Necromantic

. Border . of . Life .

. Act 1 .

He opened his eyes, shocked awake by an unknown force. His eyes stung from the light but slowly began to adjust as he listened to chattering and roaring around him. When he was able to look, he found himself standing in the middle of a crowded street; people passed him without notice.

Where was he? For that matter, who was he?

Panicked, he tried to ask passers-by for help. No one looked his way or even seemed to hear him. It was in attempting to grab at people that he realized, to his horror, that his arms were wrapped in tight and glistening chains that clipped onto silver cuffs at his wrists. Even more panicked, he traced the chain on his left arm to his neck, where it passed through a loop attached to a matching collar. He tugged at it, to no avail, and then dropped to his knees. Busy legs strutted past him.

Finally, he scurried out of the crowd and out into the city. A car nearly ran into him, but he jumped away in time. It did not swerve. Once he'd crossed that ever-so-dangerous street, he spotted a police officer minding his own business. If anyone could help him, it was a police officer, right?

Unfortunately, all of the prodding and yelling and, eventually, sobbing he was able to manage could not catch the man's attention. He turned to the poor boy once, but his eyes looked right through him as if he were air. Disheartened, the boy backed away. He then slunk off and wandered the city, silent and broken. Not only did he not know who he was, where he was, or why he was, but no one knew he was there.

He wandered in a daze until the sun fell behind the buildings and the sky grew dark. It was then that he looked up and saw a girl smiling at him down the street from where he was. He pointed at himself in confusion, and the girl nodded― she could see him. The thin, pale girl with hair white-gold like the sun itself beckoned for him to follow with her finger and then walked off.

There was no way he could refuse that. He ran after her, but could never quite seem to catch up despite the fact that she was walking. The girl led him up stone staircases, down stone staircases, and through thin and wide alleys, some lined with boxes and others lined with clothes hanging between windows. Finally, they came to a stop in the middle of a garden where morning glories and winecups were closing up for the night while white moonflowers, primroses and phlox opened up their petals. Instead of being awed by the foliage, though, he was more surprised to find that he wasn't worn at all by the run. He wasn't even breathing hard.

The girl turned around in the center of the garden, that same smile on her face. He swallowed nervously, a million questions burning through his mind. He couldn't quite seem to voice any of them, but she seemed to understand. She placed a hand on her heart and sighed before she began.

"You... are dead," the girl said in a soft voice. An unpleasant shudder ran through his body and he stared at her. She smiled back at him. "It's alright. If all goes well, that won't last long. You weren't supposed to die... so, you have a chance to go back."

"But―how―wait―" the boy stuttered in confusion, but she held up a finger to silence him.

" You have to find someone who can see you. That person can and probably will help you," she said carefully, as if to allow the boy to memorize those words. "You have to find him, Sora."

"Sora?" the boy repeated in confusion. "Is that... me?" The girl's smile grew.

"It is," she replied with a nod. "Your memories are with your body; but as long as you know that you're Sora, you should be fine."

"But... who am I looking for?" Sora asked with a frown. "No one seems to see me but you... will you help me?"

She shook her head. "I can't. This conversation is the limit of my abilities. I can only point you in the right direction."

"And which direction is that?" Sora asked urgently. "I don't know why, but... I... I really want to be alive. I don't like this."

"You're not meant to be this way. It's only natural that you dislike it," she said with a smile. Then, she turned and pointed― she pointed at a tall tower standing in the sunset. It seemed to glow as the fiery sun sank behind it, setting the golden bells that flanked the top ablaze with white gold light.

"The.. the tower?" the deceased boy asked, staring at it. The person he was looking for was in that tower?

"At the very, very top," the girl replied with a nod. "Go there, and you'll find that person. ...That's all that I can do for you, Sora." With that, she let out a soft sigh and began to walk off into the flowering labyrinth about them.

"Wait!" Sora cried out, trying to run after her. She stayed the same distance away from him as she had been from the start. "At least tell me your name?"

The girl turned around, smiling at him. Her big, sky-blue eyes began to dampen.

" Naminé," she said before fading away. Sora stopped and looked around, but no evidence of Naminé could be found. Finally, he turned around to look at the tower― that hadto be the next step. Newly determined, he ran as fast as he could towards the quickly falling sun. What else could he have done? There was no choice in the matter.

He had to live.

. Act 2 .

As Sora approached the tower, noticed that it didn't quite fit in. While the majority of the city was a bland, modern repeating pattern, this building was very old. It may have even been built before the magic revolution― when magic in all forms was banned from this and many other countries, and thus forgotten. A very long time had passed since then. According to a placard near the grand tower's entrance, it had been built nearly two hundred years prior... just before the revolution.

