He was surrounded, completely and utterly. Thousands of them watched him with glutinous amber eyes, waiting for the second when his blades were lowered to attack and rip him limb from limb. Well, he thought bitterly, they'd be getting their chance any moment now. In a final act of desperation, he sheathed his twin razors and leapt effortlessly onto the vertical slope of a nearby building, running with a speed that he could not have possessed up the side of the edifice. They followed; he knew they would. They always followed. Continuing his impossible journey upwards, the boy plowed through a couple of them, slicing them to ribbons with only the most adroit of movements. He was their master, he knew how they worked, how they fought, how they reacted in all situations. He *was* the Heartless. Their thoughts were his own thoughts and as thousands of inaudible voices buzzed inside his head, the boy finally came to a rest at the pinnacle of the skyscraper. Pelted by sub-zero droplets of rain, he drew his weapon and thrust them skywards, battering the very clouds that released their tears upon the world. Miles away, a crackling jolt of thunder sounded itself and liquid light fell from paradise. Yes, they would always follow. As long as he deluded himself into believing his own lie, they would chase him. But his lie was such an inviting one.
****
Sand, water and sky reached out for as far as his hyper-sensitive eyes could see. Strange shapes carved from stone infested the entire island, turning it from an uninteresting beach to a desolate field of surreal forms. He had been wandering for so long when he had come across the island, this cruel mockery of an island. Of his home, he corrected. But somewhere beneath the same sky he was gazing at, his island lay, waiting for him to return and claim it as his own. Clanking roused him from his reverie rather suddenly and his attention was directed to a glimmering piece of something near the water. Cautiously padding over to the shoreline, he knelt in the sand, fishing out the enigma with a black-gloved hand. A bottle. A bottle with a letter inside. He could hardly keep himself from cracking a wry smile at the cliché. That he should stumble onto a foreign island and find someone else's misguided hope. But anyone's hope was a welcome present at this point. He uncorked the container longingly, relishing in the sensation of his heart beating so fast inside his breast, pumping life, blood and love through every cell of his body. But more than the feeling he treasured the knowledge it bestowed upon him with such a simple action. His heart remained. It was there, beneath the clothes, the skin, the veins, the blood, the muscle, and it still belonged to him.
Wait, that was a lie. It hadn't been his for quite a while. But it was safe right where it was, wherever it was.
He unrolled the yellowed parchment that had been so painstakingly entombed within its glass prison and struggled to read the words scrawled across it from beneath his thick blindfold. *If you're out there-* The words were written so quickly, with such abandon that they had melded together, seeking to strengthen themselves by becoming one perfectly united sound. *If you find this-* He grew frustrated with the messy writing and quelled the urge to incinerate the paper then and there. He needed to know that someone had hope. *Don't bother coming home-* This was not his note. This was not his hope. He must have read it incorrectly, or perhaps in a fit of jealousy for the receiver, the spiteful words had rearranged themselves. *Because I'm going to find you.*
He would be found? Never before had he been found, no, he had always been the one doing the finding, the discovering, the rescuing. But now he had no greater desire than to be rescued by anyone really. And now the writer of the letter had promised to find him, to rescue him. Yes, his hope had been well founded.
A beam of light, a rocket, a runaway star, whatever it was suddenly came hurdling through the air above the dreamlike island, moving in slow motion but forcing ripples through the air that reverberated inside of his ears. The mysterious form seemed only to be a white light but he knew that if he so chose to see the truth, it would reveal itself to him, clearer than the wind against his face. But the truth was not what he searched for. The truth was what he was escaping from.
****
The rain assaulted his pale face, driving into his skin in rivulets as he prepared himself for what had to be done. He was to be destroyed, destroyed by the very thing that should be doing its damnedest to protect him. But he would not be slaughtered so easily. Mumbling a nonsensical incantation beneath his breath, the boy danced with his blades, their steel forms making the air sing. Up, down, backwards, twisting this way, sliding that way, he continued his routine effortlessly, smiling benignly as the black creatures gathered around him exploded into nothingness. And just as it seemed as though his performance would come to an end, a startling emblem etched in lightning imprinted itself on the uncaring sky and the boy sheathed his weapons without a single utterance. There was nothing left to be done except for the inevitable. His fate was staring him in the face and he was blindfolded. Well, no more. The scratching of fabric on fabric was the only sound that reached his ears as he began to undo the scrap of cloth obscuring his striking countenance.
