riku feels unsteady on his feet. She’s as bad as this place, if not worse. The person she wants him to become is hauntingly clear.

“Will I be happy?”

“You will be great.”

The idea of greatness is so hollow that misery wells up in him. He’s run all this way to find another adult to tell him why he’s not enough, and she comes attached to the only other world that might have been home. There might not be a place for him at all, not in all the worlds and all the stars. Sora offered him one, and Riku shattered it.

“No thanks,” Riku says, and he turns and takes a few steps away, knowing she’ll get the last word, too worn down to care.

“And what of your other friend?” Maleficent calls after him. “The girl?”

Of course Kairi was going to come into it. The witch picked the one thing that could make him continue having this conversation. Everything hurts.

“She’ll never forgive me if I leave him here.”

“Even if -”

“All evens, all ifs. I’m not the one she wants.” Riku aches to say it out loud. “They’re made for each other.”

“Where does that leave you? Why are you keeping these anchors around your neck?”

“Because they matter.”

“What about you?”

Riku shrugs. “They matter.”

Maleficent doesn’t have anything to say for a few seconds, and then she sighs and, in her weariest and most frustrated tone yet, says, “What a miserable, wretched little prison of a life. Find me when you’ve had enough.”

Riku walks forward, because it’s easier to hide how much it hurts if he’s moving. He shoves his hands in his pockets and wanders past ruined houses, skirting shards of broken glass and splinters of wood at his feet, away from the lights and towards the quiet.

Sora deserves to know that this place is dangerous, but Riku doesn’t deserve to see him again. It felt too good to pick a fight with him, to try to hurt him when he was down. It’s unforgivable.

The problem was never home, or school. It wasn’t even his friends, not even the dead hopes he’s been protecting. It’s him. Riku’s a miserable, wretched, stupid little bully and he always will be. He’s never going to be strong enough for anyone, for the same reason that no one cares how big a jar is if it’s broken.

Riku was kidding himself to think he could ever be different. The seeping feeling was as inevitability, his true self locking bleakly into place. There is no escaping himself now.

Riku makes it to the end of the street with these thoughts in his head, riffing endlessly on each other. When he blunders into a crowd again he feels like a ghost.

He passes tents and arenas, of a giant bowlegged animatronic brawler squinting and turning its metal head, of racks of weapons left in the open, of the sounds of scuffling and dust in the air that promise people are nearby. After that, tents change into taverns and saloons, dubious puddles, people teeming in the streets.

There’s a long overhang on one of the tavern roofs. Riku ducks into a reeking alley, jumps up, grabs the overhang, and hauls himself onto the roof. No one stops him; no one even sees him. He feels invisible, wraithlike. 

On the roof, the view distracts him. Vibrantly colorful ribbons of metal track curve and twist over the giant spoked wheel, above the carousel and its finial, behind the pallid mechanical face, which from a distance seems mischievous, not nightmarish. A large balloon, a caricature of a bald man in an azure hat and coat, hovers off to the side. Smaller balloons drift up like bubbles. From here the lights and blobs of color are inviting, glistening like beads and sequins against the black sky. Even the Destruction Row roofs, geometric slopes and shapes that add texture to the skyline, look whole.

Apparently he can only enjoy nice things from a distance. Riku sits and takes in the scene, wishing he could dissolve into nothing but a wandering pair of eyes. His hunger and nausea and headache have receded into null background noise, numb as his back. He feels more like an idea than an animal.

Riku cranes his head up to look for stars. The sky seems empty, though that might be more light pollution than oncoming apocalypse. He can’t even point at another world and guess where Kairi might be.

Kairi could’ve outrun the giant. She fell to one world, she can fall to another. On some other world they’ll see her streaking through the sky like a comet, a falling star in the shape of a person. No matter what he said to wound Sora, Riku can’t live in a cosmos where Kairi didn’t survive.

She had already seen through Riku. It would be better if they never met again. As soon as she sees Sora and he tells her what happened, she’ll know that any good that ever lived in Riku has left, forever. Riku hopes she’s all right, and that she forgets him quickly.

Riku is caustic. His mind is battery acid, eating him from the inside, corrosive to everything he touches. Kairi knew before, and Sora knows now.

Riku’s breath hitches and he hates himself more, on top of everything else, because this what’s getting to him. Home is gone, Kairi is lost, but the thing that pushes him close to tears is recognizing the fact that he’s a piece of shit. He scrubs at his eyes and looks forward, breathes through his teeth. He’s not allowed to cry about this.

Something in the street catches his eye. There’s a teenager on the dirt road who looks, at first, like he’s hunched over, but as he moves Riku realizes that he’s actually crawling on all fours. He must be blitzed out of his mind. Riku feels the secondhand embarrassment of watching him in what should be a private moment. Someone should stop the guy, take him inside. No one does.

When the stranger bows his head and start drinking from a puddle Riku stands up, disgusted with himself for watching this long, unsettled for reasons he can’t explain. The roof is uneven here, and he doesn’t have a way to heal himself if he slips onto some shingles or falls off the roof. Riku loses sight of the teenager as he watches his step.

After Riku jumps to another building he looks to the dim horizon, the edge of the island. There isn’t a wall, as the map implied, but there are cliffs, tall and forbidding beyond the last faint streetlamp. What puzzles him is that there really is a blank, flat gap between the edge of the amusement park and the rise of the cliffs. There’s no texture to it, no plant life pushing at the edges.

Riku wants to be done. He wants a quiet mind, and everything out here is noise. There’s nothing and no one out by the cliffs, which is why Riku turns away from the lights, colors, and people, towards the barren rocks.

He stays on the roofs while he can as buildings thin out beneath him, keeping his footing, unable to stop thinking about everything, finding worse conclusions each time. The only thing to distract him are the figures moving on the streets below.

There are no boys here. Instead there are people dressed head to toe in black. Their silhouettes are alien: bulbous bodies and spindly limbs, with eyes that look like yellow pinpricks in their tiny hooded heads. They amble quietly, sweeping the roads, picking up trash. They’re not monsters, but Riku flinches when one looks his way. Riku hurries along until the last signs of life disappear from the streets below.

Eventually he has to jump down. He lands on the balls of his feet but he hits the ground hard enough to hurt. The further he walks the clearer it is that he’s walking on stone and not earth. When he passes the last building, walking towards the last lamp, the ground beneath his feet is gray, compact, and smooth, free from moss or any other living thing.

Five steps from the lamp post, Riku stops being an idea and starts being an animal again. He finds himself off balance and stops, but it feels as if he’s still moving. Spots cloud the edge of his vision and he’s suddenly certain that if he doesn’t sit down he is going to fall down. As he drops into a crouch the off-balance feeling turns into real sickness, so intense it blots out everything else.

It feels like he’s dying. His insides feel squirming and raw and watery, and it’s making his heart beat out of rhythm. It’s so bad that Riku lies down in the open, curling up on his side like a poisoned fly, cheek to the ground. He shuts his eyes and waits for something worse.

A strange voice comes into earshot. “ — Who’s his conscience, anyway? Me, or that — that hoodlum, Lampwick?”

“Help,” Riku babbles, so scared of dying that he doesn’t care how pathetic he sounds. “Help me, please, it hurts —”

“Oh what is it now?” The drawling voice is closer. “Another lush. Drank too much? Made yourself sick?”

“Help,” Riku begs, and he can feel his eyes leaking.

The stranger says, much more gently, “Don’t panic, son, the liquor’s just not sitting well with you—”

“I didn’t drink anything,” Riku says, voice high and hysterical. “I don’t know what this is.”

“Hmmm. First thing’s first.” Riku hears a series of confusing noises. “You’re lucky. This is a gift that I’d been saving for a rainy day. Let’s get you out of the open.”

The strange voice waits, then adds, “Son, I can’t move you. When you’re ready, get inside, okay?”

It’s easier now that someone else is around. Riku’s death is going to be the stranger’s problem. The sickness, too, seems to be rolling in waves. After a little time it ebbs enough for Riku to open his eyes, to get to his knees.

There’s a tent. Riku can’t see the stranger anywhere, but he crawls into the tent. Inside, he sinks onto a sleeping bag, feeling clammy, as another wave of unsteadiness washes over him. He starts to shiver, and the voice comes back, this time beside him.

“Okay, son, there’s a blanket in that far corner there and a little water. Those are a little too big for me, so you’ve got to do it yourself. Are you up for it?”

“Too big-?” Riku asks, trying not to let his teeth chatter.

“Down here. Cricket’s the name. Jiminy Cricket, at your service.”

Riku looks down to see someone wearing a tiny vest, hat, and gloves. He stands on two legs and has arms and hands like a person. This doesn’t change the fact that Jiminy definitely has an exoskeleton, like a bug. If it weren’t for the monsters and the puppet, this would be the weirdest thing Riku’s ever seen.

Jiminy tilts his head. “And you are-?”

“Riku.”

As Riku pulls the blanket over himself, Jiminy says, “Riku. Okay, what kind of ‘sick’ are we talking, Riku? What’s it feel like?”

“Weak. Fast heart. Nothing’s steady. Cold,” he says, shuddering violently. “I might puke.”

“Damn,” Jiminy says, with sympathetic force. “I’m gonna find you a bowl in case you need it. There’s a space heater here that we can set up. You sure you didn’t drink anything?”

“Nothing.” Riku reaches for the bowl himself and bends over it, barely able to keep steady.

He dry heaves, afraid of vomiting but certain it’s going to happen. Nothing comes out of him, even though he can taste the acid at the back of his throat. Riku coughs, heaves again.

When he’s done the cricket pushes a water bottle in his direction. “Here. Drink slow now, you don’t want to send it back up.”

The water has a pungent tang to it, nothing like water from home, which makes it harder to drink. Riku sips, waits, sips, not sure whether he’s going to get worse or better, miserable in the meantime.

“Well son, this kind of sick might be hard to beat back,” says Jiminy. “But for what it’s worth, I’m here. Let’s see this thing through.”

Chapter Text

The sickness ebbs and rises on some cycle Riku can’t understand. The space heater helps, but each time Riku thinks he’s through the worst of it another wave of nausea hits and his heart accelerates as if it’s trying to outrun the sickness, when all it does is make him feel worse. Jiminy keeps trying to coax Riku into drinking water in the easier stretches of time.

Jiminy is doing his best. His best involves a lot of sympathetic cursing, offering water, and researching symptoms in a field guide that must have come with the tent. He also might be panicking. Riku appreciates him the way he appreciates cover in a rainstorm.

In an easy stretch, Riku gets his head together enough to say, “Sora.”

“The kid with the zippers? Oh, wait, Riku! You’re his Riku!”

“Not anymore,” Riku admits with a pang. “If I’m sick, he could be too. Check on him. Tell him the park’s dangerous.”

“I can bring him here.”

“Don’t. He won’t come.” 

“Are you —”

Riku cuts him off. “Just warn him. Take care of him.”

After a few seconds, Jiminy asks, “Will you be okay by yourself?”

Riku suppresses a shudder and tries to keep his hands steady. “Yeah.”

Jiminy is still hesitating, “I might be able to call someone who can help.”

“Not Maleficent,” Riku says. “No witches.”

“The Lady I have in mind is no witch. Let me see if I can reach her.”

The thought of another stranger is uncomfortable enough that Riku’s heart starts beating faster, but he grits his teeth and lets it settle. Jiminy, taking the silence for an answer, says goodbye and leaves.

“Now it doesn’t matter she won’t be happy with me,” Riku hears Jiminy muttering sternly to himself outside the tent. “He needs help, that’s what matters.”

Alone and in an easy spell, the exhaustion settles back in. Riku rubs at the back of his head, which is as swollen and numb, and starts on his back and shoulders before he gives up. There’s also a numb patch over his ribs, but he can take care of that lying down. He takes off his gloves, shoes and wrist wraps, unbuckles his belts and takes them off. He leaves the pendant on.

Riku shuts his eyes, aware of his gut and his heart and the rest of his body. Knowing it’ll be worse soon, he breathes purposefully, listens to his own breath. In that quiet, with his eyes closed, he feels the darkness outside the tent grow larger and deeper, and he’s aware of the two figures outside the tent.

  There’s only one set of footsteps, but he somehow knows that there are two of them. His heart rate spikes again, but he can’t move. If he moves, they’ll know he’s awake. The tent canvas is a thin membrane that won’t protect him at all.

“You waited too long.” The first voice is deep like a bow drawn across bass strings, the kind of thrumming voice that unmakes silence.

Maleficent’s voice, now familiar, sneers, “Hardly. We could take him with us now.”

“He needs to come willingly.”

“I made a sensible offer. He declined.”

The deep-voiced stranger considers something for a minute, then says, “He sees power as a means to an end, not its own goal.”

“Then he’s a fool.”

“Perhaps. But you need to change your approach.”

“Why, in a whole cosmos of things I could be doing, am I wrangling a stubborn child?”

“You wrangled Terra unprompted.”

“Terra was a credulous, desperate idiot.”

“If Riku isn’t desperate, he will be soon.”

In the silence, Riku stays still instead of shivering, imagines hands and claws coming through the canvas. He’d be lucky if they just want to kill him. They want him alive, the better to change him into something unrecognizable. His heart thumps and it’s agony, but he forces himself not to move, not even to shiver.

He’s aware of light, even with his eyes closed; when the sudden flash sears the tent he can see it through his eyelids. He flinches with his whole body, makes a pathetic sound that he regrets it immediately. Riku waits to be grabbed. Nothing happens.

“You can move. No one will hurt you.”

Riku never understood how people could call voices ‘honeyed’ until now. The new voice is heady and sweet and easy to listen to. He’s not stupid enough to trust it, but the tone is calming.

He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does whisper, “Are they gone?”

“Not entirely. They won’t approach if someone else is here.” The disdain in the honeyed voice is palpable. “Scavengers.”

Riku opens his eyes and sees an inhuman answer to human beauty. The fact that the woman has gauzy wings and is surrounded by a haze of light is actually comforting, a reaffirmation that the thing he’s looking at isn’t human. It’s easier to look at the wings, the soft blue dress that somehow catches and reflects the light even if it looks like it’s made of cotton. Riku makes himself look at her face.

Morning-sunshine-yellow hair falls in clouds around a perfectly symmetrical face. She has no no pores, no wrinkles, no freckles. Instead there’s a dusting of pink on her high cheekbones, purple on her eyelids, a ripe-fruit red tinge to her lips, and Riku could swear that it’s not makeup. He feels like he’s looking at an animate marble statue, wrapped in something soft enough to pass for skin. 

“It’s all right,” the stranger says, and when she smiles with those rows of perfect white teeth she’s even stranger. “We have a friend in common. Jiminy asked for me.”

“You know Jiminy?”

“It’s an interesting story. He’ll tell you about it when he has the time.” She giggles, which is as unnaturally compelling everything else about her. “Now, Riku, traveller from a distant world, will you let me take a look at you?”

She radiates power like she radiates beauty. It could be another trap. At this point Riku has no better options. He decides to fall into the trap on his own terms.

“If you need to touch me, warn me,” he says, finally sitting up.

The stranger hums in acknowledgement, waves her wand, and then leans forward to peer at him. She looks, and makes no move to touch him. Riku appreciates the distance, but the growing concern on her face worries him.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asks.

“Some of it’s travel sickness. I understand you were on a world as it collapsed?”

“Yeah.”

“Exposure to void alone would affect a seasoned traveler, let alone the Darkness and Light of a dying world. I’m surprised you’re handling it this well.”

“You don’t look too happy.”

“Did you call the Darkness?”

“People keep using that word like I’m supposed know what it means.”

“Of the many forces in the world, two of them are Light and Darkness. Light is the power of good, of creation, of love. Dark is a force of wickedness, destruction, and hate. Did you invite the Darkness in? Did you use it?”

“There was a current,” Riku mutters.

Even though that doesn’t make sense, the stranger nods as if it does. “Never call upon it again. If you already invited it into your heart there’s not much I can do for you. This is between you and the Darkness now.”

“Am I going to die?”

“No. It has its claws in you, but you’re past the worst of it.”

Riku rankles at another new unknown, another concept he doesn’t understand. Then nausea and dizziness tugs at him, and he knows the painless part is over.

“I can give you one easy night,” she says. “You’ll sleep without dreaming.”

“Please,” Riku begs. “Put me under.”

She straightens up to her full height, drowning the tent in light, and taps Riku on the forehead with her wand. The last thing Riku feels is the sensation of something warm and intangible settling over him, looks down to see that his old clothes have been folded at his feet, and he’s now clad in a loose tunic and shorts. As he looks up to ask another question, unconsciousness takes him.

*
Riku wakes up slowly. His body feels warm, and his limbs feel loose. The inside of his head is quiet enough to be cozy. He knows that waking up means letting go of all this comfort, but he wakes regardless.

He opens his eyes to daylight leaking through the tent canvas, yellower than the fairy’s hair. It’s midday; he must’ve slept past noon. When tries to move, he’s aware of the solid insensate mass his back has become. He manages to roll over onto his side, which also has a numb and swollen patch over his ribs, towards the center of the tent, and that’s when he sees Sora.

Sora’s curled up in the space across from him, lying on his side and facing Riku, snoring lightly. He has no blanket or pillow, and he’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, down to the shoes and gloves. His arm is stretched out, palm up, fingers curled.

For a minute Riku watches Sora. He never imagined looking at another person could make him feel so much at once. His heart feels full.

Riku reaches over and lays his bare hand on top of Sora’s. Sora’s a heavy sleeper, but he mumbles incoherently and closes his fingers over Riku’s hand. Sora doesn’t open his eyes.

“Hey, Sora,” Riku mumbles, not expecting an answer.

“Hey,” Sora croaks, his eyes still closed.

He’s probably not awake yet, but even this is enough to bring Riku back to himself. Sora’s here. He shouldn’t be here, after Riku broke everything, but Sora’s here regardless. Riku needs to figure out what to do next.

The first part is easy. Riku, without letting go of Sora’s hand, sits up and grabs his pillow, saying, “Lift your head.”

Sora’s pliant when he’s half asleep, so Riku can slide the pillow under his head easily. He lets go of Sora’s hand and says, “Take off your shoes and jewelry. Chains and belts too.”

Grumbling sleepily, Sora kicks off his shoes and starts taking pieces off of his outfit, his eyes still closed. There’s a little red imprint on Sora’s cheek from where he slept on the ground. Riku keeps wanting to touch it, but instead he takes what Sora gives him, sets it aside in a neat pile, puts the pendant with the rest. When Sora’s shrugged off his jacket, still torn and stained from last night, Riku takes the blanket and drapes it over him.

“There’s a foam mattress that came with the bedroll, if you want it,” Riku says. “How do you feel?”

“Weird,” Sora mumbles. “You?”

“Better.”

“Wait.” Sora cracks his eyes open. “Wait, I shouldn’t be here.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Riku mumbles, so quiet he can’t be heard.

Sora’s already sitting up, opening his eyes. “I can go —”

“I’m glad you’re here.” Riku blurts it out, and the rest tumbles out of him in a rush. “I should’ve been the one to find you, but I’m glad you’re here, and I’m glad you’re not sick, and also I’m a huge asshole and I’m sorry.”

Sora is still sitting up and squinting at him, and it occurs to Riku that that was too much to dump at his feet first thing in the morning as Sora says, “You want me to stay?”

“Please?”

Sora squints at him, uncomprehending, but he does at least lie back down.

“Sorry,” Riku says, and then gathers himself enough to say, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“M’kay,” Sora mumbles.

“Don’t ‘m’kay’ that, I was awful,” Riku says, offended on Sora’s behalf. “Calling you a leech and baggage and stuff — none of that’s true, you know that, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Because if you knew that, you’d make me come find you and grovel and prove I’m not going to be an asshole again.”

Sora yawns. “Sounds like a lot.”

“You deserve a lot.”

“Let’s do it later,” Sora says, snuggling against the ground.

“You’re not even comfortable,” Riku says, grabbing the thin foam mattress and pulling it over. “Here, lay on this. I’m in your way, I should let you sleep.”

“Is this part of the groveling? We’re doing that later,” Sora repeats, accepting the foam and arranging it under him, then looking over. ”Why’d you give me your stuff? You need rest too.”

“I’m fine.”

“What if, instead of groveling, you stayed here and slept some more?”

Riku considers this, and says, “In addition to, not instead of. And you keep the blankets and stuff.”

“Deal.”

Riku holds out his hand to shake on it, but Sora clasps it instead. Riku doesn’t mind. He lies down, and quietly, over several minutes, watches Sora’s eyes close and his grip loosen.

Then Riku’s traitorous body weighs in. One by one a chorus of needs make themselves known. He urgently needs to pee, he’s incredibly thirsty (which is just unfair), he’s gnawingly hungry, and there’s pressure on the back of his head which is threatening to escalate into a full headache. Out of everything, it’s his stomach that weighs in first, growling audibly.

Sora’s eyes are still closed, but he says, “There’s food outside.”

“I’m sleeping. That was the deal.”

“Eat first.”

Riku wants to argue, but the last thing he wants is a real argument. Instead he makes inarticulate grumbling noises and sits up. It’s hard to let go of Sora’s hand.

When Riku stands, immediately regrets it. Blue static swims in his vision, and he sways. When he gets his bearings he can see Sora has opened his eyes to watching, concern in his face. Riku forces a smile.

Something in Sora’s face overwhelms Riku, the sleepy, obvious fondness. His chest throbs with the feeling, like his heart is tugging him toward Sora. His tongue feels swollen with what he won’t say. He can’t. It’s too big.

“I’ll be back,” Riku repeats instead, a coward’s substitute.

Sora smiles and Riku aches to see it. That smile could melt him. As Sora settles back into the sleeping bag and Riku turns away, Riku understands that there’s no untangling himself from Sora. He never stood a chance.

Riku steps outside into the afternoon sun, out onto a barren rock field. It looks even less inviting in the daylight, under a cloudless blue sky. He still can’t see any plant life, not lichen or moss, no flash of color in the gray. The ground turns to boulders in the middle distance, rising up into a kind of cliff.

“Over here!”

Riku turns. Behind the tent is a portable toilet tent, a basin, a chair, a big boxy cooler that could fit several large fish, and a portable stove with a steel rack on top of it. The stove is on, and when the wind shifts Riku can smell smoke.

“Good morning! How do you feel?” Jiminy calls, and when Riku squints he can see him on the armrest of the chair.

“Much better, thanks!”

Riku’s stomach and bladder argue; his bladder wins. Riku dashes for the toilet first, which is startlingly well-equipped. After he’s done, as he’s sudsing his hands in the little basin, contemplating the toothbrushes, he starts to worry about Jiminy. Everyone has an ‘if only.’

When Riku steps out, teeth brushed and hands cleaned, Jimmy waves him over. “Come eat! The moogle gave us food.”

Riku’s about to ask who the moogle is, but when he walks over to the cooler and opens it up he’s immediately distracted. The cooler isn’t just full of food, it’s full of preserved food. There are glass jars with pickles and canned fruit, bags of rice and noodles, tin cans with colorful labels, clear packets of jerky. There’s coffee and tea, the kinds that run out first in portside stores. Riku spots several of the fancy snacks that only showed up every other year, the kinds that kids hoarded and traded for big favors, the kinds Kairi shared immediately, as soon as her dad got them.

He reaches for a perfect spiral of a cake wrapped in clear plastic. Next to him Jiminy scoffs.

“Don’t eat dessert for breakfast, you’ll ruin your appetite!”

“It is impossible for me to ruin my appetite. There’s too much of it.”

Riku lets go of the cake regardless, because he sees an opportunity to test something. He reaches for a sunset-pink bag of candy instead, watches Jiminy’s reaction.

“For the love of - eat real food first, I promise you that bag of candy is still going to be there after you eat a vegetable.”

Riku lets go of the candy and reaches toward another brightly colored snack. Jiminy sputters.

“Do you love acid reflux? Is that what kids are into these days?”

“I’m not a kid.”

“If you weren’t a kid you’d get heartburn just looking at these things.”

Riku picks up the swiss roll and waits for an order, a barb, a threat, a guilt trip. Jiminy is still an adult. Riku owes him, and Jiminy must know how to use that.

Jiminy sighs. “You’re going to make yourself sicker.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Riku’s stomach is making demands, so he grabs more food. Jiminy does make approving noises when Riku grabs other things out of the cooler. Riku snacks on pickles and jerky as he starts the rice. He then starts frying the vegetables, smelling and tasting each spice before he decides whether to add them in. He uses too much oil, which makes the vegetables greasy, and canned vegetables are always too soggy. It’s still good, especially over rice. Riku makes more than he needs.

The cake sits to the side, untouched, and if Jiminy notices, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say much while Riku is cooking or eating, either, although he does accept Riku’s offer to share food. The silence is surprisingly friendly.

When Riku’s mouth is sour and greasy and slick with preservatives, when he’s finally full, he sits back and says, “Thank you, Jiminy.”

“Oh, this is all from the moogle. I didn’t even ask.”

“No, thank you. For what you did.”

Jiminy shrugs. “You needed help, so I helped. It was the right thing to do.”

“A lot of people wouldn’t have done it.”

“Well, you’re welcome, I suppose.”

Riku shifts in his seat. “So, who was in the tent with me? She said she was a friend of yours?”

“‘Friend’ is a little familiar.”

Jiminy has a carapace and his cheeks are still red. Riku wonders if he’s bioluminescent, if there’s an evolutionary advantage to blushing. Bugs in this world don’t make sense.

“I suppose you could call her… well I’ve been calling her a Lady, but ‘my Lady’ sounds a little forward too. She’s my… boss? She’s important.”

“She’s got presence.” Riu’s eyes had skidded across such beauty. “Can you thank her for me?”

“I will when I have the chance. Don’t know if I’ll be seeing her again.” He sighs. “I think I disappointed her.”

“You saved a stranger. Cut yourself some slack.”

“That’s less impressive when you’ve abandoned the person you’re supposed to be helping.” He gestures towards theme park, which looks ragged and empty in the daylight. “He’s out there now.”

Riku waits for the prompt, the offer, the command. Jiminy doesn’t say anything, and the longer Riku waits the more he doubts that Jiminy is going to call in Riu’s debt.

“As soon as you boys are settled I’m going to go look for him,” Jiminy concludes. “Do my best to make amends.”

“How do you know her, anyway? And if you know someone like that, why are you out here?”

Jiminy sighs. “It’s a long story.”

Riku thinks of Sora in the tent and feels a stab of nervousness. Sora’s probably asleep again, and the idea of watching him sleep is agony. When Sora wakes up, Riku will have to actually apologize instead of babbling. Riku feels an urge to stall. 

“Try me," he tells Jiminy. "I’ve got time.”

Chapter Text

What Riku didn’t understand yesterday, what he has to come to terms with today as Jiminy recounts his story, is that other worlds are bonkers. This world has talking animals and fairies that grant life to inanimate objects and broad daylight kidnapping. Riku feels unprepared and let down by his home. He was ready for adventure, but he wasn’t prepared for the culture shock of whatever’s happening here.

“So of course the next thing I knew Pinocchio was haring off to the docks singing along with Honest John, again. I did my best to follow him, but we got separated on the island. You’ve been out there, it was a miracle I didn’t get trampled.”

“It’s busy,” Riku agrees, still dazed.

“I ducked into an alley - which was awful, by the way, these kids are filthy - and that’s when I met Sora.”

“So you met him when he was doing the have-you-seen-my-friends thing.”

Riku may finally have purchase on this story, but he can’t help feeling disappointed. He liked the idea of Jiminy being his friend first.

“Not quite.” Jiminy looks at the tent, and Riku can picture the euphemisms congealing over Jiminy’s next words like scum on water. “At the time, he was… a little lost, I think.”

“Was the park getting to him?”

“Maybe,” Jiminy says. “He was just sitting there, hands over his ears. Ground to a halt. We had a while before he was ready to say anything. When he did start talking, it was horror stories. Monsters and dying worlds. Your home, gone. The way he tried to grab you, and you turned to smoke in his grip.”

“I don’t know what I told him, Riku, lot of claptrap, probably. He did calm down, and we did start looking for our friends together. I found Pinoke first. By that time Sora seemed to know what he was doing, which is a big step when you’re lost.

“I felt good about letting Sora look for you alone, so when we found Pinoke I stayed with them. Except Pinoke was with some two-bit no-good jackanape Lampwick, and Pinoke believed that a second-rate would-be swindler was a better friend than me. I got a little hot under the collar - not my finest moment - and decided to leave. Then I went in the exact wrong direction and found you instead.”

Riku is distracted by a number of terrible things. Sora had been alone and afraid, and at a loss for what to do, and just as he had a win Riku turned around and tried to gut him for it. Kairi would never do that, but Kairi’s not here. It’s just Riku, with a head full of battery acid and the heart of a monster. 

“And then, of course, I left again and wished on her star. I saw the light and knew I had to say something, and… couldn’t. Left, like a coward, to find Sora. And when I did go back into the park, I found him talking to the moogle.”

“What’s a moogle?”

“Hard to explain if you haven’t seen them before, especially with our size difference. You’ll meet them soon enough. Don’t touch their pompoms, they don’t like it.”

“Okay…?”

“Anyhow, he looked fine, and I told him you were sick —”

“You shouldn’t have told him.”

“You said ‘warn him,’ I gave him context. He asked me where you were, told me to hop on, and started sprinting as soon as I had hold of his jacket. He managed to make it inside the tent, saw you, and fainted dead away. He wasn’t sick, at least.”

“I said some awful shit to him.” Riku doesn’t know why he’s confessing this, maybe to prepare Jiminy for when Riku inevitably disappoints him. “First thing. Didn’t thank him for trying to save me. Didn’t even check if he was okay. I just told him what I thought would hurt to hear. Why’d he come after me?”

“You know him better than I do,” Jiminy says, carefully.

“There’s no apology for what I did,” Riku thinks out loud. “I just said I was sorry in the tent, and he just accepted it, like it was nothing. It’s not right. Out of everybody we knew he’s stuck with me, and the first thing I did was try to make him cry.”

“Not a great start,” Jiminy agrees. 

“He shouldn’t have come.”

“What would you have done, if he hadn’t come to you?”

“I would’ve figured out what’s going on here,” Riku says, looking past the streetlamp. “I heard that the park is dangerous. I would’ve found a way to keep him safe. We would’ve been even.”

“Is that how you think of your friendship? A debt you need to pay?”

“It’s not,” Riku mutters. “There just isn’t a reason for him to be here, if I can’t make it worthwhile.”

“Well, whatever you might think, Sora chose to be here,” Jiminy says. “What are you going to do now?”

Riku sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know. Apologize again?”

“Talking to him sounds like a start,” Jiminy suggests.

“Right,” Riku says, picking up the cake and standing up. “Right.”

He makes it to the tent flap before he turns around, walks right back over to the chair, and plops down with his head in his hands.

“What is it?” Jiminy asks.

“I’m gonna fuck this up so bad,” Riku mutters, raking his hands through his hair, rubbing the last bits of his scalp. “If I don’t do it now I’m gonna do it later. He deserves so much better and I can’t give it to him.”

“What makes you think you can’t?”

“Years of experience.”

Jiminy mulls it over. “Well, sitting out here is still a choice. If you don’t go back in there and keep trying, time keeps moving and nothing changes. Your only hope is to try again.”

“Gamblers say the same thing at the table.”

“This isn’t gambling. This is going up to your friend, who loves you, and saying you’re sorry.”

“He doesn’t love me.”

“Riku, excuse my language, but that’s horseshit.”

Rankled, Riku wants to tell Jiminy that he doesn’t know anything, but that would mean explaining the difference between the love he wants and what he gets. It’s so much work to settle, to wall in that growing need, to plaster fake satisfaction across his face. Sora keeps trying to save him, and it isn’t enough. At this point Riku’s not sure what would be enough.

“Whatever,” Riku grumbles, trying to distract himself. “Big talk from a guy who can’t apologize to a puppet who’s literally days old.”

“Well now we’re locked in. You make things right with Sora and I’ll make things right with Pinoke.”

“You were going to do that anyway.”

“So were you. C’mon, Riku, up and at ‘em. You’re burning daylight.”

“Ugh.”

“Hurry up slowpoke, we don’t have all day.”

“Ugh.”

Riku rolls his eyes but he does stand up, because the alternative is a folksy bug yelling at him. He stomps his way over to the tent and unzips the tent flap before Jiminy can yell at him and Sora can overhear. 

To his dismay, Sora is sitting up, waiting for him. Sora glances at him and looks back down. Riku feels disgusting, watching Sora’s face. He hands him the cake, wordless, a pathetic offering.

Sora pockets the cake and sighs. “You don’t look like you want to sleep.”

“Neither do you,” Riku says, sitting down across from him.

“Are you sure we can’t skip this part?”

“Do you not want me to apologize?”

“You did that already.”

“Yeah, in a stupid way,” Riku argues.

“I got the message. We’re fine.”

“No, we’re not. What I said last night was unforgivable.”

Sora shrugs.“And I forgive you, so… we’re done. Can we move on?”

“No,” Riku insists. “I’ve been an asshole to you lately, I need to make it up to you—”

“I don’t want you to.”

Sora says it too loudly, looking at the ground. Riku stops and watches his shoulders. 

“Look, it’s fine,” Sora says, quieter but still tense. “I get on your nerves, and you need space sometimes. I get that, finally. This wouldn’t have been a problem if you’d just told me what was happening instead of avoiding me or being mean until I left you alone, but we’re fine. I don’t need you being fake nice me, it throws everything off.”

“Fake nice?” Riku repeats.

“I don’t need groveling. I need to know where you’re at. You used to be really good about that,” Sora says, distress creeping into his voice. “Now I can’t tell. I thought you didn’t eat lunch with us because you were busy, and you didn’t want me at your games because you wanted to hang out with your team. I thought you wanted to build the raft by yourself. I thought we were friends. Then I thought you’d told me the truth, and you’d be mad when I showed up here. If you start pretending that you like me because you feel bad, I’m never going to find you.”

“Sora, I’m not pretending to like you. We’re friends,” Riku says, horrified that he has to say it.

“Are we?” Sora asks, sad and genuinely confused in a way that breaks Riku’s heart. “Is there something else behind that too?”

“Fuck,” Riku sighs, caught out and sad and frantic. “Fuck, okay. Stay there.”

He crawls onto the bedroll, next to Sora, and sits to his right. He puts his arm around Sora’s shoulders and pulls him closer. He can’t feel any weight on the top of his shoulder but he knows Sora’s leaning on him because of the hair on the side of his face, and the sound Sora makes.

“You didn’t take care of your back! Riku—”

Riku interrupts. “You want to know where I’m at?”

Sora sighs. “Yeah.”

Riku can figure this out. It’s like cutting up raw fruit for someone else: peel away the skin, take out the core with its stem and seeds, cut it into sections. He can give Sora the flesh of the situation without the ugly bits, the pieces that could choke him.

“This year’s been a disaster,” Riku says. “Just miserable. I can’t wring it out of me. It taints everything I touch, you included. And I thought summer would be easier, but it’s not enough. I’ve been an asshole. There’s no excusing that.”

Sora doesn’t say anything, so Riku keeps going.

“And it’s stupid, because I like you a lot. I want you with me all the time. It’s just backwards to expect you to stick around, if this is all you’re going to get. I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to make you miserable. So, I need to treat you better. That’s all.”

Sora sighs and puts an arm across Riku’s middle, shifting so that he can bury his face in the soft part of Riku’s shoulder. Riku feels enough pressure to know that he’s being hugged, even if he can’t feel half of it. 

“Where are you at, right now?” Riku mumbles. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“I’m staying,” Sora says, muffled by Riku’s shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me this earlier?”