Sora discovered that the elevator listened to him about as well as the average person he tried to speak to. He pressed the call button several times, but it stayed very much unlit. He had to make his way up the long, winding staircase all the way up; as it turned out, there were twenty six stories to this tower. While he never felt tired, he was very sick of climbing very quickly.

Finally, Sora reached the top floor. Now what? It wasn't as if he knew which room to look in. After all, this mystery savior could be in any room. He... or maybe she might not even be home. Sora probably could have given up then― committed himself to an eternity of observation and silence. He knew the journey to living again could not be an easy one. At best, it would only be time-consuming.

Except, it just wasn't in Sora's character to give up. He marched right up to the first door in the row and banged his fist against it. No answer. He wasn't surprised. Either the person inside couldn't hear him or, more likely, he just couldn't interact with reality. So what to do?

He pressed his hand against the door. He could feel it, cold and smooth beneath his long fingers. He felt a little short for someone with such large hands... perhaps he had drunk too much coffee when he was young. Did he even like coffee? Either way, his hand didn't seem to be passing through the door.

Sora frowned. "Come on," he pleaded, pressing against the wood. "Just... let... me through..." He imagined his hand falling through the wood with all his might― and, sure as day, he fell right through onto the floor of the apartment. He was greeted by a gentle meow, and so he looked up.

A scruffy calico sat before him, looking straight into his eyes. Sora blinked in confusion, then waved his hand a bit. The cat's gold eyes followed the hand for a moment, and then she meowed. Sora smiled.

"You can see me, huh?" he asked the cat, reaching out and scratching behind her ear. Well, this was a good start. Sora climbed to his feet, careful not to slip through the floor, and looked around. This apartment gave off the distinct feel of an older lady's home, what with the floral paintings and soft colors and the strong smell of medicine, cleaning fluid and baked goods.

Sora wandered further into the apartment until he saw a small woman with silver hair sleepily looking through an old picture book. Her gnarled hands shook as she turned the pages and smiled on all the memories. Quietly, Sora stepped in front of the woman and waved his hand in front of her face. No response. He sighed, defeated; did anyone else even live here?

"Mother, your bath is done," a gentle voice called from the hallway. Sora, newly determined, rushed towards the voice before the elderly woman could even stand. He stopped before a woman in a light pink dress and a darker pink cardigan, long brown hair braided behind her and tied with a pink ribbon. Sora's heart bubbled― she seemed to be looking straight at him and smiling.

"Mother, I could have helped you if you'd asked," she said with a soft laugh before walking right through the poor ghost to assist her mother, who had been standing right behind him. The sensation was cold, like a breath of icy wind passing over him. The girl seemed to feel something similar, as she shivered, but she did not take notice of it.

Sora's heart sunk a bit. This wasn't the right place. After making sure no one else lived there, he said good-bye to the calico and then pushed his way back out through the front door and into the hall, which he suddenly noticed was plastered with very loud and very old wallpaper covered in once-vivid flowers. He looked at the other doors. Only three remained... his savior had to be somewhere inside, right? Right?

He crossed the hall and forced himself through the door directly across from the old lady's. Well, this was... different. While the previous home brought to Sora's heart feelings of warmth and peace, he felt cold as soon as he walked into this desolate but, at the same time, exquisite home. Any color was in unbelievably vivid, small bursts. Everything else was black, white or grey. The furniture was all dark, rich wood and the windows were blocked by heavy crushed velvet curtains. On one wall, a huge painting of a black dragon hung in an intricate frame of ebony.

Sora looked over a shelf that stood near a darkly curtained window. He realized that the majority of the books were magical grimoires; when he looked down, he realized that a large magic circle was covering the ground beneath him. It stretched over the entire room, but seemed to be out of use since an elegantly styled chaise lounge and an ornate coffee table had taken up residence on it. Whoever lived here dabbled in sorcery.

Growing curiouser and curiouser, Sora made his way towards a large doorway, only to launch halfway across the room in surprise when a large birdcage with three ravens erupted in loud, birdtastic noise. Apparently, cats weren't the only animals that could see him.

While Sora was recovering from the shock, the door he had been heading for opened and a tall, imposing woman briskly made her way out. Her face was high and angular as well as very pale, although she wore heavy purple eyeshadow and lipstick. Her sense of style was anything but modern; she seemed to favor restrictive but beautiful dresses in a Victorian style, all black with purple lace peeking out of various spots.