"Riku." A familiar voice steadied his hand and he turned towards it, startled with what he beheld.
"It's you," was all that he could manage before the darkness emanating from the symbol swelled and overcame him, dragging him into its inky depths.
****
There was no escape. He had been foolish to think there ever would be. His own lies echoed through his brain, taunting him with their alluring sweetness. He wanted nothing more than to become lost in the meaning of those words; to sink into the purple sky and let the darkness and the light bleed out of his fingertips until he was nothing but Himself. No good, no evil, only humanity. Only something that refused to be classified so easily. Something that was nothing but The Heart. But the untruths he had flooded himself with had turned his Heart against him, had practically taken it away, and he was left in the darkness, in The Alone. And if there was one place he wished he were not in, it was The Alone, where not even his lies could comfort him. Nothing could comfort him except-
He was almost aware that someone had grabbed his hand and was trying to rip him out of the darkness. No, he was aware of it, but he simply didn't care. The hand was a lie. The hope was a lie. Only the darkness was truth. But still, even when he had decided that he no longer minded being trapped in the darkness, the hand persisted. Leave me alone, he thought listlessly, trying to snatch his own hand away and failing miserably. His body was leaden and he didn't care enough to struggle any more. Let the hand free him, let it desert him, it didn't matter. The darkness would be back. In fact, it would never have been gone in the first place.
"Riku!"
There was now a voice attached to the hand, as well as an entire person. And a blinding glow surrounding him. He could feel his eyes burning beneath the black cloth, but only distantly, and still he didn't care. Let his eyes turn to cinders within his head, he'd still be in The Alone.
"Riku! Come on, Riku! I can't do this on my own! Help me!" the light screamed, tears filling its voice. On some level, he realized who the light was. On some level, he even realized who Riku was. Riku was the Heartless and the Heartless never helped anyone. But suddenly, both the brightness and the darkness vanished and he found himself on a plain of endless grey. On one side, the small boy radiated the familiar glow once more and on the other stood a tall, foreboding figure that he knew all too well. If he was the Heartless, this new form was the Darkness, the very essence of the Alone. Torment. Hatred. Anguish. Purgatory. Every nightmare he had ever had.
"Riku," the Darkness spoke, addressing him by this strange title as well. His voice was so luscious, like molasses dripping over his fingers, over his tongue, filling him with to the brim with unbearably delectable syrup. The Darkness was utterly irresistible, hovering over him, caressing the sides of his face, curling a strong arm around his waist. Yes, it was so easy to give into the darkness, to trust it.
"I am not one to be trusted," Ansem crooned, his breath hot on the back of his neck. "You would be lost, were you to follow me. Lost in me. But that it what you want, isn't it? You've always wanted to rescued, to be damned, anything that will take destiny from your own bloody hands. Put it in mine."
From across the field, the little boy cried out, yelling senseless pleads at the Heartless. Maybe they did make sense and he didn't care enough to discern them. Nothing mattered now, except the Darkness. Leaning against Ansem, the boy smiled, setting his gloved hands against his protector's firm chest. He had made his decision, the choice had been simple. The choice had never existed in the first place. He belonged to the Darkness and no amount of irrational hope would change that. After all, Darkness was truth and The Light was nothing but a lie.
"Riku, no! I won't let him trick you again! You've got to come with me, back to the island! Riku, back home!" the boy wept, drawing his Keyblade and walking determinedly to his side. His large limpid eyes bore into Ansem, his own contracting in surprise. "He's coming back with me!"
"It's his choice. I'm not foolish enough to force him to do anything against his will; I suggest you realize the gravity of the situation before you start ordering him around. He is more powerful than you could even begin to fathom," the velvety voice purred, his bronzed hands stroking the Heartless' arm. Who was this little boy to tell him what to do? He would stay where he belonged, where he was expected to be.
"You're the one ordering him around! Riku would never take your side over-" he stopped, his small mouth quivering.
"Over whose? Yours? Don't presume to know him, don't presume that just because he looks like the boy you once knew that he *is* the boy you once knew. Call him what you wish but Riku is no more."
