Verdict
Kesshou Uryou

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Disclaimer: I do not own.
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In a world where there is only the innocent and the not, she is the innocent and he is the guilty.
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She found him where she had least expected to. Or perhaps that was not exactly right. A better way to phrase it could have just been the fact that was where he always went off to when the world was not the most appreciative.

So if he had truly been trying to avoid her presence, and in the process dodging her concerned inquires, she hadn't thought that was where he would take of to. Yet he had, and she thought that maybe that was a sign. A sign that he, in a way, might want to talk about it despite his earlier actions.

The notion of forgiveness too ran across the edge of her mind, and she wasn't exactly sure why. But she felt very strongly and entirely that it was important in some way or another. It was just a feeling she had.

Now, though, he could just actually want to talk, but he wasn't sure how to form the words to ask, needed a push to get started. So intuition had been her crutch as she ran after him, ran after what was slipping away. Both figuratively and literally.

And somewhere, in a far recess of her mind, there too was another thought. One she was sure of without any reasons, the necessary logic, or the proof behind it.

This was a talk long overdue.

But there was no one to blame. No unkind words to be directed towards anyone else in particular. And there was no one willing to do such if there were any to begin with. It seemed almost unusual for such a situation to unfold, and she really had to wonder what was going on.

She took a seat not two feet away from his silent figure with the purpose of figuring it out in mind.

There was nothing spoken from either of them as she waited, and somehow vaguely she thought that maybe he had fallen asleep like that, hunched over and his eyes obscured. Sitting up and still sleeping, he always seemed to be able to do anything with enough will power.

Then she thought that maybe it wasn't he that was sleeping, that it was in fact her. And this was just some strange dream. One of those where you tell yourself over and over again that you're not dreaming, not dreaming, but you really always are or else you wouldn't need to be convincing yourself otherwise.

But still, her thoughts became drowned out because she was an intensive listener, one with a sensitive ear, always ready to hear what another had to say. And now he was speaking, and she knew that this required all her attention.

"Where's Sora?"

She wanted to be surprised, she really did. But somehow, someway, she wasn't.

"Hey." She wanted to be upset at his lack of acknowledgment, but she knew she was trying to be the understanding one here. "Hey- Riku? Listen. Don't think I'm ignoring you or anything. You're my- our best friend too. Don't tell me you forgot."

"No." She wanted to let out a loud, almost strangled noise in frustration but instead chose for leaning back, hands propping up her upper body, fingers laced in sun-warmed sand.

"You know," she found herself nudging one foot with the other, golden particles wedging between her toes, "I might be looking into this too much, but well, I think this might be about something that's just between the two of us. So it's okay not to ask about Sora right now if you know what I mean… Or maybe I'm just completely wrong and sounding like an idiot."

She was already very sure that she wasn't getting anywhere and the feeling of being off put was now not a stranger to her.

"In a way you're right. What still bothers me isn't really about Sora. But he's still a part of it." She was surprised and turned her head to look his way without still managing eye contact. His eyes were traveling the ocean's edge, treading one way and then back and all over again.

She knew better to question his choice of words, including the particular word that was still. He was like that. Wasn't the easiest person to read. Wasn't the most open. "Might be good to tell me what it's about. Do you want to?"

Silence, heavy silence that should have been tenser than it was. He was considering glancing her way, she taking up the task he had fulfilled, gazing across the endless cycle that was of water flowing back and forth, back and forth.

He finally did; she didn't react. Just kept staring forward.

She was the perfect image of something ordinary, but that deceiving notion wasn't what had been impressed into his mind. She looked quite simple, a little daring edge to her face, a half-smile looking lost on its route to her lips. Frowning at the same time, traces of thoughtfulness in the corner of her eyes.

She was too damn untouched, much more than she should be. And then he had to really think. Weren't they all besides him? Just how many wrong choices, ones that had the makings of good intentions… How many of them had failed their purpose and gone astray? And how many of those same decisions belonged to him?

It should be a rhetorical question. He knew no one else that had even known the consequences that came with choosing the wrong path to walk. Thinking something lead where it should, not really knowing how, just a thought that it was the way to travel to get to where the heart desired.

So he had to wonder why was he seeking an answer to it when there should be none sought. Just one look at her, one look at her with all of her false ordinary aura, and it was so blatantly obvious, what he had known for a long time now.

There was a balance to be upheld, and they were stuck in the middle of it all, everyone needing to be categorized. And no thought was needed to make the distinctions.

In a world where there is only the innocent and the not, she is the innocent and he is the guilty.

No delay and teasing words in anticipation of the decree. That was the verdict, and that was how it would stand. No matter how much the past screamed to be erased, forgotten, such things weren't that easy.

How to tell her all of that was not something he could probably put into words. And she would never understand, never accept it. She'd refuse to recognize what he knew so well.

But she wanted the effort, so he'd give it to her. Maybe it wasn't what she wanted to hear, maybe he wouldn't say it all, or say it in a way she'd be willing to listen to, a hint in the other direction that she'd blindly follow, wanting to believe. Maybe he'd just say it without meaning to, but he'd say something. Once again with good intentions having all the possibility to be turned inside out, upside down and worsening everything all over again.