“I know, I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not, you’re just…” Sora sighs and growls wordlessly.

“Yeah, I get that.”

“I like you a lot too,” Sora says, abruptly, and Riku has to ignore the fluttery feeling of hearing him say it. “I’m glad you’re all right, and I’m sorry things’ve been hard. Stop being a jerk.”

“Got it.”

Sora squeezes him a little tighter. “We’re okay?”

Riku knows this is temporary. Either he’s going to mess up again, or they’ll find Kairi and it’ll go back to the way it was, or both. Sora picked a room with two beds, not three. Riku’s not part of what they have, will never be part of it. Later he’s going to watch them together, and hurt, and hurt, and hurt.

For now, Riku picks up Sora’s crown pendant and presses it into Sora’s hand, saying, quietly, “We’re okay.”

*

Jiminy is the one who makes the to do list, and it’s surprising how much of it Sora volunteers to do, after he brushes his teeth and takes his turn with the dry shampoo and deodorant that came with the tent. Sora empties out the portable toilet, for one, and then takes off his gloves and starts in on the dishes while Riku’s still putting food away.

“Add new clothes for Sora to the list,” Riku calls, scooping rice into a little metal container.

“Yeah, this outfit’s getting gross,” Sora agrees, and from this angle Riku can see the tear in Sora’s jacket, the shape of the claws.

“We’re putting that under ‘medium’ in both categories” Jiminy decides, because he’s been ranking tasks both by difficulty and by priority. “Don’t suppose you’ve heard of anywhere that just hands out clothes in the park.”

“There’s a ferry coming tonight,” Sora reminds both of them. “As soon as you get Pinocchio and we make sure nobody’s seen Kairi, we can get back to the mainland. I’ll get clothes there.”

“So we are packing up camp, okay,” Jiminy mutters. “That means we’ve got to break down the tent…”

“I’ll do it,” Sora volunteers, turning to Riku. “You’ve got the dishes from here?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

Jiminy hops over to him while Sora’s busy taking things out of the tent. “You said the park might be dangerous. You’ve told Sora, right?”

“Not yet,” Riku mumbles, watching Sora dismantle the tent. “I don’t want him to worry.”

“How bad would you feel if something happened to him and you didn’t warn him?”

“Stop doing that,” Riku grumbles, and then at regular volume calls, “Sora?”

“Yeah?”

“Come over here when you’re done. We’ve got to talk about stuff.”

When he’s done explaining the barebones without the personal details, Sora waits a beat and says, “So, a witch came up to you, wanted you to leave without me, and said the park was bad.”

“Yeah.”

Carefully, Jiminy asks, “Did it occur to you that this witch… might’ve been lying?”

“No,” Riku admits.

“I might be a little distrustful, because Pinoke’s been kidnapped twice in two days, but I’d take anything she says with a grain of salt.”

“Also she might want to eat your bones,” Sora puts in.

“Witches eat babies’ bones, Sora. I’m seventeen,” Riku adds, to give Jiminy context, and also maybe so Jiminy will stop calling him a kid.

Sora speculates, “Maybe this one likes them older? Maybe it’s like booze, where you age it just right and it’s great, but if you do it wrong you get vinegar.”

Riku ignores that and admits, “I’m worried that she knows who Kairi is.”

“Kairi’s gonna be sixteen in two weeks, if you worry about her you’ve gotta worry about yourself too. Plus, I’ve been telling everybody about Kairi. She could’ve heard the name from anyone.”

“I guess.”

Riku knows, deep in his heart, that Maleficent wasn’t lying. Nothing she said felt like a lie. Still, Jiminy and Sora have made their impressions. He can’t sway them. He’s only a little resentful as they keep packing up the camp.

Riku takes Sora’s hand as they prepare to walk back into the park. Sora’s eyebrows shoot up, but he’s not surprised enough to say anything. Jiminy hops up on Riku’s shoulder, which Riku wasn’t expecting, not with Sora right there. He matches Sora’s gait as they walk back into the park, and then —

— midstep the world changes. The deep blue afternoon sky flashes to a black and starless night, the dim lamp is yellow and buzzing with life, as are all the lights, and the park is still alive with distant noise. Riku stops, backs up, pulling Sora with him, and —

— midstep it reverts. The hush and the blue sky return, and the lamp and the buildings are dim again.

“What the hell,” Riku says, because he can’t think of anything better to say. “You saw that, right?”

“Did time just change in there?” Sora asks. “Did sound just change in there?”

“Did it do that last night?” Riku asks Sora.

“Don’t ask me!”

“Jiminy?”

“I don’t - it was night. The lamp was still lit at night, remember? There was the noise, too. How did none of us notice that the calliope wasn’t playing?”

“The what?” Sora asks.

“Okay, we need to test this,” Riku says. “We move forward again on three, ready? One, two, three—”

Midstep it changes as they move forward. Midstep it reverts as they move back. The three of them stand on the edge of the park in quiet awe.

“What the hell,” Riku repeats.

“It’s not like this is too weird,” Sora says. “I mean if there’s a fairy and walking puppets out here—”

“Don’t bring them into this,” Jiminy interrupts. “This is different. This is strange.”

Sora gasps. “The ferry!”

“What?” Riku asks.

“If it’s night already we might’ve missed the ferry! Come on, Riku, we have to go!” 

Sora takes off, abandoning the tent and the cooler. Riku keeps up with him, even though holding Sora’s hand makes it awkward, and Jiminy is clinging to Riku’s shirt for dear life. Riku can barely track the changes around him: sunlight to incandescent light, cold to warmth, silence to sound, ash and sea air to sizzling oil and burnt sugar. He also feels something tug at his mind, a series of changes he can’t identify while he’s running.

Sora keeps his head down and barrels ahead, turning and navigating on some basis Riku can’t identify. He nearly tramples a bunch of kids, many of whom are going at the same raucous speed. Riku hates the blur of color and noise but Sora is leading them through it, past the sickeningly loud melange of Prankster’s Paradise, and up to the giant gates.

As Riku catches his breath Sora bangs on the doors. “Open up! We need to leave!”

“Sora —” Riku begins, and then he sees red in his peripheral vision.

A voice booms behind them. “Ah, Sora!”

When Riku turns around he sees the king of this hell. His jacket is scarlet as blood welling in a cut, his scarf blue like dusk. His face is ruddy and pink next to the white of his hair, teeth, and eyes. His eyes are bright green, flat like a doll’s. The worst part is his grin: the flat, pristine, perfect teeth like the gears of a new machine.

Riku grabs at Sora’s forearm even as Sora says, “Mr. The-Coachman! Are we too late?”

“Come now, Sora, won’t you introduce me to your friend?”

Riku squeezes Sora’s hand. Sora’s bad at lying but he can give non-answers, and he does it so well that most adults don’t think he’s hiding anything. Luckily for Riku, Sora’s distracted.

“Did we miss the ferry?” Sora asks.

Owlishly, the Coachman tilts his head. “Why Sora, the ferry’s coming tomorrow night.”

“That…” Sora trails off and shakes his head. “No, it’s been hours. The ferry should at least be here tonight.”

“Time crawls when you’re being so diligent,” the Coachman says, arranging his face into something resembling sympathy. “You’ve helped so many of these boys. Don’t you think you deserve a break? That’s what my island is for.”

“Yeah but Kairi’s not here, we have to find her. Can you let us out?”

“Now what kind of host would that make me?” Riku knows he’s not imaging the sharpness in the Coachman’s tone. “Stay. Enjoy the rides. Win something for yourself, instead of as a favor to someone else. Don’t you worry, you’ll be on the boat before you know it.”

“Time is still passing—” Sora says as Riku starts dragging him away.

“Goodbye, Sora. Goodbye, Riku,” the Coachman calls after them, and Riku is glad he’s not looking at that mask of a face.

Chapter Text

The stone bridge leading from the entrance is still too crowded and too visible, with a leering coachman behind them and a dizzying swirl of sound and color in front of them. Too many things are moving and Riku can’t keep his eyes on them. As soon as they’re off the bridge Riku drags Sora down the gentle green slope, right to the water’s edge. He didn’t know this place had a moat. Knowing that makes it worse, but at least the sound isn’t as bad, and the seawater smells familiar.

As soon as they’re alone, Sora starts talking again. “There has to be a ferry.”

“Pinoke and I got here on a boat,” Jiminy mutters. “There was a pier, at least.”

It would’ve been nice if Jiminy had said something while they were talking to the Coachman, but Riku can understand it. Jiminy may be an adult, but he’s just as vulnerable as the rest of them, maybe more so. Raising his voice means getting squished.

“I can probably fit through those doors,” Jiminy says. “I doubt I could do anything thing to open them, and it won’t make a difference if we don’t have a boat, but scouting ahead is still something.”

“Not now,” Riku says. “Not while The Coachman’s there.”

It’s Sora, not Jiminy, who asks, “You think he’d try to stop Jiminy?”

“Something’s off,” Riku says, voice pitched low. “He’s definitely hiding something.”

“Maybe the park’s got him under a spell?” Sora asks.

“Sure,” Riku says, because it’s easier than convincing Sora on feelings alone.

Sora crosses his arms, lost in thought. “Guess we’re not leaving tonight.”

“Guess not. At least we’ve got the campsite,” Riku says.

It still feels like they’re in the jaws of a trap. Riku seethes. They fell from one prison to another.

“Say,” Jiminy begins, contemplatively. “Speaking of that campsite, I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it,” Riku says.

“Well, first of all, we ran right off without giving the moogle their food back, so we need to do that. While we’re there, we might as well ask the moogle some questions. I’ve never seen anybody like the moogle before, or anything like the things they carry with them. They’re the one person here stranger than the two of you — no offense, of course.”

“None taken,” Riku mutters, hoping he’s the good kind of strange.

“Oh, yeah, they’re from another world too,” Sora says.

“They’re real friendly, and they gave us the cooler full of food. I’ll bet they’ve been here longer than any of us, if they’ve set up shop.”

Riku finally asks, “Sora, what do moogles look like?”

“They’re like medium-sized stuffed animals but people,” Sora says unhelpfully, gesturing vaguely. “Really fuzzy, with white fur, and bear ears, and a big round nose, and a giant pompom on the top of their head.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You really just have to see them,” Sora says sympathetically. “Here, I marked where their stall is on the map. Let’s go.”

Riku lets himself be led while Sora consults the map. Tonight Riku feels like they’re inside a heart, trapped between the pulsing, roaring chambers of this place. Sora keeps them between the large spots, on the edges of plazas where sound carries and color cuts into every part of the landscape. He’s either looking at his feet or at the map. Riku needs to find them some earplugs.

“This is so much harder without the sun,” Sora mutters, and then points at a spot on the horizon. “It was over there this morning, right?”

“No idea,” Jiminy says.

“Riku?”

Riku shrugs.

Sora says, “Okay, well, we know from the map that the big door faces north, and that was back there. So that’s west, and this is east… okay, I think we’re close.”

Riku follow Sora, quietly admiring his skill. Sora acts like he’s a bad navigator, but he really just has trouble on the open sea. Once he’s on land he does better than most.

They have to go into the edges of Prankster’s Paradise again, this time coming up against a stucco wall that curves into the rest of the park. There’s a name for the tissue that separates the two bottom chambers of the heart, but like every other thing Riku was supposed to learn last year, the memory is lost in a dull blur. A gang of raucous, laughing children race by, and Riku steps in front of Sora so that the kids bump into him instead. One kid tells him to watch where he’s going and sprints away.

They’re able to find the moogle because of the upturned table and the mess. Things are scattered in a radius around the table: jewelry and baubles, candy and scraps of paper. There’s a fuzzy white creature with a pompom on its head, grumbling as it tries to pick things up.

“What happened?” Sora lets go of Riku’s hand to run over to the creature.

“Don’t step on anything, kupo,” the creature warns.

“Are you okay?”

“Kids, kupo. Knocked over my stall. Thieves.”

Riku thinks about the gang of children, wonders if Sora was friends with any of them. When Sora kneels down to start helping, Riku follows his example, collecting the scattered things off of the cobblestones. It’s mostly jewels, accessories, things worth stealing, but the wrapped candy is unusual. What fully makes Riku stop is the carving.

The wooden statuette fits neatly in the palm of his hand. It’s shaped like someone’s idea of a bat: big hooded ears, the membranous wings, tiny little feet dangling from a ball of a body. The bat grins at him. Whoever painted it had an eye for color: yellow and pink fur contrast against purple and green ears, but complement the pink star-painted wings. Each star is outlined in blue.

“You found the last Sleeper!” The moogle hobbles over, offers their hand. “Thank you, kupo.”

Riku hands over the bat and asks, “Sleeper?”

“Sleeper-who-walks-in-dreams, kupo.” The moogle cups its other hand around the carving, ignoring the jewels. “I should’ve known they wouldn’t be respected here, but you have to put them out, in places like these, kupo.”

“Why?” Sora asks, turning the table back upright.

“Remembrance and protection, kupo.” The moogle says, walking over to a small tiered wooden display and placing the carving inside.

“They protect you?” Riku asks.

“They protect everyone, kupo. You put them out when old magic lies thick in the air, that we may not fear nightmares. You also put them out in times of Light and Dark, to remember the ones who came before.”

“Cool,” says Sora.

“You’re the first person to show interest, kupo. People here have closed hearts and closed hands,”  the moogle remarks while they pack their things away. “I wish I hadn’t been separated from my friends and shop-mates, kupo. Still, place is a wonder, isn’t it, kupo?”

“So, about that,” Riku says. “How long have you been here?”

“I have no way of telling. Time is strange here, kupo. There were already boys here when I arrived, so I’m not the first.”

“The Coachman said there’d be a ferry tomorrow night, but we left and came back and the boat’s still ’coming tomorrow night,’” Sora explains. “So we’re thinking that either time is broken or something else magical is going on.”

“Is the Coachman the big red fellow in the jacket?” the moogle asks.

“Yeah,” Sora says.

“I don’t care for him, kupo,” the moogle says, and Riku feels a surge of vindication. “I don’t like the way he looks at me. To answer your question, if there is a ferry I’ve never heard of it, kupo.”

“Is this place dangerous, d’you think?” Riku asks.

“Not actively, kupo. There’s old magic in the air, beyond Light or Dark or any of the elements, and old magic has transformation built into its core. Arcane spaces are always dangerous, but I’ve seen no harm here, kupo. You know the three rules, kupo?”

“No,” Jiminy says as Sora and Riku shake their heads.

The moogle holds up a paw, but if they’re ticking anything down, it’s impossible to tell. “Don’t eat food from an arcane space if you can help it. Don’t sleep in an arcane space. If the space has rules, follow them to the letter if not the intent. There are more problems, but those are the big three.”

Jiminy asks, “Have you been following those rules for a while?.”

The moogle grunts in acknowledgement as it reaches down and fishes something out of its crates. When it stands up, it’s holding a corked phial of green liquid.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Jiminy asks.

The moogle uncorks the phial and downs it. “Haven’t, kupo.”

“Oh no,” Jiminy says under his breath.

“Don’t worry about the food,” the moogle says. “I’ve got a whole other cooler, kupo. My shop-mates and I intended to travel together before we were separated. I hope they’re well-fed, kupo.”

“We have to get out of here,” Riku says, looking at the sleep-deprived fuzzy alien in front of him.

“And go where, kupo? Everywhere is dangerous. Your world fell, and so did mine. At least here the magic is old, neither Light nor Dark. If this world falls, this place will fall last and softest, kupo. Like passing away in your sleep.”

“It’s like that everywhere?” Sora asks, and when Riku looks over at him he looks tense enough to be facing down a giant again.

“Everywhere, kupo,” the moogle says, sadly. “If you have a ship, you stand a chance of outrunning it.”

“Ship?” Sora and Riku and Jiminy ask in unison.

“A gummi ship, kupo.” The moogle says. “Gummi ships are made of star stuff. If worlds are crumbling, then there should be gummis out there, kupo. I just don’t know how we’d get them, kupo.”

Without meaning to, they all fall into brooding silence. Riku wants to be optimistic, now that exit by current isn’t their only option. The problem is that, if everywhere is dangerous, there’s nowhere to run. Worse, if Kairi’s alive, she’s not safe.

Jiminy clears his throat. “Thank you for sharing with us.”

The moogle waves a hand in the air like they’re batting the thanks away. “Always, kupo. In times of Light and Dark, we travelers must remember each other, kupo.”

“Well, seeing as we’re all travelers, why don’t you stay with us?”  Jiminy asks, hopping onto the table. “That way you can get your rest, and we can pool our resources.”

As much as Riku wants to hear the rest of the conversation, Sora is already moving away. Riku follows him, not too close or too fast. Sora has his arms crossed and his head down, walking without seeing where he’s going.

Riku has nothing for him. Kairi would be able to find something, or else be able to walk alongside him and radiate comfort. Riku’s a walking problem, and admitted as much this morning.

Still, he has to try, so he steps in close and lays a hand on Sora’s shoulder. As soon as his fingers brushes up against his jacket Sora yelps and twists around, even though Riku is already letting go and holding his hands up.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Riku says, as Sora’s fists slowly unclench and the wild-eyed fear on his face turns into vague unease. “I should’ve — you looked —”

There’s no good way to end this sentence. Riku’s already rubbing the side of his own neck with one hand and shoving the other in his pocket. He takes a step back. Sora’s staring at him.

“Time’s running out. We need to take care of your back before it sets,” Sora says, out loud, a reminder to himself.

“Forget about that. Listen, are you okay?” Riku regrets the question as soon as he says it. “I mean, obviously you’re not okay, the island’s a trap and there will be monsters no matter where we go, but…”

Riku trails off because listing the problems did not make it better. Sora’s looking down again. He might not answer.

In a small voice Sora says, “I keep waiting to wake up.”

When it’s clear Sora won’t keep talking Riku says, “Yeah? I get that. I keep waiting for it to hit me, and it just… hasn’t? It’s too big. It feels like it happened to somebody else.”

Sora just looks at him, and it’s so piercing and intense that Riku can barely meet his eyes. He focuses on Sora’s hands instead. With trancelike slowness Sora uncrosses his arms and slowly holds his hand out, palm up, not moving his feet but reaching for Riku. 

As soon as Riku understands what’s happening, he walks forward and clasps Sora’s hand. Sora closes his eyes and breathes out, slowly, nodding once to himself as if he’s solved something.

“You’re here,” Riku offers, as if that’s helpful at all.

“So are you.” Sora nods again.

Before Riku can say anything a new voice pipes up. “Sora!”

Another kid, no more than seven, races up, ruddy-cheeked, dressed in teal pants and a rust-red shirt. He bounces on his heels in front of Sora. Sora’s face transmutes into something light and friendly. Riku lets go of Sora’s hand.

“Sora, guess what? I went into the circus myself, because I’m so brave!”

“That’s awesome!” Sora says, matching the kid’s energy.

“Except I got scared before the clown face so I had to go back, but then! I found a secret passage,” the kid says, clearly reveling in the secret. “Lemme show you! Here!”

“Sounds fun,” Riku says as she child grabs at the hem of Sora’s shirt. 

The kid finally takes note of Riku, and it’s clear he doesn’t like what he sees. Suspicion floods the kid’s face and he hides behind Sora’s legs. Sora looks over his shoulder in confusion.

“Romeo, this is Riku. Riku, this is Romeo.”

“Hi, Romeo,” Riku says, in the tone he reserves for timid animals, but as he leans over to make eye contact the kid shies away.

“Riku’s nice, you’ll like him.” When Romeo still hesitates Sora says, “He won’t beat you up. Riku’s my best friend.”

Even if that sends a warm feeling through Riku, Romeo remains unconvinced. Maybe other kids have heard about Riku grabbing that kid’s wrist. Romeo stays, unmoving, behind Sora’s calves.

“A secret passage sounds cool,” Riku says, encouragingly, and when he’s met with stony silence he gives up and talks to Sora. “There’s a circus here?”

The childish warmth and energy has slid away from Sora’s face, gone as fast as it came. Riku can understand it. Looking at Riku is just a reminder of what they’re going through.

“It’s not so much a circus as a funhouse. There’s a big room for trampolines,” Sora explains, trying and failing to pry Romeo off of his legs. “From the outside it looks like a tent but there are stone walls inside, which is weird. Romeo’s not kidding: it’s also kind of scary. A bunch of bullies used to hang out in there and set booby traps and gang up on the younger kids. After I went through the Rough House and got some people together we scared them off, and I got rid of the traps. You and Kairi weren’t in there, but Romeo got to use the trampolines, so that’s something.”

After a second, Sora asks, “What’s that look for? You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a huge hassle.”

“Sounds like it,” Riku tries to force his expression into something respectable instead of sappy. “So, a secret passage.”

“I’m surprised that none of the bullies were using it as a hideout.” Sora tries to angle his head to face Romeo again. “Romeo, that sounds really fun, but I can’t do that right now. I’ve got to help my friends Riku and Jiminy.”

The feeling of being a problem chafes at Riku, and so does Sora’s tone. Riku’s the one who protects them. Sora’s the carefree goofball, and Riku will be damned if this bullshit robs Sora of that. 

“A secret passage could be useful,” Riku suggests. “It’s worth investigating.”

“Riku, your back is starting to look like a horseshoe crab.”

“I’ll soak it in hot water, it’ll be fine.”

“If you leave it too long —”

“I’ll handle it, just like I’ll handle Jiminy’s thing. I don’t think Romeo will show this to anybody but you.”

When Sora hesitates, Riku doubles down. “I’m real, Sora. This isn’t a dream. Go check this out, and we’ll meet up at the campsite.”

Romeo starts tugging on the hem of Sora’s shirt and trying to lead him along, even if Sora is standing in place. Sora looks like he wants to argue more, so Riku turns around and starts walking back to the moogle’s booth. Sora inhales sharply.

“Take care of your back!”

Riku raises his hand in acknowledgement. Sora doesn’t come after him, at least. Riku tries, unsuccessfully, to rid himself of the feeling that he’s messing things up again. He shouldn’t have grabbed Sora’s shoulder, that was stupid.

By the time he makes it back over to the table the moogle is packing everything into a cart built for an animal, and Jiminy is hopping around him, moving bits and pieces. The moogle gives him a halfhearted wave.

“Your friend convinced me, kupo,” the moogle says. “We’ll camp together.”

“Better than forcing yourself to stay awake and not eating anything,” Jiminy admonishes, jumping onto Riku’s shoulder. “That’s a lot of stuff. Do you need us to walk with you?”

The moogle shakes their head. “I have your directions. I’ll make it there on my own, kupo.”

The moogle rolls their shoulders and picks up the cart. Riku only stays long enough to watch them disappear before he starts walking himself.

“You had a fight with Pinocchio at a saloon, right? Do you think he’s still there?”

“Maybe. Where’s Sora?”

“Over at the circus. A friend wanted to show him something, so I said we’d take care of ourselves.”

“Hmm. Well, let’s head over to the houses. We need to stop for you first,” Jiminy says. “You’re starting to look a little like me, back there. And your shirt’s about to rip.”

“You’re not chickening out, are you?” Riku asks, irritated. “We had a deal.”

“It really feels like you should be more concerned about this…” Jiminy says.

“I’ve got other things on my mind,” Riku says crisply. “If you’re going to worry about someone, worry about the puppet who’s been here longer than any of us.”

It occurs to Riku that maybe he’s just a little bit irritated. He’s not vicious like he was on the first night, but he feels frenetic, restless. He feels light on his feet, thoughts like throwing knives. His back doesn’t feel like anything.

“Who says I’ll even get hot running water? They make those houses so that kids can tear them down.”

“All the more reason we should start looking.”

“I’m fine.”

“…Are you?”

Riku has a piercing feeling that Jiminy’s not asking about his back. He can hear Jiminy’s incredulity, and an accusation behind it. Riku shouldn’t be fine. He should be grieving, on schedule. His relationship to his lost home should be clear and simple enough to be understood on sight.

Riku snaps, “Focus on Pinocchio. He’s the one you’re here for.”

“Hm.” After that, Jiminy doesn’t say anything else.

They pick their way over to the Eight Ball, which is right in the middle of everything else. Jiminy hops down, squares his shoulders, and walks in first. Riku lingers at the saloon door, not sure whether he’s invited in, or whether this would be ogling. Also, he can hear Lampwick, and he’s not eager to deal with him.

Just as Riku makes up his mind to suck it up and go inside, he hears faint shouting. His heart skips a beat, because of how familiar it sounds. When he hears that voice again, he knows it’s Kairi.

“Help!”

Chapter Text

Riku sprints, no hesitation, no thought for anyone else. He heads in the direction of her voice, into the crowds, shoving past children in the direction of her voice. Kairi keeps shouting.

“Somebody help! Yuffie! Leon!”

“Kairi!” Riku shouts, resenting the fact that he can’t run faster. “I’m coming, hold on!”

He’s navigating by sound alone and there’s too much, too many people, too many colors and movements to catch his eye and a dull roar that could drown her voice out at any given moment, but he knows where to go, he feels something around him like…

… Like a current, like he’s on a whirlpool’s edge and he could plunge straight into it. There’s a hole in this world. Darkness is bubbling up through the cracks, and if he finds where it’s leaking through he’ll find Kairi. He runs without thinking, knowing he’ll be pulled in the right direction.

He finds himself at the entrance to a parlor and shoves through the door, leaves it banging and open. There are long empty tables with the roulette wheels still spinning, empty booths with curtains, ad neon-orange buzzing lights laid into the ceiling, turning every color into a more lurid version of itself. Riku runs down the main aisle, following the pull.

Between the last two roulette tables, he sees it: the hole in the world. It pulses black and sparks purple, and the orange light doesn’t even seem to affect it. Moving closer feels like walking up to the edge of a cliff, and so he slows down in spite of himself.

The portal shrinks and vanishes before his eyes, collapsing in on itself. When Riku races up and tries to put his hand through it, all he can feel is air. He sinks to his knees, panting, closing his eyes and trying to find it again.

“It seems you ran out of time.”

Riku’s head snaps up as he sees Maleficent slide out of the last booth, her black cloak blending elegantly with the shadows. She regards him coolly, and he gets to his feet. He’ll be damned if she sees him weak.

“Where is she? What did you do to her?”

“What an uncharitable assumption. Here I was, ready to help you.”

“Is she hurt? What do you want?” Riku asks.

“That girl is in a far more dangerous place than you are. You know exactly what I want. Such basic, incurious questions.”

Riku’s up against a witch and unarmed, save for a pocket knife taken from the campsite. As much as he wants to stab her, it won’t go well. He has to think his way through this, and every moment comes at Kairi’s expense.

She wants a pupil; he knows how to do that. “The current is Darkness, right?”

“You do remember.”

“You said… Corridors. What are they? Is that what that was, the hole in the world?”

“It was an entrance,” she says, pleased. “Anyone can dip into the Corridors of Darkness, but few can travel unscathed. It takes a similar level of skill to hold an entrance open. Did you see the Darkness within? The way it ate the Light?”

“You said I’ve used the Corridors before,” Riku says.

“Yesterday you summoned raw Darkness, talent without the skill to anchor it. If you try that again there’s no telling where you’ll go, or if you’ll survive.” Maleficent observes, stepping closer. “You have to be familiar with your destination. I’m willing to help you save your friend, so long as you leave this place and its people behind.”

“I can’t leave Sora.”

“At Kairi’s expense? Oh dear,” Maleficent says. “How selfish of you.”

Riku feels that like an actual impact; his stomach clenches. “I told Sora I’d be here. I don’t break my word.”

“He doesn’t care for you. You told me as much. ‘They’re made for each other.’ Or are you deluding yourself?” Into Riku’s silence, she says. “I have no patience for self-deception. I’ll be on my way.”

“Wait,” Riku says, as she starts walking away. “I can be your pupil, just change your terms.”

She stops, but doesn’t turn around. “My patience and generosity are finite. If you have an offer, make it.”

“Let me trade places with her. Bring Kairi here, send me there. I’ll take care of whatever was trying to hurt her, and then I’ll learn how to use Darkness.”

Maleficent keeps her back to him, unmoving. She’s letting him dangle, and meanwhile Kairi’s in trouble. Riku will never forgive Maleficent for this.

“That’s acceptable,” she says, and turns back around, beginning to extend her hand. “If you —”

She moves quickly to the side as a pebble sails past her cheek. She sneers, and that open disdain on her face is fearsome. Riku turns around to see Pinocchio, slingshot in hand, arms squared, chest puffed out, knees shaking so hard that they’re clattering together, but holding his ground. Jiminy hops to the top of Pinocchio’s hat, rolling up his shirtsleeves.

“You leave Riku alone!” Jiminy says, hopping up and down on Pinocchio’s head and holding out his fists.

“Yeah, leave him alone!” Pinocchio says.

“What are you doing?” Riku shouts. “Kairi’s in danger!”

“Riku this whole thing’s rotten, top to bottom!” Jiminy snaps, still jumping. “Maleficent waited until you were alone! She sent you on a wild goose chase! Now, what, you’re just going to follow her?! Who’s to say she’d take you to Kairi at all?!”

“Shoo, you evil witch!” Pinocchio shouts at Maleficent. “Go on, shoo!”

“Please don’t kill them,” Riku says, turning back around.

By the time he’s facing her Maleficent is already fading into nothing. She’s gone before Riku can think to blink. Riku stares at the space where she used to be, willing her to come back.

Pinocchio collapses to the ground with a wooden clunk. “Phew!”

“Now Pinoke, I’m your conscience so I gotta say: don’t get in the habit of shooting rocks at people. But son, that was pretty brave.”

“Did you see her? I told her to shoo! And she shooed!”

“I’m impressed. You got guts, even if they’re made of wood. Riku, you okay?”

“What did you just do?” Riku’s voice is too calm and quiet in his own ears.

“Saved you from a kidnapper, looks like,” Jiminy says.

“I had one chance to save Kairi,” Riku says, and he realizes why he’s being so quiet when his voice catches: he’s choking on his own rage. “And you flung a rock at it.”

“Okay, Riku, we shoulda asked you before we started a fight,” Jiminy says, hopping up on a nearby chair. “But Maleficent isolated you again, and tried to get you to come with her in a way where none of your friends could follow you. That’s a pattern.”

“I don’t care,” Riku says, and his voice is finally rising.

“Riku, Maleficent could’ve killed you.”

“I don’t care!”

His words hang in the air, over the buzz of the lights and the steady clicking of the roulette wheels. Jiminy steeples his fingers together and sighs, deeply.

“Pinoke?”

“Yeah?”

“Go get Sora. We need to make sure the witch isn’t trying the same thing on him.”

“Yikes!” Pinocchio yelps. “I’ll hurry!”

As he scrambles out the door Riku pulls a chair away from the table and sinks into it, raking his fingers through his hair. “If she gets hurt it’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.” Jiminy explains, with strained patience. “Riku, if Kairi was in a bad situation and Maleficent could’ve stopped it, why didn’t she? If it were me, I’d tell you and fix things, no trades, no terms. That witch is leveraging your friendships against you. She’s not your friend.”

“I don’t need Maleficent to be my friend,” Riku says, and it would be so nice if his anger could stay firm instead of disintegrating into something pathetic. “I need Kairi to be okay.”

“You need to be more careful. Where do you get off, saying you don’t care if you live or die? I care. You know Sora cares, you’ve seen it.”

Riku starts shaking his head. “I’m not the one he wants.”

“Riku, literally this morning —”

“He’s in love with her,” Riku interrupts, feeling like it’s going to burst out of his chest if he doesn’t say it. “He loves her more than anyone, and I just let her get hurt — it doesn’t matter what happens to me, Jiminy, don’t you get that?”

“I shoulda known there’s a 'romantic triangle.' Gee whiz.” Jiminy rubs his eyes.

“There’s no triangle. They’re in love with each other. They don’t want me.”

“All right, Young Werther, pull yourself together.” Jiminy says, as if Riku understands what that phrase means. “I don’t care what’s going through your noggin, you don’t get to gamble with your life like that. We’re gonna find another way to save Kairi, and Maleficent can go hang for what she’s put you through. Now you get out of that chair so we can figure this out.”

Riku doesn’t want to get out of the chair. He wants to curl up in place and close his eyes and start decomposing. Out of spite he hunches forward.

His shirt doesn’t just tear. It rips. The sound is awful. When he reaches up he can feel frayed fabric. The shirt is only staying on because of the straps on his back, and the straps are taut. He slides his fingers across his back, and there’s mistaking that texture for flesh. There’s no give to it, no warmth. It’s the consistency of rock, striated like a shell. He tries to roll his shoulders backwards and he can’t.

His back is monstrous, the stuff of nightmares. He couldn’t have saved Kairi if he had tried.

“Hey, Riku, deep breaths. Look at me.”

Riku closes his eyes and prods his back again. Sora warned him. If Sora was concerned before he’ll be disgusted now. Riku thinks of Sora holding his hand and an ugly sound comes out of his throat, an ugly sound for an ugly thing, ugly and wretched and misshapen and useless —

A tremor runs through the ground, rattling the tables and the wheels, and then suddenly there is no ground. Riku tumbles backwards as Jiminy hollers a bunch of frightened, nonsense syllables, and they roll into a tunnel.

Riku tucks his head down and lets his back absorb most of the damage as he keeps falling. When he finally comes to a stop he’s on his side, and his shirt is still clinging on. He rolls onto his stomach.

“Oof, that was a surprise,” says the battered cricket, shoving a pebble aside and dusting himself off. “Where are we? Why’s there light down here?”

There is light, not from the entrance of the tunnel (which is a long climb up and must be littered with broken furniture) but chips of clear crystal in the walls, gently glowing in the dark. It smells damp, but not like a cave. The walls are flat and level, streaked with color: blue like denim, light purple like Kairi’s skirt, yellow like the fairy’s hair, and a nonassertive color that’s neither teal nor true green. The stone beneath Riku’s feet is smooth, and when Riku looks he can see grooves between tiles. When he cranes his head up he isn’t looking at the top of a cave but a ceiling, arched and grooved with geometric precision, bearing the same stripes.

Jiminy hops in front of Riku. “Riku, are you okay?”

Riku’s not in the mood to say anything. Now that he’s on the ground he can feel something over his ribs pressing into him, inflexible as the stuff on his back. He feels like he’s being walled up inside his own body, like the carapace is swallowing him whole.

“Can you walk? Say something.”

“Leave me alone,” Riku says.

Jiminy sighs again. “Right.”

Jiminy walks away, down the hallway Finally alone, Riku presses his forehead against the ground and wishes he could turn into a statue. He imagines the tunnel behind him closing up, burying him alive. The only sound is running water, someplace far off. He can’t have been awake for more than three hours, but exhaustion sets in.

Riku doesn’t know how much time has passed before he hears a patter on the ground and Jiminy’s voice, “All right, turns out this is exactly what we need. Get up, I’ve found a place where you can fix your back. Or do you wanna lie here and sulk some more?”

“I told you to leave,” Riku says into the dirt.

“I’m a dully appointed conscience. You squash us and we come back swinging.”

“You’re a bug with an ego.”

“Big talk from a guy on the ground.” When Riku doesn’t answer he says, “Look, call me whatever names you want. Just get up. You can mope in the baths as easy as you can out here.”

“You’re seriously telling me you found a bath house buried under a theme park.”

“Riku, I manage Pinoke. Do you really think I can get away with lying? There’s a pool, might be a hot spring. I’ll get you there and be outta your hair.”

Riku groans in response.

“Or you could lie here and wait until Sora shows up.”

“What.” Riku finally lifts his head.

“I told Pinoke to check on Sora. Pinoke’ll talk about the whole thing and his nose won’t grow an inch. I expect Sora’ll take off running the way he did the last night.”