The diminutive boy seemed to have been defeated when he brought his blade up and swung it with all the force he could muster at Ansem, who deflected it with a wave of his hand. "So be it," Ansem said simply, turning to face the Heartless. "Take care of him for me, please? I love to see you work."
And it was so easy to let those slippery words slide over him, down his back, around his legs, until they covered inch of his body. Nodding, he drew both of his Keyblades and faced the glowing child, who had begun to cry.
"Please, Riku, don't do it. I know you're still there, you have to be. I've been looking for you for so long. And I finally found you."
He found him. The letter, the island, it all came rushing back to him. But in a second all that was extinguished as he brought his own blade down, nearly hitting Sora in the head. The blue-eyed boy rolled to the side and brought up his own weapon to block a second strike. "Please, I've finally found you. Didn't you get my letter?"
Frozen, rooted to his place, the Heartless cast a wary glance down at the boy kneeling beside his feet. "Your… Letter?"
"Yes! You got it, didn't you!? In the bottle? I knew it would reach you! We can go home now, Riku, back to the island!"
He stood, unmoving, for a few more minutes before he looked questioningly back at Ansem, who looked faintly amused.
"Go. Go back to your island, the Darkness will find you soon thereafter. You ran before, I knew you'd run again, but you'll always come back here. Back to me."
Trembling, either in anger or fear, the Heartless threw his Keyblades down at Ansem's feet and shot him a defiant smile. "Fine, then I'll come back. But I'll only run again. I'll go where no one can find me. I'll find someone just like me." With that, the boy held out a gloved hand to Sora and grinned at him. Almost instantly, the child accepted it and drew himself up close to Riku.
"We're really going back then? We're finally going home? For good?"
Nodding unsurely, the silver-haired boy wrapped two trembling arms around Sora and molded him to his body.
****
They were back on the island, sitting on a small rock overlooking the sea and smiling at one another. The events in the past had been forgotten momentarily so that the two of them could bask in the light of the moment.
"Riku?" Sora asked timidly, casting a shy glace over at the other boy. "I missed you."
"Of course you did," Riku answered smugly, a bit of his old self coming back to him. Suddenly, he felt warm lips pressing urgently against his and the second he realized that Sora was kissing him, it had ended. "I missed you too." Curious hands latched to the sides of his head and began to untie the blindfold still wrapped about his eyes. "No," Riku warned, placing his hands over Sora's.
"Still afraid of what you might see?" It sounded eerily like a dare. Riku had never been able to resist a dare, damn him. Releasing Sora's hands, he braced himself and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the fabric slid off of his eyes and down his face. Tentatively opening his eyes, he was suddenly bombarded by the truth.
And it had never been so bright.
****
Sand, water and sky reached out for as far as his hyper-sensitive eyes could see. Strange shapes carved from stone infested the entire island, turning it from an uninteresting beach to a desolate field of surreal forms. He had been wandering for so long when he had come across the island, this cruel mockery of an island. Of his home, he corrected. But somewhere beneath the same sky he was gazing at, his island lay, waiting for him to return and claim it as his own. Clanking roused him from his reverie rather suddenly and his attention was directed to a glimmering piece of something near the water. Cautiously padding over to the shoreline, he knelt in the sand, fishing out the enigma with a black-gloved hand. A bottle. A bottle with a letter inside. He could hardly keep himself from cracking a wry smile at the cliché. That he should stumble onto a foreign island and find someone else's misguided hope. But anyone's hope was a welcome present at this point. He uncorked the container longingly, relishing in the sensation of his heart beating so fast inside his breast, pumping life, blood and love through every cell of his body. But more than the feeling he treasured the knowledge it bestowed upon him with such a simple action. His heart remained. It was there, beneath the clothes, the skin, the veins, the blood, the muscle, and it still belonged to him.
Wait, that was a lie. It hadn't been his for quite a while. But it was safe right where it was, wherever it was.