But she wanted to hear something, was waiting for it to come any moment now, and he was prepared to try as he always had. She deserved for such a simple wish to be fulfilled, and he would do it. Let her judge him the way she decided with his single slip of the tongue.

"What do you remember about back then? A year or more ago?" She turned then, confusion bubbling up to clearly display itself in her eyes, seeking comprehension and finding none. She opened her mouth, opened then close, contemplative for a moment before she looked ready to speak again. He interrupted.

"I mean when you lost your heart." His mouth worked around the rewording. "Well, you didn't really loose it since Sora had it, but if you know what I mean…"

He had to think again. It was almost surprising how long this talk had been brewing, and it should have played out before, when it was more recent. But an opportunity hadn't presented itself, and now that the aftermath had at last fully been drawn out, it was finally time for the conversation to take place.

"Do- do you mean what I remember?" She waited for the hesitant nod and breathed, now looking skyward. "Well, what I felt… Really there was nothing because I had no heart of my own. I shouldn't have been able to remember anything, but there are these hazy traces, image after image that I can't quite place and I wonder where they came from, but then I knew. But those really weren't my feelings, my memories. So there's nothing that I can really say that I remember."

A pause and they both knew that those had been Sora's memories, his emotions. She hugged her knees to herself, thoughts that had plagued her now returning, unrelenting questions that she never found the answers to. When had there been time to ask? Never.

She understood the basics. That was all. That was all that she had the chance, the resourcefulness to figure out herself. They were obvious and small fillings and gaps inf an abyss that made up the complete puzzle.

She was back. They weren't. She had to wait then. She could only imagine the conclusion that had transpired, one she had never gotten the real details about. And still, there were some unspoken words that she had missed between Sora and Riku. And she wondered, having never been told. She wondered why Riku had lost himself to Ansem. Wondered how that was possible.

There was so much she still didn't know the answer to, and she wanted to know what pieces she was still missing, so much did she want to finish that puzzle and lay it to rest.

She wanted to say something herself, wanted to ask, but it was his turn and his words that she was here to listen to.

"I admitted to Sora that I was jealous." A response of only just the slightly widened of eyes until she realized she shouldn't be so surprised. Maybe they had all grown up more than she had thought, maybe they had matured a little too much a little too fast. Maybe…

"There's no way I could not have been. I tried, Kairi. I really tried to save you, but I just didn't do it the right way. Didn't know when to stop, made the wrong choices. Almost completely lost myself too. And now I think there was no way, even if I went back and redid things, there really was no way I could have done it."

And she didn't want him to, didn't need him to keep going. Things were just a little clearer, reasoning found and filed away as she worked hard, desperately to put things into a new perspective. She couldn't, really couldn't, find why this was eating him alive. She couldn't see, couldn't understand, but she wanted to. She really did. And he had known this would happen.

Then it all really clicked and she frowned, complete with disappointment and disagreement and with so many words that she wanted to say, not knowing how to say them. Not knowing how to make him understand.

No, she still didn't know the specifics, didn't know it all. But she knew how he felt. She opened her mouth, ready to argue until he could see what she could.

"Don't you dare." At first that was all she could manage, but her expression didn't let her meaning fall short. Then she found more voice to speak with, slowing down only so she wouldn't run over her own words to lessen their impact. "Don't you ever blame yourself Riku. You didn't mean for it to happen. You tried, Riku. You did. There's no excuse to think like that."

She had laid her judgment, seen him with her eyes, heard what he had to say, connected fragments of thoughts together, and had spoken what she felt needed to be spoken. Somehow he had just known it would happen, somehow he really had.

Her verdict, it was different, contrastingly and utterly different than his own. Two sides of the circumstance, different as different could be.

And her face, innocent as it was, was marred with the signs of frustration. It was her showing that she wouldn't give up so easily, knew that he wasn't convinced. She herself knowing she would keep going until all doubts were erased because he deserved that much.

He sat through it, knowing it was far from over. Knew she could see that he still didn't believe, and so unrelenting she became so that she could make sure he saw that it wasn't his fault, that she gave him her complete forgiveness. She gave it honestly even when she believed that there wasn't even anything to apologize for. She knew, knew he wanted it even though he wasn't willing to accept it.

And he was glad, really glad. He didn't want to be confined within a limiting verdict. He didn't want to be the guilty one, destined to be labeled as such forever. She made his faults, his failure, just a little easier. A small bit easier to swallow, to accept.

He wanted that forgiveness too. That forgiveness she gave so willingly.

Because that was all he wanted. Not just from her, but from everyone else too. It was just that he wanted it from her especially.

And one day, he hoped he'd be able to accept it. So he'd keep trying for that day. That was all he could do, all that was left to be done.

She was willing. He could try.

To find out how to forgive himself, to change a verdict long since passed. If that was still possible, he'd make it a reality.

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Because when have just the two of them ever had the chance to chat about old times without the very fate of all the worlds hanging in the balance?