“No.”

“If I can’t talk some sense into you maybe he can.”

Every outcome is bad, but some are worse than others. Sora finding him facedown in the dirt is unconscionable. Sora finding him with a swollen back and making no moves to take care of it is intolerable. Riku gets to his feet, resentment forming like scum on top of a noxious mix of feelings.

“You are,” Riku tells Jiminy, “The single worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I see.”

When he tries to stand upright the shell digs into his lower back, and for a horrible second it feels like it’s rubbing up against his hip bones. He leans forward, stooping like an old man. Jiminy hops a few paces forward.

Riku says, “My world exploded. A giant tried to kill me. There’s a long list of bad things that’ve happened to me. You’re at the top.”

“I take the cake, huh?” Jiminy calls over his shoulder.

Riku follows him. “You take the whole buffet.”

“Good thing you’ll be rid of me after this whole business,” Jiminy says, hopping forward as soon as Riku catches up. “Although who’ll stick their nose in your business, once I’m gone?”

“Nobody. It’ll be amazing.”

Jiminy keeps him talking, even if he’s just goading Riku into more insults. It’s hard to focus, especially everything else is so distracting. The hallway narrows into a doorframe, and a door creaks open as he approaches.

Someone designed this room. The walls and ceiling are that same yellow, lined with blue columns and an intricate mural on the ceiling. The walls themselves are lined with stone benches on the ground level, and wooden cubbies on the higher level. Beneath his feet, the floor is a yellow-and-green mosaic. The air is humid and smells like soap. There’s a door on the other side, shut and barred.

“Magic locker room,” Riku mutters to himself.

“You can’t go through the door with your clothes on,” Jiminy says, hopping to the ground and taking off his suspenders. “Believe me, I tried. Couldn’t even go through the keyhole.”

Jiminy has his back turned, and is facing the bench. Riku tugs the tattered remains of the shirt off of him, careful to preserve what’s left of it, and puts it in the cubby. He sits down on the bench to take his shoes and socks off, keeping his eyes to the floor.

The mosaic can’t decide whether it wants to focus on geometric patterns or animals. There are creatures, some mundane and some fantastic, rendered in tiles next to stark, thick slanted lines. The lines aren’t even symmetrical, just a bunch of protruding segments coming out of the same base, like broken teeth on a skewed comb. Riku stops to stare at the pattern, trying to figure out what it is and why it feels familiar.

Riku shucks off the last of his clothes, and looks at the lump over his abdomen. He can see the gray shape under his skin, hard as rock, lined and grooved, cold to the touch. He pinches his skin, not feeling any kind of pain or sensation, watching the waxy, translucent stuff between his fingers. There’s no fat, no pores, no layers. The skin is barely thick enough to pinch at all.

Before he can face his growing horror there’s a gentle whooshing sound on his right, and Riku turns to see a pair of sandals and a plush white towel, neatly folded on the bench. When he looks at the towel, uncomfortable and ashamed, there’s another gentle whoosh on his left. Riku turns around to see swim trunks.

Still fighting dread, Riku puts on the trunks, wraps the towel over his abdomen, and walks to the door. The lock clicks and Riku practically flings it open. As the first vague shapes of the hallway come into focus, he yelps and covers his mouth.

“What’s the matter?” Jiminy asks, hopping forward, holding own towel around his waist. “Just a hallway, son, why are you —”

“Bones,” Riku says in a strangled voice, pointing at the walls.

The green hallway is lined with organized, rank-and-file skeletons, embedded into the wall with little arrows and old, yellowed script around them. The one Riku is pointing to is a very real, well preserved human skeleton.

“… Oh, right, that’s pretty jarring for you, huh,” says the cricket with the exoskeleton. “Don’t worry, your bones are right where you left them, nobody’s taking ‘em. Come on.”

“Skeletons aren’t scary,” Riku grumbles as he walks forward. “I just wasn’t expecting them.”

The more he walks, the more it looks like a museum exhibit: skeletons and notes. As they walk, the skeletons become less familiar and more fantastic. He keeps his eyes trained on the mosaic diagram on the floor. Riku’s not squeamish, but if they find any organs in jars he’s going to lose his shit.

They come to another chamber, this one with two doors. The sound of running water is much louder. It’s pleasantly warm in here, but Riku doesn’t want to look too closely at anything now.

Jiminy hops towards the door on the left. “C’mon, this is our stop.”

Riku moves quickly, and is met with another tiled floor, the highest arched ceiling that he’s seen yet, with a tub on one side and a pool built into the floor. This room is not just warm but hot. Jiminy hops over to the pool, carefully dipping a disturbingly human toe into it.

“Oh, that’s the ticket.” Jiminy shudders and sinks into the water, discarding the towel. “Mmm-mm.”

Riku slowly takes off his towel and does the same thing. The water’s hot, more than warm enough for a wound. Gritting his teeth he walks in until his feet don’t touch the ground, and then surfaces in a dead man’s float. It feels awful, and then it feels amazing.

There’s another gentle whoosh, which startles Jiminy into yelping. Riku looks over to see a smaller clean towel next to his full-size one. He picks it up, dips it in the water, and holds it to his abdomen. He looks up.

Above him is a web of slanted lines and animals, the lines dotted with crystal that glows like stars. The mural is so vast that all of the script and illustration is so tiny as to be illegible. Riku fixes his eyes on another cryptic clue, another piece of this place which is still beyond his understanding, and sits with the now-familiar feeling of frustration, fear, and gentle awe.

Chapter Text

Once he adjusts to the heat and wafting steam, Riku can smell sulfur underneath that clean herbal scent. It might be his imagination but the water feels weird against his skin. The pool might be built over a hot spring after all. He immediately begrudges the observation, and sinks back into the familiar pattern of stewing in guilt, which weighs on him like an anchor.

He hears something vague and burbling and, resenting the further distraction, lifts his head up, still in the dead man’s float. “You say something?”

Jiminy asks, “Do you want me to go? I said I’d get out of your hair as soon as I got you here. If you want me gone, I can go.”

“Hmmmm.”

He should still be furious with Jiminy. If it weren’t for Jiminy, Riku could’ve reunited Sora and Kairi. He also pointed out the fact that Maleficent was manipulating him and could’ve been lying to him, which is actually intensively annoying and not worth thinking about, because it feels like an easy out from his own guilt.

That’s not the point. The point is that Jiminy isn’t Riku conscience, and meddled when he had no business meddling. He didn’t take no for an answer, and he kept trying to help after Riku told him to stop, and he just said he cares about Riku, which is way too fast. He doesn’t seem to love with any strings attached, which is also annoying, and weird, and, regrettably, worth keeping around.

“… I can’t control where you go. You want to stay, you can stay.” Riku says.

“All right.” There’s a gentle splash. “D’you… wanna talk?”

“About what.”

“Generally, lovelorn romantics can’t stop talking about their situation. They can barely get past how-do-you-do before going straight to details.”

“I’m not a romantic.”

“What color are Kairi’s eyes?”

“Blue. They’re not sapphire or anything, I’m not going to start doing that thing where you compare people’s eyes to gems or whatever,” says Riku. Then he adds. “Besides, Kairi’s eyes change color. Sora can wear anything and his eyes stay that same horizon-blue. When Kairi wears dark blue or purple her eyes go from Sora’s shade to this intense indigo, like she’s wearing color contacts. It’s not romantic to say it’s pretty, it’s just fact. She doesn’t like it, for some reason.”

“I see.”

“Noticing stuff isn’t romantic.”

“Uh huh. How’s it feel when she smiles at you?”

“Like floating,” Riku answers, not just because of the spring but because that one horrible poem that he shredded and burned after he wrote it. “Most of the time I feel like a rock out in space, pulled to wherever I’m supposed to go. When she smiles at me I feel like I’m already there. Like gravity’s just holding me instead of weighing on me. Like I’m suspended in the center of the universe.”

“… Dang.”

“I know,” Riku says, regretting saying anything.

“That’s beautiful.”

“It’s useless, is what it is. You can’t just tell people ‘hey, you make me feel like I’m home on a cosmic level, here’s a bunch of verses about it.’ What is she supposed to do with that? She already gets uncomfortable when I talk about the way she inspires me. Plus she’s a foundling who showed up the night of a meteor shower, so it feels like space metaphors are in bad taste.”

“Kairi’s an orphan?”

“No, a foundling. There’s a big storm, and the night after someone shows up on the beach with their memories missing, usually a kid. You know, a foundling.” At Jiminy’s silence, Riku asks, “Is that not a thing here?”

“No.”

“Well, it is for us. Our mayor’s a foundling too, so we’ve got a lot more programs and stuff to help them out,” Riku sums up. “Anyway, Kairi didn’t even show up after a storm. The sky was clear all night, clear enough to see the meteor shower. The mayor adopted her a few days after they found her.”

He also doesn’t add that it was also kind of shitty that the mayor did that. Tidus and Wakka and Selphie were all foundlings, and it took them years to even be eligible for adoption by their foster families. There was a reason for that: agencies were supposed to send word to other islands and try to reunite foundlings with their families. The other reason was that foundlings were supposed to be able to choose. Taking a new family name when their own family might still be out there was a big deal, and so a kid had to be old enough to make the choice for themselves.

Kairi was five. The mayor could’ve made the rules more flexible for people like Selphie, who knew her parents were dead and knew she wanted to be adopted right away. He also could’ve fostered Kairi until she was old enough to be adopted. He made a choice and everyone else lived with it.

Riku remembers that drama between Wakka and Tidus, when Tidus chose to get adopted and Wakka chose not to, when Wakka insisted that they had another brother out there, when Tidus said that they probably weren’t brothers even though they washed up on the beach together. That had been a maze of arguments and hurt feelings and rants. What Riku remembers is how Kairi reacted when Wakka described why he didn’t want to get adopted, why it was important to have the same last name as his long-lost brother.  Her expression would turn closed-off and tight, and sometimes she excused herself and took a long time getting back. Back then Riku could get up and go after her, or nudge Sora until Sora followed her. 

Kairi never wanted to talk, but she let Riku stick around, when he was there. Sometimes she told Riku in that low trying-not-to-be-upset voice that she wouldn’t mind a hug, and he’d hold her until she let go.

She probably just wished that he’d sent Sora instead. He might never get to hold her again.

Jiminy repeats, “Riku?”

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“No problem. How’d you get to be friends with her?”

He could just , but Riku keeps going. “Sora invited her to stuff, and she started hanging out with us. I was a tongue-tied idiot for a couple of months. I tried to impress her, and maybe it worked, because she kept inviting me to stuff. Once I got over myself and we actually talked, it was so much better

Sometimes if I saw her draw something or heard her talk about something I’d help her try to find it. We found some pictures of castles in books that looked familiar. The espalier trees were the biggest win. I didn’t even think trees could grow like that. We still haven’t found that one book she remembers, with the green spine and the red flower.”

“Well, I —” Jiminy stops. “Do you hear something?”

Riku listens. There is something faint, like a voice. On instinct he swims to the edge of the pool. Then he hears the startled yell, and he knows he was right.

“Sora, it’s okay!” Riku calls.

“WHY ARE THERE BONES?!?” Sora’s voice echoes down the hallway.

“I don’t know! We’re fine, everything’s okay!” Riku pulls himself out of the pool, wincing at the change in temperature. “Don’t worry!”

“Where are you?” Sora calls, and Riku hears Sora’s shoes slapping against the mosaic floor.

Riku, clumsy and soft from being suspended in warm water this whole time, finishes fumbling with his sandals and then stumbles toward the other room. “Down the hall, I’m on my way to you!”

Riku’s barely out of the door when he sees Sora racing toward him, fully clothed and holding a sword. Before he can say anything Sora stops short, his sword vanishing into thin air. He puts his hands on Riku’s face, pinching his cheeks.

‘Still skin, phew!” Sora says, as if he was genuinely worried.

“Stoppit.” Riku bats his hands away.

“Where’s Maleficent? Did she make this weird bone place? Your back — it’s set, hasn’t it?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re never fine when you say you’re fine.”

The comparative chill of the room is getting to him. Riku, hunched over, dripping on the tile floor, feels a little too much like a turtle. When Sora looks at the lump over his ribs and, frowning, reaches out to touch it, Riku swats at his hand again. Jiminy bounces up.

“Heya Sora! Seems like we fell into an underground bath of some kind. Where’s Pinoke?”

“He didn’t come. He stuck his foot in the tunnel and it went numb. He said he’d probably die if he went in here, so I told him to guard the entrance.”

Jiminy absorbs this for a beat, and says, very carefully. “Sora, did Pinoke’s nose grow when he told you this?”

“No.”

Without another word Jiminy takes off, at speed, leaping down the hall in nothing but a towel.

Sora adds, shouting after him, “He’s all right! His foot got better!”

“How are you still wearing clothes?” Riku asks, wishing he’d had a robe or something. “The door doesn’t open if you don’t take them off.”

“My sword’s a key,” Sora says. “I pointed it at the door, and it opened.”

There’s a now-familiar gentle whooshing noise to Riku’s left, and something like a hamper appears beside them. Sora turns to look at it, frowning, and another gentle whoosh behind him. He turns around, and then looks up.

“Thanks for letting me find Riku. I’m sorry I yelled at your bones,” Sora announces to thin air.

With another gentle whoosh a wooden arrow appears next to the hamper. Sora looks at it, nods, and gives the air a thumbs up. Then he starts taking off his jacket.

“Oh, you’re doing that here,” Riku says, trying not to sound rattled.

“It’s asking,” Sora says, unzipping his shirt. “How do you feel? It looks like the shell on your back is messing with your hips?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Riku says weakly, knowing he’s watching too closely as Sora shrugs his shirt off. “Kairi’s on a different world, and she’s in trouble.”

“What happened?” Sora asks, hopping on one leg as he tries to get his shoe off.

Riku, fully aware that Sora’s about to take his shorts off, and fully aware how devastated Sora is going to be, looks up at the mystery mural. “Maleficent made a portal to another world. Through the portal, I could hear Kairi shouting for help. Maleficent closed it before I went in, and then tried to bargain with me. I didn’t make it in time, I’m sorry.”

“She’s messing with Kairi now? We’ve got to do something about Maleficent,” Sora says.

“She wasn’t messing with Kairi. Maleficent was standing next to me the whole time.”

“She’s a witch with magic powers who wants to kidnap you. Maleficent probably did a magic thing to Kairi to mess with her, just like she made the portal to mess with you. Or she copied Kairi’s voice with magic.”

The thought had crossed Riku’s mind, and it’s frustrating to hear it out loud. “It might not’ve been a trick. You heard the moogle. It’s dangerous everywhere.”

“Yeah, but Kairi’s the smart one. If there’s trouble, she’ll get away.”

“Kairi’s the smart one?” Riku asks, aware that he’s being petty.

“Who saw a giant monster and tried to fight it? Me. Who tried to stab it in the eyeball? You. Who told me fighting it was a dumb idea and then stayed out of the monster’s way? Kairi.”

Riku, trying very hard not to be offended, argues, “I was fighting it because you were fighting it. I was the one who told Kairi to focus on potions and stay out of the way.”

“You stabbed a giant in the eyeball,” Sora repeats, as if that’s the final word on intelligence. “Out of the three of us, Kairi’s the one who doesn’t do big risky stuff when there’s trouble. Calling for help can be risky if monsters get too close, or if the people nearby are jerks who’d make things worse. So wherever she was, Kairi was pretty sure that someone could help her.”

“Or it was already so bad that Kairi decided it was worth the risk,” Riku points out. “Or Kairi’s been tricked.”

Sora snorts. “I told you, she’s the smart one. Pulling a fast one on Kairi is pretty hard. What’re you looking at up there?”

Riku risks looking back down and immediately looks back up. “Hey, magic bath house, can you get Sora a swimsuit or something?”

“You said it’s a bath. You don’t wear clothes into a bath.”

“It’ll give you something,” Riku says, pained.

“I’m being nice to the magic bath house. I broke its rules and wore clothes in here, so I won’t break any rules and wear clothes in there,” Sora says stubbornly, and then when there’s another faint whooshing noise, announces to the air, “Thank you, magic bath house.”

Riku lets himself feel hope but when he looks back down Sora’s wrapping a towel around his waist. The towel does seem relatively fluffy. Sora holds a sprig of some plant between his fingers, and eventually tucks it behind his ear. 

Riku shuts his eyes, because even in just a glance Sora looks like somebody’s god, familiar and beloved and divine. The image of him, barelegged, bare-chested, with that little piece of green behind his ear, is going to be burned into Riku for the rest of time as one of the most lovely things he’s ever seen. Riku could tear himself in half with fruitless longing.

“Is your back hurting you?” Sora asks.

Riku, a drowned rat hunched over next to a god, confesses. “I didn’t save her.”

“Oh,” Sora says, as if it’s finally clicked. “… Let’s get you into the bath.”

With a grim kind of satisfaction Riku turns away and walks back into the room. Sora follows him, not saying a word. Riku steps down into the pool, grabbing a new clean folded cloth which has appeared in the old one’s place, and sinks back into the water, ready to be dead to the world. He’s surprised when he hears a splash behind him.

“It’s not fair,” Sora says, abruptly, voice closer than Riku expected. “None of it’s fair.”

“It’s not,” Riku agrees, keeping his ears above water and his eyes trained on the ceiling.

“We’re supposed to have each other’s backs. We’re supposed to be here for each other, and we can’t.” Frustration is finally creeping into Sora’s voice, but he says. “And now it’s either/or. Kairi wouldn’t want you to go running into a witch’s trap.”

“We don’t know what she would’ve wanted.”

“Yes we do,” Sora says, unconcerned. “But not being able to help sucks.”

“Yeah.” Riku sighs. “It really does.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” Sora says. “The important part is that the witch didn’t get you. There’s a lot of stuff that I wish was different, but I’m glad you’re here.”

It’s intolerable to hear that right now, itchy and sentimental and wrong, so Riku says, “I told Maleficent to switch our places. Take me away, bring Kairi here to stay with you.”

“Sounds like you’d both get kidnapped.”

“If it worked, it would’ve been worth it. You miss her,” Riku says.

“I’d miss you.”

The concept of being missed is also intolerable. “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“Don’t get me wrong. If it’s between her safety and mine, I’m always going to choose hers,” Sora says. “But she wouldn’t be happy if I got hurt.”

Riku thinks he knows where his opinion ranks in this hierarchy, but feels compelled to mutter, “Neither would I.”

“See? You gotta remember that stuff when you’re trying to help.”

Sora still doesn’t get it. Riku is trying to piece together the perfect argument, the one where Sora will just agree to be mad at him, when something cracks and the hard shell over his ribs suddenly caves in beneath the cloth, sending a shooting pain through him as Riku feels something jab at something raw inside him. He grunts and lifts the cloth only for his back to crack beneath him.

“Don’t move your shoulders!” Sora says swimming over. “I know you want to flex them but remember to wait, at least for a few seconds.”

“What’s happening?”

“The heat’s working.” Sora fishes the cloth out of the water and gently lays it back over the shell. “The shells are breaking down and making more goo to keep the edges from jutting into your skin. Just a little longer, and we’ll take them out.”

“Take them out?”

Understanding dawns on Sora’s face, “Do you really not know what’s happening?”

“No.”

“Nobody told you what happens when a wound gets this bad?”

“You go to a hospital,” Riku says.

Sora explains, “Well, sometimes you’re on a boat and the hospital’s hours away. When you leave an injury like this, the hard part that grows over you keeps getting tougher, and it starts growing something else on top — like skin, but not skin, because that’s under the shell. Now the magic’s working to break this stuff down, but the hard part set, and it won’t break down all the way.”

“So this stuff’s just in me,” Riku says, dully. “Do we cut it out?”

“We’ll make a slit, get some tweezers, pull out the hard parts that are still there, and wrap up the wound. It’s like talking out big splinters. Or like you’ve got a blister that decided to grow fingernails inside of it, and now we’re taking the fingernails out.” Upon seeing Riku’s face, Sora says, “That didn’t make it better.”

“It did not.”

“Look, after we wrap up the wound, the stuff that looks like skin on top will go all flaky and dissolve, and it’ll be like new, no scarring. You’ll be sore, and you’ll need to keep your bandages on for like a day, and no potions for a couple days either. That’s it.”

“How much blood is there gonna be?”

“If you start bleeding we’re cutting in the wrong place. All your nerves and blood and stuff is under the hard bits. It’s like a blister. You know what blisters are like.”

“Yeah, there’s fluid. How much of that is pus or blood?”

“I told you, it’s goo. It’s not pus, that’s infections. The goo’s probably just magic, like the shell.”

“Oh great, so long as the goo’s magic,” Riku repeats with what he hopes comes across as confident sarcasm, but his voice is shaking too much.

“We can make it easier,” Sora says. “You don’t have to be awake. There’s lots of booze topside—”

“No, Sora,” Riku says. “Just get me a towel and my knife and I’ll take the front ones out myself.”

Instead of leaving Sora looks at him. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” Riku says too loudly, two bad breaths away from blubbering or hysteria. “Who else is it going to be? A kid? The creepy coach guy? Jiminy?” 

“I could,” Sora says. “You can’t reach your back. I can take care of all of it.”

“It’s not right,” Riku insists, louder still. “I’m not making you do something I’m too chickenshit to do, it’s not fair.”

“Riku...”

“This is easier for me,” Riku makes himself take deeper breaths and talk more quietly. “You said easier, this is how I want to do it. It won’t hurt, I’m just being a big stupid baby about it, so go get me my stuff and let me freak out for a second.”

Sora hesitates again and Riku might shout at him in spite of everything, but after a few seconds of looking pained he does leave. Riku takes a deep breath and plunges his head under the water, and only comes up for air when he’s about to drown. He keeps doing it until the urge to scream is easier to manage.

Chapter Text

When he can face it, Riku looks at the spot over his ribs, the shapes beneath the not-skin. The lump has shrunk, not in width but in height. Instead of one gray shell there are slightly smaller halves of a gray shape, suspended in something that looks pink through the thin layer of not-skin. The lump yields when he pokes at it, like a blister, but the not-skin still feels striated and strange. It’s still numb, which makes sense. It wasn’t like he was growing nerves.

He won’t bleed. He won’t hurt. It’s just magic goop from a magic wound. Sora will be watching him. Riku makes himself breathe steadily, and he lays the rag back over the shells. In the grand scheme of things, this is much better than broken ribs, and a broken back, and whatever internal damage got reversed in the process. In a way, from here on out, waiting is going to be the worst part.

Then Riku hears wooden sandals on tile and waiting is fine, actually. Riku steels himself and then cranes his head to see Sora, who’s carrying a metal tin and still only wearing a towel.

“Absolutely not,” Riku says, only sounding a little shaky. “We’re doing amateur surgery, put on pants.”

“Okay,” Sora says, and somehow the toothlessness of the response is worse. “How is it looking? We want two or three shells. Otherwise it’ll break down into a bunch of smaller pieces and it’ll be harder to get them all out.”

“Couldn’t we just drain it and pick them out after?”

“You need to keep as much of the goo on you as you can,” Sora says. “I think it’s got something to do with the skin underneath? Or maybe making sure the shells don’t bump up against anything important? Anyway, you don’t want to stay in there too long.”

“Fine.” Riku says, swimming to the edge of the pool.

“I’ll set up in that room over there. Come out when you’re ready.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Don’t.” Riku wrestles with the urge to yell at Sora, wishing he could point his anger at anyone else.

Sora nods. “Right. Easier.”

Sora steps through the doorway. As soon as he’s gone Riku stands up, walks out of the pool, takes the fresh towel that whooshes into existence next to him, and dries off. He stands there, in the dark blue room, under the strange mural and over the mosaic, in white cool light that makes the towel and his skin look blue. Riku closes his eyes and breathes humid, hot air. Then he steps out into the other chamber.

He resents the drop in temperature, the mild green walls and floor. Sora’s waiting for him, kneeling next to a towel that’s been spread onto the ground, taking things out of a red metal box and arranging them onto trays. There’s a wider circle of candles around Sora, which makes it seem more like a ritual and less like an operation, but electric light would make Riku feel like a freak on display. Sora is, thankfully, wearing swim trunks. Riku waits by the edge of the candles.

“You can sit down,” Sora says, scooting back and patting the towel.

“Where’s my knife?” Riku asks, stepping forward and sitting down.

“There’s a scalpel in the first aid kit. It’s sharper and there are replacement blades,” Sora says, pointing at a tray on the towel without looking up.

Riku inspects the tray with the scalpel and the tweezers, next to the tray with gauze and bandages. His hands are soft and puckered from the bath, a stupid mistake. The scalpel’s blade is wickedly sharp but the handle is as skinny as the blade.

“I could still use my knife,” Riku says, thinking of its wooden handle.

“You’re not deboning a fish,” Sora says, and for the first time Riku can hear the distress in his voice.

The full scope of the problem settles on Riku all at once. Sora’s the only one who can be here. This is too much to ask from anyone, but Riku can’t help but ask it, just like Sora can’t help but accept it. No matter what he does, Riku burdened Sora with this and now Sora has to carry it too.

Sora pushes a marker and a pair of rubber gloves in front of him. “Here’s what you’ll do. First you want to figure out where your skin ends and the magic not-skin begins. So put those on, then take your index finger and put it right between the two shells. Go straight down, and once you reach skin that isn’t numb, mark it.”

It’s too late and too little, but as he sets down the knife and pulls the gloves on Riku mutters, “Thank you”

“No problem,” Sora says, tugging on his own gloves.

As Riku puts his index finger between the two plates, watching them move, Riku asks, “How do you know about this?”

“How do you not know about this?” Before Riku can reply, Sora answers his own question. “Right, you do sports, they don’t let you get this bad. Okay, remember how in February I went out on the boat with the rest of my family?”

“Yeah,” Riku says, concentrating on finding the exact spot where the numbness stops.

“Well, my aunt’s husband’s nephew broke his foot during a storm, and after he threw the potion out everything else was happening so he kind of forgot it, and it didn’t help that he was up for like a full 24 hours and then slept for another six. The next day the foot was like stone. When he dragged it across the decks it left scratches. Grandma made a bunch of people watch her fix it, mostly kids and people who’d only been out a few times. It takes longer when there are bones and joints, because it’s harder to take the shells out. We were there for a while. She made us hold the shells.”

“Your grandma’s terrifying.”

“Yeah. When I told Kairi she started freaking out, which meant she started reading about long-term potion effects, which meant she freaked out more. She did learn some things though. Like: the stuff over the wound is closer to cocoon silk than skin, and it only starts growing after you leave it alone for a few hours. Some kind of protein’s in there. Kairi can remember its name.”

“Mhm,” Riku says, in the process of drawing the wobbliest line known to man.

“Are you sure —”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Riku snaps, then immediately says, “Sorry, you’re — it’s practice, I’m fine, I’m not mad at you, I’m going to do this and then it’s going to be done.”

He sets down the marker and picks up the scalpel, feeling like a thick-fingered toddler gripping an artist’s pencil. He can’t feel it through the gloves but the scalpel looks cold, a thin sliver of silver surrounded by flesh and heat. He tries to steady the tremor in his hand.

“You don’t have to watch this. I’m not gonna cut myself open.” Riku knows he’s still talking too fast, but he says, “This is too much. I get it.” 

Sora suggests, “It might be easier if I keep you steady?”

“Why not.”

Sora sits on Riku’s right side, puts his hands on both of Riku’s shoulders. Riku accepts it, pressure and warmth on both shoulders and no input from his back. Sora’s head is next to his, his shoulder next to Riku’s own.

“How’s this?” Sora asks.

“Not bad.”

He’s leaning on Sora, into the feeling of a forewarned, wanted touch. Riku moves the scalpel closer to his body, and as he does so the tremor turns into full on shaking, and by the time the blade is close enough to cut it’s jittering around so much that he can’t control it. Riku throws the scalpel on the tray in disgust.

“Fucking shit-sucking son of a bitch, this is nothing,” Riku says. “It won’t hurt, it’s not even skin, why can’t I just do this?”

Sora lets go of one shoulder, slides further to the right, then taps the back of Riku’s right hand, which is balled up into a shaking fist. Riku unclenches his fist long enough for Sora to lace his fingers through Riku’s, and when Sora squeezes his hand Riku squeezes back. Feeling weak and stupid, Riku turns his head and presses his face into Sora’s bare shoulder. His world goes dark and warm. He breathes, and tries to match his breathing to Sora’s.

“It’s not nothing,” Sora says quietly.

The longer Riku throws a fit the worse Sora’s going to feel when he has to do it, so Riku says, “Talk about something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. What’re we doing after this?”

“You’re resting,” Sora says. “There’s a place that has comics. I’ll get you some so you won’t get bored. You’re gonna stay in your tent and read and maybe sleep until dinner, at least.”

Slightly disappointed, Riku says, “Tell me what you’re doing after this.”

“I don’t know. Whatever needs to be done, I guess.”

Riku says, “Read comics in the tent with me, then. If I’m taking it easy, you should too.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Would I ask if I did?”

“Awesome,” Sora says warmly.

The tone in his voice makes Riku lift his head and look. Sora isn’t looking at him but he’s smiling, and it’s smaller and thinner but it’s a real smile. There’s a magic park full of rides and wonders and Sora’s smiling over comics in a tent. Riku’s heart skips.

“Yeah.” Riku lets go of Sora’s hand, and Sora takes Riku by the shoulders again. “Okay.”

Riku counts three breaths and picks up the scalpel, buzzing with that adrenaline. He takes a deep breath, and on the exhale he brings the scalpel to the first mark and sticks it in, far enough to cut but not deep enough to jab. He drags the blade down across the line, slowly and smoothly, ignoring the ooze that leaks out around the cut, and drops the knife into the tray when he’s done. He takes another breath and primes himself to reach in and pluck the shells out with his fingers.

“Tweezers,” Sora says into his ear.

Riku huffs, hands shaking again. He grabs the tweezers and pushes them under the not-skin, fumbling for the half-shell. The magic goo, with the consistency of jam and the transparency of gelatin, sparkles in the candlelight as if it had been struck through with glitter. It doesn’t drip down his side so much as ooze, viscous and strangely cold. Its smell is starting to cut through the odor of candle smoke and herbs: sickly sweet, like walking into a candy store. Riku suppresses the urge to gag and starts breathing through his mouth. 

Riku only tears a little of the papery white film that was masquerading as skin as he pries the first shell out, tossing it onto the tile with a dull plink. The second half-shell is harder, the angle worse. Riku has to try a few times, and his breath is shallow and fast. Sora grips his shoulder.

“Almost there,” Sora coaxes as Riku finally pinches the shell between the two prongs, and it’s all Riku can do not to twist his head and bury it in Sora’s shoulder again. “You’ve got it.”

Riku practically flings the second shell onto the ground. He’s not proud of the sound that comes out of him, that yelp of relief. Sora is already letting go of his shoulders and grabbing a gauze pad, mopping up the slow-dripping slime, pressing the gauze over the slit, and taping it up with surgical tape.

Riku looks down at the gauze, the color bleeding through. “It’s pink.”

“Supposed to be clear. You might’ve jabbed your skin, but the goo’ll take care of it.” Sora hugs Riku’s shoulders, and in a voice that only trembles a little he asks, “How’s it feel to be a freaking badass, Riku?”

The language and the tone startles Riku into laughing. In that moment, heart racing, buoyed up by doing something horrible and coming out the other side, free and directionless, Riku kisses Sora roughly on the cheek, the way children exchange kisses between friends. Before Riku can feel like he stepped off the edge of a cliff Sora hugs him tighter, laughing too.

“You ready to find out?” Riku asks.

It was supposed to be light but Sora’s laughter quiets and he stills. Riku yanks off a glove and reaches for him but Sora is already sitting up, letting go. It’s hard not to lean backward, into the space where he used to be. Sora reaches around him and starts pulling things over, rearranging things.

“I wish we had better bandages, and tongs for the shells.” There’s a familiar whoosh, and Sora says, “Thanks, magic bath house.”

Riku fumbles with a tangle of things to say as he hears the rubbery snap of Sora changing gloves. Every line of thought seems wrong. Telling Sora he can do it, that he trusts Sora, is just more pressure. Saying that he’s glad Sora’s here is worse, because it’s awful that Sora has to do this. Pointing out that Sora shouldn’t have to do this is just outlining the obvious burden that Riku’s laid at Sora’s feet.

Riku stares at the shell that used to be inside him, which is concave, grooved on the outside and lumpy on the inside, the dull surface hiding a nacreous underside, like an abalone shell. The individual bumps on the inside of the shell make Riku think of a cluster of zits instead of soap bubbles.

Sora let Riku kiss him. Now he has to deal with Riku’s ugly, unnatural mess. There’s nothing Riku can say to mend that.

Sora says, “Okay, I’m doing the marker thing. Tell me to stop when you feel something.”

Riku shivers when he can finally feel Sora’s finger, just below the base of the neck. He does his best to brace himself as Sora moves his finger down. Sora hums in thought.

“You don’t feel anything?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, so we’ve got two options. If you take off your swimsuit —”

“No.”

“Then here’s what happens if you don’t,” Sora continues, undeterred. “I think the shells shrunk enough that I don’t have to make a slit all the way down. The angle’s gonna be weird, but I can still do it.”

“But it’s harder on you,” Riku says dully, fighting his reflex.

“And easier for you. It’s fine. I can always make the cut longer. I can’t make it shorter. Plus maybe this’ll make it easier to keep the goo where it should be. Should I tell you when I start cutting, or do you not want to know?”

“I don’t need to know,” Riku says, sitting up straight. “I won’t move, starting now.”

“Warn me if you need to,” Sora says.

Riku focuses on his own breath, trying to fill his diaphragm with every new breath. As a result, the stench hits him first. There’s a medicinal undertone to that saccharine syrupy smell, like bubblegum-flavored medicine, or maybe seeing the pink goo just means that bubblegum is on Riku’s mind. Alone, that wouldn’t knock him out of the little peace he’s been able to find, but in the cavernous quiet he can hear Sora breathing unevenly, a little too shallow, a little too fast.

“Turns out holding a scalpel to your best friend’s back sucks,” Sora says, unevenly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, Sora.” When Sora doesn’t say anything Riku offers, “What if I just start talking? You don’t have to talk back. But if I’m just going on about something, you’ll know I’m fine.”

“Try that.” Sora says.

Riku starts to speculate. “We need a drum for water, at camp. Maybe we grab an empty barrel and wash it out. We’ve got a spot to bathe here, but we need our own water, and a way to purify it. Bowls and bags, we can’t get enough of those. Cloth, rags. Wooden poles. Rope. We might be able to pick over the model houses…”

He spins a future point by point, stringing lines of thought like spider-silk between practicalities. He’s trying not to miss Kairi, her notebooks and lists, the color-coding that implied a system when all he saw was art.

It makes it easier to deal with the smell, Sora’s breathing, the soft schlorp sounds that seem to be coming from his back, the growing restlessness of sitting too still. It wasn’t easiy to watch the scalpel cut him, but there was some reassurance in being able to see it. For all he knows Sora is sitting there with the scalpel on the ground, or cutting the papery stuff on his back to ribbons. Riku knows Sora wouldn’t do that, but the disconnect is difficult.

“Riku? Sora?” A familiar voice echoes down the tunnel. “Pinoke’s all right, he’s what the hell?!?”

“Don’t yell like that!” Riku snaps at Jiminy as Sora yelps. “He’s trying to focus.”

“That’s — what’s —?”

“Potion side effects suck,” Riku says. “If you’re not here to help we’ll meet you at camp.”

“No, I’ll … be here? For moral support?”

“Good.” When Sora grunts, irritated, Riku changes his focus. “Sora?”