He unrolled the yellowed parchment that had been so painstakingly entombed within its glass prison and struggled to read the words scrawled across it from beneath his thick blindfold. *If you're out there-* The words were written so quickly, with such abandon that they had melded together, seeking to strengthen themselves by becoming one perfectly united sound. *If you find this-* He grew frustrated with the messy writing and quelled the urge to incinerate the paper then and there. He needed to know that someone had hope. *Don't bother coming home-* This was not his note. This was not his hope. He must have read it incorrectly, or perhaps in a fit of jealousy for the receiver, the spiteful words had rearranged themselves. *Because I'm going to find you.*
He would be found? Never before had he been found, no, he had always been the one doing the finding, the discovering, the rescuing. But now he had no greater desire than to be rescued by anyone really. And now the writer of the letter had promised to find him, to rescue him. Yes, his hope had been well founded.
A beam of light, a rocket, a runaway star, whatever it was suddenly came hurdling through the air above the dreamlike island, moving in slow motion but forcing ripples through the air that reverberated inside of his ears. The mysterious form seemed only to be a white light but he knew that if he so chose to see the truth, it would reveal itself to him, clearer than the wind against his face. But the truth was not what he searched for. The truth was what he was escaping from.
****
The rain assaulted his pale face, driving into his skin in rivulets as he prepared himself for what had to be done. He was to be destroyed, destroyed by the very thing that should be doing its damnedest to protect him. But he would not be slaughtered so easily. Mumbling a nonsensical incantation beneath his breath, the boy danced with his blades, their steel forms making the air sing. Up, down, backwards, twisting this way, sliding that way, he continued his routine effortlessly, smiling benignly as the black creatures gathered around him exploded into nothingness. And just as it seemed as though his performance would come to an end, a startling emblem etched in lightning imprinted itself on the uncaring sky and the boy sheathed his weapons without a single utterance. There was nothing left to be done except for the inevitable. His fate was staring him in the face and he was blindfolded. Well, no more. The scratching of fabric on fabric was the only sound that reached his ears as he began to undo the scrap of cloth obscuring his striking countenance.
"Riku." A familiar voice steadied his hand and he turned towards it, startled with what he beheld.
"It's you," was all that he could manage before the darkness emanating from the symbol swelled and overcame him, dragging him into its inky depths.
****
There was no escape. He had been foolish to think there ever would be. His own lies echoed through his brain, taunting him with their alluring sweetness. He wanted nothing more than to become lost in the meaning of those words; to sink into the purple sky and let the darkness and the light bleed out of his fingertips until he was nothing but Himself. No good, no evil, only humanity. Only something that refused to be classified so easily. Something that was nothing but The Heart. But the untruths he had flooded himself with had turned his Heart against him, had practically taken it away, and he was left in the darkness, in The Alone. And if there was one place he wished he were not in, it was The Alone, where not even his lies could comfort him. Nothing could comfort him except-
He was almost aware that someone had grabbed his hand and was trying to rip him out of the darkness. No, he was aware of it, but he simply didn't care. The hand was a lie. The hope was a lie. Only the darkness was truth. But still, even when he had decided that he no longer minded being trapped in the darkness, the hand persisted. Leave me alone, he thought listlessly, trying to snatch his own hand away and failing miserably. His body was leaden and he didn't care enough to struggle any more. Let the hand free him, let it desert him, it didn't matter. The darkness would be back. In fact, it would never have been gone in the first place.
"Riku!"
There was now a voice attached to the hand, as well as an entire person. And a blinding glow surrounding him. He could feel his eyes burning beneath the black cloth, but only distantly, and still he didn't care. Let his eyes turn to cinders within his head, he'd still be in The Alone.
"Riku! Come on, Riku! I can't do this on my own! Help me!" the light screamed, tears filling its voice. On some level, he realized who the light was. On some level, he even realized who Riku was. Riku was the Heartless and the Heartless never helped anyone. But suddenly, both the brightness and the darkness vanished and he found himself on a plain of endless grey. On one side, the small boy radiated the familiar glow once more and on the other stood a tall, foreboding figure that he knew all too well. If he was the Heartless, this new form was the Darkness, the very essence of the Alone. Torment. Hatred. Anguish. Purgatory. Every nightmare he had ever had.
"Riku," the Darkness spoke, addressing him by this strange title as well. His voice was so luscious, like molasses dripping over his fingers, over his tongue, filling him with to the brim with unbearably delectable syrup. The Darkness was utterly irresistible, hovering over him, caressing the sides of his face, curling a strong arm around his waist. Yes, it was so easy to give into the darkness, to trust it.
