Kisei
きせいする：homecoming; to return home
When Sora came back, he'd practically run through town, grinning ear-to-ear as he quite literally ran into people as surprised to see him as he was to be home. Riku and Kairi had followed behind, laughing as their friend practically sailed down streets, knowing exactly where he was ultimately headed.
When his mother answered the door, they watched from the lawn as she looked at her son and, heartbreakingly, for a split second didn't know who she saw. And then when the realization hit her, they watched the tears rolling down her face, arms wrapping around her boy who, truth be told, was crying a bit himself.
Inside, they three told his mother of what had happened. Riku himself said the most while Sora walked around his old house, smiling broadly and running his hands over chairs and cupboards, and returning to make sure his silver-haired friend wasn't being to hard on himself, only to jump up again and start going through a drawer or cupboard.
His mother showed them a faded and worn letter, read too many times and clenched in a hand too often. It told her that her son was needed, that he was special. That she already knew. The brief explanation of a Keyblade confused her entirely, but there was no misreading the lines detailing the grand and dangerous adventure her little boy had been sent on. The last thing on the page was a seal, a circle with two smaller ones attached, that the children identified as King Mickey's.
Sora was eager to show her all he'd learned, but careful not to hit anything when the Keyblade came to his hand. She was impressed. She was less impressed and more amused when Kairi asked for something to drink and Sora used magic to conjure water into a cup. It unfortunately soaked him to the bone as well, and his laugh was the loudest as he handed the glass to her.
His old bed, his old room, it was all smaller than he remembered. The boat hanging from the ceiling was still there, dust lying thick on the two figures at the prow. Kairi and Riku were asleep in other rooms, the hours having flown by with each recounted tale until it was far too late to be walking home. Sora couldn't find the exhaustion in him, and so sat by his window, watching the stars and their island until sunrise came and he finally fell into dreams.
The next few days, the only place Kairi would find him at would be the ocean shore. He would be trying to catch fish, picking up shells, watching a crab scuttle along, or some other funny, pointless little activity. Most often, when she came, he'd be sitting there, his bare feet in the surf, picking up a handful of damp sand and letting it run through his fingers in dripping rivers or in clumps. When it was gone, he'd pick up another handful again. He'd gone to worlds where there was water; he'd gone to worlds with sand; but nowhere were there beaches, and the memory of the shore had almost left him entirely.
He would deliberately spend days doing nothing of any significance. He and Riku might mock-fight on the island, using wooden swords that felt wonderfully clumsy and small as they dueled, using their skills for the most outlandish battles ever. Once they had sparred, jumping from palm tree to palm tree; another time, they'd fought in their boats, in the middle of the waterway between islands, ending in a laughing Kairi and both drenched in seawater.
Letters from Mickey came occasionally, as did Donald and Goofy, but it was always only to visit. They'd teach Kairi a thing or two, like how to cast a basic spell, or how to use a shield, but it was only in fun--or so they liked to think. Nobody said anything, but everyone knew there could always be a day when they were needed. And they all knew that, as a Princess of Heart or as friend of two Keyblade wielders, she was in an extremely volatile position. No one mentioned the Keyblade she herself had used, or how she had managed to, but secretly, she made sure she could cast that magic, that she could twist out of that hold, wondering when she might need to.
Sora had delayed going to their secret cave, not wanting to face the door and the memories it would stir up. He doubted anyone else had gone in there for a long while; Kairi had never said anything about his addition to their drawing, and Riku had gotten to old for it long ago. When he went in, his hands wandered over the walls, white grains clinging to his skin, until he was at the back. There were each other's portraits, and the paopu he'd drawn--and to his shock, the one she'd drawn as well. A slow grin spread over his face as he stood, understanding in pictures what neither of them had words for.
Kairi hadn't been expecting company as she watched the sun set from under their paopu tree, its bushy leaves a canopy, her carpet the sand. Needless to say, when footsteps approached, she tensed, and when the crooked trunk shook as someone vaulted over it, she was a little more apprehensive, until a familiar pair of feet appeared. Sora settled next to her as her stomach erupted into butterflies, and there was a short stretch of silence until something landed with a thump on his head. They both laughed as he caught the falling paopu, figuring it must have been knocked loose when he'd shaken the tree; neither suspected a certain silver-haired friend interfering from a distance, a friend who'd had enough of them dancing around each other.