“The tongs aren’t working,” Sora says through gritted teeth. “I can’t keep my grip.”

“Use your hands,” Riku suggests.

“No.”

“You’ve got gloves on. Ask for better ones if you think they’re not enough.”

“No.”

“Sora, it’s you. I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t okay with it.”

Sora growls in frustration and Riku hears the clang of tongs hitting the floor and a whooshing sound. The schlepping sounds get worse, and Riku can feel goo dribbling down his lower back. Riku closes his eyes and talks about things they need, wishing he could turn into a statue, clean and inanimate. He spends an endless string of moments in painless disgust, regretting every living part of his body.

Then Riku hears three clangs and a thump. “Sora?”

“It’s done,” Sora repeats behind him. “It’s done, it’s done, it’s done."

Riku turns around to see Sora lying face-up on the floor peeling off elbow-length rubber gloves and flinging them on the ground next to the giant shells and the goo-coated tongs. The floor is slick around Riku but he crawls over to be next to Sora, who’s pressing his palms over his eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” Sora asks.

“I didn’t feel anything. Hey, Sora,” Riku soothes. “You did it. It’s over. Comics and slacking from here on out.”

“You said we need stuff. I can get it,” Sora says.

“Comics and slacking,” Riku repeats, firmly.

Sora still looks like a god, even prone, even though the sprig of green has long since fallen away from his ear. Riku is grateful that he’s propping himself up with his hands. It doesn’t stop him from imagining what it would be like to lay a hand on Sora’s bare chest, or the mental flinch that comes with the impulse.

Sora drops his hands to look at Riku. Riku meets Sora’s eyes, trying not to look guilty. It would be wonderful to cup Sora’s face in his hands and watch him smile again.

“Thanks, Sora.”

“For what?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Oh! Rules,” Sora says, abandoning the subject. “No lying on your back or your stomach. The gauze needs to stay clean.”

“Right.”

“No potions for a few days, unless you want to do this again.”

“Got it. Come on, Sora, the hard part’s over. Now we get to be lazy.”

“Hmm.”

Sora doesn’t sit up so much as launch himself upright. Before Riku knows it Sora’s lips are brushing against his cheek, and by the time Riku knows what’s happening Sora’s lips are gone, and Sora is already sitting back on his haunches, forearms on his knees.

“Okay. Let’s take it easy,” Sora says, smiling, and Riku’s world glows with unparalleled pleasure.

Chapter Text

The problem with leaving the bath house is that, as the terror and adrenaline of the situation ebbs, the rest of Riku’s mind comes back to him. That means that he has to think about the kiss, and the further he goes into it, the worse it gets.

As they’re changing (and Riku is looking very pointedly at the wall), Riku plays Sora’s kiss over in his head. It was nerves and nostalgia. It was childish comfort in the face of overwhelming bullshit. It was a reprieve from Kairi’s bad situation and all the other awful shit that had just happened.

“Oh, hey! Cladograms!” Sora says.

“What?”

Sora, who’s fully dressed, points up at the mural. “Cladograms! You know, the biology diagram stuff.”

“Oh.” Riku looks up. “Oh, that’s what they are!”

“Yeah!”

“Bones and cladograms in a bath house,” Riku mutters. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t have to.” Sora raises his voice and announces to the ceiling, “You’re a very nice magic bath house and we’ll come back to visit soon.”

“It fixed your jacket,” Riku says, his eyes lingering on the rows of stitches where the monster’s claws had caught Sora.

“Aw!” Sora says, with genuine fondness. “My clothes are clean, too. This place is great.”

“Yeah.”

The kiss was chaste. It was fond. It could’ve been fraternal, even. Sora’s family is better about physical affection, compared to Riku’s and Kairi’s. (Was better, Riku reminds himself.) Sora’s bound to be lonelier than anyone.

Except Sora has so many new friends here. He could go see Romeo and his secret passage, or whatever meatheads are in the Rough House, or whoever else he made friends with. There are so many things to do and so many people to do it with. Yet for some reason Sora’s really excited about reading comics and doing nothing with him.

“You ready to go?” Sora asks, and he turns to look at Riku and he’s just as sunny as ever and the line of his chin and curve of his cheeks are criminal, and those eyes…

Riku nods, not trusting his mouth. He mumbles an answer when Sora asks if he’s feeling okay.

This is unacceptable. Sora’s his best friend, Riku can’t let himself get tongue tied and stupid just because he’s hot. As they leave the changing room and make for the tunnel, with Jiminy hopping behind them. Riku sighs, knowing what must be done.

“Sora?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you put me in a headlock or give me a noogie or something?”

Sora gently bops Riku on the head.

“Come on.”

“That’s the best I can do!” Sora protests. “You’re recovering, a headlock is the opposite of recovering. I’m being a responsible friend.”

“I’m not going to crumble to dust.”

“Responsible,” Sora repeats.

“Ohh, I get it,” Riku says, settling into a call and response. “You don’t think you can do it.”

“That’s not gonna work.”

“It’s okay to be intimidated,” Riku says in the smarmy voice he specifically reserves to tease Sora and Kairi. 

“I can’t hear you, I’m too busy being mature.”

“Some people just have pudding arms, and that’s okay!”

“If I put you in a headlock, Kairi would put my head on a stick.”

“Kairi would back you up. You just wouldn’t want her to know you have pudding arms.”

“Stop it.”

“Pudding arms.” Riku can’t carry a tune, but he can sing-song his way through a taunt.

“I do not.”

“We all have our burdens to bear. Mine is being too good at everything. Yours is pudding arms. Life’s not fai—”

Sora practically jumps get him into the headlock. Riku smirks as Sora grinds his knuckles into his hair. He feels particularly insufferable as Sora lets go and scowls at him.

“I did that because I care about the truth,” Sora says, crossing his arms..

Riku beams at him. “Uh huh.”

“I’m anti-misinformation.”

“Very responsible,” Riku agrees.

Sora calls over his shoulder. “Jiminy? If Kairi finds out about this you tell her Riku started it.”

“Will do,” Jiminy says.

Riku sighs again. “I’ll fall on that sword. She’s already mad at me.”

“She won’t be mad,” Sora says, exasperated. “She’ll be like, ‘Riku, Maleficent sucks. Good job avoiding her. My new friends are throwing a party. The theme is not getting eaten by witches.’ You’ll see.”

“It’s not that. We got into an argument last night, when we were coming to get you,” Riku confesses.

“What were you arguing about?” 

Riku shrugs. “Stuff.”

“Ah,” Jiminy says quietly behind them, and Riku feels a thrill of worry.

Sora continues as if he hasn’t heard Jiminy. “She’s probably angrier about the whole fighting-the-giant thing. Just watch, she’ll be happy to see you.”

“Mm. What kind of comics does this place have?”

“Riku. She’ll want to see you.”

“Sure. Tell me where we’re going.”

Sora grimaces bbut starts talking about what he’s heard of this place, the comics he’s heard about. Meanwhile Riku watches him talk, the way his hands move, the way he cycles from point to point, drawing connections Riku wouldn’t think of …

… This is going to be a problem. The awkwardness dies as soon as they fall into their old patterns, but it’s a nuisance. The last thing Sora needs is Riku getting poetic and useless. Riku’s the only piece of home he has, and Riku also has to treat him better.

Comfort, that’s the key. Sora’s overstimulated and homesick, looking for comfort, a kiss on the cheek and an afternoon with an old friend. If that’s what he wants Riku will line Sora’s life as much comfort as he can spare.

When they cross the threshold of the tunnel, reemerging into the gambling den, Riku’s thoughts turn to the subtle things tugging at him. His thoughts feel light and fast, like throwing knives. He doesn’t feel the chafing of the surgical tape, or any trace of tiredness. He’s hungry, too, a roving, snacking kind of hungry. He feels pleasant instead of good, like every irritating or painful sensation suddenly went a lot quieter. After everything that’s happened, the dull sensation doesn’t sit right with him.

He’s being manipulated. Riku’s glad they won’t stay long.

Riku follows Sora down a winding route to a building tucked away in a little corner. Stand after stand is packed with comics, flimsy and foreign, made of paper that feels strange between Riku’s fingers. The covers promise action, gore, and ray guns, all depicted in strange art styles. It’s hard not to just lean on the stands and watch Sora excitedly pick through his options, enthusiastically chatting the whole time.

If what he felt in the bathhouse was exhaustion, then what Riku feels when he crosses the border into the campsite is total annihilating overfatigue. Riku is barely able to sink into the sleeping bag before he drifts off, too exhausted to dream. Every once in a while he drifts back into consciousness and sees Sora, still next to him, flipping through a comic.

At one point Riku wakes up with a growling stomach, and by the time he’s opening his eyes he sees Sora, unwrapping the cake and breaking it in half. He offers half to Riku.

“That’s yours,” Riku argues, only put off a little by the sweet smell.

“Tastes better shared. You know that.”

Riku grumbles inarticulately and takes it. The sweetness of it reminds him of the goo, so he has to force it down. He watches Sora polish his half off in careful bites, licking icing off of his fingers. The sight of it does something to Riku, both unwelcome and deeply appreciated. Riku hums happily, and closes his eyes. The rest of the afternoon slips by.

When Sora finally shakes him awake there’s a lantern inside the tent, and the sky outside is dark, and Sora’s saying, “Hey, Riku. Think you can eat something?”

Riku nods and sits up, hunger gnawing at him again.

“The moogle’s got potatoes and butter in the other cooler. Some are already ready.”

Riku nods again and stands. Sora leads him outside, where the sky is a dusky blue and coals glow orange in the campfire. The campfire is now ringed with four stools, with Pinocchio and the moogle sitting in two of them. The moogle is covered in a blanket. Pinocchio waves, but the moogle is silent and still, head slightly bowed. They look how Riku feels.

Jiminy bounces off of Pinocchio’s hat and up to them, and only when he’s close he whispers, “Hey fellas. The moogle keeps falling asleep, and we don’t wanna wake them by being too loud. Fix yourself a potato.”

The spare cooler is where it was, but now a group of potatoes, onions, spices, butter, and condiments sit on top of the cooler. Dazed, Riku prepares a potato, dicing up a very tiny onion to add to the other spices he’s mixed up, wraps it and sets it onto the coals. When he sits down next to Sora, Sora cuts a potato in half and offers it to Riku.

Sora’s potato is only seasoned with salt, oil, and the red fine-ground pepper that’s milder than it looks. Sora’s compensating for the mildness by smothering the potato in some kind of hot sauce. After a few bites, Riku gives up and asks for the hot sauce. Sora also passes him a cup and a water jug. Riku eats, drinks water that tastes like plastic, listens to the whispered conversation about what to do tomorrow. When his potato is ready he shares it with Sora, and notices with pride that Sora eats it as-is.

Without warning the moogle’s head jerks up and they squeak.

“Your potato got kinda cold so Jiminy helped me cook you a new one,” Pinocchio says, rolling a foil-wrapped potato towards the moogle.

The moogle looks at the potato, then at Pinocchio. After a moment of comprehension the moogle gets up, walks over to the cart, and pulls out two clinking six-packs of bottles. They bring them over to the campfire, along with two larger bottles and more tin cups, and then they offer one of the big bottles up to each one of them, going around the circle and pouring just a tiny portion into each glass. When they pour themselves a drink they raise the glass.

 “To travelers,” they say. “May we find each other in Light or Dark, kupo.”

They toast and drink. It’s some kind of bubbly, tangy drink, and it leaves a floral aftertaste on Riku’s tongue. It doesn’t go with the potato, but Riku’s not complaining. They ask the moogle about plans and supplies. Then the discussion dissolves into chatting, and the moogle excuses themselves, leaving the bottles.

“Hey,” Riku says, swatting at the air above Sora’s hand as he grabs one of the green bottles. “Don’t drink that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s alcoholic.”

Sora looks down at the ground next to Riku’s feet. “You’ve had one.”

Riku grins and tries not to sway. He’s been doing a very good job of not swaying, or singing. His limbs feel loose.

When Sora rolls his eyes and twists open the bottle, Riku gasps. “Peer pressure!”

As Sora takes a swig Riku appeals to Jiminy. “Jiminy, help, I’m being a bad influence.”

“I was on a fishing boat for months, Riku. You think we don’t bring stuff with us?” Sora asks before Jiminy can answer. “Is this your first time drinking?”

“No. I just have standards,” Riku brags, to cover himself. “If it tastes like piss, I don’t drink it. This is good, so I drank it.”

“It’s your second time drinking,” Sora states, and it’s worse because he’s right.

“Shut up, I hate you. Wait, I don’t,” Riku adds hastily. “That’s a bad thing, to say. I joke hate you for being wrong.”

“It’s okay Riku. I know you’re a square.”

Riku gasps and clutches at his chest, and in his eagerness to react he nearly tips over his stool. Sora reaches over and catches his shoulder, right him before he can fall. Riku pretends to be offended, privately delighted.

“You’ve just got stuff to do, it’s okay. The rest of us can kill off our brain cells no problem.”

“My brain cells need to learn their place,” Riku says, taking another drink.

“I guess if anyone could get away with losing brain cells, it’s you,” Sora says, and watching him glow with secondhand pride is painful.

“Smart, is he?” Jiminy asks Sora, and Riku’s heart sinks.

“So smart. They moved him up a grade when we were kids. He’s in like, all advanced classes, and he’s in the honor society. He was a grade-level representative for the student government…”

Riku could just let it ride, but he mumbles, “Sora.”

He was too quiet, because Sora continues, ticking things off on his fingers. “He’s the wrestling team captain, he would be baseball team captain if they let you be captain on more than one team, he’s in tech theater… I get tired just looking at his schedule. It’s incredible.”

“I’m not any of that, anymore,” Riku says, careful not to meet anyone’s eyes.

“… Oh. Because… yeah. I guess not.”

Riku can practically hear Sora’s face falling. He knows Sora’s thinking about the destruction of their world, and Riku can’t bear to let that despair settle over him. He takes the plunge.

“No, I mean that I was out of all of that by the time summer vacation started.” Riku waits, and then looks up, anxious to see how Sora is taking it.

“…What?” Sora’s making a face like he’s anticipating a joke. “All of it?”

“All of it.”

He knew Sora wasn’t paying attention, but the shock on his face still hurts. Kairi didn’t even bother to tell him. It must’ve been everywhere. He can believe it didn’t reach Sora, but Kairi must’ve known.

“I mean, I know you didn’t run for reelection, but…” Sora’s voice trails off. “Is that why you didn’t want us coming to your games and matches?”

“It would’ve been a waste of time.”

Riku hates the way Sora’s expression turns to concern and worry, the way his eyes dart to the side like he’s trying to solve the problem. Riku never should’ve brought it up.

“I’m correcting misinformation. It doesn’t have to be a thing,” Riku says. “You don’t have to say whatever it is you’re about to say.”

“What happened?”

“I’m not gonna tell you if you’re not even listening to me,” Riku says, needled.

“Look, I know what you said, but you’re… you.”

“Well, turns out you’re wrong about me. A lot of people were.” Riku shrugs.

“Did it happen while I was out? Or…” In the pause he can tell that Sora is sifting through memories with new context. “Fall. October. You started falling asleep in weird places. I thought it was a sleep schedule thing.”

“Trying to finish assignments counts as ‘sleep schedule thing,’” Riku says. “Never stay up all night to study, by the way. You can memorize some stuff but by the time you take the test there are weird echoes in your head and you can’t really control where your thoughts go.”

“Riku.”

“Jiminy, I don’t think going to school’s a good idea,” Pinocchio says.

“Hey,” Riku says sharply. Then, hating how much he sounded like his dad, Riku tries to sound encouraging. “You’re a kid, school will be great. It’s counting and reading and science experiments, that’s all fun. Right, Sora?”

Sora is still frowning, so Jiminy cuts in. “That’s right! There’s lotsa fun books to read, once you get the hang of reading, and arithmetic is something everybody can use.”

The conversation turns to placating Pinocchio about the concept of school. Sora keeps looking over at him but he pretends not to pay attention. By the time they’re balling up the foil and putting away the food, Riku’s avoided any more pity or prying. He waits for a follow-up, as he returns to the tent and finishes his end of day routine. Sora doesn’t come back.

It’s probably fine. There’s probably a second tent, somewhere in the Moogle’s supplies, along with a bedroll. This tent’s too small anyway. Riku tries not to look too much at the other side of the tent, the space where Sora could be.

If he’d been thinking about it, Riku would’ve remembered the fairy’s promise. She gave him one easy night. When he drifts off, there’s nothing left to protect him from the dark.

*

Riku is standing in front of the sink mirror, inside his bathroom at home. The lights are off. All he can see is the darker-than-black shape of himself reflected in the mirror. He’s watching his own shoulders heave in the mirror as he pants, grips the edges of the sink.

Riku doesn’t look at mirrors in the dark, because he’s read too many ghost stories. In this nightmare, he looks without flinching, deeply unafraid. There’s nothing in here to fear. He’s the scariest thing in the dark.

His shoulders hunch and grow in the mirror, and Riku can feel his hands changing. At some point he feels like his mouth is gone, but it’s all as it should be. When two lamplike, bulging yellow eyes appear in his silhouette in the mirror, he could crow with triumph. The rest of him was all cocoon. This was who he was meant to be.

With new claws he cracks the sink in half, bashes the mirror and the wall, pries it open and surges into nothingness. He has no mouth (and it’s good, it’s correct) but if he did he would roar and scream. He’s power with direction, he’s a force wrapped in darkness. Then he hits a barrier.

He slams himself into it, flailing, clawing, suddenly desperate, feeling the press of other dark shapes behind him, all slamming into it like birds against a window, a tide of bodies against an unyielding surface. Riku is wordlessly, soundlessly keening with eyes that can’t blink or weep, thrashing impotently against this wall, trying to claw his way through.

For ages he is pressed against driving force and an impenetrable barrier, thrashing and flailing, and it is painful and maddening and all-consuming. When he is too far gone to think, when every shred of himself is buried under the need to get out, he feels the barrier shudder, feels something thrumming through the sea of bodies, raw power humming in the dark.

When he wakes up he still feels that hum, and the presence of light, cutting into the dark, amplifying it, beautiful and sharp. On some instinct he crawls out of his sleeping bag and lurches toward it, only opening his eyes when he runs into the wall of the tent, batting at it as if he still has claws. It’s only when he sees his own hands that he remembers who he is.

Riku stops and hugs his knees to his chest for a moment, panting. To convince himself he’s in control, he stands up. The tent is claustrophobic. He unzips the tent flap and steps outside.

The dusk-blue sky and orange coals have been replaced with a midnight-black sky and the blazing yellow sodium lamp. The campsite is empty and still, but silhouetted against the light, sitting in a stool facing the park, is Sora.

The sight of Sora stirs love and fear back into him. Riku stumbles forward, not quite certain of himself. Sora turns around sharply at the sound of footsteps, face in shadow, and then turns back to face the park. Riku shuffles up and sits on the ground next to him.

The look on Sora’s face is totally focused, but when Sora looks over at Riku. He says something, but to Riku the words are just sounds, soothing and familiar. Riku’s attention catches on the sword on Sora’s lap, the boxy hilt, the jagged edge of his blade.

In the dark, in Riku’s half-monstrous torpor, the keyblade thrums with energy that could cut space and time to ribbons. This isn’t just a magic sword. It’s not even the stuff of myth, a heroes weapon. Sora is holding something that could make or unmake all of them, as beautiful and terrible as the end of the world.

Chapter Text

“Riku?”

It’s not fair, the way Sora says his name, like it’s the most important word in the world. Riku’s head snaps up, away from the terrible weapon, and he tries to grumble Sora’s name.

“Booze was probably a bad idea,” Sora says, gently. “Either you sleep like a rock or you don’t sleep at all.”

“Mrmm.”

“You need anything?”

Riku shakes his head.

“We can hang out until you go back to sleep. I might be boring, though”

Riku shrugs.

Sora smiles, but after a few more seconds his eyes shift back to the park. Riku tries not to look at the keyblade in Sora’s lap, which feels less like a threat and more like a promise, even now. He also sees Sora in profile, lit by the sodium lamp, the way he looks at the park with quiet, unrelenting focus.

 Riku understands why people paint, in moments like this. If Riku could, he’d commit every curve and line of Sora’s body to a canvas, the light playing off of him. He’d lock this moment into something solid, and every time he looked at it he’d summon the smell of ash and oil and the chill of the night.

In the face of all that beauty, something’s still bothering him. “Why’re you out here, Sora?”

 Sora looks down and away, and lies. “My sleep cycle’s messed up. I might as well make the best of it.”

Riku mulls over whether he should call Sora out or let it ride, but Sora keeps talking.

“If you’d told me you weren’t just having trouble sleeping last year, I would’ve done something, instead of just making coffee all the time.”

Riku rankles, but for once he doesn’t let himself say anything. It’s easy, by now, when people are trying to fix him, to keep his mouth shut and give the answers people want to hear. Next are the questions, as if he’s simply overlooked something obvious. 

Sora continues. “I wish you hadn’t been miserable. It sucks when something that used to make you happy doesn’t feel right anymore.”

Riku snorts, and the diversion from the usual conversation is enough to make him say, “It never made me happy.”

“What? But… you liked it. You always talked about it so much. You did it all the time. And the student government stuff, you said that was really important.”

“I wasn’t doing it because it made me happy,” Riku amends. “I’d have been happier doing stuff at my own pace, but this is what people care about. It’s all big numbers and trophies and important-sounding titles and money, and when you can’t do anything about the last one you rely on the rest.”

“Who cares about all that?" Sora asks, disdainfully.

“People in charge,” Riku says. “Look, if you want to get anywhere, you’ve got to at least pretend you’re invested in the game, and that means mastering whatever stupid system is in front of you. It’s not like getting good grades or winning a plastic trinket made me better, just better at playing their game. The student government was the only thing that didn’t feel pointless. Even that depended on politics and popularity. ‘Can you trick people into thinking you’re worth it?’ I could, and then I couldn’t.”

Riku stops. The conversation has gone off the rails. He waits for Sora to bring them back to more familiar ground.

He shouldn’t’ve waited, because Sora yanks the conversation in a new, terrible direction. “Don’t call yourself worthless.”

“I’m just being honest. Anti-misinformation. I spent so long jumping through someone else’s hoops that I turned into their bitch, and in the end I couldn’t even do that anymore.” The sound that comes out of Riku could pass as a bitter laugh. “The number of people who told me that I ‘didn’t care enough’ was so fucking funny, like, no, that poison’s in there, they didn’t need to worry. That was the one problem I didn’t have, because I spent so long listening to that shit that I actually believe it. Isn’t that pathetic?”

Sora hesitates for a long moment, so Riku looks up, scans the dark sky for stars. The thump of the keyblade on the ground is his first warning and by the time he’s looking down Sora has already gotten off of the stool and onto the ground next to Riku.

“No calling yourself a bitch either,” Sora says. “I’ll fight anybody who throws that kind of name at you. Who’s making you feel this way?”

Riku shrugs. “Not like they’re here now.”

“As soon as we find them, I’ll beat them up,” Sora grabs the keyblade. “And you —”

Then Sora cuts himself off, freezing on the spot. Riku looks at him, then follows his line of sight into the park.

A worker is standing in the halo of light, in an alleyway. They’re even stranger when they’re not in motion. The proportions are all wrong: a too-small too-narrow head on an adult body, massive hands that dwarf its head, yellow eyes with no pupil, iris, or sclera. It stands in a shadowed alleyway but that’s wrong too, because the light from the lamp should at least touch its face. The darkness across its body is blue-black, not the warm oily shadow of a bright yellow light.

It’s looking in their direction, at Sora. It hasn’t blinked. Riku knows what it’s staring at.

“Put away the keyblade,” Riku whispers, unmoving.

“It’s coming.”

“It coming for the keyblade. Put it away,” Riku repeats. “No sudden moves, just make it disappear. Trust me, Sora.”

There’s an air-distorting pop, and the feeling of power vanishes. The worker lingers, then turns, picks up a neglected broom, and starts sweeping trash out of the alley.

“That’s three times now,” Sora explains. “They get to the edge and then they stop and they stare at the campsite, like they just get stuck.”

“You’re out here because you’re keeping watch,” Riku says, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner.

“They look like the monsters that attacked our island. They feel like them. I’m not wrong.”

Rather than deny it, Riku says, “You’re keeping watch, alone, in a campsite full of people. Were you just gonna stay up all night?”

“We don’t have weapons except for the keyblade. Pinocchio’s a kid, the moogle’s smaller than Pinocchio and really out of it, and Jiminy’s tinier than both of them.”

“Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re recovering.”

“And you’re exhausted. We’re even.”

“Riku, if you get hurt we can’t use any potions. We’re stuck treating your wound the old fashioned way, and there’s no hospital here.”

“I’ll just be keeping watch. If shit goes down, I’ll get you. You’ve stayed up too long already.”

“No.”

“Sora—”

“No.”

A familiar voice pipes up. “I’ll take the next shift, kupo.”

As the moogle walks past them, hefting a staff with a large blue crystal on it, Sora says, “You keep passing out.”

“I’m rested, kupo. I won’t fall asleep.” They wave the staff in the air and it sparks blue; suddenly the air grows cold. “I can handle them long enough for us to escape, kupo.”

“Go to bed, kupo,”’ they insist, when Riku and Sora don’t move.

“I’m sleeping out here,” Sora says. “If something happens, you wake me up.”

In the interest of treating Sora better, Riku sits through the spike of frustration without saying anything. He doesn’t tell Sora that getting a magic sword doesn’t make him a better fighter. He doesn’t point out the fact that Sora’s been sparring with Riku for years and he still can’t block a hit. Riku really, really wants to beat Sora in a fight and pin him to the ground until he admits he’s being a stubborn jackass.

“Fine,” Riku says instead, his tone clipped but hopefully not sulky, and he stands up and walks back into his tent, which is progress. He even makes himself say, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Sora says.

Inside the tent Riku keeps seething, and he’s still sulking when he drifts off to sleep. As soon as he closes his eyes he’s in it again: a dark force pressed against a barrier, maddening wrath and nowhere to send it. He wakes up with a groan, sits up, and fumbles for a light.

He lights one of the camp lanterns and grabs a comic. He’s not getting any sleep tonight.

*
Riku is aware of the time only because the light outside the tent goes from nonexistent to faint blue to rosy. He greets the sunrise with the same dismal feeling he used to get in school, the feeling of running out of time. He’s already tired again.

It feels like he’s just setting down the comic and resting his eyes, and the next thing he knows he’s waking up to yellow sunlight. When he rolls over he sees cold food and a note in Sora’s blocky handwriting.

Going into park. Sleep well!

“What the hell,” Riku grumbles, sitting up and grabbing the bowl of rice in front of him.

The first thing he notices as he leaves the tent is that the campsite has changed. There are two new tents pitched next to Riku’s, but more drastically, the moogle has set up what can only be described as a workstation. There’s a set of six low tables which more or less make up a rectangle with a walkway in the middle. Gadgets and mats and books line the tables, and there are cabinets nested beneath them. The three tables closest to the fire pit are dotted with food, and the other three are dotted with gems and trinkets. There’s a low hum in the air, and Riku turns until he can see the generator, solar panels, and very still wind turbines several feet away.

“Good morning, kupo!”

The moogle hops down from a stool, where they were blocked from view by two boxy gray machines. They walk from the mineral side to the cooking side, and open one of the coolers under a table. Riku, still getting over the fact that Sora left without him, goes to sit by one of the remaining stools by the empty fire pit.

“Good morning,” he says, trying to remember his manners. “Where are the others?”

“Out, kupo. They were gathering materials for a while and bringing them back to camp. The door to the pier is being guarded by workers,” the moogle says, fishing a box out of the cooler. “I’m afraid I like working lunches too much. Power bar, kupo?”

When Riku holds up his bowl of rice, the moogle says, “Let’s reheat that, kupo.”

Riku sits while the moogle heats the rice in a portable microwave and boils water. The idea of being left behind is a sour one, but it wasn’t as if they could wait around for Riku to wake up. The moogle sits next to Riku with a cup of tea and a power bar, and the two of them eat together. The silence itches at Riku, and he tries to think of something to say.

“You’re awfully prepared,” Riku observes.

“Times of Light and Dark, kupo. My friends never thought we’d need half of this, kupo,” the moogle says, looking at the array of gadgets. “It was… we remember what it’s like, kupo. More than most. And I, ah,  have a reputation for being nervous, kupo.”

“It paid off,” Riku says, to make up for his blunder.

“Did it? Wherever they are, my shop-mates and siblings have almost nothing, kupo.”

Riku wants to ask how the moogle knows their shop-mates and siblings survived, but there’s a possibility that they don’t, and are just being optimistic. Riku’s already feeling awkward for bringing it up at all.

“We appreciate it, anyway,” Riku says, even more awkwardly.

Tactfully, the moogle changes the subject. “We’re able to bring things over from the park without consequence, so we have what we need, kupo. I think the others are taking a break in there.”

“Dangerous place for a break.”

“There really isn’t much else to do, kupo. I have my workstation, but they don’t. Everything and everyone is in there.”

Riku pushes down the sour feeling and stands up. “Thanks for reheating this. Where do you put dirty dishes?”

“Try the bucket, kupo.”

“Got it. If you give me your mug, I’ll wash it.”

Riku washes the dishes and gets ready for the day quickly. Before he leaves the moogle stops him. When he walks over they press a map into his hands.

“You’ve done a lot for me already,” Riku mumbles.

The moogle shrugs. “Travelers take care of each other, kupo.”

“Then let me do something for you,” Riku says.

“ I have what I need, kupo.”

“Then is there something you want?”

The moogle pauses, and steps back to the gem-half of their workstation. They reach into a compartment in a cabinet, and take out a cut stone. Riku walks over to them and they hold it out for him to inspect. The stone is opaque yellow with purple marbling, not the clear quartz of a pretty stone.

“We call this munny, kupo.” the moogle says, tapping the gemstone. “We use it as currency across worlds, but few of them know what it’s for, kupo. It’s fuel, kupo.”

“Rocket fuel?”

“Forge-fuel, kupo.” They gesture at the other items on the workstation, the jewelry, the trinkets. “To make a magic item our forges have to burn bright and sparkling, kupo. Munny is scarce in this world, but the times of Light and Dark have brought it back, and there’s more of it than I’ve ever seen in my lifetime, kupo.”

“If I find it, I’ll bring it to you.”

“You’re a good kid, kupo.” Riku can’t see the moogle’s eyes very well, but before they turn around to keep working, Riku swears that they wink at him. “Best of luck out there, and give my best to the others, kupo.”

Riku nods, braces himself, and starts walking towards the park. By the fifth step he’s practically charging at it, afraid of losing his nerve. The sensations hit him at once, pleasant and disconnected and subtly wrong. Riku tries not to think about it too much as he walks.

He makes for the gnashing gate, his only landmark, wondering where Sora could be. It’s as chaotic as ever, but maybe he’s getting used to the crowds, because the press of children feels a little more bearable today. He’s even able to wander between the games and stalls of Prankster’s Paradise before he gets too frustrated and overwhelmed to move.

“Where did they even go,” he mutters, putting his face in his hands.

Behind him, a child’s voice says, “Oh, it's you.”

Riku jumps and yelps, turns around and finds the sailor suit kid from two nights ago, straw in mouth, sipping something bright pink and bubbly out of a clear ice-filled glass. He narrows his eyes at Riku. Riku tries to pretend that he didn’t just jump.

“Um. Hi. It’s Alex, right?”

The kid’s eyes are still narrowed. He doesn’t respond, just slurps his drink.

“…Having fun?”

Alex drains the last of the drink and slurps loudly at the ice cubes.

“I’m sorry I hurt your wrist …?”

That gets Alex to take his mouth off the straw. “How sorry are you?”

“Very sorry.”

“Really sorry?” the kid demands. “Or just fake-sorry?”

“Genuinely sorry.”

“Hmph. Prove it! Come with me.”

Alex shepherds him to a game stall, moving quickly and impatiently. The stall features one of those milk bottle games, with stacks of rings on the side. Alex points up at the prizes hanging from the top, at a giant stuffed banana with a very simple smiling face on it.

“Grab that. I’m not tall enough.”

Riku looks at the unattended stall and picks up a ring. He tries to hit the bottles and fails.

“Just steal it, nobody cares.”

“That’s cheating.”

“Ohhhhhh, my wrist,” the kid moans, clutching his arm.

“Fine.”

Riku has to stand on the wooden counter, but he is able to unhook the banana from the top of the stall and bring it down. Alex snatches it out of his hand as soon as he can. Alex looks Riku over, then nods.

“You’re all right,” he declares, then points. “My clubhouse is that way. You can come in. You’re allowed.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Riku feigns what he hopes is the right amount of interest, and starts following Alex after he starts walking.

Riku’s never been comfortable with kids. They swing between thickheaded and cunning, timid and savage, and Riku can never find the right footing. Riku knows he survived being eight years old, but how he did it is a mystery.

Alex leads him into an empty building and a room full of stuffed toys. The kid flops into the middle of the sea of stuffed animals, positioning the banana behind him.

“There. Now I have a throne,” he says loftily.

“Very nice.” Flattery seems like Riku’s best option. “Must’ve taken a while to get all of these.”

“Not if you steal ‘em. The crane games are hard but the rest are easy.” Idly, Alex starts practicing the finger trick Sora showed him. “When I move on I’m gonna need giant boat for my stuff.”

“Where’s home for you?” Riku asks, leaning against the doorframe.

“Nowhere. I ran away,” the kid brags, preening. “My momma had another baby and she doesn’t love me anymore, so I left. She’s probably crying her eyes out right now, wishing she treated me better.”

“I see.”

“Maybe I’ll go back,” Alex declares with kingly clemency, “After I’m a famous adventurer and I’ve got a lot of money, then we’ll see.”

Lacking anything intelligent to say, Riku says what is probably one of the dumbest things that’s ever come out of his mouth. “Babies are pretty easy to impress. Toddlers are chaos on legs. And kids are ruthless. If you’ve got a baby sibling, you’ve got to get in on the ground floor to make that situation work for you.”

To Riku’s surprise, Alex looks like he’s considering it. “Huh.”’

Desperate to end this conversation, Riku says, “Welp, I better go find Sora.”

“Thanks for the prize, wrist-breaker,” the kid calls after him, which is not the worst way that interaction could have ended. “Check the Rough House. Sora’s one of the favorites out there.”

*

The Rough House is really just a network of tents, each housing a centrifuge of bodies and improvised weapons, with stands of potions and weapons tucked away near the entrances. Riku ducks through tent flaps and skirts around brawls until he walks into a tent that’s just canvas and poles over a pit.

Riku stands on the edge of the sunken bowl of earth, watching the scrapping, shrieking teenagers and children teem below. He sees Sora almost immediately, the white of his sleeves visible even in the dust, holding his own with a wooden sword.

There are five teenagers around him, all with blunt weapons, no slingshots or sports balls. Sora’s fielding melee attacks, not ranged attacks. The increased number of people and the tight circle means that someone is always at Sora’s back or in his blind spot.

In spite of everything Sora’s not getting his ass handed to him. He even uses a potion on himself after a kid thwacks him in the leg with a club. He still gets so focused on landing a bunch of hits in a row that he forgets to pay attention to what his opponents are doing, which means he’s taking as many hits as he lands. When he remembers to get out of the way, he does much better. His footwork is improving too.

This wormy, curdled feeling has no place in Riku’s chest. He lines up facts and memories like wave breakers but it doesn’t help. Riku tells himself he knows better, but his arms are crossed, his fingers are digging into his bicep, and Sora left this morning to spar with people who weren’t him.