"I am not one to be trusted," Ansem crooned, his breath hot on the back of his neck. "You would be lost, were you to follow me. Lost in me. But that it what you want, isn't it? You've always wanted to rescued, to be damned, anything that will take destiny from your own bloody hands. Put it in mine."
From across the field, the little boy cried out, yelling senseless pleads at the Heartless. Maybe they did make sense and he didn't care enough to discern them. Nothing mattered now, except the Darkness. Leaning against Ansem, the boy smiled, setting his gloved hands against his protector's firm chest. He had made his decision, the choice had been simple. The choice had never existed in the first place. He belonged to the Darkness and no amount of irrational hope would change that. After all, Darkness was truth and The Light was nothing but a lie.
"Riku, no! I won't let him trick you again! You've got to come with me, back to the island! Riku, back home!" the boy wept, drawing his Keyblade and walking determinedly to his side. His large limpid eyes bore into Ansem, his own contracting in surprise. "He's coming back with me!"
"It's his choice. I'm not foolish enough to force him to do anything against his will; I suggest you realize the gravity of the situation before you start ordering him around. He is more powerful than you could even begin to fathom," the velvety voice purred, his bronzed hands stroking the Heartless' arm. Who was this little boy to tell him what to do? He would stay where he belonged, where he was expected to be.
"You're the one ordering him around! Riku would never take your side over-" he stopped, his small mouth quivering.
"Over whose? Yours? Don't presume to know him, don't presume that just because he looks like the boy you once knew that he *is* the boy you once knew. Call him what you wish but Riku is no more."
The diminutive boy seemed to have been defeated when he brought his blade up and swung it with all the force he could muster at Ansem, who deflected it with a wave of his hand. "So be it," Ansem said simply, turning to face the Heartless. "Take care of him for me, please? I love to see you work."
And it was so easy to let those slippery words slide over him, down his back, around his legs, until they covered inch of his body. Nodding, he drew both of his Keyblades and faced the glowing child, who had begun to cry.
"Please, Riku, don't do it. I know you're still there, you have to be. I've been looking for you for so long. And I finally found you."
He found him. The letter, the island, it all came rushing back to him. But in a second all that was extinguished as he brought his own blade down, nearly hitting Sora in the head. The blue-eyed boy rolled to the side and brought up his own weapon to block a second strike. "Please, I've finally found you. Didn't you get my letter?"
Frozen, rooted to his place, the Heartless cast a wary glance down at the boy kneeling beside his feet. "Your… Letter?"
"Yes! You got it, didn't you!? In the bottle? I knew it would reach you! We can go home now, Riku, back to the island!"
He stood, unmoving, for a few more minutes before he looked questioningly back at Ansem, who looked faintly amused.
"Go. Go back to your island, the Darkness will find you soon thereafter. You ran before, I knew you'd run again, but you'll always come back here. Back to me."
Trembling, either in anger or fear, the Heartless threw his Keyblades down at Ansem's feet and shot him a defiant smile. "Fine, then I'll come back. But I'll only run again. I'll go where no one can find me. I'll find someone just like me." With that, the boy held out a gloved hand to Sora and grinned at him. Almost instantly, the child accepted it and drew himself up close to Riku.
"We're really going back then? We're finally going home? For good?"
Nodding unsurely, the silver-haired boy wrapped two trembling arms around Sora and molded him to his body.
****
They were back on the island, sitting on a small rock overlooking the sea and smiling at one another. The events in the past had been forgotten momentarily so that the two of them could bask in the light of the moment.
"Riku?" Sora asked timidly, casting a shy glace over at the other boy. "I missed you."
"Of course you did," Riku answered smugly, a bit of his old self coming back to him. Suddenly, he felt warm lips pressing urgently against his and the second he realized that Sora was kissing him, it had ended. "I missed you too." Curious hands latched to the sides of his head and began to untie the blindfold still wrapped about his eyes. "No," Riku warned, placing his hands over Sora's.
"Still afraid of what you might see?" It sounded eerily like a dare. Riku had never been able to resist a dare, damn him. Releasing Sora's hands, he braced himself and he released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the fabric slid off of his eyes and down his face. Tentatively opening his eyes, he was suddenly bombarded by the truth.
And it had never been so bright.