Author's Comments: Two new stories within the same week? What nonsense is this?

So I know those who finished reading The Moirai Zealot were wondering what the heck happens after Imani gets her heart and memories back from Xemnas. Well...this could answer some questions...maybe. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts. I own Imani.

I'm just about ready to rip my hair out.

"Thank you. Please come again."

I flash a tight smile to the shopkeeper as I exit—a smile that quickly disappears the moment I turn away from her and glare at the street. That was the eighth shop I tried today. No matter where I go, I just can't find that perfect present to give him…or, at least, I can't find a present that someone else hasn't already gotten for him.

I grumble under my breath. Maybe I'll just buy cookie dough and bake it off for him…if Axel will let me borrow the diner's oven…and if he doesn't intentionally burn them…

I stop suddenly. A sign hanging in front of a shop I'd never seen before catches my eye. An emblem—something like an upside-down spade with a feather-like knife in the center—is carved into the wood.

Before I realize it, my feet lead me in the direction of the shop. In the window sit various wooden objects—intricately decorated boxes, pendants, stools and small chairs…

My heart stops when my eyes land on the display of wooden daggers. They look similar to…ethereal blades…

Could he be here…?

Giving myself the excuse that I still have a present to buy, I tiptoe into the shop, eyeing the woodwork scattered throughout the room. No shopkeeper greets me. In fact, the entire shop is completely quiet save my footsteps.

My tongue sits heavily in my mouth. I can't find the courage to call a hello. Instead I wander to a corner where more decorated boxes sit, half-hoping the shopkeeper doesn't find me here…and yet half-hoping he does…

Awe slowly washes over my apprehension as I study the boxes. Each one is decorated differently from the others with all sorts of carvings around its sides and on its cover…Would he like anything like this for a present?

"Can I help you?"

I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice—the deep, familiar voice. Instinctively my head whips over my shoulder at the owner of the deep, familiar voice…and my stomach flips and my heart skips several beats.

His brow furrows beneath the silver bangs framing his pale face…bangs that couldn't be held back with the rest of his hair in his low ponytail. "Are you alright, miss?" he asks sincerely, his yellow-green-on-its-way-to-blue eyes boring into mine.

It's him, a voice in my head chants. It's him. It's him.

"Miss?"

Shaking my head from its daze, I clear my throat and try to mentally scold my heart into calming down. "I'm…looking for a gift for my friend," I murmur.

"Is there a specific occasion?"

"It's his birthday next week."

He hums thoughtfully. "I see."

Questions pile up at the back of my throat no matter how many times I swallow. Quickly I wave a hand to the display of boxes. "I was thinking of getting him one of these, but I can't choose between them…" I smile at him hesitantly. "They're all beautiful."

It shouldn't surprise me, but it does anyway: he smiles back without menace or contempt. "Thank you. I made them myself."

Slowly my smile grows and my shoulders relax at the sight. He really does have a nice smile. "How long has this shop been here?" I ask.

He takes a moment to think. "Today makes…about three months."

I do the calculations in my head. Three months…That certainly fits the timeline. "Do you get much business?"

"I get enough to keep the shop running."

As I slowly nod, I pick out a couple of boxes and hold them up for him. "Okay, I think I'll buy either this one or this one."

He smiles again—again—as he looks at the ones I chose. "A difficult choice to make…but perhaps the stories behind each box could help."

"There's a story behind them?"

"I find that the stories I know inspire me when I work in the shop."

Stories, huh? They were probably folk tales told to him by neighbors or acquaintances...but they must have been pretty good stories if they inspired him to make such beautiful boxes.

I hold up the box in my left hand. "What's the story behind this one?"

His grin softens as he takes the box from me, running his fingertips along the designs fondly. "There was once a boy whose spirit was full of light," he murmurs. "In a world shrouded in darkness and uncertainty, his spirit shone brightly and his faith dispelled the fear that strangled the innocent."

I blink. A boy whose spirit was full of light...

"He persevered through the betrayal of one of his best friends and through the forced separation with his other best friend," he continues. "He fought against forces of darkness and risked his life in order to rescue his friends."

This story sounds familiar...

"His heart was the key to unlocking peace and serenity."

My breath catches in my throat and my eyes widen. No. No. He couldn't be talking about...

Before I can comment, he nods to the box in my right hand and says, "That one is about a man who lost something very precious to him. He searched far and wide, devoting his existence to retrieving it at the expense of others. His obsession brought the world to darkness and blinded him."

Another wave of shock ripples from the top of my head to my fingers and toes, turning my limbs and lungs to stone. I can't believe it.

"During his search," he continues obliviously, his eyes darkening with sadness, "this man brought the most harm upon his friend, stripping her of everything that defined her…everything except her determination to make things right. She fought against him with the power she had remaining in her and nearly died at his hand…but she saved him."

I saved him.

"After all was said and done, he did not remember any of it. He had retrieved what he was fighting for, but he did not remember ever losing it in the first place. He did not think to thank his friend because he did not remember having a friend like her. A sad story, isn't it?" He finally looks to me…and his eyes widen. "Miss, are you alright? You're…you're crying…"

I snap out of my shock, hastily wiping away the wet trails on my face and breathing in deeply. "I-I'm fine," I tell him with a wavering voice. "Th…That story was just so…touching…"

"I'm sorry I made you cry…"

"Oh, no! It's not your fault."

I stifle my grimace as my sniffling fills in the silence after my words. I'm sure he can feel the awkwardness weighing on his shoulders and sinking through his shirt. I know I do.

Still...

The question sneaks past my lips before I can stop it: "Who told you these stories?"

He glances away sheepishly. "N...No one. I created them while I created these."

My jaw drops. "Wow…" I exhale. He subconsciously remembers…but he's not aware that…

He clears his throat, holding out the box in his hand to me. "Well, what are your thoughts after hearing their stories?"

I purse my lips together tightly lest my true thoughts burst from me, humming to cover up my squeal of amazement. "I think…" I begin, smiling brightly for him, "I'll take both of them."

"Wow!" Sora exclaims, peering closely at the box after throwing aside the wrapping paper and ribbon. "Did you make this?"

I shake my head with a laugh. "I found it in a store I happened to pass. Do you like it?"

"Of course I do! Thanks, Imani!"

"So all your work is inspired from your stories?"

"Yes."

"Amazing..."

"Pardon?"

"It's just...All your work is beautiful...I have to wonder what other stories you created in the process of making all this."

A chuckle. "I'd be happy to share more of them with you if you visit again."

"What's with the face?"

I blink out of my thoughts, arching an eyebrow at Riku. "What face?"

"That face." He pokes a finger into my cheek, narrowing his eyes. "You know something."

"Don't give me that," I sigh, shaking my head. "Of course I know something."

Those jade eyes roll back into his head exasperatedly and he huffs slightly, his mouth curling into a small grin. "Where'd you get that box?"

"I hope you'll pardon my honesty..."

"Yes?"

"I don't know how to explain it, but...I have the feeling that we've met before..." A clearing of the throat and eyes flitting around to glance anywhere but at me. "I apologize. I'm sure you'll agree when I say that the possibility of knowing you couldn't exist. I've been working on perfecting my craft for the past thirteen years..." Another chuckle as he holds his pale hands out for me to see. "I rarely stepped out of the shop, if it isn't obvious."

"I'm Imani."

A smile. "Imani..."

"So...?" Riku persists. "Where'd you get the box?"

I grin. "From a friend."

Author's Afterthought: Happy holidays! Please leave a review! Thank you for reading!