Sora gets knocked on his ass by the last fighter standing, but the guy laughs, offers his hand. Sora takes it and, with help, hauls himself to his feet. He pats the fighter on the back, saying something Riku can't even try to overhear. With the fight over, Sora starts to look around, at the downed fighters, at the pit itself. Reflexively, Riku steps back as Sora starts to look up.

If Riku were the friend Sora deserved, he’d say hello. He’d meet Sora’s new friends, and stay on the sidelines, and watch Sora fight. He’d smile and it would reach his eyes, because none of this would bother him. Knowing what Sora’s done for him would be enough.

It’s not enough. Knowing he’s being stupid and ungrateful doesn’t help either. Riku leaves like he’s fleeing with a live bomb, and in a way, he is. There’s no place for him here, and it’s a matter of time until he blows it again.

Chapter Text

There’s a bar called The Busted Eye not far from the Rough House. Riku is aware that it’s not a good idea to drink anything, but there’s no reason why he can’t sit down. The lights are dim, and he can take a booth in the back without worrying that someone will talk to him. He’s surrounded by people and totally alone, which is perfect for the mood he’s in.

He leans against the wall, feet dangling off the edge of the booth, and watches the crowd. The bar is full of people, some of them way too young to be drinking so hard, but there are a few pick-up games of pool and cards. Riku watches other guys have fun with each other and keeps trying to mull over his problem. The person in the booth behind him is making it difficult. He has a loud, strident voice, the voice of an adult. 

“Now look here Gideon,” the voice says. “See all this? This is what happens when whelps cut their teeth on pleasure. Damned shame, really. No curiosity, no cleverness, no iron in them. All they see is the tankard in front of them — oh thank you, my dear, how did you know I was thirsty? — At any rate, they’re all grist for the mill. If we didn’t take advantage, someone would’ve.”

A hiccup answers the voice. Riku is about to start ignoring the conversation again, but the sudden sharpness in the voice makes his ears perk up.

“Don’t give me that look. We’ve dirtied our hands with worse, and we got paid less for it too. Anyway, serves them right, is what I’m saying. Sweat and meat and gold make the world go ‘round. How arrogant do you have to be to believe you’re exempt from it all?”

The thought that this was a cannibalistic plot did not occur to Riku, and in hindsight it really should’ve. He stays perfectly still, afraid that if he sits up the wood of the booth will creak and the people talking will notice him.

“Damned shame,” the voice repeats, mournfully. “Damned shame. The mainland will be a welcome sight, back to fleecing rubes and picking pockets, away from these creatures. Poor things. Poor damned, arrogant things.

Riku stays frozen in place as he hears the wood squeak. “Come along, Giddy. Two more days. Then we’re home.”

Riku doesn’t have a good view of them, but if he moves to follow them he might be seen. He doesn’t want to find out what they do to ‘poor things’ who listen to other people’s conversations. Riku keeps watching the front door, and he only realizes after a minute or so that they were leaving out of the back.

Riku sits up, his mind buzzing. It’s practically the worst ratio of information to ominousness that he could’ve imagined. At least he has a time frame.

“Heya stranger!”

Jiminy hops up to the table. “We’ve been looking all over for you! … Why the long face?”

“Something’s happening in two days,” Riku says, and explains what he heard.

While he’s talking, Jiminy opens a journal and jots down notes. Pinocchio climbs into the booth across from Riku, followed by a sullen Lampwick. Riku is having enough trouble describing it to Jiminy, so he doesn’t restart. Pinocchio listens for about a minute before he interrupts.

“Giddy! He’s Mr. Honest John’s friend,” Pinocchio says. “Boy, I’m sure glad they’re here.”

Jiminy says, “No, Pinoke, these are the folks that introduced you to the guy who put you in a cage and told you he’d chop you up into firewood.”

“People are trying to chop you into firewood?” Lampwick asks, looking at Pinocchio in alarm. “Give me some names, I’ll rough ‘em up.”

“It’s fine, the Blue Fairy saved me,” Pinocchio says nonchalantly. “I’m sure Honest John didn’t do that on purpose, Jiminy.”

“Do us all a favor and assume it was on purpose,” Riku says flatly.

Pinocchio looks between the three of them, puppet eyes widening. “But… they’re my friends. Aren’t you supposed to believe in your friends?”

Jiminy answers, “Pinoke, when someone runs with a crowd like that —”

Lampwick, of all people, interrupts Jiminy. “You remember the stuff I was telling you about running a grift?”

“Yeah,” Pinocchio says readily, wholly focusing on Lampwick.

“Oh boy,” Jiminy says under his breath.

“Just because someone’s your friend doesn’t mean they aren’t looking out for themselves,” Lampwick explains. “They might like you, but they still gotta get food on the table.”

“Oh. Like how Sora’s our friend, but you asked him to pay you even though Riku paid you first.”

“Sure.”

“And how Riku’s our friend, but you got him to pay you everything he had in his pockets, even though Sora was going to pay us.”

“… Yeah.”

Riku is looking at Lampwick, who won’t meet his eyes, while Jiminy says, “Do you think taking Riku’s payment was the right thing to do?”

“Well, Lampy says that’s how it works, so that’s how it works!”

“But was it right?”

“Hmmmmm,” Pinocchio’s eyes widen again. “Gosh, Lampy, I think —”

“Take your dumb rocks,” Lampwick interrupts, fishing Riku’s pouch out of his coat and tossing it onto the table. “Not like they were worth anything anyway.”

Riku grabs the pouch and pockets it. “I’m not sure we want to be in this park two days from now.”

“But if they leave first, then they take the boat with them, and any chance we have of getting out of here,” Jiminy points out.

“Getting out of here?” Lampwick snorts, and turns to Riku. “Look, Riku, I don’t know where you’re from, but lemme clue you in: nothing out there is as good as it is in here.”

“It looks good because it’s a grift,” Riku says simply.

“Well, that’s… huh.” Lampwick narrows his eyes. “Huh. What’re they after?”

“No idea, and I don’t want to risk finding out.”

“At least milk ‘em for what they’re worth before you split,” Lampwick proclaims, smiling. “Nothing better then taking the bait right out of the trap.”

“Yes there is, it’s called surviving the trap,” Riku argues.

“We can all agree,” Jiminy cuts in before Lampwick can laugh it off again, “That something’s not right here, and we’d best be careful.”

This time Lampwick rolls his eyes, and he slides out of the booth. “We got five minutes before you found a way to rain on this parade, beetle. Must be a new record for you.”

Pinocchio follows Lampwick without question. Riku waits for Jiminy to go, his knee bouncing under the table.

“Aren’t you going to follow them?”

“We should check in with Sora and the moogle.”

The wormy feeling is back at the thought of seeing Sora again, but Riku stands up and offers a hand to Jiminy. Jiminy hops up his arm and settles onto his shoulder. Riku stands up as fluidly as he can, so Jiminy won’t fall.

“I’m surprised you’re leaving Pinocchio alone with Lampwick,” Riku remarks, walking fast.

Jiminy muses, “I’ve been doing some thinking. Everyone Pinoke’s ever met is trying to get him to do what they want, and that includes me. I want what’s best for him, but still, my job is telling him what to do. Lampwick’s a no-good swindling layabout with a rotten attitude, but the only thing he wants from Pinoke is company. It’s not like Pinoke knows a lot of people his own age, since he hasn’t gone to school.”

“You called Lampwick a bad influence,” Riku says, opening the door into the brightly-lit street.

“I won’t deny it. Every day Lampwick teaches Pinoke something that he’s got to unlearn, but here’s the thing: Pinoke’s not great at following directions. You can tell Pinoke not to stick his hand in the trap, but odds are he’ll do it anyway to see what happens. He’s curious. He’ll always at least ask why something is the way it is. If I get Pinoke asking the right kinds of questions instead of just doing what other people tell him to, it’ll work out better for all of us. Lampwick does all kinds of things that fall apart at the first question, so it’s a good setup.”

“Sneaky stuff for a conscience.”

“Well when yelling ‘go to school’ doesn’t work, you try things that are less straightforward.” Jiminy says wryly.

Riku walks  and decides he has nowhere left to fall. 

“Are you dishing out that conscience advice to just anybody, or do you need a contract first?”

“Friends get it for free,” Jiminy says. “What’s on your mind?”

“I need to find a way to prove to Sora that I’m not dead weight.”

“… Why do you need that?”

“You know why. I fucked up yesterday and he had to take care of my mess. Then I told him about the whole school thing, which was stupid. Now he’s being nice instead of waking me up to help with stuff or telling me when weird shit shows up.”

“D’you really believe that Sora thinks of you as dead weight?”

“Not like that. He’s trying to take on too much, because he thinks I can’t handle it.”

“Okay. Then this ‘dead weight’ thing came straight from the inside of your head, so you’ve got two problems. One of them is that Sora’s doing things that upset you. The other one is that you’re feeling bad enough to call yourself names.”

“I’m just being honest.”

“No, you’re not. You’re being unkind. You just think it doesn’t count if you aim it at yourself,” Jiminy remarks offhandedly, and before Riku can chase that thought, Jiminy continues, “If a smart guy like you is calling himself dead weight, that means you’re thinking at a disadvantage. Which means we’ve got to get a few advantages under your belt. Pick one: a bath, a meal, or a nap.”

“I’m not a baby.”

“Oh, it’s worse than that. You’re a thinker. That means you like to pretend it’s existential despair when you really just need a nap. Join the club.”

“Look, I just woke up and I just ate, this is as good as it gets.”

“That leaves a bath.” 

“Jiminy.”

“Look: take a bath, go over my to-do list, find an easy thing you can do. It’s not a permanent fix, but it’ll get you where you need to be, if you’re going to tell Sora he’s upsetting you.”

“No. What? No. Why. You’re not even listening,” Riku protests, moving towards the tents.

“I am! Sora’s not looking for proof you can handle yourself. He’s looking for ways to help you. You try to prove yourself and it’ll go right over his head.”

“I’m looking for sneaky conscience stuff, not this.”

“Pinoke and I have been having the same conversations over and over without getting anywhere. You haven’t even brought this up yet.”

“This doesn’t solve anything.”

“Riku, you said you wanted to treat him better. That means taking care of yourself and letting him know what’s going on.”

“Oh look we’re here, guess we can’t talk!” Riku says, and ducks into the first tent he sees.

It really is too loud to hear Jiminy, because Riku ducked into one of the tents that is just a meat grinder of children beating each other up and shrieking. No one is taller than Riku’s waist but Riku can still get kneecapped, so he has to carefully skirt the edges of the brawl. He grabs some potions off of a rack and stuffs them in his pockets as he moves on.

They find Sora in the third tent, in a ring facing off with seven people while more watch from the sidelines. Riku’s stomach turns at the sight of Sora. There’s dried blood crusted under his nose. His right eye is shut, and the skin around it is so chitinous and swollen that Riku’s not sure he can open it.

Riku is already pushing forward, and only belatedly says, “Jiminy, hop down.”

Someone sputters, “Hey! Wait your turn!”

Riku climbs into the ring and shoves past the teenagers with weapons. They make some noise about it, but Riku doesn’t care. He keeps walking even as Sora sees him. Up close it’s worse. Riku can see bloodstains and dirt on his clothes.

“Riku.” Sora says, panting. “You’re —“

“Oh,” Sora says as Riku keeps walking.

“Wait, no,” he says, as Riku catches Sora’s wrist and elbow, easily disarms him.

“Come on!” Sora cries as Riku grips him, hooks his foot behind Sora’s heel and drops with him to the ground in a tidy reaping throw.

Riku pins him neatly while Sora growls and struggles. Sora’s always been shit at wrestling. Riku puts Sora in an arm lock and gradually squeezes until Sora grunts and taps him roughly, twice, with his free hand. Riku lets go and sits up, while Sora stays on the ground. Riku is aware that the boys behind him are talking, and he doesn’t care.

“That’s cheating,” Sora says. “It’s weapons only.”

“You lost as soon as you dropped that toy,” Riku says, sparing a glance at the wooden sword before focusing on Sora again. “What are you even doing?”

There are lumps on Sora’s forearms, probably more under Sora’s clothes. Sora drops his arms and holds open his shirt, showing off a single potion.

“One left,” Sora explains, simply. “I fight seven people at a time. Every time I knock somebody down, somebody else comes in. The point is to fight with a full belt of potions and go til I drop.”

“The hell is wrong with you,” Riku mutters, and gets to his feet. He offers Sora a hand. “Get up.”

Sora sprawls exaggeratedly on the ground and groans. “Can’t. I’m jelly.”

“At least put your arms up before I drag you out of the ring by your ankles.”

“That’s not the plan?” Sora asks, stretching out his arms.

As an answer, Riku takes his hands, pulls him to his feet, steps between his legs, and slings Sora over his shoulders. Sora yelps and wriggles, but not enough to throw Riku off balance. Riku spares a few seconds to look at the other boys’ faces as he carries Sora out of the ring, and keeps his own expression pointedly neutral. They look amused, if anything. A couple of them are sizing Riku up. There are a few jeers from the sidelines, but nobody follows them. As soon as Riku and Sora are out of the ring everyone else just start organizing the next fight.

Riku plops Sora down on a bench near the edge of the tent, which has a barrel full of water and rags, and a separate barrel for used rags. Sora crosses his ankles and looks up at Riku. Riku takes off his gloves and grabs a rag, which is warm to the touch. He wrings it out and puts the rag over Sora’s swollen eye.

“You’re a wreck,” Riku tells him, and he runs his other hand over Sora’s scalp, feeling for chitin. “You look like you ran face-first into a train.”

“They use batons here,” Sora says. “Short. Really difficult to block.”

“You say that like you know how to block a hit at all,” Riku grumbles, his other hand lingering on the side of Sora’s head as he scrubs at Sora’s eye.

“You swing while the other guy’s swinging,” Sora answers, and it must be Riku’s imagination that he’s leaning into Riku’s touch.

“That’s not how it works and you know it.” Riku tweaks his left ear and Sora squirms. “This was a stupid idea, top to bottom. Never sign up for that again.”

Riku’s too focused on the eye to notice what Sora’s doing, so when he lays a hand lightly on Riku’s side, just next to the wound and the bandages, it takes Riku by surprise.

“Does it still hurt?” Sora asks.

“Not while I’m in this place. I think the park dulls pain. You don’t look like you’re hurting half as much as you should be,” Riku says. “It’s stupid to fight in a place where you can’t feel half of the hits you take.”

Sora doesn’t move his hand. “You didn’t change out the dressing, did you? You’re not supposed to. It’s not like a regular wound.”

“I didn’t, stop fussing.” Riku rubs at Sora’s eye one last time. “Try opening your eye.”

Sora does, and blinks, rapidly, shedding crusty, opaque grit from his eye. Riku gently rubs at the corners of Sora’s eye with the rag, sweeps his thumb under Sora’s eye to catch the rest.

Riku covers Sora’s other eye with his hand. “Can you see?”

“Yeah,” Sora says, and when Riku crosses his eyes and grimaces to check, Sora laughs. “Make that face too long and it’ll get stuck.”

“It’d still look better than yours.” Riku drops the rag into the heap of used rags and slides his hand down Sora’s face, tilts Sora’s chin up. “Teeth.”

Sora bares his blood-smeared teeth, and Riku sees the shiny lumps underneath his bottom incisors. The visible teeth look whole, with no fractures, and Riku asks, “Anything loose?”

Sora runs his tongue over his teeth and shakes his head. “It was a clean hit. I spat ‘em out after I knocked the guy down.”

“Don’t brag about getting hit in the face.” Riku looks around and, after he hears a familiar whooshing noise behind him, finds a kettle and a cup of gently steaming water. “Uh. Thanks, magic amusement park.”

“Thanks,” Sora choruses, and takes the cup as offered, moving his hand off of Riku’s side.

Riku lets go of Sora’s face as Sora swills the water. Sora swishes, leans over, and spits into the dirty rags. Riku watches Sora wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, which is a mistake.

Worse, Sora looks up at him, straightens back up, and folds his hands in his lap. “Is my face okay?”

Something surges in Riku. He puts his hand on Sora’s head and grabs Sora by the hair, wrenches Sora’s head up and to the side. Sora winces but doesn’t resist, doesn’t even protest. His eyes stay fixed on Riku as Riku tilts and twists his head, looks him over. Riku takes care of a few little shiny spots. When he’s done, Riku grinds his knuckles against Sora’s scalp before he lets go, and Sora smiles.

“Same as ever,” Riku says, jamming his hands in his pockets before he can do anything worse. “We won’t get in trouble with Kairi, anyway. We should head to the baths for the rest,”

“You should also tell him about Honest John and Gideon,” Jiminy cuts in.

Riku tries to hide his flinch. He’d forgotten that Jiminy was there. Jiminy bounces up and settles back onto his shoulder.

“Right, that,” Riku says briskly. “Let’s go.”

Sora groans, leans back, squints, and launches himself off the bench. Riku catches him by the elbow as Sora stumbles. Sora smiles again, this time sheepishly.

“Fill me in on the way,” he says.

“I should leave you two to it,” Jiminy says, hopping down. “We think there’s something down there that runs against the magic that keeps Pinoke walking and talking.”

“That’s not good,” Riku says, trying not to feel like Jiminy is abandoning him.

“That’s right. Talking is very important,” Jiminy says obnoxiously.

Jiminy can’t leave soon enough, and Riku says, “Tell Pinocchio not to run off with any strangers.”

*

Riku spends the entire walk acutely aware of the space between him and Sora, and once they’re in the bath house it’s much worse. Riku is torn between wanting to look at Sora for selfish reasons, wanting to look to see how bad Sora’s wounds are, and wanting to look away and seem disinterested.

As for Sora, the most interest he shows is when he says, in the changing room, “I don’t think you should get the bandages wet, and you’ve got to keep them on. Sorry.”

After that, Sora is too absorbed in the problem to even look at him. The two of them spitball strategies: following John and Gideon, distracting the workers to sneak through the door, keeping someone in the park versus staying out of the park. They go in circles until they run out of options. By the time they walk into the warm room, they’re in contemplative silence. Sora submerges himself totally in the pool. Riku sits with his calves in the water, looking at Sora’s head as he sits on the steps next to him.

“Can I go through something with you?” Sora asks, staring at the ceiling.

It’s been a long time since Sora has asked that from Riku. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

“A lot of things.” Sora sighs. “It’s Kairi telling me ‘don’t ever change.’ It’s you being miserable, and me not realizing it. It’s monsters everywhere. It’s not knowing anything and being told that it means I’ll never understand anything. It’s you asking why we ended up on the islands, and what it means if we’re part of something bigger.”

“That is a lot,” Riku agrees.

“And it’s just… everything is open and shut at the same time. We’re on a new world, but people are still jerks here. There’s no one telling us what to do, but Kairi’s gone, and something weird’s happening here. We can be whatever we want to be, but the world could end again. It’s the worst of both, big and confusing and scripted.”

Riku kicks his legs under the water. “Who do you want to be?”

“Huh?”

“You just said you could be anything you want to be. What do you want to be?”

“I dunno,” Sora says. “That’s not the important part. Is it?”

“Feels like it is.”

“I don’t know,” Sora repeats, frustrated. “I just… when I said I wanted to see other worlds, I wanted to see things that were different. This isn’t the right kind of different.”

“Hm.”

“I just know that I want to build a life that fits us,” Sora says, with a kind of certainty Riku’s never heard before. “I want to give you and Kairi so many good days that they bury the bad ones.” 

Riku feels like his heart could melt but he manages, “Yeah.”

“Is that what you want too?” Sora asks.

“Yeah,” Riku says, more firmly.

Riku can see Sora’s head bob as he nods. “Then I need to change, this way. When we meet up with Kairi, she won’t be the only one who takes care of us. When it’s time to build a rocket, you won’t work on it alone. I’ll get stronger and better at stuff so you two can take breaks and slack off. So we can live the way we want, even when everything is dangerous.”

Sora doesn’t say it like a wish. He talks like he’s telling the truth, and it’s only a matter of time before the present catches up with him. Riku’s never heard anyone sound so certain of themselves.

“D’you think she’ll mind?” Sora asks, and it doesn’t sound uncertain so much as sad.

Riku thinks about it, and answers. “Not if you do it right. If you’re gonna do all that, you need to plan to stick around. No fighting til you drop, no staying up til you’re useless.”

“Got it.”

“And stay yourself, okay? Don’t get too serious. Otherwise it’ll be a real drag once things are calm.” Riku folds his arms over his knees. “Take breaks. Slack off. Don’t act like you’re in this alone, because I’ve got you.”

“I know.”

“We’ve got you,” Riku corrects himself, too late.

“Yeah. I know.”

If Riku keeps talking he’s going to be unbearably sentimental, so he shuts his mouth and thinks. That wormy feeling is still there. There’s also the cold realization of what they’ve lost. Riku is supposed to protect Sora, and he’s failed. No matter what he does, Sora’s never going to be that carefree kid lying on a beach again. If Kairi’s okay, she’ll never be a kid again either.

For the first time in a long time, that despair feels manageable. He believes Sora. He looks at Sora in the water and thinks about how everything’s been ruined, in little ways and big ones, but Sora’s still here, trying to bury him in good days. He can’t look at Sora and truly believe that everything’s beyond saving.

“Let me teach you how to block,” Riku says.

Sora turns his head to look at him and grins. “I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

When Sora decides to explore the other room of the bath house, Riku stays behind. Sometime after Sora leaves, a podium with a basin of hot water whooshes into existence, along with a wickedly curved metal implement. When Riku thanks the bathhouse but leaves the metal tool alone, splashing water on his face, the bath house offers him more: washcloths first, then a bar of soap. He thanks it each time. 

Riku should probably be worried, since this works just like the park. Still, if something that gives him a bar of soap is evil, they were probably all doomed from the start. Riku washes himself piecemeal, relishing the herbal, subtle smell of the soap. It feels much better.

By the time he leaves the room with the pool and the basin, Sora is lying on the floor of the main room, covered in a damp towel, dripping onto the tile, some distance from the spot where they cut the shells out of Riku. Riku walks over and lies down next to him, realizes that the tiles of the floor themselves are warm. 

“You know how that room’s hot?” Sora says, and as he points from one room to the next Riku notices the pebbly gooseflesh on his arm. “This one’s really, really, really cold.”

Sora accidentally brushes his fingers against Riku’s arm, and Riku stifles a yelp before he says, “And you stayed in it anyway, like a genius.”

“I thought it was a challenge to make you stronger.”

“Come here,” Riku says, and as Sora scoots closer Riku asks for a pillow, slides it under Sora’s head, thanks the bath house under his breath. “You’re going to get hypothermia.”

“I’m not.”

“Hypothermia,” Riku insists as he scoots closer,  feeling a little like Kairi. “Frostbite.”

“That’s not how any of that works.”

“You got beat up and now you’re freezing, what do you know?” 

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“What doesn’t kill you doesn’t kill you. Exercise makes you stronger.” Riku sits up. “This is an advanced case. Very serious. Only one thing to do.”

“Noooo,” Sora groans, laughing as Riku flops facedown across him, in what’s not a wrestling move but definitely an old standby. “This isn’t helping!”

“It’s an experimental new treatment,” Riku insists, propping himself up on his elbows as Sora struggles beneath him.

“It’s not peer reviewed!” Sora gives up with a dramatic final flail, and then sprawls out. “You killed me, I’m dead.”

“You are warmer, though.”

“Bleh.” Sora sticks his tongue out, and does a passable job playing dead the first two times Riku pokes him in the face, only breaking on the third poke as he swats at Riku’s hand. “Quit.”

“It’s not my fault you’re fun to mess with,” Riku says, smirking.

“You should be nice to me! I know where you sleep,” Sora threatens.

Something stirs in Riku. He aches again and can’t place why. He slides off of Sora.

“You want me to be nice?” Riku asks.

“… Yeah,” Sora says, as if he’s not sure what to do, now that they’ve broken the script.

“I’m not good at being nice, Sora, you have to walk me through it.”  Riku says, trying to keep his voice level, taking Sora’s hand. “Like this?”

“Yeah.”

“Like this?” Riku says, putting Sora’s fingers to his cheek and leaning into the cold sting of Sora’s fingertips.

“Yeah.” Riku was hoping Sora would sound a little flustered, but if anything he sounds more confident. “I like that.”

Riku’s being stupid. This is dangerous. They just had such a good talk and he’s about to ruin it. His heart is racing and he’s going to feel so, so guilty, but nothing can stop what he’s about to say.

“What else do you like?”

Sora props himself up into a sitting position, smiling now that he has a grasp of the game. He puts his other hand on Riku’s cheek. For a second Riku lets himself imagine that this could be something else. 

“Hug me?”

Riku obliges. Sora practically climbs into his lap, which is a problem because, up until now, Riku could avoid the reality of his swim trunks and the developing situation down there. He has to position his legs in a really awkward way and even then he’s not sure he isn’t poking Sora. He puts his arms around Sora and squeezes.

Sora leans against his sternum. “You’re so warm. Kairi’s right, you are a furnace.”

At the mention of Kairi, the guilt arrives right on cue. Sora won’t ask for anything else. He wouldn’t. Riku’s not the one he wants.

Sora still snuggles up to Riku, beaming, making gratified little noises. Riku tries so, so hard to be satisfied. This is more than he ever could’ve asked for. Sora cares about him so much, has done incredible things for him, and wants to build a life with Riku.

And yet Riku aches. He has a stray memory, from when he was a kid, when he asked why monsters had to kill people, why they couldn’t just eat normal food. His mother told him that a monster could eat a feast and still starve, because they could only be filled by blood and guts. She then went on to imply that they specifically looked for the blood and guts of little boys who asked too many questions instead of clearing the table, and finally snapped at him for being a clingy brat when he asked again.

Riku holds Sora, feasting as he starves. Sora is so happy. That has to be enough.

The moment is painful while it lasts and more painful when it ends. Sora climbs out of his lap and says, “Come here. I want to show you something.”

Sora leads them back into the bone-tunnel, and points out the entrance to another tunnel. Riku feels compact dirt under his feet, smells loam and damp and dust. Torches flare as they step through, dark to light, and Sora halts in place.

“Those weren’t there earlier today. Thanks, magic bath house.”

“What is this?” Riku asks.

“It’s the passage. Romeo’s passage, the one that leads to the circus,” Sora explains. “I was looking for him this morning — well, whatever morning is in here, I guess — and I didn’t find him, but I found out that the tunnel had grown.”

“Huh.”

“We can go get our clothes and —” The bath house interrupts him with a whoosh, plopping two crates behind them with their clean clothes and shoes. “Aw, magic bath house, you’re the best.”

They dress. Riku keeps his eyes to the ground. The ground is compact, but he can see Sora’s shoe prints from earlier. As he idly keeps looking at the ground, he sees the other tracks.

“Looks like something else was down here,” he says, pointing the tracks out to Sora as he laces up his shoes.

“Monsters, you think?”

“Maybe. See that shape? Those look like hooves. If it’s a monster it’s one we haven’t seen before. Or it’s another animal-person.” Riku stands up, asking, “Have you seen any animals here that are actually animals?”

“Nope.” Sora says. “Have you?”

“One bird. That’s it. I don’t even see bugs on this island, other than Jiminy. That’s weird, right? Jiminy said that Gepetto had a pet kitten and a goldfish, so we know animals are out there. It just… doesn’t make sense that you’d have all this food lying around and no pests.”

“It is magic,” Sora points out, shrugging on his jacket.

“Yeah, but even in the campsite outside the magic zone, I haven’t seen any gnats or flies.” Riku says, walking further up the tunnel, following the tracks.

Sora catches up easily and keeps pace with Riku as he fiddles with his gloves. “There aren’t ants or mosquitoes, either. We could try digging up worms, but the campsite’s dirt doesn’t look like it would have worms in it.”

“Yeah, and then there’s the fact that there aren’t any plants outside the park,” Riku continues, as he walks and torches flare to life in front of him. “No lichen or moss on the rocks. There are lawns here, but they’re so green and even. They’ve gotta be fake. I wonder what would happen if we left food out at the campsite. Mold is a living thing.”

“Do monsters count as living things?”

“They come from somewhere else,” Riku mutters, remembering the dream. “That’s the thing: I think every living thing we’ve seen on this island recently came from somewhere else.”

“So, what do you think that means?”

“I don’t know,” Riku says, failing to control his irritation. “It’s all guesswork. For all I know the theme park runs on blood sacrifices and the Coachman’s a death god. I don’t have answers, I just have a list of shit that doesn’t add up, and we’re running out of time.”

Sora doesn’t respond right away. Riku wonders if his griping is too much like their first night here, whether he should apologize. Then Sora speaks.

“Okay. We’ll meet up with Jiminy and try the door one more time. I bet the workers are still there, but I think we can distract them and make sure they don’t hurt Jiminy. It’ll be okay.” 

When Riku doesn’t respond, Sora waves in his peripheral vision, and offers him his hand. “Hey. It will be okay.”

Riku takes his hand, and wishes he could believe Sora.

*

Riku immediately understands why Sora and Jiminy didn’t try anything earlier. There are two workers standing in front of the door, motionless as statues. The only thing that breaks the illusion is that, when the three of them start approaching the bridge, the workers’ heads twist to face Sora with exaggerated force. Those yellow eyes may not have pupils but they are fixed on him. Riku practically has to drag Sora back into an alley and behind a trash can before the workers lose focus and face forward again.

“We have to distract them,” Sora hisses. “Going up there is the point.”

“I can try to sneak past them without a distraction,” Jiminy suggests.

“You’ve got a magic sword, Sora, of course they’re watching you,” Riku says. “I’m just some guy, I’ll be fine. You stay here. I’ll be the distraction while Jiminy sneaks in.”

“You’re not just some guy. What if they attack?”

“Then bail me out with your magic sword.” Riku takes a few steps toward the mouth of the alleyway. “Ready, Jiminy?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Riku feels the brief vindication of being right as he walks forward and the guards don’t do anything. They only notice him as he steps onto the bridge, and even then their heads move slowly. Riku doesn’t walk as if he was approaching a frightened animal. Instead he moves like he’s passing a wasps’s nest, each movement telegraphed, slow, and fluid. They don’t move, just twist their chins as he comes closer.

The closer he gets, the more he remembers the feeling from the dream, the taste of the dark current on his tongue. Riku looks between them, knowing without a doubt that they are the same as the monsters that attacked last night.

“Hop down,” Riku says out of the corner of his mouth. “Let me move forward first”

They don’t move as Riku steps closer, within arm’s reach. They don’t move as Jiminy scurries under the door. When he watches the workers, it occurs to him that they’re not still at all. It’s like they’re trapped, buzzing in place, not even free to move. Something is keeping them here, motionless.

“What did this to you?” Riku asks, in awe.

They stay what they are: unmoving, trapped, entirely not themselves. Riku is grateful that they’re not trying to kill Sora but the longer he waits the more he feels like he’s watching a fatal mistake, that there will be a reckoning. When Jiminy hops up and hisses in his ear, Riku is grateful to leave.

“Those are definitely monsters,” Riku tells Sora as soon as they rejoin him in the alley. “Something has to be controlling them, or they wouldn’t be still like that. Jiminy, what did you see?”

“The boat’s still there but the dock’s got workers scurrying around everywhere. They’re setting out all these empty crates. I don’t know what they’re shipping out, but there’s a lot of ‘em.”

“Did you see a way to open the door?” Sora asks.

“There is a bolt, but here’s the thing: the door’s unlocked. The problem is that there’s no lever to open it. It’d take several people to open it, and on top of that, whoever was opening it couldn’t fight the workers. You’d need a crowd just to open the door.”

“So we need people,” Riku grumbles.

“We know people,” Sora reminds him. “Besides, we need to start telling everybody what’s going on, or else they’ll get hurt.”

Riku could tell Sora that making other people’s safety a priority is a boneheaded move when they can barely guarantee their own safety. He also doesn’t argue how pointless it all is. Riku is facing mystery after mystery with scant clues and no way forward.

Sora’s already moving. “Let’s look for Romeo first. He’s got to be by the trampolines by now.”

*

After following Sora’s route down Windup Way, Riku can understand Romeo’s hesitation. The pulsing lights and the half-a-face archway decoration, which makes it look like they’re going down something’s gullet, is are a little much. Sora describes the creepy giant clown facce as he moves the panel to the secret passage aside, and Riku understands the need for a secret passage. Still, Riku doesn’t mind it, although that’s probably because Sora spends so much of the first few minutes talking excitedly. He even elbows Riku and waggles his eyebrows when they reach the trampolines, and Riku has to remind Sora to stay focused.

They don’t find Romeo. Sora asks around, but most of the boys either flat out ignore him, or give one-word answers, or they’re openly rude. Sora is a little withdrawn when they leave, justifiably so. Riku hates to see it.

“Those kids were assholes,” Riku says. “You did nothing wrong.”

“It’s not that. This isn’t like him.”

“We’ll check tomorrow.” Sora still looks focused, so Riku adds, “We can go on the trampolines tomorrow, if you want.”

“You mean it?” Sora brightens, and then forces his face into a serious expression. “We’ve got to be responsible. We’re running out of time.”

“Exactly. We’ve got one shot to enjoy the park before we fight a lot of monsters,” Riku says, feeling like a hypocrite. “We gotta get our slacking done now, before shit hits the fan.”

That earns Riku a real smile. “Yeah? Okay.”

“And we gotta win that,” Riku adds, pointing at a chunk of munny as he sees it in the crane machine. “The moogle wants it.”

“You got it.”

Dinner is quiet, mainly because Pinocchio comes back late. Riku makes fried rice with heavily seasoned canned chicken, mediocre but filling. The three of them tell the moogle everything they know, which feels even more piecemeal and insignificant to Riku when they list it out loud.

When dusk comes it feels more like a threat than an old friend. The closer they get to night, the more Riku worries. He can almost feel the darkness pulling at him.

When the moogle is alone, he approaches them. “You’ve got tea in the coolers, right?”

“What kind of tea are you looking for, kupo?”

“I’ve got to sleep, but…”

“Insomnia or nightmares?”

“Nightmares,” Riku admits quietly. “But they’re not… they don’t feel right. I’ve had bad nightmares before, but they aren’t this.”

“Do they feel like visions?”

“Maybe,” Riku allows.

“Kupo,” the moogle says, and this time it feels like a swear word. They hop off of the stool and walk over to a cabinet, reach in and pull out little sachets of flowers. “Lucernum calidonia. Are you taking any medications, kupo?”

“If I was I’d be screwed out here.”

“Mm.” The moogle eyes the tea. “It’s nearly impossible to control the dosage, and we want to test if you’re allergic to this, kupo. I’ll make you a small dose and watch for allergies while we share the tent. Is that all right, kupo?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, kupo,” the moogle says. “In times of Light and Dark, we remember each other.”

“Let’s hope we make it to some less interesting times,” Riku agrees.

*

The drive calls Riku back, the force, the mindless anger. Once again he’s in the swell and press of bodies, shapes against his own, clawing mindlessly at the door. Riku could drown in it, lose himself utterly, and it is right.

Except this time, a part of him is lucid. He doesn’t know how he knows, but something’s asking Riku to do this. He doesn’t have to play.

There’s no way to go against the bodies, but as soon as he stops struggling he feels himself getting squeezed out, pushed to the edges, eventually drifting away. He can’t tell where his own edges are, where he ends and the dark begin. This, too, feels fake, like a role.

Riku looks at his hands and tells himself that they are hands. The darkness takes shape and changes color until he’s looking at himself, aware of himself. As he watches, flat, featureless stone rises to meet his feet, until he’s standing on a surface. Up, down, forward, and backward exist for him again.