When the paopu fell, Kairi didn't know what to think, and it certainly didn't help when Sora looked at her and back at the fruit again, thoughtful. There was a slight creak; he seemed to be bending it. "I like the change you made to the picture."
"What?"
"In the cave."
"Oh." Her face flushed.
There was a snap as the paopu split down the middle. Sora held out half to her.
It didn't taste at all like she'd expected; the rind was tangy, even bitter, the flesh crunchy and sweet. The bite she'd taken was almost more than she could chew, but she swallowed anyway, glancing over at Sora. He was looking at her as well, and she would forever remember that their first kiss, as awkward and fumbling as it was, was absolutely perfect, and it tasted of paopu.
After that, things changed. It was subtle at first: Sora's goofy grin was more common, especially around Kairi; Riku seemed to be suddenly and conveniently busy whenever there was a potential romantic setup of any kind; the three of them spent more time on the island than ever. But she noticed as they slowly stopped playing less and actually fighting seriously more in their pretend battles. When Donald and Goofy came next, they were as absurd as ever, but seemed a bit worried. Donald made sure she remembered her spells. She saw Sora and Riku scanning a letter from Mickey intently, faces darkening, but when she approached, Sora froze and Riku claimed some of their friends had caught the seasonal flu. When she and Sora watched the sun fall and the night come from under the paopu, he held her hand tighter than usual.
Finally Sora left, traveling to Disney Castle--on a visit, he said. In meantime, Kairi interrogated Riku, until he admitted something minor had come up and Sora had left to see for himself. Riku had stayed to watch over the islands. When she couldn't get anything else out of him, she demanded to know why she had been able to use a Keyblade. Admitting ignorance, Riku was promptly bullied into teaching her at least how to use one, to some extent. It didn't come easily to her in any way, shape, or form, but she made herself learn. Having watched both her friends fight, she could see she lacked style and grace, and any fragment of mastery, but at the very least she could swing it and hit something better than she'd done in the castle of the Nobodies.
Sora was only gone for a few days, but when he came back, he appeared on the beach as Kairi blocked a very slow, very gentle slice from Riku. Moving like lightning, he had knocked Riku's Keyblade from his hand, the Ultima leveled at his friend's chest, Kairi getting an eyeful of his back. She immediately seized his jacket and hauled him back, both her and Riku shouting explanations at the same time. The light of comprehension dawned in his eyes before he staggered and dropped to his knees, passing out.
He was unhurt but exhausted, and slept far too long for his mother's comfort. They all worried. Kairi and Riku practiced harder, together and by themselves.
Sora wasn't happy that she was learning how to fight. She couldn't understand why, until he finally told her she shouldn't have to, that she shouldn't be ever put in that kind of situation. And she understood, but she pointed out that none of them really ever were supposed to be in the situations they'd been in; life hadn't been fair to any of them, and yet it had happened. All she could do, she told him, was try to make sure that when they ended up in danger, that she could help get them out of it as soon as possible. After that, he helped teach her as well.
As days passed, the islands seemed to get smaller; they seemed to be older. After braving monsters and riding the winds, the notion of the approaching school year seemed terrifyingly mundane. (For Sora, the only perk was the girl's uniform, or the notion of Kairi in such.) When the next letter from Mickey came, it was Kairi who found it and ran as fast as she could to her friends, eager to know what came next. And as their eyes traveled over the page, reading each word with excitement, they felt a bit bad about rejoicing over misfortune, but mostly ready for another adventure.
They knew they could always return; they knew they would need to. For sanity's sake, they would need days of nothing but sand and sea and paopu and silliness. The islands were their home, their childhood; but now they were too small. When they met again on the beach, Riku, Sora, and Kairi had said their goodbyes for the time being, their blood rushing as they flashed one another guilty grins, each knowing the truth. Nothing changed in Destiny Islands; nothing would but them--and they, finally, were ready to leave.