Something falls next to him, and Riku barely moves out of the way in time. Fragments of colorful glass tumble down out of nowhere, and a sword drops from the sky and lands blade-down in the path, right in front of Riku.

It’s a beautiful thing, with steel so bright it’s white. It has a blue hilt bracketed by a gleaming brass  pommel and cross-guard. The cross-guard is embedded with some abstract red-and-black symbol. Riku reaches for it. As soon as his fingers brush the hilt, it vanishes.

Riku feels the loss, but not keenly. It wasn’t like the keyblade. His dream-logic tells him that the sword is inside him now, part of him. Riku looks around as the shards of glass glint out of existence.

Above and to each side of him Riku sees nothing but cavernous dark, but somehow Riku can see the narrow path. If he laid down and stretched his arms out, his fingers and toes could brush the edges of the rock. There are no forks or directions, just forward and backward.

“You know what,” Riku says out loud, and then pauses and tries again because his voice is out of sync with his lips. “You know what, fuck this.”

He turns around and walks backward on the path, feeling less groggy with each step. There’s nothing to look at. Compared to the lifeless stone outside the park, this is somehow even more featureless, and infinitely worse. The only thing to keep him going is the inside of his own head.

Time must be passing, but he has no idea how much. Whether it’s been hours since his feet touched rock or minutes, he can’t say. He tries counting steps, but the monotony grates on him, and he gives up after 2,000. He’s not getting tired, or less sure-footed. He could probably walk forever.

Just when he’s sure that his biggest problem is going to be boredom, Riku sees something and stops in his tracks. A brown robe is draped over a hulking shape, standing in the middle of the path. Riku remembers it from the island, but on the island, he was too wrapped up in horrific glory to be afraid. Here, Riku knows, with the certainty of a dreaming mind, that this thing is a predator.

— You’re here sooner than expected.

It doesn’t have a voice here, wherever ‘here’ is. Instead the words overwrite the stillness in his head. Riku couldn’t ignore this thing if he tried. Riku keeps looking at the dangling sleeves of the robe, the shape of the robe from the hood to the hem. He can’t see the angles of the elbows, or the straight columns of the legs. The robe curves and hangs in ways it wouldn’t on a human body. The robe is camouflage, bad camouflage at that.

“What are you?” Riku says, and his voice is loud and level, but the sound is still a little delayed, and his own voice feels like an echo in his ears.

— You would like to know. The robe doesn’t move but the words feel closer, somehow. You looked straight into the Darkness, as it ate your world. How does it feel, for one such as you, to walk the worlds in ignorance?

“Where are we?” Riku presses. “What’s going on? Why is this happening?”

— There is a door, the shape says simply. You were on one side of the door, and now you are on the other side. You felt Darkness. You called it a current. Now you are experiencing Darkness in a truer, deeper form. This is an opportunity, gained by surviving it, by trying to understand it.

“How do I —”

— I answered your questions. You answer mine. How does it feel to behold these wonders and know nothing?

“Bad,” Riku answers, and only belatedly realizes that he never moved his lips.

— Would you like to do something about that?

Riku would answer if it weren’t for the leak. He can feel pressure escaping, as if they’re trapped in a capsule and something punctured the hull. There’s this draw, not strong enough to tear him from the ground but enough to feel like he’’s in a balloon that’s slowly letting out its air.

— Next time.

Riku flinches on waking, heart racing, head swimming, and sits up so quickly that he makes himself nauseated. His whole body feels rancid. The only thing keeping him from curling back up is Sora’s voice.

“They’re here!” Sora is yelling. “Everybody, wake up! The monsters are here!”

Chapter Text

Disoriented, Riku scrambles for the tent flap, struggling with the blankets and bag around him. The moogle hefts something large and metal next to him, and it hits the floor of the tent with a clang. The moogle grabs their staff and unzips the tent flap as Riku fumbles for the weapon, which is a machete-length knife with a tiny hilt. It’s awkward in his hands but he doesn’t have anything else, and the moogle is already running into the fight.

“Blizzara!” the moogle cries, and when Riku finally races out, in sleepwear, no gloves, he can feel the dwindling chill and see the wisps of ice in the air, see the last piece of a monster’s body evaporate into nothing. A phantom glimmer of pink catches his eye, but Riku blinks and it’s gone.

Riku counts seven monsters left: four bugs, three strange ones. The new monsters would look like bowlegged children if it weren’t for the red-tipped claws, the flat yellow eyes staring out from the visor of the close-helmets. As soon as Riku sees Sora by the lamppost he starts running. Sora is wielding that world-ending weapon, trying to carve out some space, but he’s flanked by three monsters. Riku doesn’t see blood or chitin.

“Sora!” Riku doesn’t intend to call him, it’s just the sound his heart is making, the rhythm beneath every thundering footstep.

“Riku get back, we can’t heal you!”

Sora’s focusing on one monster at a time, again. As Riku runs up Sora lunges forward, a move that leaves him open to the two abominations in his blind spots. The one on Sora’s right starts twisting like it’s preparing a spin kick. Riku swings to startle it, then thrusts the knife into the open visor, right between its eyes.

It feels like stabbing the giant. The blade sinks in easily, without tissue or bone to resist it. Whatever is in the monster’s head would keep the blade in place if Riku let go, but there’s nothing to wound. The monster just slides off of his blade and jogs to the side, arms dangling and flopping behind it.

Sora shouts, “Riku, stay out of this!”

“Focus!” Riku snaps.

He turns in time to see Sora behind him, lunging at one of the bug monsters that Riku didn’t even see. With a second swipe the monster dissolves, leaving a glittering pink shard floating up into the air.

Riku checks their blind spots and barely has time to block as the third helmeted monster dives at both of them with a spinning kick. The length of Riku’s weapon is awkward, too short, but the monster’s feet still bounce off the flat of the blade. Riku barely has time to blink before Sora charges at the monster: strikes, swings, then uses the momentum of the swing to cleave down.

Sora starts to glow with an impossible, warm light. By the time Riku has to shut his eyes Sora has a corona of light around him. The light washes through Riku with a strange kind of pressure that stings but doesn’t linger, much milder than that night the islands fell apart. When Riku opens his eyes the monster in front of him and the monster off to the side are swaying in place, dazed.

“What was — no, stop,” Riku commands, and as Sora stops swinging Riku turns to look at the moogle. “They’re stunned, we can use that! Moogle!”

The moogle, standing on the chair of the workstation for a better line of sight, shouts, “Move, kupo!”

Sora is already turning and running at a bug monster which is bounding up to Pinocchio’s tent. Riku takes a few steps back, keeping an eye on Sora. The monsters sway, oblivious.

“Blizzara!”

Riku’s head throbs as the temperature drops. It’s like standing in front of an open freezer, but there’s no wind or motion to it. The change in pressure gives him a headache. Riku watches ice crystals form out of nowhere and impale both of the knights. Each monster sends that pale pink ghostly after-image drifting into the sky as they dissolve, glinting like a polished stone.

Sora is running back up to Riku’s side. He plants is feet, crouching in his bowlegged stance, gripping the sword, looking around as if there’s one more monster hidden somewhere. There’s nothing in sight.

“We got all of them,” When Sora doesn’t move out of his stance, Riku says, “Hey, Sora, relax. They’re gone.”

“What were you thinking?” Sora demands, still clutching his sword like he still expects to use it. “What if you got hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Riku says absently, looking for injuries.
 
“You’re only fine because I saved you.”

“I would’ve been fine without you.” Riku turns to look at the moogle, because if Sora’s going to be an ass anyway, this conversation is worthless.

The moogle is frozen in place, staring at Sora. Their staff trembles in their paws. A soft, broken ‘kupo’ comes out of them, involuntary as a hiccup.

“Moogle?” Riku asks. 

As the moogle opens their mouth, Pinocchio yells, “Is it safe to come out?”

Sora shouts his answer so Riku can just barely hear the moogle whispering.“This is cruel. How can Light be so pitiless, kupo?”

“What’s cruel?” Riku demands.

Before the moogle can answer Sora shouts, “There’s another one!”

This worker shuffles much more quickly, stooped forward and swiping their hands in a way that almost makes it look like they’re crawling. They cross the line without hesitation, and all at once the smooth featureless body folds into a single point, the space warping and bending around it. It swells into a bug-monster, expanding back into the world through a pinhole of darkness.

Sora lunges forward. Instead of attacking, the monster flattens to the ground and retreats back into the park. Sora runs directly after it, and Riku is too far away to grab his collar. Riku starts running, but unlike Sora, he stops when the moogle tells him to wait.

“Make it fast,” Riku says as the moogle jogs up. “What’s pitiless? What’s wrong?”

Instead of answering the moogle lays both paws on his wrist. The sudden touch is jarring, but  the heat is worse, seeping into his wrist. As the moogle lets go Riku can still feel the skin tingling and aching, and when he looks down he expects to see pink, shiny burned skin. He’s not even flushed, and still the heat is spreading through him, coursing through his blood, first unbearable, then as lovely and painful as bright sunlight. Yellow and red static floods his vision. In three blinks, the heat fades and his vision returns.

“I can only give the gift of fire,” the moogle explains. “Hurry, kupo.”

With every wasted second Sora is going deeper into a park full of monsters, but Riku still says, “You’ll tell us. None of this cryptic stuff. When we get back, you tell us everything.”

“Everything, kupo,” the moogle agrees. “Go.”

Riku is already taking his first step as the moogle says it, and he runs into the park, feels the cacophony and sharp mindset close around him as if he was diving into water. Riku runs forward, because Sora ran forward. There’s no way to know where Sora went, so Riku hastily climbs a crate, grabs onto the overhang of a roof, and hauls himself up.

He keeps running along the roofs, grateful for the park’s sharpening effect on his thoughts, scanning alleys for red and white and yellow, or the glint of metal. In the end, sound tips him off instead of sight: splintering wood, Sora’s grunts. Riku finds Sora fighting in an alley, soldier-monsters on both sides.

Riku doesn’t hesitate. He takes out the sword-machete and leaps, driving the blade down on one of the soldiers behind Sora’s back. Sora yelps in frustration.

“What part of ‘stay safe’ do you not understand!?” Sora snaps as Riku starts on the bug-monster.

“The part where you don’t, you hypocrite,” Riku answers, stabbing at the bug, feeling a small twinge of satisfaction as it finally dissolves under the knife and sends a pink shard into the air. “I can’t let you fight on your own.”

“You can. I was in the tents by myself for hours,” Sora retorts between swings as Riku stabs at another bug.

“And at the end you looked like shit,” Riku quips, but he’s distracted enough that one of the bugs claws his forearm.

Riku stifles a groan as he slashes at it once, twice, three times. On the third swing he cuts air, as the monster dissolves, leaving his side of the alley empty. Only then does Riku inspect the damage. The monster tore into the bony side of his arm instead of the fleshy underside, so the bleeding could be worse. Still, Sora’s going to be unbearable if he sees this.

Just as Riku takes a cloth from his pocket and starts putting pressure his forearm, a final pink heart floats into the sky, and the keyblade disappears with a pop. Riku fixes his eyes on the roof as Sora turns around. As Sora yelps, Riku is already talking.

“Alleys are terrible to fight in, you need open spaces,” Riku says calmly, over Sora’s sputtering, while a first aid kit whooshes into existence in Riku’s peripheral vision. “Thank you, magic park. Anyway, we should —”

Something else whooshes into existence behind him, and before Riku can turn around and see what it is Sora closes the distance between them. He rakes Riku’s heel and tumbles down with him. Riku falls onto a thick wrestling mat instead of cobblestones, familiar and stubbly against his shoulders.

Riku lands well but Sora lands on top of him, one hand pinning Riku’s uninjured wrist, the other keeping pressure on Riku’s injured forearm. It’s not even a real hold, but Riku’s too surprised to do anything but try to sit up.

“What the hell?” Riku asks, pushing against him.

“No.”

Sora’s teeth are bared, his eyes fierce. There’s something frenzied about the way he’s panting and gripping Riku’s arms. For once Sora looks how Riku feels.

Still, Riku keeps pushing. “Throwing a tantrum won’t —”

“You don’t listen.” Sora’s voice climbs, and it wavers on the last word, hinting at a breakdown that nobody needs.

Riku uncurls his fists and relaxes. “I’m listening.”

Riku watches as Sora’s grip loosens, his shoulders drop, his breathing levels out. Slowly, Sora lets go of Riku’s wrist to grab the first aid kit. It takes a while before Sora says anything.

Finally, as he swaps out his own gloves for rubber gloves, Sora says, “I need you to go back. What’s it gonna take for you to stay out of this?”

“If you’re fighting, I’m fighting,” Riku says simply. “This isn’t three-on-one matches or pit brawling. This is real.”

Sora mops the blood off of Riku’s arm, his expression stormy.

Riku presses him. “You’re the one with a magic sword. If you get hurt or you can’t make it back to camp, we’re fucked. Going alone is stupid. You know that.”

“Don’t.”

Riku is right, but logic is wasted on Sora. It’s been hours and Sora hasn’t slept at all. They’ve got a long night ahead of them.

The feeling of Sora’s fingers on his arm and the pressure of Sora straddling him is, unfortunately, having an effect. Riku is afraid to move, afraid that if he so much as breathes wrong there will be consequences he can’t bear. It’s definitely too awkward to be comfortable, and yet Sora’s hands are warm, and Riku is enjoying how Sora’s weight feels on top of him. Riku feasts. Riku starves.

“Potions,” Sora says finally. “Hang back and throw potions, like Kairi does. If you can’t do that, you’re just in the way.”

The insults land, killing anything else Riku is feeling. It’s not just the fact that Sora compared him to Kairi, who doesn’t even try to fight. It’s the implication that Riku doesn’t know his place, the ego behind that implication. Sora got a magic weapon and now he thinks he’s hot shit. Riku got injured and now Sora thinks Riku’s incapable. All Riku needs to do to win this argument is wrestle Sora, pin him, and remind him which of them actually knows what they’re doing.

Sora’s hands are trembling slightly as he starts wrapping bandages over the gauze, which is quickly soaking up Riku’s blood. Riku can barely feel any pain, but looking at a still-bleeding wound is disturbing. He knows that there are platelets and things that his body will do to put itself back together, but it’s weird to see himself leak so continuously, with no magic to patch it. Sora is staring at the gauze like it’s all he can see. As soon as Sora ties off the bandage he takes Riku’s hand in both of his own and presses his forehead to Riku’s knuckles.

Riku should’ve taken care of himself. It’s the second time in as many days that Sora’s had to patch him up. That’s not fair.

“If that’s how you want to play it, I will,” Riku says. “Just for tonight.”

Riku taps Sora’s thigh twice with his free hand. Sora lets go without hesitation. Once he’s standing, Sora offers a hand to Riku. Riku could push himself up, show Sora that he doesn’t need to be babied. For some reason Riku takes Sora’s hand instead.

“We do need to stay out of these alleys,” Riku says as Sora pulls him to his feet. “The roofs are stable, let’s climb up.”

“‘Kay. Watch your arm.”

Sora climbs up first, reaches down to help Riku up. To keep the peace, Riku accepts the help again. He also lets Sora keep holding his hand after he’s solidly on the roof.

Screaming cuts through the calliope music, too distressed to be the reckless whooping of children. A cluster of fireworks pop off immediately afterward, and Sora’s hand slips out of Riku’s as they start to run toward the light and the noise. As they near the street, Riku can see soldiers and bug-monsters oozing from the shadows from both sides of the street as boys scream and flee. Three of them are trying to fight.

One of the three fighters yells, “Guess they didn’t like the fire, boys! Hit ‘em again, Eugene, what’re you waiting for?!”

Presumably it’s Eugene who shouts, “Gee, I dunno, maybe I only have three goddamn cherry bombs left!”

“Stop being a stingy bastard, not like you can use ‘em in hell!” a third voice bellows, and Eugene protests, and the conversation keeps going.

Riku keeps pace with Sora but doesn’t follow him down into the street, instead stopping on the edge. The fleeing kids scattering like lizards, running into buildings and slamming doors. The three fighters are several feet from each other, which is a reliably solid strategy when the numbers are even, but these fighters are definitely outnumbered. It’s a wide avenue, but there are several monsters on either end of the street, and more might be coming. There’s a large incriminating scorch mark next to an alley wall, surrounded by several charred slats. Sora runs over to the group and takes his place, sword drawn.

Ignoring the feeling that he should be down there, Riku starts counting. There are definitely five of the soldier-monsters, but Riku keeps losing track of the bugs because they keep skittering in wild patterns. By Riku’s guess the four of them are outnumbered at least three to one. Riku alternates between watching them fight and eyeing the other ends of the street and the alleyways. The current - Darkness - is here but not tugging at him yet. It feels like standing on wet sand and knowing that the waves will touch down again soon.

Sora is killing the monsters quickly, but he keeps pursuing one soldier, and the monofocus is leaving him open. The others aren’t even paying attention to him, they’re just throwing themselves at the bugs with the same reckless abandon, swinging clubs and fists at unarmored monsters. It makes sense, but that means Sora is dealing with the soldiers alone. Riku winces along with Sora as one soldier’s claws rake across Sora’s shoulders, tearing his jacket. It would be premature to throw a potion now, but knowing that doesn’t quell the urge to do something, anything.

Worse, Riku can see another soldier running a curved path around Sora, its arms dangling insolently behind it, while Sora hammers away on the soldier that hurt him. It stops right in Sora’s blind spot and focuses its uncanny eyes on him. Riku shouts but his warning is swallowed up by the other boys yelling at each other. As it winds up Riku shouts louder, gestures at the unseen monster. It’s going to kick Sora, it’s going to pummel Sora and Riku can’t do anything about it, Riku’s just going to watch his best friend get hurt —

Heat builds in Riku’s chest. Red and yellow static clouds the edges of his vision. This is unacceptable. He gestures with his palm and a word comes out, unbidden.

Riku doesn’t see how the fireball forms. He just sees it arc, neatly, through the air, and strike the soldier monster in the back. Every face, monstrous and human, turns towards him. Riku feels Darkness stirring under his feet.

“Your friend has bombs? Awesome!” the tallest fighter crows.

Sora doesn’t respond because he’s busy running and jumping at the other soldier, which is advancing towards Riku. Sora cleaves through it with one strike. When his feet hit the ground, Sora looks up at Riku. Riku’s half-expecting a scowl, but Sora is grinning a trickster’s grin, wide and wicked. Riku grins back.

It’s much easier after that. Riku aims at the monsters on the edges, or the soldiers maneuvering themselves into a position to attack from a blind spot. Anything closer than that would risk hurting someone, and besides that, Riku can feel something drain out of him every time he summons the fire. The fighters do well on their own. There are more fireballs than potions. Riku only throws out one potion for Sora.

When the street is clear, Riku barely glimpses the red shape, bright as as a fresh paper cut, coming out of the alley. Riku jumps down and joins the group immediately, but can’t whisper a warning to Sora before the Coachman arrives.

Luckily one of the fighters, a young black-haired guy with bad acne and a scar on his head, talks first. “You got some nerve, old man! What kinda scam are you running?”

“I’m so glad you boys are safe!” the Coachman says, oozing insincere concern, as Riku reflexively takes Sora’s hand. “I’m afraid I’ve made a terrible mistake!”

“Well fix it, Pops, we got shit to do,” snaps one of the others, a shorter brown-haired fighter with an unfortunate attempted mustache, who seems to be about Riku’s age.

“I’m afraid it’s not that simple.” The Coachman’s face is a mask of remorse. “You see, I’ve never had so many boys come to my park at once. I was afraid I wouldn’t have enough help to keep the park running. So when a woman in a black cloak turned up and offered help — “

“Maleficent!” Sora says, squeezing Riku’s hand.

“What kind of deal did you make?” Riku asks, not taking his eyes off the Coachman. “Her generosity is finite. She doesn’t offer stuff for free.”

If the Coachman looks at Riku strangely or seems to hesitate, no one comments, and the Coachman keeps explaining, “She wanted to know how the park works. In exchange, she’d lend me her workforce. Now that workforce is hell-bent on attacking kids. Boys, I’m an old man, and there’s only so much I can do —“

“Don’t worry, we’ll stop ‘em!” Sora says, with so much zeal that Riku wants to elbow him. 

The last fighter is a mountain of a man, bald, freckled and scarred, with a thick chest and arms like tree trunks. He crosses those arms and rumbles, “What’s in it for us?”

“Nick!” Sora protests, but he’s the only one.

“Gold,” the Coachman says, so easily that Riku knows it has to be a lie. “I swear to you, boys, this park is my legacy. Clear these monsters out and I’ll give you as much gold as your arms can carry.”

“Not a bad start,” the fighter with the unfortunate mustache says.

“Come on,” Sora says, already moving, already pulling Riku away. “You heard him, they’re attacking people. We gotta move.”

Riku allows himself to be dragged away, knowing it’s for the best. He keeps looking at the Coachman, as if he can find something written on his face. The only thing that Riku catches is how the Coachman smiles before he turns and walks away.

Chapter Text

Time is strange here. Riku doesn’t feel tired, and Sora isn’t flagging either. The only way Riku can track the time is by counting skirmishes. Since he started counting, the group has run into at least six clusters of heartless. None of them were any more challenging than the first.

They have a rough formation now. As they make their way toward Prankster’s Paradise, Nick, the mountain of a fighter, takes the lead. Sora stays behind him, along with Carlo, the fighter with the slicked-back brown hair and the lip stubble. Riku brings up the rear with Eugene, who is much happier after he found a barrel of bombs. Riku hasn’t used the strange power again. He was able to grab a few bombs and a slingshot from the barrel. He doesn’t want the other fighters to ask questions.

Carlo is decent at close quarters combat, and even though his hair shines like a polished floor, his tactical decisions aren’t bad. Eugene, the lanky one with the black hair and the bad acne, is a good shot. Nick is probably Riku’s favorite: a tank who’s always the first to start throwing punches, his forearms and face criss-crossed with white and pink scars. Riku really, really wants to fight Nick. As it is, Riku’s more than happy to fight alongside him, or any of them. They’re probably great sparring partners.

It’s the talking Riku can’t stand.

“ — Tight little ass, and wouldn’t you know it, she shit herself as I was pulling out,” Carlo, who must be a few years younger than Sora, continues bragging while they walk. “All over the rug!”

Walking in step with Riku, Eugene cackles. “She used you like her own personal latrine!”

“She didn’t shit on me!”

“So that’s why you always reek! Listen, Riku,” Nick addresses Riku over his shoulder. “Fellas around here do know how to wash their dicks, but Carlo here —”

“I wash — aw, what do you know, you assholes! You ain’t never had a girl from the back before, so obviously you don’t know how it works,” Carlo recovers. “Anyway, so we hear the door open, and I had to go out the window, right? When I saw her a few days later, her eyes were just red, like she’d been crying all night. It turns out, her parents saw the shit on the rug, and get this: she blamed the dog. Her parents put the dog down.”

Appalled, thrilled, Nick says, “No!” 

“They gave it the rabies treatment? No! Jesus Christ,” Eugene says through fits of laughter. “You’re a dog killer!”

‘I’m not the one who killed it,” Carlo protests, preening. “It’s her fault for taking it on the rug. Prissy bitch didn’t want to get her knees dirty.”

“All right, Carlo, who actually did this?” Nick demands. “Where’d you hear it from?”

“Hear it from? Nicky.”

“If this happened to you we wouldn’t’ve heard the end of it for weeks,” Nick says, while Eugene is laughing so hard that he’s falling behind. “Spill the beans. Who’re we really talking about?”

“You know what your problem is? You got no faith. None at all.” Carlo adds, “Well, that and you got nothin’ between your legs, so.”

“If I got nothin’, how come I got a dame and you don’t?”

“You’re under that broad’s heel. I’m smart enough to leave ‘em as soon as they start having feelings at me.”

“Listen, me and Loretta are in it for the long haul, and you’re gonna end up dying when a fat biddy with no teeth rolls over onto you in her sleep and crushes you like a wine grape.”

“What a glorious way to go, smothered in a woman’s tits,” Carlo sighs, then jabs, ”You’ll be on your deathbed and still begging that hag to put out.”

“Loretta’s loaded. A real stuck up bitch,” Eugene explains to Riku, who absolutely didn’t ask. “Poor Nicky still thinks he has a shot.”

“Sora, back me up,” Nick calls to Sora, and Riku immediately focuses. “Us romantics gotta stick together.”

Sora hasn’t looked over his shoulder in minutes. Understandably, he hasn’t joined the conversation more than he had to. Sora doesn’t flinch, but his shoulders twitch. Nobody but Riku seems to notice.

“Riku, you gotta tell us about Kairi,” Carlo commands, as Riku’s stomach sinks. “Sora’s giving us nothing. I mean our boy can’t be starstruck over a broom, can he? Tell me this dame’s got some oomph to her.”

“I told you about her,” Sora says, and his voice is flat instead of frustrated.

“You gave us a wanted poster,” Eugene says, amused. “Blue eyes, red hair, ‘this tall’ — you won’t even tell us about her legs.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s a gentleman,” Nick cuts in, earning Riku’s gratitude. “You’re slobbering over her like a bunch of bird dogs.”

“Be honest, though, those legs —” Carlo conspires over his shoulder to Riku.

“She’s Sora’s girlfriend,” Riku says, to all of them, his voice louder than he’d like. “Leave it alone.”

There: he can say it out loud, and it only breaks his heart a little. He’s still walking, in spite of the feeling that half of his body has sunk into the earth. That raw, sucking hollowness in his chest hasn’t killed him yet. 

Riku’s hope for peace goes unanswered, because Nick whistles and says, “Sora, you’ve been holding out on us! You sealed the deal?”

“Those legs, though,” Carlo repeats firmly, raising his eyebrows at Riku.

“He ain’t sealed the deal any more than you have, Nick. Don’t worry, Sora, rich dames are all the same,” Eugene assures him. “It’s not your fault she doesn’t put out, they’re just like that.”

For the first time in minutes Sora is looking over his shoulder, but he’s not looking at any of the other fighters. Instead his eyes are locked on Riku, and the thunderous expression on his face is … angry? Betrayed?

Riku meets Sora’s eyes, his own anger rising. Riku’s not the one who kept a secret. Sora’s not the one who’s been shut out. If Sora thinks he’s the victim here, Riku’s ready to correct him.

He doesn’t get the chance.

“Hey.” Eugene jabs an elbow in Riku’s side and points at the skyline, and the only thing stopping Riku from hitting him is how serious his tone is. “Did you see that?”

Riku follows Eugene’s finger. The street continues through an archway in a stucco wall, sloping down into Prankster’s Paradise. Over the wall Riku can see the sweeping roller coaster tracks, the curve of the wheel, and the azure-and-beige canvas of a balloon. The smell of burning sugar and frying oil wafts gently up the street, along with the jangle of calliope music.

“What am I looking for?” Riku asks.

“Something went into the cop balloon,” Eugene says, loud enough for the others to hear, and Riku watches as the canvas ripples.

“You’re full of…” Carlo trails off as the balloon’s canvas bulges and warps.

There must be a monster in there, because it looks like something’s writhing under the cop’s skin. When the balloon finally pops the sound is deafening, inexplicably stopping the calliope. Shards of blue and beige float down as a donkey monster, with eyes as yellow as a sodium lamp, its coat streaked with different shades of blue, thumps to the ground, landing somewhere in the stalls and tents of the Paradise.

Eugene yells, “Nope!”

Carlo and Nick start talking over each other Sora skirts around Nick and starts running down the street, keyblade materializing into his hands. Riku darts after Sora, dodging the other boys, then starts sprinting as he follows Sora through the archway, into a winding maze of booths and stalls. Riku’s not sure whether the other fighters are behind him, but he can’t stop. If he stops he’ll lose Sora.

Light and color assault him as he runs, but Riku keeps his eyes on Sora’s jacket, never lets him out of his sight. Riku’s panting, pushing himself as hard as he can, but Sora still has a lead. The longer Sora runs the more Riku realizes that he won’t just catch up, he can’t close the gap. He’s always been fast enough, but not today. 

Riku is still running down a corridor while Sora runs into the center of a small square lined with booths and stalls, and before Riku can do anything Sora turns and dashes out of sight.

Feet pounding against the dirt path, Riku takes as deep a breath as he can and shouts, “Sora!”

He reaches the center of the square certain that Sora hasn’t heard him. He’s still taking a breath when Sora knocks into him, keyblade gone, hands on Riku’s elbows.

“You’re not safe,” Sora says, wild-eyed. “It’s huge. Get away from here.”

“For fuck’s sake, this again?”

“You almost died when you were fine, and now you’re hurt and we can’t —”

“ — You’re not invincible either —“ Riku talks over him.

“ — You almost died. You. Almost. Died!” Sora shouts, and the way the last word comes out of Sora’s mouth startles Riku into silence. “Bad stuff keeps happening to you, and you keep acting like it’s fine!”

“Because I am fine!” Riku sees his own bandages out of the corner of his eye and amends it to, “Mostly fine! I’m not dead!”

“If it weren’t for Kairi you would be!” Sora’s voice wobbles precariously. “We were there, we were watching! Ever since then — “

The booths behind them creak. Riku turns to see the donkey monster rearing over the stalls, beating the air with golden hooves, battering the canvas top of the stall. There’s a prismatic shimmer in the air as the donkey monster bears down, battering the wood to splinters, sending paper-wrapped candies scattering everywhere.

Riku’s arm whips out and he speaks a word. Fire is already blooming from his palm before he can think about what he’s doing. The fireball hits the donkey’s face across its muzzle as Sora takes Riku by the arm and runs toward a corridor.

They plow straight into something invisible but solid. Riku tries running forward only to be kept in place, blinded by light that comes from nowhere. Sora pounds his fists against the barrier, flexes his fingers, summons the keyblade to hammer uselessly at the magic wall.

Meanwhile, Riku turns around to see the monster lowering its head and pawing the ground. “Sora! Move left! Sora!!”

Riku takes Sora’s shoulder and yanks him to the left, just as the monster charges. They’re able to stumble away as it rams its head into the barrier, and by the time it starts thrashing and bucking, they’ve ducked behind another booth.

When Riku looks at Sora, his heart sinks. On the night their island was destroyed, Sora’s face had been stony with fear, focused on a single point as if there was nothing in the world except the thing that scared him. Now Sora doesn’t even have that focus. His eyes are glassy with panic, breath coming quicker.

Riku takes Sora by the shoulders. “Hey. Knock it off.”

In a sickening moment, Riku realizes that he can’t fight this thing. Riku doesn’t have a magic sword, or even a regular sword. If one of those hooves gets him, he’s done. Meanwhile Sora’s looking at Riku like he’s a corpse that forgot to stop moving.

“Snap out of it,” Riku says, shaking him. “I’m right here. I need you Sora, come on.”

“You need me.” It’s barely a mumble, but Sora’s speaking.

“Yes. We need a plan. I don’t think we can run. Can you fight?”

Sora’s brow creases, a wonderful, familiar expression in the middle of all this mayhem. “‘Can I fight?’ Please, of course I can.”

“Prove it. I’m on support. Potions and bombs. If you fuck up, I’ve got you.”

Riku can hear the monster’s hooves scuffing against the ground, but Sora is rolling his shoulders, cracking his neck. Sora closes his eyes, breathes out. When he opens his eyes, Riku knows his best friend is back. He even tries to flash Riku a smile.

“Check this out,” he brags, and then he stands up and leaps into the plaza.

It feels wrong not to follow him, but Riku moves to a different booth, staying low and hidden as he runs, listening for sounds of distress. When Riku can look up, Sora is running a full circle around the monster, keeping his eyes on the enemy but not letting it get too close. It’s such a stupid waste of energy, especially lugging that sword around, but he won’t get tired here. Riku is going to be so pissed off and so grateful if that works.

The monster is also slower than Sora. When it lowers its head and charges, Sora’s able to move out of the way and strike its side. He still isn’t blocking, and he barely hops instead of jumps, but a clean hit is worth it. The only problem is that the monster ran full-tilt into a booth, reducing it to splintered planks under its hooves. Riku has one less place to hide.

Riku can read the calculations on Sora’s face as Sora looks at the debris, then back at the monster. Fear clutches at Riku as Sora presses the monster, stays close and keeps swinging even after it starts bucking. Riku clenches his jaw, rests his hand on a potion. When a hoof crunches into Sora’s chest, Riku throws out a potion and yells Sora’s name.

The monster is too close not to hit Sora again. When Riku raises his hand the heat and the visual static rise faster now, tinged with panic. Riku’s voice is frantic in his own ears. Fire blooms from his palm and follows an arc through the air, strikes the monster square on its cheek. It has no fur to burn, and those yellow eyes can’t be blinded. It does stagger back, shaking its head out of pain or some half-formed reflex.

Riku ducks down and runs, listening over his own breath. The monster thunders toward the stall where he used to be. As the monster razes the stall to nothing Riku sprints across the gap in the stalls, over to the far corner. He shoots a glance at Sora, who nods at Riku and then attacks the monster from its blind spot.

As Riku slouches behind the booth, trying to steady his fast-beating heart, Sora calls, “If I asked, could you do that again?”

“Yeah!” Riku answers.

Sora doesn’t reply right away, but the monster doesn’t charge at Riku’s booth either. Riku stares at the dirt, listening to the noises of the fight. He’s an over-wound spring. Every breath feels like a punishment.

“Riku!”

Riku stands, twists, and calls the fire again, which feels natural now. Despite his instincts he waits for the yellow eyes to find him, for the monster to lower its head, before he starts running. This time the crunch of hooves against wood is much louder, and he feels a few stray splinters on the backs of his arms.

“Thanks Riku!” Sora calls, and all the air leaves Riku’s lungs at once in a little huff of relief.

What follows is the longest and shortest span of Riku’s life, a blur of fear and motion. At some point — maybe after two minutes, maybe after a small eternity — Riku feels what it’s like to run out of magic (and it must be magic, it couldn’t be anything else). He reaches into himself and comes up dry, and it’s so dizzying that he staggers, heart racing, and Sora ends up calling his name twice before Riku can get it together and light a firecracker instead.

Then Sora gets hit. Sora lands several hits in a row but it makes him too bold. Riku looks up to see Sora’s overextended swing, and by then it’s too late; the donkey’s hoof connects with Sora’s elbow in a sickening crunch. The pain on Sora’s face is unacceptable. Riku throws a potion and a bomb, not bothering to count how many booths are left. As he runs over exposed planks and canvas, Riku watches Sora pop his own elbow back into place, teeth gritted. Riku’s hands ball into fists so tight that he can feel his fingernails through his gloves.

The number of booths dwindles until only four are left. Riku starts to wonder, idly, if this is how they die after all, and then something happens. Sora plunges the keyblade into its neck, and the monster halts, quivers, sinks to its knees. Riku stops running and watches, rooted in place, as the thing that’s been trying to kill them simply loses its shape, like so many smaller monsters before it. It dissolves into a shadow that can’t hold together in light, and the pink glittering remnant sails up into the sky. Even after it’s gone Riku stands there, blinking. For a few seconds he’s unable to believe that life is more than running and fighting.

Then Sora turns, offers Riku the first genuine smile he’s seen since the monsters showed up, and says, “Pretty cool, right?”

Riku’s laugh is unbidden, bubbling out of him as he closes the distance between them. He grasps Sora by the shoulders as Sora grins at him. Riku’s heart could burst, and the corners of his cheeks are already hurting from smiling. It’s impossible to play it cool, but Riku tries anyway.

“Not bad,” he allows, letting go of Sora to mess with his hair. “You didn’t get pulverized.”

“Come on, it was a piece of cake,” Sora brags, and a wry expression comes over his face. “I’ve got a lot of experience fighting stubborn jackasses.”

That doesn’t feel like one of Sora’s jokes. It feels like Kairi reached across time and space to make it herself. For a moment Riku aches for her so keenly that it’s enough to blot out their victory. Even his startled laugh is pained.

To recover, Riku goes from tousling Sora’s hair to grinding his knuckles into Sora’s scalp. “Oh yeah? Say that again if you’re so brave.”

Sora laughs and bats at his forearm, and as Riku lets go, Sora asks, “Have you seen the others?”

“They probably stayed behind.”

“Okay,” Sora’s face hasn’t fallen, but he does look more serious. “Well, they know where we went. Should we wait here?”

Riku chews his lip. Carlo, Eugene, and Nick aren’t cowards, that is certain. Sora obviously sees something good in them. Still, it’s sensible to think —

“— They won’t be following us,” Riku finishes the thought.

“… As in, they have a different route…?” Sora asks.

“This went from a job to a matter of life and death,” Riku explains as gently as he can. “Money’s no good if you’re dead. I’m sorry, Sora, but when they saw the monster…”

“No,” Sora says, equally softly, shaking his head. “They’re not like that.”

Riku breathes in, then points out, “We’ve been here a while. They would’ve seen the fight, right? Or heard it? Why aren’t they here?”

“They’re coming,” Sora insists. “We just gotta wait. You’ll see. They’ll show up, and you’ll tell them how cool I was.”

“Okay.” Riku sighs. “We’ll wait.”

It would be an awkward silence, if the park stayed silent. The calliope is back, as are a dozen jangling melodies, as if each distant stall has its own tinny music box. Riku watches as Sora goes from looking around to looking down and rubbing his neck. The chitinous texture of his arm looks even stranger in the multicolored light.

Sora’s stronger than he thought, which is good, because otherwise they’d be dead. It still hurts to see him vulnerable like this. Riku wants to say something comforting, but all Riku can think to say is that he’ll always be here to protect Sora, which… won’t comfort Sora, now.

 Instead Riku reaches for Sora’s hand, and Sora lets him take it. Riku squeezes Sora’s knuckles. Sora’s eyes are moving up when the ground opens up beneath them.

Chapter Text

The sensation of falling is still terrible, but it doesn’t last long. Instead of hitting rock, Riku lands on something soft, firm, and familiar. When he checks on Sora, he sees that they’ve landed on a pile of wrestling mats. They’re in the torchlit caves around the bath house, again.

“Stop doing that,” Riku scolds the air.

“Or add a slide, please.” Sora sits up. “A giant slide would be pretty nice.”

“This is your first time falling down here, you don’t get to talk.” 

Riku sits up, and finally feels a twinge in the cut on his arm. The bandages don’t look too bad, but he has been bleeding. He didn’t even feel it, not when he was running, not when he was lifting his arm to do magic. 

Unfortunately, Sora catches him looking. “D’you need stitches?’

“Relax, Sora.” Riku wouldn’t know, since he’s never had an open cut for very long, but he adds, “It’s not that much blood.”

“Maybe you should relax.” Sora stands up. “This is a good place for it.”

“I’ll take a break if you will,” Riku says as he stands up, eyeing the hard shine on Sora’s arm.

Sora hesitates. “What about the others?”

“They can take care of themselves, and they know where to find us.” When Sora doesn’t move, Riku says, “Either we both take a break or neither of us do.”

“…Okay.”

As they walk, Riku expects monsters. In this main tunnel there are entrances to several smaller caves. It would be perfect for an ambush. Riku hears a faint thudding behind them, out of time with their footsteps.

“Sora, stop for a second, and don’t turn around.”

The thudding comes to a stop when they stop moving. The flickering torchlight and the sound of Sora breathing makes the moment feel like a nightmare. Riku moves his hand to the bombs on his belt as slowly and fluidly as he can, and then with that same, deliberate grace, he turns around.

There are no monsters, or humans. There is no talking fox, or walking cat. Instead, Riku sweeps his eyes across a mostly-empty corridor and sees a donkey foal wearing clothes, flinching as it turns. Riku’s breath catches.

“What is it?” Sora whispers.

“A real animal,” Riku breathes, but light blue pants and the rust-colored shirt make him unsure. “Um, hi. Do you talk?”

The foal doesn’t speak or bray, which feels like a good sign. Riku settles onto the ground to make himself smaller, holds out his hand, and clicks his tongue. Sora settles beside him.

“Don’t startle it,” Riku whispers, and sits very still.

Tentatively, it approaches. Riku tries to focus on the ground in front of it, because being watched might feel too much like being hunted. Beside him, Riku can hear Sora breathing.

It’s too good to last. A pebble falls from the wall and the donkey starts, makes this hoarse animal cry of terror, and bolts for an opening in the cave wall. Riku grimaces, and slowly gets back to his feet.

“At least there are donkeys here,” Sora offers as they start walking.

“Yeah. I should start carrying treats, or something.” Riku notices the smile on Sora’s face. “What?”

“Nothing. You were excited. It was nice.”

As soon as Riku crosses the threshold into the locker room, sleepiness takes him. Riku has been tired and exhausted, but rarely sleepy. He doesn’t even ask for anything to cover himself. Sora is yawning by the time they get to the main room. After a few minutes, once Riku realizes that he will fall asleep if he waits outside for Sora, he walks into the warm chamber.

“Don’t drown,” Riku jokes, only to find that Sora has fallen asleep in the warm pool, seated on a step, chin propped on his uninjured elbow as the other one soaks.

The bath house gives Riku a pillow to prop under Sora’s head. Sora murmurs something incomprehensible when Riku lifts up Sora’s head and puts the pillow underneath it. Riku lies on the tile next to him, enjoying the warm, wet, herbal-scented air. The bath house offers Riku a pillow too, and a towel to spread beneath him. Riku lies down facing Sora. If they’re damned for falling asleep here, then they’ll be damned together.

Regrettably, Riku dreams. There is the path, and nothing else but darkness. He walks forward because there’s nothing else to do. He keeps walking. He keeps waiting.

There are no changes, which means that time does not exist. It’s unlike any dream Riku has ever had, because things happen in dreams. There is nothing for him here but darkness. It’s endless and maddening.

When Riku wakes up, awareness comes back to him slowly: first through light behind closed eyelids, then through the smell of coffee. The last straw is a pruny, bony thing prodding his cheek. Riku swats at it, but it persists. When it pokes his nose Riku finally groans and opens his eyes.

Sora is crouched next to him, fully naked, holding a ceramic cup of coffee in one hand. Riku puts one hand over his eyes and holds out the other, grasping at the air until Sora gently hands the warm cup to him. Riku is very careful to look at the cup and only at the cup when he lifts his hand off of his eyes. Kairi’s boyfriend may not care about this, but Kairi would.

“Wait,” Sora says, as Riku is about to drink. “We’re not supposed to eat here. Does drinking count?”

“We slept here,” Riku points out, and downs half of the coffee, knowing that Sora’s probably already had his. “We’ve already broken the rules. Besides, it gave us pillows.”

“Okay,” Sora says, and another cup appears, this time with cocoa. As Sora picks it up, he tells Riku, “Your bandages fell off.”

Riku looks down and realizes that he’s still naked too, and since he just woke up, biology has betrayed Riku once again. Sora doesn’t seem to be looking, and Riku can’t decide whether that’s a mercy or a tragedy. Riku sits up, shifts into a position where his crotch isn’t fully on display, and inspects his own body.

His skin is clear and whole, with two exceptions. The scrape on his arm is still there, a red-and-pink line pebbled with scabs. There’s a fresh sickle of a welt on the side of Riku’s abdomen. The raised skin is tender to the touch.

Sora, totally focused on the scar, says, “I think the shell must’ve scraped you.”

Riku isn’t sure which is more uncomfortable: the fact that Sora is scrutinizing a scar that Riku could’ve prevented, or the fact that Sora is totally uninterested in the rest of him. Riku turns around, because at least he won’t have to see Sora’s face.

“How’s it look back there?” Riku asks.

“Like new,” Sora says, and without warning puts a finger on his back, traces down Riku’s spine while Riku shudders. “I think you can use potions again.”

“See? I’m fine. It’s like it never happened,” Riku says as another towel appears, and Riku mutters his thanks as he uses it to cover himself.

Sora stops touching him. “It happened.”

“No, I know, but —”

“Everything that happened to you happened,” Sora insists.

“It’s not happening now,” Riku argues.

Sora sighs. “I know what I should’ve said when your arm got cut up.”

“Was it, ‘You’re right, I will need help, because a giant donkey monster might show up?’”

“You’re really bad at taking care of yourself, Riku.”

“Hm.” Riku’s face stays still out of habit, even though his ears and cheeks are burning.

Emboldened by Riku’s silence, Sora continues. “It’s not dumb to say you should stay out of fights when you act like this. I’m not the one who’s not taking this seriously.”

“Hmm.” 

Riku sips his coffee, one step closer to enlightenment since he isn’t pointing out how wrong Sora is. As a minor act of heroism, Riku won’t mention that Sora’s a giant hypocrite who’s only been pulling his own weight for one minute.

Except, Riku realizes with dismay, it’s been one hell of a minute. Sora fought crowds of monsters without getting his ass kicked. Sora fought a giant monster with minimal support and he won. It’s not just fighting, either. Sora cut Riku’s back open, and bandaged the cut on his arm…

… Okay, maybe Riku’s an asshole.

“I need you too,” Sora adds, proving that Riku is definitely an asshole. “I want a life that fits us. We need time. Don’t go before we can get it right.”

At a loss for words, Riku fumbles for Sora’s hand. He clasps it awkwardly, and Sora squeezes back. After a few breaths, Riku pins the towel in place and turns around to face Sora.

“I scared you,” Riku confirms.

Sora’s mouth works a little bit, but not more than a second. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.” Riku rubs his thumb against the back of Sora’s hand. “We’ve got time.”

Sora says nothing as they dry off, dress, and head for the tunnels that lead to the trampolines. The donkey is nowhere to be found. Sora is quiet, focused.

 Like someone who made a cursed wish, Riku hates the somber gravity of Sora’s face, the set of his shoulders. Surrounded by excuses to have fun, Sora’s had joy stolen from him at every turn. Good days have been ripped out of Sora’s hands.

Sora says, “We should clear this place out next. I think the monsters like big spaces. There are lots of places to hide. If Romeo comes back, I want him to be safe here.”

Riku wonders if trampolines even figured into Sora’s hypothetical future of good days, or if he’s given up. Riku wonders what’s been shelved, what’s been discarded, what’s been ruined. He thinks about Sora forcing smiles and he wants to break something.

Sora stops abruptly, leading Riku to stop too. “Do we think the mystery plan’s off because of the monsters? I just assumed. We didn’t tell Nick and the others, what if something’s happened to them?”

It’s another straw on Sora’s back, another burden to carry. To hell with this world. To hell with Light and Dark and the unhelpful mystic strangers that keep dogging their steps. To hell with Riku and all his bullshit. Let it all burn, if it means Sora can get through this.

“Riku…?”

Kairi would know what to do, but even thinking about Kairi feels like laying a hand on a burner. For some reason Riku wishes Jiminy were here, but it’s just Riku, bullshit and all. Sora’s alone with a corrosive asshole, a burden with a monster-heart, a walking bomb.

Riku hasn’t blown up yet. He can be better. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for Sora.

Sora waves his hand in front of Riku’s face. “Hey. Don’t space out on me.”

“I’m not.” Riku forces a laugh, then forces himself to be honest. “Shit’s fucked, that’s all.”

“We’ll fix it,” Sora says, with a confidence that hasn’t yet been broken.

Riku can’t even touch that, so he says, “Let’s use the trampolines, after we’ve cleared them out.”

Sora hesitates, and then says, “It’s irresponsible.”

“Who said all this was our responsibility?”

“The Coachman.”

“Fuck him,” Riku says, from the bottom of his heart.

“I’d rather not.” Before the call and response can land Sora argues, “There are kids here, Riku.”

“Kids who are hiding. Everybody’s off the streets by now. You said it yourself: monsters go for open spaces. The monsters aren’t even in the tunnels, Sora.”

Sora gives him a long, probing look. “Do you need this?”

Sora as to be okay, at any cost. He’s Kairi’s boyfriend, and Riku will return him to her safe and unchanged. Lying and pretending to be weak is nothing.

“Yeah, Sora, I need it.”

“Okay.” Sora nods, and says more brightly. “Okay! Then we’ll go on the trampolines.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” Sora says. “Breaks are a good idea anyway.”

*

“Okay now,” Sora says, grinning, stumbling out of the roller  coaster scar and onto the platform, taking Riku’s arm to steady himself, “Now, we get back to work. We can’t keep going on the rides, we’ve got to focus.”

Riku silently disagrees. Monsters had swarmed the trampolines, the carousel, the area around the ferris wheel, and the areas around the roller coaster. Even if Riku cared about being wrong, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a ride after saving it from monsters. For all Sora’s fretting, they haven’t met anyone in danger. They haven’t even run into Nick or Carlo or Eugene, and those three have a monetary incentive to put themselves in danger.

Sora stands on the edge of the platform, using it as a vantage point. They had a better view from the wheel, but Sora’s still able to point at the rides, remember where they’ve been. Riku stands with him, lets him plan the route.

“We’ve got everything here. I think we If we go that way, we’ll be able to take care of the rest of the monsters we passed the first time,” Sora says, pointing at the booths and games next to the destroyed plaza. “And fewer distractions.”

Riku is already considering the loopholes as they walk down the steps, jog through the park. Lately the monsters have been leaving little chunks of munny and minerals behind, that Riku and Sora have scooped off of the ground to give to the moogle, so angling to win something for the moogle is a dead end. Pinocchio and Jiminy are both at the campsite, and stopping to win them something would go against keeping them safe. Riku's bittersweet opportunity comes in the form of a green-and-yellow bottle toss game and a giant yellow plush star.

“Do you see that?” Riku says, tapping Sora on the shoulder.

“What?” Sora asks like he expects a new monster to come popping out of the air.

“The toy. It looks like a paopu fruit.” 

Kairi might not even be alive. She probably never wants to see Riku again. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s one person Sora loves more than anyone or anything else, and she told him not to change.

At personal expense, Riku goes in for the kill. “Kairi would love it.”

Sora’s face shutters like blinds and he keeps walking. Dismayed, Riku has to take a few steps to keep up with him. It still doesn’t make sense that Sora’s this sensitive about it.

“Sora? Hey, Sora. I’m not trying to tease you,” Riku says, finally stepping in front of him. “I promise I’m not making fun of you. Just, win something for her. She’d like it.”

Sora scrutinizes him. Riku doesn’t know what kind of obscure calculus is going through Sora’s head, but Riku doesn’t like it. He goes for the backup plan.

“Look, if it’ll make you feel better, we can get something for Alex too. You remember him, the sailor suit kid? He’s got a place near here. We’ll ask him what’s been going on, tell him what we know.”

That appeals to Sora’s newfound sense of responsibility, at least. Sora picks up a ball and hurls it at the bottles. When the bottles fall, he grabs a giant stuffed strawberry.

“Where’s Alex’s place?” Sora asks.

Riku’s surprised Sora doesn’t know, but he leads him down the winding aisles and helps him clear out the monsters. Before long they’re at the door of Alex’s clubhouse. Riku hammers on the door.

“Hey, open up,” Riku calls.

Alex’s voice comes through  the door. “Go away!”

“There are zero monsters around your place, Alex, we killed them all,” Riku says.

“Who’s ‘we?’” Alex demands suspiciously.

“Hi Alex!” Sora calls.

It’s impressive how fast Alex switches his tone. “Soraaaa, Riku’s bullying me.”

“I don’t see how?” Sora looks at Riku. “You don’t have to open the door if you don’t want to. We just want to talk. I brought you a big strawberry.”

“What color?”

“Um. Red?”

“I’ve already got one,” Alex declares. “Now, if you had a yellow one…”

Riku, showing incredible restraint, cuts him off. “Alex, there are monsters out here, and the Coachman’s got some plan that can’t be good for us. We’re not here to talk about toys.”

“Well I’m in here and the Coachman and the monsters are out there, so that’s not my problem!”

“What about everybody else?” Sora asks.

“I don’t care,” Alex answers, not bothering to change his tone for Sora this time. “This place is full of bullies, bed-wetters, dummies, and weirdoes.”

“Alex, why —” Sora pleads.

“Have any monsters tried to get in there?” Riku cuts in.

“They scratch on the doors but nothing comes through.”

Riku asks. “Anyone else pay you a visit? A cat or a fox, maybe?”

“No. A bunch of kids tried to break the door down when the monsters first showed up, but they gave up and ran away.”

Sora is ashen-faced. “You didn’t let them in?”

“What, so they can shove me out and mess up my stuff?”

“They were running from monsters!” Sora protests.

“I’m not. I wanna keep it that way.”

Riku realizes too many things too late. Sora didn’t come here for information; he came here because he wanted another friend, a real one, not just a temporary ally. Alex was never going to be what Sora wanted. The disappointing part is that Alex has a point. If he let too many people in they would outnumber him. Alex is small enough that even one kid could push him around.

“We should go,” Riku says to Sora. “Look, we know that they don’t go inside small buildings. We talked to him. You’re not going to change his mind.”

Sora looks crestfallen, baffled by how petty selfishness can turn to evil too quickly. Riku messed up, again. Riku holds onto Sora’s shoulders.

“Get Kairi something,” Riku tells him quietly, so Alex won’t hear them. “Bring her the best of this place. You can tell her it was better than it was.”

Sora thinks about it, then shakes his head with a rueful smile. “She’d know I was lying.”

“She’d let you off the hook.” Riku gives him a quick pat on the shoulder and lets him go. 

Sora sighs, then calls out, “Alex. You know this isn’t right. If you want to stop hiding and do something about all this, now’s your chance.”

Alex doesn’t open the door or respond.

“We’re going,” Sora says.

The door still doesn’t open.

Riku wonders why Sora leans the stuffed strawberry against the door before he turns and walks away. If it were Riku, it would be to let go of the wasted effort. Since it’s Sora, it may still be kindness.

As hard as it is to pick up on little noises over the calliope, Riku’s pretty sure he hears a door open and shut. He doesn’t look back to check. Neither does Sora. Sora doesn’t talk for a while, until they pass a crane machine decorated with tiny stars and moons.

“There,” Sora says, pointing at a small stuffed rocket on top of the pile, then he hesitates and points at another rocket closer to the edge of the glass. “Or, maybe that? It has to be little, so she can carry it.”

Riku says, “Get both.”

“Oh! You should get the other one for her!”

The pit of Riku’s stomach goes cold. “No. I shouldn’t.”

Sora squints and cocks his head to the side. “… Is this a you-didn’t-save-her thing? I told you—”

Riku cuts him off. “She doesn’t want anything from me.”

“Yeah she does, stop being weird,” Sora says, already stepping up to the crane machine.

There are only so many things Riku can argue about, and after the disaster of talking to Alex, he doesn’t want to push his luck. He feels wormy the whole time, but he does win Kairi a rocket.

*

“I can’t say this enough,” Riku says, because apparently the third time didn’t take, “A block and a parry are not the same thing.”

They defeated all the monsters in the Rough House. They have the ring to themselves. Apparently Riku needs every advantage he can get, because blocking lessons are not going well.

“I know,” Sora argues, holding a wooden practice sword.

“If you’re blocking, you gotta keep the sword still while somebody’s hitting you.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. When you hit me while you’re blocking, that’s a parry.”

“Go again. I’m ready.”

Riku swings his own wooden sword. Instead of blocking, Sora swings at the same time, parrying the blow.

“Sora.”

“I’m sorry! It’s muscle memory!”

“You’ve seen me block dozens of times!”

Sora paces in a small circle, swinging the sword in practiced arcs. “You’re right. You’re right! I’ve been thinking about this all wrong.”

Instead of dropping into his usual crouch, Sora moves into a stance that’s almost cartoonishly upright. He holds out his sword with one hand, and motions Riku forward with the other. The most insulting part of it is Sora’s facial expression. 

“Don’t tell me you’re givin’ up already,” Sora mocks him.

There’s only one response to this. Riku drops into a slumped-over crouch, grabs his sword with both hands, and as he swings, yelps, “Ha!”

The worst part is that it works. Sora blocks two hits and then swings his sword in a borrowed, graceful arc, and Riku steals Sora’s trick of stepping back to avoid the hit. When Riku swings, Sora swings, and Sora adjusts as Riku adjusts. It’s the weirdest fight Riku’s ever had, and neither of them can seem to get ahead.

Finally, Riku lands a handful of hits, after Sora tries to jump in the air and can’t go as far. Sora drops his sword, which counts as a forfeit.

“My point,” Riku says, panting. “What’s the score?”

Sora scrunches up his face, which means that he forgot, but asks, “Isn’t it technically my point?”

“How?”

“I was fighting as you, and I lost as you.”

“No, that’s dumb. I disarmed you. I won,” Riku argues.

“You disarmed me because you were copying me. Which is how you won, because my style is better.”

Kairi probably wouldn’t even take Riku’s side. She’d come in with some weird third opinion which was somehow made sense, or propose another contest. She’d remember the score, too. 

Riku repeats, “The person who is holding the sword — that’s me — is the winner.”

“Okay…”

Riku realizes his mistake when Sora charges him, reaching for Riku’s sword. On instinct Riku flings it to the side and braces as Sora tackles him, making the argument moot. They both drop to the dirt in an easy, practiced motion.

It’s not quite grappling. Sora has an opportunity for a real grab but instead he assumes the position that hasn’t worked since either of them were six. He sits astride Riku and pins down his wrists. It’s a child’s victory pose, a relic from an older game.

“Cute trick,” Riku says, and this time it’s a lot harder to ignore how it feels to be underneath Sora.

“I’m fighting as you! My body is a weapon! You can never disarm me,” Sora crows. “Now - oop!”

Riku grabs him and wrangles him back into the dust, pins him into a neat elbow lock, starts pushing up and against the grain of Sora’s muscles until Sora gasps and taps the ground, roughly, twice. Riku lets up immediately and, following muscle memory, assumes the same victory pose.

Looking down at Sora is doing more to him than looking up at him, especially since Sora is panting, eyes alight, like he’s looking forward to this part. An age-old memory bubbles up in Riku.

“Look at you, rolling around in the dirt,” Riku jeers. “You feel like a winner, Sora?”

“Let me up.”

Sora tries to sit up, and Riku puts his weight against Sora’s wrists, keeps him down. It’s as if they’re kids again, on a beach or in someone’s backyard. The smile on Riku’s face and the pressure on Sora’s wrists are steps to an old dance, and Sora knows it too.

“Come on, let me up,” Sora demands, with a nervous laugh that would be convincing if it weren’t so familiar.

Riku lets go of one of Sora’s wrists to hold Sora by the hair, pressing the back of Sora’s head into the dirt, craning Sora’s neck up so that those bright blue eyes fully meet his. Sora grunts.

“No,” Riku says, riding a wave of wicked joy. “I don’t think I will.”

Kairi’s part is missing but not forgotten. You know the rules, Sora. It’s his game.

“Riku?” Sora says.

Riku’s own name strikes a chord in him, messes him up. This is a terrible idea, but Riku’s too far into this feeling to be cautious. He leans closer, next to Sora’s cheek, ignoring the surge in his chest and significantly lower than his chest.

“Ask nicely,” he whispers in Sora’s ear, smug, cruel.

Sora shivers, and it’s all Riku can do to avoid doing the same. It can’t have been this intense when they were younger. He can’t imagine what they were thinking.

“Riku,” Sora pleads, and Riku could melt. “Please let me up?”

Somehow, Riku manages to say his next line. “Whose point is it?”

Sora’s lips curl into a smile and he mumbles, “Yours.”

Riku laughs unsteadily. “He can be taught. ”

Riku’s pulse is thrumming in him. He’s on the cusp of demanding more. Winner’s rights, as Kairi would say. Sora’s face is so close to his, and in this moment Riku is feeling so needful. There are a lot of things he would do to keep his name in Sora’s mouth. The two of them aren’t children anymore.

Something rustles against the tent flap. As automatically as breathing, Sora and Riku separate. Fear grips Riku, a childish and total fear, as if an adult can waltz in and separate him from his people if they don’t like what they see. Sora moves in front of Riku, hand on his arm.

“He’s not hurting me!” Sora babbles, wildly looking around for the intruder. “It’s a game! …Hello?”

No one storms up, not even a kid to throw names at them. They wait, until the silence is punctured by the clatter of metal and loud, panicked braying as another clothed donkey foal sprints across the tent, pursued by a soldier monster. In a unified moment the  keyblade pops into Sora’s hand as Riku extends his arm, ready to shoot fire at the monster. The donkey escapes, but the soldier monster doesn’t.

“Where are they coming from?” Riku asks once the fight is over, trying to distract himself. “If they don’t talk, why are they wearing clothes?”

“Right? Like what’s with the pants?” Sora points out. “Pants only make sense if you walk on two legs. They’re a terrible idea, otherwise.”

“Sorry, pants are a terrible idea?”

“For four legged animals, yeah,” Sora says, lost in thought. “So it’s gotta be a costume, but who’s cruel enough to put pants on a donkey?”

“The cruelty of pants,” Riku repeats.

“Look, anything you’ve gotta unfasten or unzip makes no sense if you don’t have thumbs, and taking them off’s got to be really hard, and —” Sora stops and looks into Riku’s face. “You think I’m being weird.”

“Keep going,” Riku says, rather than deny it. “So, smart guy, what should sapient four-legged animals be wearing?”

“Nothing!”

“So they’re nudists.”

“No, they can wear sweaters and stuff, just nothing that can get pooped on.”

Riku can’t help himself, he has to needle Sora. “They gotta wander around bare-assed for the world to see? Dick out? Feeling the breeze on their buttholes?”

“What’s the alternative, Riku? A poop situation? Is that what you want?”

Riku makes the mistake of cracking up at ‘poop situation.’ They don’t talk about the fact that they’re leaving, they just leave, continuing the same conversation where Sora says ‘poop situation’  at least five more times. Sora is too focused to think about anything but the argument, and Riku knows better than to bring up what just happened.

*

The monsters in the street are popping up in manageable groups now. They’re not getting smarter, but with only two people fighting in an open street, one of the monsters usually tries to dart away. This time a bug monster flattens and escapes into an alley, crosses the boundaries between street and wall and roofing tile, and rises up onto the roof.

“No you don’t!” Sora jumps up on the stacked crates, grabs the ledge, and hauls himself up, with Riku close behind.

As soon as they climb up more monsters appear, growing out of little pinpoints of darkness and rising up from the tiles. They’re easy to kill, but it is still a roof, so falling is a hazard. When the monsters are defeated, Riku looks over and sees the blinking lights of the ferris wheel, the curve of the roller coaster tracks, gemlike colors gleaming against the darkness of the sky.

“It’s pretty,” Sora says, following his eyes.

“I’ve been here before,” Riku says.

“Yeah?” When Riku can’t tear his eyes off of the sky, Sora asks, “You okay, Riku?”

Riku can’t answer. This is where he admitted he was caustic to his core. So much has happened between now and then, but Riku is struck by the fear that he’s papering over a hole. Instinct tells him that he’ll fuck it up again, that fucking up is the only destiny he’ll ever have.

“Hey. Riku.”

When Riku can bring himself to look back at Sora, he’s startled into laughter. Sora is pulling a weird face; eyes crossed, tongue to the tip of his nose. It’s such a frivolous thing, but Riku can’t stop laughing.

“What, I thought we were making faces at stuff,” Sora says as Riku wipes at his eyes.

“You’re the weirdest guy I’ve ever met.” Riku sits on the roof and waves Sora over. “Come on, let’s take a break.”

Sora’s mouth works for a little bit, as if he’s thinking about refusing. Then he walks over and plops down next to Riku. Sora looks at the sky. Riku tries not to look at Sora, but it’s hard to help himself.

“You think I’m gonna be weird everywhere?” Sora asks.

Sora’s leaving himself open for a cheap shot, but Riku asks, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.”

Riku gives him time. The calliope jangles, the cars clack along the arcs of the roller coaster tracks, the ferris wheel creaks. Riku watches his beautiful best friend, Kairi’s boyfriend, only aching a little.

After another minute, Riku asks, “What’s on your mind?”

Sora shrugs. “If I try to talk, it won’t come out right.”

“Try. I’m listening.”

For a few seconds, Sora says nothing, and then he laughs. “Man, what am I doing? Look at us. Look at this place. Sometimes I think everything’s messed up, or that I’m messed up, but… we’re here. I don’t want to get so caught up in everything that I forget to be here.”

“And you’re all over that,” Sora says before Riku can demand who is making him feel messed up, or what was actually bothering him. “With the breaks and the rides and stuff. You’re being here, with me. Thank you.”

Sora is smiling and it’s too much. Riku turns away, back to the horizon, but his clumsy hand is groping on the roofing tile until he finds Sora’s. Sora clasps his hand.

“You’re holding my hand,” Sora says, puzzled. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.”

“Well you think something’s wrong, if you’re holding my hand.”

The line of logic is so strange that Riku has to look at him again. “What?”

“Yeah,” Sora says slowly, as if he’s been asked to explain something obvious. “You know. You only hold my hand if there’s trouble. Or if something’s bugging me, and you want me to be okay. I’m okay, though. I just told you.”

“No, I…” Riku thinks through the last few days and sputters, “Awful things are happening all the time. You’ve got it backwards.”

“You know you don’t have to,” Sora says, kindly, which makes it worse. “I know you don’t like touching people, outside of wrestling and stuff. It’s nice when you this stuff with me, but you don’t need—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Riku snaps, and kisses Kairi’s boyfriend.

The first kiss is awkwardly excessive. Riku closes the distance between them too fast, and there’s too much pressure. The best part of it is that Sora lets out a surprised little yelp, and it feels like the sound is caught between them. Still, Sora’s lips don’t move, while Riku gets the feeling that he’s moving his own lips too much. Surely Riku can do better, if he’s going to burn everything down. He cups Sora’s cheek in his free hand and tries again, gentler, more focused. Sora’s lips are so much softer than he thought they would be.

When the shame catches up to him Riku breaks away. He can’t bring himself to let go of Sora’s hand, because Sora is still holding it. Still, Riku keeps his head down, secure in the fact that he’s ruined everything again.

“Huh. So that’s how that works,” Sora says, sounding a little dazed. “Okay. Try it again?”

The way Sora says it is like they’re practicing blocking again, as if this is a move Sora is trying to learn. Riku feels the gloved hand on his cheek, and Sora tips his face up and kisses him. Something about the way Sora does it is incredibly tender, and it makes Riku want to be tender in kind. When Riku lays his free hand on Sora’s back and Sora leans closer the kiss just feels like another part of an embrace.

Sora breaks away suddenly and looks around. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Sora is already pulling away and standing up so Riku stands up too. Rejection and shame beckon but Sora’s looking around wildly, and Riku doesn’t like the look in his eyes.

With a word Sora breaks his heart. “Kairi? Where are you? What’s wrong?”

It must be Maleficent’s work. As soon as Riku draws breath Sora is already walking toward the ledge, so Riku has to lunge forward and grab Sora’s collar and belt before he walks off the edge.

“You’re on a roof, stop walking!” he shouts, holding Sora in place. “It’s a trick!”

“She’s right there!”

Riku looks out over Sora’s shoulder at the same landscape they’ve been staring at for ages now. “There’s nothing there, Sora, don’t —”

The smell hits first. Riku looks up on instinct, even though there’s not a cloud in the night sky, and a rainstorm here wouldn’t smell like the same, not without trees and algae and that salt-and-rot scent that’s been absent ever since they landed here, island or no. The sky is impossibly clear, and nothing is moving, but the air tastes like home. The world flickers white for a moment and the thunder deafens Riku, a rumble he can feel in his chest and hips.

The popping sound is so delicate in comparison. Riku twists back to see Sora, keyblade in hand, holding it sideways, hand extended out. As Riku watches, he sees sparks along the hilt, then faint outline of fingers curling over the sparks. Sora lets go, and as the keyblade moves without him Riku begins to see more: a hand, a wrist with a bangle, an arm, a blue eye. All at once the rest of Kairi and a flurry of other images bleed into reality, things superimposed on top of each other. Somehow Riku is looking at the street below, a cobblestone plaza, and sand all at once. The clearest things that Riku can see are Kairi and the monstrous, giant suit of armor in front of her.

Gripping the Keyblade, Kairi launches herself at the spinning armored chest plate and helmet, skirting around the gauntlets and boots that lay flat and motionless around it. She doesn’t strike the armor so much as ram her shoulder into the chest plate and shove the blade in afterward. It falls as she grips the hilt and rides it down. When it stops moving she repeatedly stabs the sword into its chest, drives it in over and over again in a frenzy, teeth gritted, eyes wild.

The plate mail dissolves into formless haze, as do the other pieces of armor. Kairi drops to the ground, still holding the sword until it vanishes in light. She looks over her shoulder at Sora and Riku.

Riku’s stomach lurches as their eyes meet. Without thinking he lets go of Sora’s collar and belt, takes Sora’s elbow, and slides his foot forward until he can feel the edge of the roof. As Kairi gets up and starts sprinting, he holds out his hand, reaches as far as he can while widening his stance to catch her. Sora is also reaching for her, yelling her name.

Riku can read their names in Kairi’s mouth; she must be shouting but he can’t hear her. He’s never seen her run this fast. The rest of her worlds are fading with every step, translucent and then gone. She’s fading too, but running like she can outpace it. Riku stretches out his arm as far as he can, on the base instinct that if they can just touch, she’ll be here again. She reaches out both hands towards them.

Their fingertips are just about to touch when she winks out of existence.

Chapter Text

Riku grasps at empty air. After so many seconds, he should just accept that Kairi’s not coming back. He still waits, eyes fixed on the air.

Next to him Sora chants to himself, “She’s okay. She’s okay, she’s okay, she’s okay.”

“How was that okay!?” Riku demands.

“She got the monster!”

Riku’s voice climbs to an octave he didn’t know he could reach. “She was fighting!”

Kairi’s survival relies on a skill she doesn’t have, something that Sora and Riku were supposed to do for her. Riku failed. Accidentally and purposefully, Riku failed her in every conceivable way.

Sora, excited, says, “Yeah, but she’s got friends.”

“What friends?!”

“The duck and the dog, didn’t you see them? They were knocked out, but they were there. And there was also the yelling woman.”

“What yelling woman?”

“I dunno, she had a headband and shorts and she was yelling ‘kick its ass’ - you didn’t hear her?”

“No!!”

“Weird.” The fact that Sora can diagnose this awful situation with a word makes Riku want to yank his own hair out, but Sora continues. “She’s okay, and she’s got friends, and now she’s got a cool sword. That’s something, right?”

Riku covers his face with his hands. A sound is coming out of his closed mouth, through his teeth. It might be a growl, but there’s a lot of gurgling in it. Suddenly he feels the weight and the warmth of Sora’s hand on his shoulder, too welcome, sweet as poison.

“Don’t,” Riku says, shaking his head.

“Okay,” Sora takes his hand away, easygoing as ever.

“Why are you like this?’ Riku snaps.

In the following silence, more guilt descends. Of course this was coming. Riku wouldn’t be able to rest if it wasn’t all ruined.

“You just — shrug everything off, like it’s nothing.” Riku’s words feel like they’re coming directly from his bitter core. “Every time you see how rotten it all is. You’ve got so much to lose. Kairi’s your girlfriend.”

“She’s not —”

Riku can’t let him deny it. “She loves you back. You’ll never know what it feels like when she doesn’t. Now she’s in danger and you’re acting like it’s fine. Do we mean that little to you?”

“You two are everything to me.”

There’s something naked in the way Sora answers it. Riku wished he never asked a question so pitiful: that pathetic ‘we,’ that squirming neediness as repulsive as grubs under a rock. Yet Sora responded so openly, as natural as nudity in a bath house. Riku stops holding his breath and takes his hands away from his face.

Sora is still in front of him, watching him. Sora wasn’t the one who walked out when Riku picked a fight. He’s not leaving.

“You can tell me,” Riku says. “I saw the drawing in the Secret Place.”

“The one with the paopu fruit?”

“Yeah.”

Sora looked uncomfortable and sad before, but now there’s something else to it. “I was trying it out.”

“What?”

“It’s weird, when you want to get closer to somebody and all the roads forward feel wrong,” Sora explains. “I couldn’t hold Kairi’s hand or tell her I love her without people coming up with the wrong words for it. ‘Boyfriend.’ ‘Girlfriend.’ Even if those words aren’t just practice for ‘husband’ and ‘wife,’ they don’t feel right. It makes me keep looking over my shoulder, like they’re talking about someone else. I thought a new world would be different, but I don’t think I could talk about anybody the way Carlo and Nick and Eugene talk about girls.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Riku murmurs, still aching to hear Sora admit he loves Kairi so casually.

Sora shrugs. “You said the thing about paopu fruit. Sharing a destiny, being part of somebody’s life, no matter what. That was the first thing that felt right. I slept on it, and then I drew myself handing her a paopu fruit. It felt right the whole time. Then I talked to Selphie. ‘So romantic.’ That night I asked my sister, and yeah, it’s another husbands-and-wives thing, isn’t it? Guess I got it wrong. It’s the same all over.”

“… You drew the paopu fruit the day after I mentioned it.” Riku had seen something hours in the making, not years, not even days.

“Yeah.” Sora takes a breath and continues, less wistful than before. “I never thought I’d want to kiss somebody, though.”

“…Seriously?”

“What’s there to want? It’s just mashing your mouths against each other. But it feels right with you,” Sora says, eyes alight, before Riku can begin to process that. “It’s like everything else we do, sparring and holding hands and stuff. Everybody built kissing up to be this big thing that would change my life, but it’s not, is it? What matters has always been you.”

Sora might as well have punched him in the gut, but he’s looking at Riku like he expects a response. Riku is disoriented. The weight of being unloved kept him grounded, and now that it’s gone, he can’t find his center. What Sora’s telling him might not be any easier to bear.

Riku’s real question comes out, grasping, pathetic, bare. “What am I to you?”

“You’re Riku,” Sora says, brow knitting, like he doesn’t understand the question.

“Not who. What am I to you?”

“I don’t have a word. I’m sorry. You’re Riku.” Sora becomes increasingly distressed as he explains, “I can’t describe what it’s like to be near you, not with a word. I can’t sum up what you are in a phrase, I can’t make it make sense like that. You’re Riku, to me. My Riku.”

Hearing ‘my Riku’ come out of Sora’s mouth is enough to make Riku’s knees want to give out. Sora puts a hand on Riku shoulder. Maybe Riku looks as unsteady as he feels. Sora keeps going, a little surer with every word.

“I want to wake up with you, go to bed with you, spar with you, touch you, kiss you. I want us to be a part of each other’s lives, no matter what. Where we go, we go together. When people look at my life I want them to be looking at yours, all blurred together. I want us intertwined.”

Then Sora can’t keep talking because Riku is drawing him into an embrace, kissing him, closing every intolerable gap between them. This time their teeth click together in eagerness, and Riku can feel Sora’s smile, the way he giggles. Unmoored and delighted, Riku enjoys the weight and warmth of Sora’s body, until a thought drags him back down.

“And Kairi?” Riku asks, pulling away. “What about Kairi?”

“She’s Kairi,” Sora answers, breathless. “The same, and different. Part of us. Intertwined. Do you think she feels the same way?”

Riku refuses to lie. “She feels that way about you.”

“Hmm.” Sora squints like he’s working out a particularly tough math problem. “Do you feel that way about her?”

“Yes.” Riku thought admitting it would be like peeling off a layer of skin, but it’s more of a relief than anything.

“And you’re normal about feelings!” Sora announces, pointing at Riku in triumph. “So you can be her boyfriend, and I’ll be her best friend and your best friend, and we’ll all kiss each other when we feel like it.”

“She doesn’t want me.” Saying this hurts exactly as much as Riku thought it would.

Familiar despair calms him down. Riku was dangerously close to getting every impossible thing he ever wanted. He won’t ask Sora to choose between him and Kairi. Riku’s not the favorite, but he knew that. This is much easier to bear.

“…Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Riku changes the subject before they can dwell on it. ‘She’s risking her life, Sora.”

“So are we,” Sora points out. “But Kairi’s got friends, just like we do, and now she’s got the keyblade. That’s not nothing. Are you really sure she feels that way?”

Riku grunts. There’s no saving Sora from future conflict. The faster they end this conversation, the better.

Sora doesn’t let up. “She was happy to see you. She’s not mad at you.”

“Give it time, we’ll get there,” Riku says.

“You didn’t have to save her from Maleficent,” Sora points out. “Whatever you fought about before probably doesn’t matter now either. You don’t have to grovel, or anything.”

“Don’t.”

Sora crosses his arms and looks at him for what feels a long time. Riku can see his jaw clenching. If Riku can just interrupt him, he can cut off this epiphany. Riku wracks his brain, but he has nothing he can share.

Finally, Sora says, “If something makes you feel bad, that’s not enough to make it true.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sora holds out his hand instead of answering. Riku, unsettled, frustrated, still takes it, even as he scrambles for a defense. Sora’s being stupid, fine, that doesn’t mean they can’t hold hands.

“It means if you wanna believe that everything sucks forever, me and Kairi will prove you wrong, every time.” Sora squeezes his hand and smiles. “So either knock it off or get used to being wrong.”

Riku scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he squeezes Sora’s hand too. “Whatever. Let’s get off this stupid roof.”

Sora grins like he’s won, which means Riku’s justified in kissing him roughly on the cheek, as payment. The fact that Sora giggles and tries to catch him with another kiss as he’s drawing away is also a justification to make out with him. Leaving the roof takes a while.

*
In retrospect, Riku should’ve asked more questions. He should’ve noticed the way Sora casually talked about Kairi having the keyblade. As it is, when the monsters show up, Riku is caught by surprise when Sora asks him to throw some bombs and then asks the park for a chainsaw.

“No, no, absolutely not. Magic Park, do not give Sora a chainsaw,” Riku begs, flinging another bomb before the bug monsters can scuttle any closer.

“Fine. A metal pipe, maybe? … Hey, thanks!” Sora picks the gray pipe off of the ground and starts swinging.

It takes Riku a while to realize what’s wrong. The number of monsters doesn’t go down, even though he sees some monsters dissipating into nothing. It’s only when Sora bashes a soldier-monster’s helmet in with a pipe and another one appears at the edge of the crowd that Riku realizes what’s happening.

“They’re not dying!” Riku shouts. “We ned to go!”

“Got it!” Sora clears space around him with a massive swing and then backs up, fast as he can, long enough for Riku to start flinging fire and bombs to cover their tracks as they double back the way they came.

The bombs don’t even slow them down, and neither does the fire. Riku stops looking back for a while after that, to focus on running. When Sora stops Riku has the terrifying experience of realizing there’s only one set of footsteps, that Sora isn’t behind him. Riku cries out Sora’s name in terror.

“I’m fine, they’re gone!” Sora calls back, catching his breath. “Guess we outran them. And we already killed all the monsters here, so it’s safe.”

Riku tries not to keep panting as he walks back over to Sora. “When you said Kairi has the keyblade—”

“— I mean it’s hers,” Sora answers, before Riku can ask the question. “I can’t feel the keyblade anymore. If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t, but that’s not the problem,” Riku says. “We have to find another way to get rid of the monsters.”

When Sora’s face goes ashen, Riku asks, “What?”

“Nick and Eugene and Carlo.”

“Sora, I guarantee you: those guys know when to run away.”

“They never found us.”

“Why’re you even worried about them? We should be worried about the people who actually stuck up for us,” Riku argues. “The moogle and Jiminy and —”

“Pinocchio!?” Sora shouts, looking past Riku’s shoulder.

“Hey, there they are!” By the time Riku turns around Pinocchio is already clattering up, a tangle of wooden limbs. “Boy, are we glad to see you!”

“What’re you doing outside the camp?” Sora demands, as Riku watches Jiminy jump to the top of Pinocchio’s head.

Jiminy leaps. A jolt of irrational worry goes through Riku, and then Jiminy lands safely on Riku’s shoulder. Jiminy starts talking, as if the jump was nothing.

“Boys, we’ve got some catching up to do,” Jiminy says, pacing on Riku’s shoulder. “The moogle told us everything, and I took notes. Pinoke, show ‘em.”

Proudly, Pinocchio pulls a small spiral notebook out of his pants and hands it to Sora, proclaiming, “Sora’s gonna save everybody!”

“Cool,” Sora says as Riku balks, stuffing the notebook into his pocket. “How?”

“You’re gonna use your keyblade to kill all the heartless-monsters and fix the world!”

For an awkward moment, the calliope is all Riku can hear, as he and Sora stand in stunned silence. Then Sora starts chuckling, and it’s the most stilted thing Riku has ever heard. Riku looks away to the rooftops, willing himself away.

“What’s the matter?” Jiminy asks.

“He gave it away,” Riku says, as Sora’s grating laughter peters out.

“You shouldn’t be able to. The moogle told us,” Jiminy says, and then asks, “Who—?”

“Kairi,” Riku answers.

“Oh, so she is here! I’m glad you found her,” Jiminy’s relief is obnoxious.

“Not exactly,” Sora says.

“Beg pardon?”

“She’s okay! But she’s… still on a different world?”

“How? …Whoa!” Jiminy yelps as Riku shrugs, and before Riku can feel guilty Jiminy hops to the top of Riku’s head.

“We’ve got no idea,” Riku answers. “Kairi showed up, she disappeared. How do we kill them?”

“You can’t,” Jiminy answers, stunned, and a pit opens up in Riku’s stomach.

“So we have to outrun them,” Riku says, bleakly.

“Good thing we run fast,” Sora answers.

“That’s the spirit,” Jiminy declares, chipper and terrified. “You sure you gave it away, Sora? The moogle was real sure about some things, and one of them was that the keyblade chooses its wielder.”

“Well, I chose Kairi.” Sora says it without thinking, but sentence itself makes Riku’s stomach turn. “That’s gotta count for something.”

Riku keeps his eyes on the rooftops, wrestling with two new, little rejections, one cosmic and one personal. It makes sense that Sora didn’t think of giving him the keyblade, and Riku would never have asked. That doesn’t make him feel better. He wishes Sora would hold his hand again, but instead Riku scans the edges of the roofs. It’s the only reason he sees Maleficent’s silhouette. His breath catches.

“Company,” Riku is saying, breathless, raising his arm in defense even though she’s too far away.

By the time the word has left his lips she’s already disappearing into wisps of shadow. Riku feels an muffled echo of what he felt the first night, Darkness tugging at him like a tide. It’s so much less powerful here. Maybe the park was the thing holding the guards in place.

“The heartless!” Jiminy says as monsters rise from the dirt. “Run!”

Sora scoops up Pinocchio in an easy movement and bolts. Riku waits until Jiminy can get a grip on Riku’s hair before he follows suit, careful to stay behind Sora, afraid of losing him again. Riku and Sora sprint, at first, with the monsters close behind. Riku can feel them as well as hear them, a yawning chasm at his back, and they don’t leave, not when Riku’s lungs start to ache despite the magic of the park, not when Sora starts losing his lead. Sora may be faster, but he’s carrying weight, and they’ve already done so much.

They can’t keep going like this. Riku needs a plan. He closes his eyes, hopes against hope. When he opens them, he almost cries out in relief. There’s a wide arc of grease on the road in front of them, nacreous and shimmering like sun on asphalt even as it stains the compact dirt. Sora yelps and jumps over it, even winded and tired. Riku clears it easily.

“Sora,” Riku calls as he slows down, “Take Jiminy!”

“What, why?!” Sora says, slowing down too, which was not the plan.

“I need,” Riku begins, waiting for the monsters to reach the oil slick, “To slow… them down!”

The fire erupts from his palm as he shouts, and it hits the grease in a beautiful, clean arc. The fire burns orange and smoky, red-tipped, so warm Riku can feel it from here. The only problem is that Sora isn’t running.

“Go, what’s wrong with you?!” Riku flails at the road, the roofs. “Run, climb, anything!”

“Not without you!”

“Jiminy,” Riku pleads instead. “You have to jump onto Sora’s head or he won’t leave!”

“Now’s not the time for two-bit antics or gloomy melodrama, buster! We’re in this together!”

Cursing his luck to have such stupid friends, Riku watches the fire with dread. Let it be enough. Let it be enough —

A shape flickers forward, a shadow on the ground. It rises up into a bug, unharmed, pristine. A soldier monster charges through, unperturbed by the fire, yellow eyes visible even inside the flame. More burst through, or slide under. This must be why they’re heartless. Something has to be alive before it can be afraid.

Riku is out of time. His eyes sting from smoke and tears. He can’t even count on his friends to escape. Riku has no ideas left and he’s up against something that won’t die. They’re all doomed.

— Would you like to do something about that?

Sora charges; he must’ve dropped Pinocchio. A pipe is back in his hands, gleaming orange in the firelight. A rock sails past him; Riku glances behind him to see Pinocchio, pitching rocks at deathless abominations.

Riku steps forward, the ground lurching beneath him, and a piece of him is back in the nightmare, back in the current of Darkness: sinking, surfacing, the ground swallowing him up. The fury is there, the mouthless purpose, and he needs to help Sora and yet…

— Always a prisoner. Even inside your own heart.

He can feel heartless in the Darkness, twitching, relentless, and when he gets his balance he can see that the ones that aren’t fighting Sora have turned their unblinking lamplike eyes on him.

Sora is trying to block as a soldier kicks at him. It clips his shoulder. The surge of fear that runs through Riku thrums inside the current. Riku’s heartbeat slows. Even as Sora swings at more heartless, they turn away from Sora, and start walking toward Riku. All of them are walking toward Riku. Dark wisps dance in the edges of Riku’s vision.

Riku is cornered, again, after days of helplessness, months of decline, a year of inadequate flailing. His own impotent rage seeps into the current, mingling with the monster’s undying agony. They vibrate it back to him; he can taste that screaming feeling on his tongue. The heartless watch him like birds watch their reflections.

In the middle of it all, Sora turns to him and whispers, “…Riku?”

Riku shuts his eyes. The keyblade chose Sora, and Sora chose Kairi. He’ll choose Kairi, again, and again, and again. What is a kiss in the face of magic, the power to pull worlds together? Sora’s destiny is with someone else.

No fallen-star magic. No destiny. This is what’s left for Riku: the shrieking Darkness in his head, more despair than his heart can hold, another threat in his way. This time he knows how to use it.

In his lovely, awful voice, Sora asks, “What’re you doing?”

Riku thinks about disappearing, what it would be like to never hear that voice again, never feel like this again. He holds that festering despair in his heart until he can’t stand it, and then he shoves it into the current. One by one he feels the heartless fold into nothing, swept into darkness. Riku doesn’t know where they’re going. He doesn’t care.

Then he’s trapped in his body again and it’s excruciating. Something is collapsing inside of him and something else is trying to pull at his bones and muscles as if they’re putty and Riku tastes bile, unsure which way is up as his knees buckle and his heart flutters and the air is too sharp on his skin and he heaves, vomits bile and spittle into the dirt, which might be above him or below him or next to him.

The sound and vibration of Sora’s feet hitting the dirt is too strong and Sora thuds loudly next to Riku. When Sora touches him the sensation is like Sora reached through Riku’s outer layer of skin and hit the raw, wet, pink dermis within. Riku howls like he’s been flayed. It stings like an open wound even after Sora draws his hand away.

Riku crumples in on himself and wishes he was gone, heaves again even though there’s nothing left in his belly. The voices of his friends are just sounds, not words. He must be dying. Nothing can live like this for long.

All at once it shuts off. There is no park, no light, no sound. Riku can’t feel his body on the ground, or the churning of his guts, or the heave of his chest as he breathes.

In that sudden, total lack, that silence beyond silence, the voice speaks one last time.

— Ambitious. A promising start.

Chapter Text

Awake, aware, and disembodied, Riku adjusts to Darkness. He can’t walk, or even crawl, because he can’t feel his arms or legs. If he is breathing, he can’t tell.

“Sora! Jiminy! Pinocchio! Moogle! Anyone, please!”

No one comes for him. It’s possible that he’s not even speaking at all; he can’t feel breath, or lips, or tongue. Riku keeps calling, name after name: schoolmates, enemies, teachers, even his parents. People cared about him once, an imperfect love for an imperfect thing. Something has to be here, in the dark.

One by one the names begin to turn to hollow syllables, meaningless babble in his brain. Riku focuses on the two he remembers: Sora, Kairi. He’s never prayed to anything before, but these are his prayers, in the dark. He cared about these people once. Repeating them to himself is better than breath, the same as a heartbeat.

“Sora. Kairi.” On and on he chants, possibly into eternity.

Time means nothing here, because there is no change, not even a body to mark the time. Once his thoughts slow there is only a back-and-forth rhythm between Sora’s name and Kairi’s, endless, numb. If he’s hollowed out, if nothing else survives, let it be that he loved them.

Then the star appears. It’s one faint, white speck of light, but it wasn’t there before, which means that time must be moving forward. He can turn away from it, headless as he is, and turn back. That alone would be enough, but the light brightens until it’s rimmed with a corona of gold. He’s warm. It feels familiar.

“I miss you, Kairi,” he rambles deliriously to the light, while he can still form sentences. “I missed you all year. The world’s warmer and kinder when you’re near me, but cold and mean was easier to handle. Coward shit. I should’ve broken every rule to be with you.”

He doesn’t hear her laugh, but he remembers it. He doesn’t feel her flick his ear, but he remembers what it felt like. He remembers the smell of her house and the color of her hair, in a place beyond smell or color. It’s like something is making a collage out of his experiences, a message pieced together from cutouts of a magazine. Realistically, Riku’s mind is probably making one last grasp for coherency.

A memory of Kairi, six at most, shoulders sunburned pink, pops out from under the pier, soaked up past her navel, crowing that she’s here, she’s here, Riku might’ve found Sora but she was cleverer, he looked right at her and didn’t see, but she was here the whole time, now can they play a different game? A memory of Kairi from a few years ago tells him that she wouldn’t mind a hug. A recent memory of Kairi tells him she wants this to work. A pain-stricken memory of Kairi doubles over and curses, and tells him it hurts.

“Kairi, Kairi, Kairi.” Riku would weep if he was certain he had eyes. “I love you so much.”

Six year old Kairi brags that she was just under his feet, and he didn’t even look down. She’s here, child-Kairi insists. She was here all along.

Then, a distant, beloved voice asks, “Riku?”

“Sora!”

“Guys, I think he moved!” Sora calls, and before Riku can panic because his voice sounds more distant, Sora says, still muffled but not fading, “C’mon, Riku, please open your eyes. Please?”

“Sora, I don’t know where I am,” Riku says, scared because Sora is begging and frightened and far away. “It’s the Dark. Stay with me, please, while I can still think.”

“See?! His lips moved!” Sora calls, triumphant, and then reasons, “Okay, Riku, so this is a curse, right? Got to be. So either it’s a curse like the ones in our stories, or a curse like the ones in Kairi’s stories. And if it’s like in Kairi’s stories…”

Riku is being kissed on the lips, in the Darkness, across a kind of distance he can’t even fathom. The sensation of being touched alone is enough to make him cry. Miraculously, hot tears leak out of the sides of eyes he wasn’t sure he had, down cheeks that didn’t exist before.

“Oh no! I’m sorry!” Sora says, and the sensation of being kissed disappears. “I’m sorry, Riku, I don’t want to hurt you!”

“You’re not hurting me, Sora.” Riku makes another attempt, this time trying to remember the shape of his own lips, which is harder. “Not hurting, Sora.”

“He’s talking!” Sora cries, and it sounds like his eyes aren’t dry either. “Are you hurt?”

“No. Alone,” Riku says, because it’s easier to concentrate on short words. “Lost.”

“You’re not lost, you’re right here,” Sora insists, Riku knows he has a hand, because it’s being squeezed. “You’ll see, as soon as you open your eyes. Me and Jiminy and Pinocchio and the moogle are here, and once you’re awake we’ll all be together again. The heartless haven’t come for us all night. We’re safe.”

“Sora,” Riku says, because it’s impossible not to. Then, because he has no pride left, he begs, “Hold me?”

A warm body presses against parts of Riku which didn’t exist until they were touched. Riku can even tell that he’s breathing, because the warm arm laying across what must be his chest is rising and falling in an effortless rhythm. Riku tries to turn and rejoices as he’s rewarded. He has a face, and it’s buried in Sora’s hair. Riku laughs, and he can feel the inside of his mouth, too.

Sora laughs with him, shaking. “You scared us so bad.”

“Never again,” Riku promises.

“You better not.” Sora says it, but it’s Kairi speaking. When Sora continues, he’s all himself. “I just figured out this whole kissing thing with you, don’t bail on me now.”

Riku’s not sure he can move, so he coyly asks, “Have you?”

Riku gets a kiss for his effort, exactly as planned, and another, and then the admission, “I said figured it out, not mastered it. You’re still better at it. For now.”

“Need practice,” Riku teases, and Sora kisses him again.

Sora keeps holding Riku. Vaguely, Riku realizes that this is cuddling, and it’s glorious. As soon as his arms are real enough to move he’ll hold Sora too, so he knows how it feels.

There’s a twinge of shame that Riku can feel so happy without Kairi. He swears to the Kairi in his head that they’ll find her. Like a child compromising and begging their way toward their heart’s desire, he promises that she can have Sora if only they don’t leave him.

A memory of Kairi as a child asks if they can play a different game. She was here the whole time. He looked right at her, silly!

*

It takes a long time for Riku to open his eyes. Moving his arms and hands is easier, so Riku cuddles with Sora in the dark, staring at the star, while Sora tells them where they actually are. Riku can hear the moogle’s voice when they check on him. He can even smell the remnants of a campfire before he’s able to open his eyes.

When Riku does open his eyes, he pushes himself up, starved for scenery. The light from a lantern bounces off of the tent canvas, making everything look like a shadow play in progress. Sora is still in his day clothes, metal bits and all. The play of warm light and charcoal shadow on Sora’s face is worthy of art, and worse, makes Riku hesitate. Someone this good can’t possibly be real, not after what Riku’s seen. Then Sora smiles and Riku is on top of him, too fierce, too much, tongue and teeth and greed. Riku breaks away quickly.

“Hi,” Riku says, breathless.

Sora laughs, and he’s perfect. “Hi.”

“Hello,” Riku says, planting a kiss on Sora’s cheek, taking off his crown pendant. “Good morning.”

“Close,” Sora informs him as Riku unhooks the chain from Sora’s belt. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

“And you’re here now,” Riku says, prying his own gloves off. “Let’s make the most of it.”

Sora is giving him a long, appraising look, tinged with unacceptable sadness, which doesn’t go away when Riku straddles him.

“How’re you feeling, Riku?” Sora asks, ignoring the fact that Riku’s on top of him.

Riku laughs. “I’m alive. Back in my own body. On top of the prettiest boy in the world. How d’you think I feel?”

He can actually see the color rise in Sora’s cheeks, so Riku teases, “You like it when I call you pretty?”

“I like when you’re alive,” Sora snaps.

His tone makes both of them pause. Sora looks tired, bags under his eyes, looking down and away. Sheepishly Riku leans back as Sora scrubs at his forehead.

“I’m sorry, you just… scared me. Again. Right after we’d talked about this.”

“Oh.”

Sora’s upset. This is unacceptable. Riku knows he needs to apologize, but how and for what is beyond him. Sora was half of his heartbeat, in the Dark, and now he looks weary and small.

Sora sighs. “I don’t … I don’t want to be mad at you. It feels like a waste, after all that time.”

“How long was I gone?”

“Hours.” Sora’s voice cracks. “I was waiting.”

Riku cups Sora’s cheek in one hand, to prove he doesn’t have to wait anymore.“I would’ve come back, if I could.”

“What happened?”

Riku sighs. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have on top of Sora, so he rolls off of him and lies down next to him. Sora turns to face him, so they can lie face to face, eye to eye, not touching. He means to buy time, but he still gets lost in looking at Sora from a different angle, that bright blue eye, the points of his hair, even though Sora has turned over and half of his face is pressed into the ground. Sora is still watchful, and Riku feels bare, reduced to his most important parts. He could tell Sora anything.

Riku has to start somewhere. “So, this Darkness, it’s like… under everything, right? Or at our feet, at least. When our world was destroyed, I felt it for the first time. The monsters —”

“— Heartless —”

“Sure, the heartless, they’re inside it. Existing in it. So, when they showed up, I dipped into the Darkness. Got them to do what I wanted to. But I must’ve fucked up, because everything hurt, and then I was all the way in it, so bad that I got lost.”

“How? You passed out, but you never disappeared.”

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t find my body.” At the look on Sora’s face Riku says, “Until I heard you, and you started touching me. You didn’t hurt me, Sora.”

“Good.” Sora sighs.

“You brought me back,” Riku reassures him. “You saved me.”

“Good,” Sora repeats, then says, “Don’t use evil powers anymore, okay?”

Even after what he’s been through, or perhaps especially because of what he’s been through, Riku finds himself saying, “I don’t think it’s evil.”

Unimpressed, Sora says, “Riku. The heartless.”

“Yeah, I know, but the ocean’s not evil because it’s got sharks in it. And no, I know, sharks aren’t evil either,” Riku says, as Sora is opening his mouth to defend sharks. “Just because something’s dangerous to you doesn’t mean it’s evil.”

“Don’t talk to me about the ocean,” Sora snaps, which is fair. “We’re able to live off of it because we don’t go doing stupid stuff. We don’t dive headfirst and assume we can breathe down there.”

“But the water’s rising,” Riku points out. “If we don’t figure out how to live in it, we’ll drown.”

“That’s not how the ocean works. This is a bad metaphor. I’m gonna make you talk to my uncles and aunties, and we’ll take you fishing, just so you stop making bad metaphors.”

“Sure.”

“And don’t use dark powers, because it makes you pass out and lose your body.”

“Yessir.”

Sora huffs, and Riku laughs in spite of himself. He lays a hand on top of Sora’s hand for the joy of it, running his thumb along Sora’s bare skin.

“Trust me, I don’t want to leave,” Riku says, knowing that someday he’ll probably have to.

“Good,” Sora says, emphatically. “So… you like it when I kiss you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Neat, I like that too.” Sora says it without coyness or irony, and moves on quickly. “And you like holding my hand, and hugging me… what else?”

Riku props himself up on his elbow, bends one knee, and considers flexing before ultimately deciding against it. If only he could take his shit off without being weird. As it is, the pose will have to do. He pitches his voice low.

“What else do you want?”

“… Is something wrong with your throat?”

“No,” Riku says in his normal voice, his face warm. “Just… try something. What else do you like?”

When Sora considers this, his eyes go down and away. He doesn’t even look at Riku’s body. Riku does not sigh, but it’s a near thing. It’s enough that he’s here.

When Sora does look back at him, he stares intently at Riku’s face. Slowly, he reaches both hands forward, and places them on Riku’s cheeks. Riku leans into the touch, corners of his mouth tugging up, relishing the feeling of Sora’s hands on his face.

Then Sora starts pinching at Riku’s cheeks. “Hehehehehehe.”

“That’s how it is?” Riku asks in mock outrage, rolling over and putting Sora into a headlock. “I open my heart to you and you betray me?”

“Nooo,” Sora cries, still giggling, drumming his heels against the ground in protest.

“You started this,” Riku says, casually holding Sora as he squirms.

If he really needed to, Sora could tap out, but instead he paws at Riku’s arm and says, through his laughter, “I’ll behave!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“No, no, I will, I will,” Sora says as Riku lets go and fully lays on him, “I will! I will, I will! Stoppp!”

A very irritated voice interrupts them from outside the tent. “It is four in the morning, kupo.”

“Sorry!” Riku separates from Sora on instinct, face burning, feeling like he could blush down to his cuticles.

“Sorry!” Sora calls, looking how Riku feels.

“Riku, I’m glad you’re feeling better, kupo.” The moogle calls, sleepily. “Go to bed.”

Riku sits up and looks to Sora, who’s looking at him. Riku finds himself waiting for a telling off, for someone to separate them, and he has to tell himself that it’s not coming. They don’t even have to go to bed.

Sora leans over and whispers as quietly as he can, “D’you want coffee?”

“It’s early,” Riku whispers back.

“We’re closer to breakfast than dinner.” Sora whispers, “Plus anytime is breakfast time if you take enough naps and believe in yourself.”

“That’s not how that works,” Riku whispers, but Sora is already standing up.

It still feels strange to stand. It’s like the morning after the first night he got here, except now there’s this full-body ache and a sense of unreality. Maybe this is an extended hallucination. It certainly feels too good to be true.

Well, except for the fact that he needs to use the bathroom. That part checks out. Riku groans and walks outside.
*

The campsite smells like coffee, strong and rich. Riku can’t see any stars in the dark sky, nor any sign of dawn on the horizon. A camp lantern burns yellow and the coals burn orange in the dark, along with the lamp in the park, its light and shadows looming threats. Sora is hunched over the fire, concentrating.

“Hey,” Sora whispers, as Riku drags a chair over to sit next to him. “Um. What about ‘I love you?’”

“… What about it?”

Sora forgets to whisper and murmurs instead, “I mean, like, I do love you. But you can’t say that stuff, right? Like you’re pressuring someone else into saying it, if you say it first. Or if you say you love somebody, people think it means the other thing, marriage and babies and stuff.” Sora looks to Riku for confirmation, and whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it in Riku’s face. “Or is it like the rest, and we can do what we want?”

“I love you too,” Riku murmurs, too blindsided and giddy to process anything else.

If he hadn’t been pulled out of his body and seen Kairi fighting some massive suit of armor on a distant world, this would officially be the best day Riku’s ever had. Maybe that can count as a separate day, since midnight has come and gone. Sora loves him.

Sora grins. “I love you, then. Sorry it took me so long to say.”

“I mean, you still said it first.” Sora makes a face while obviously trying not to make a face, and Riku asks, “…What?”

When Sora doesn’t answer, Riku starts combing through his memories. “Did I say it in my sleep, or something?”

“… Kinda?”

“Sora. When did I tell you I love you.”

“… Um. So. In November —”

In his panic, Riku forgets the warning. “November?!”

“Shh! Yes, November! Around exams!” Sora whispers at such high volume that he might as well just be talking. “And anyway, it doesn’t count!”

“November,” Riku moans quietly to himself, slumping forward.

With dismay, Riku remembers two wretched weeks: the projects, the tests. He remembers the cramming, the frenetic nights, the rounds of disappointed lectures from the adults in his life after it was over. These are the clearest memories he has, and even these are a blur. The days were a sleepless, exhausted slurry, entirely lost to him.

“It doesn’t count,” Sora insists, murmuring again. “Look, it was the morning we found you in the library. You were out cold. I wasn’t even sure you’d get to class.”

Riku remembers that part, though he won’t share his memories. At four AM, as he was wrapping up his work, Riku was seized by the certainty that if he closed his eyes he’d wake up days after the exams were over. Propelled by fear, he’d gotten ready for the day, walked to school in the dark, slipped through the library window which nobody ever remembered to lock, and tried to fall asleep. He couldn’t get comfortable, so he only passed out after sunrise.

Sora continues, “Kairi and I were trying to stop Tidus and Wakka from messing with you. Selphie kept switching sides, but Kairi made Selphie promise to help while I bought coffee from the canteen.”

“You bought coffee?”

The bastards running the canteen always marked up the price of coffee during exams, which was already at a premium that November due to the student health taxes. A cup of coffee would’ve cost about as much as a full meal, and Sora didn’t even carry that much money with him on a good day. This story is already terrible.

“Kairi spotted me,” Sora grudgingly admits, rubbing his neck. “But I had to wake you up to give it to you, right? And you were barely awake, but you took a sip and looked at me and said, ‘I’ll never love anything the way I love you.”

Riku still does not wish for the Darkness, but he does wish that he could go back in time and punch himself in the face. He buries his head in his hands. Sora pats him on the shoulder.

“You were out of it. Tidus and Wakka were laughing like you were being funny, and I never know what to do when I don’t get the joke so I … didn’t say anything. Then the bell rang, and we had to get you to class.”

“You thought it was a joke,” Riku mumbles weakly.

“I couldn’t tell,” Sora says, hushed frustration in his voice. “I couldn’t even tell if Tidus and Wakka were making fun of you or not. And if you were serious, and they were laughing at you, I’d just let you down. So we found you asleep at lunch, when Tidus kept saying I should do stuff to wake you up because you love me so much, I knew they were making fun of you.“

This whole situation was his fault, and Riku can’t do anything about it. His only consolation is that their world is gone. Even peeking through his fingers to see Sora’s furrowed brow and hunched shoulders hurts.

“But Kairi was like, ‘Riku’s just talking about coffee, you idiot, lay off of Sora.’ And she was ready to prove it, except the cafeteria was out of anything that could pass for coffee, even the malunggguay tea. So she stole coffee from the teachers’ lounge.”

“What.” Riku lifts his head from his hands, briefly.

“I didn’t even think she’d do it, we just waited for her to come back and she did. Said there was a carafe and no one was looking. So she gave it to you, right, and after you drank it you said it again. ‘I’ll never love anything the way I love you.’”

Wordlessly, Riku retreats to the safety of his hands. Sora pats him on the back this time.

“It looked like you were doing a bit. Tidus thought it was funny, so it was all okay. Except after school, before we all went home, Wakka wanted to try, right?”

“No.”

“So he got his thermos of malungguay tea, and handed it to you —”

“No.”

“— And you looked at Wakka and you just went, ‘You’re all right.’ So we all made fun of Wakka instead.” Sora concludes.

“Good,” Riku says savagely, grateful that he was at least an honest shambling wreck. “Damn it. I can’t believe I told Kairi I love her.”

“I mean, I have,” Sora says, because of course he has. “But she gets it. She knows it’s not dating-love.”

Riku groans again. Bravely, he finally takes his hands away from his face, in time to watch Sora take the coffee pot off of the fire. He pours one mug, hands it to Riku, and pours nothing for himself.

“Where’s yours?” Riku asks.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“What?” Riku remembers the number of times Sora offered him coffee, the full thermos sloshing at the bottom of the boat. “No. No, you make it all the time.”

“For you and for Kairi, yeah,” Sora says placidly. “Kairi’s dad has a bunch that he only uses for like, fancy guests, so she gives me the stuff that he won’t miss, that’s about to go bad. Plus people drink it at home. I gotta move quick and save a thermos before they get it all.”

Riku can remember the mornings on the dock, Sora offering Riku the metal thermos, then offering it to Kairi. Riku had said something about it being a bad habit, once, and Kairi glowered at him.

“I need to make out with you,” Riku decides, setting the mug aside. “Right the hell now.”

“Over coffee? See, this is why we were confused.” When Riku leans over to kiss him Sora leans back, protesting, “Wait, wait, wait, we’re public!”

“Nobody’s here,” Riku murmurs. “Nobody’s even awake.”

“Jiminy’s keeping watch.”

Nearby, on the other side of the campfire, Jiminy says, “Hello.”

Riku yelps and tumbles backwards out of his chair, taking Sora with him.