"Come now, don't fuss," the woman said, her voice smooth and dramatic. It gave Sora a chill and made him think of villains in children's stories. She reached her long, spindly fingers through the cage's bars to lightly pet each raven's head in turn. The ghost boy, afraid of this dominating and dark woman, prayed that she would not see him―thankfully, her investigation of the room revealed nothing. As Sora hightailed it out of there, he noticed an old-fashioned spinning wheel sitting in the room from which the woman had just left.

Sora sighed and moved down to the next pair of rooms. On the one hand, he wanted to be as far away from that sorceress as he could get; on the other, he heard soft but lively music filtering its way under the door beside the one leading into horror. His curiosity trumped his fear and he pushed through into the room beside that of the horrid woman with the ravens.

This room gave off a distinct feeling of oddness. Nothing seemed to match, beyond the fact that most things were blue or green― tribal patterned cushions sat on a damask sofa, and the curtains nearby that closed over a wide, panoramic window were polka dotted. The only painting on the wall had been painted directly there, though the artist didn't seem to be particularly gifted. It wasn't horrifying, but Sora couldn't imagine the mural being of any value.

The music came from the bedroom, though, and Sora pushed through the closed bedroom door to find the source. The room behind the door was lit in blue, and fish-shaped shadows traveled the walls in circles. They were cast from a blue light hanging from the center of the room with opaque plastic fish bobbing and spinning like a carousel around it. On the waterbed, a young man with dirty-blond hair in an odd fauxhawk strummed beautifully on a blue sitar.

Sora grinned. He liked this guy. He didn't know why, but this guy seemed like he would get along perfectly with him. Traveling the world, collecting oddities, playing music on street corners... fantasies whirled around in the poor boy's brain as he stepped towards the musician. This had to be the right person. He was too awesome not to be.

"Hello?" Sora called out, leaning close to the man. He stopped, horrified, when there was no answer. He prodded and yelled and even tried to steal the sitar away, though it didn't quite work right. There was absolutely no response, and Sora ran out of the apartment in dismay.

His hopes to go on a wild adventure with a quirky bard dashed against the rocks, Sora paused before the final door and sighed. What would he do if this wasn't the right one? It wasn't like he could do it on his own. He could barely even get through doors on his own.

"I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," he decided to himself before pushing into the next room. He found himself a bit awed by this next home, which was styled in a modern taste with sleek lines and heavy use of black, white and glass. Any art on the walls was abstract, and books and sentimental items were scarce. The wood floors with shiny and black, while the walls were crisp white.

Sora looked at the resident of this clean and simple home, and could have sworn the young man had been looking his way. He may have just been looking at the clock above the ghost boy's head, however. He felt afraid; he was afraid of spending eternity this way. Heart sick with dread, he stepped closer to look the man over.

Silver hair in layers fell down to his shoulders and nearly over his eyes. He was lying on the black sofa and reading what seemed to be a script, head turned away from Sora. His skin was pale and he seemed to have a fondness for buttoned shirts and dark jeans. Sora noticed his manicured fingernails, though he wasn't really surprised since this man was likely an actor. At least, if the scripts for "Zombie Extravaganza 7000AD" and "Mutilator Leatherman III" were any indication, he was.

Carefully, Sora stepped around the coffee table to look at the man's face. He didn't seem to notice that there was a ghostly intruder in his house, but... he was an actor, and a good-looking one at that. He had fine angles and soft curves in just the right places on his face, leaving him with an elegant but slightly cute look. His eyes, though, were dark― not the color, which was a brilliant aqua, but the way he looked at the script in his hands. It seemed that some beast lay beneath those beautiful eyes.

Sora cocked his head a little and leaned towards the couch, waving his hand in front of the other's face. "Hellooo?" he called, feeling a little hesitant. If the silveret in question had noticed him, he had no intention of revealing it. Though, he had blinked at the hand gesture. Coincidence? Psh, coincidences were for quitters. Sora smiled a little and waved again, "Helloooooo!"

Sora's possible savior blinked again and turned the page of the script he was reading. Perhaps he really was incapable of seeing ghosts, and that mysterious dream-girl in white had lied to him. Perhaps this really was his eternal fate.

The boy pouted, but was yet to be discouraged. He walked around to the armrest, where the silveret was resting his head, and bridged over him until they were face to face. "...Hey!"

The man's eyebrow may have twitched. Possibly.

Sora leaned a little lower, his hair hanging in front of the other's script. "HEEEEY!" This, of course, was responded to with a hearty and robust flick of his own hair out of his eyes. That was it. Even yelling wasn't enough to ruffle this guy... if he saw at all.

Sora squinted suspiciously and tried to see if he could poke the guy in the side of the head. Could it work? He could touch doors, after all. Upon trying, though, he found to his dismay that the silveret in question was either trying really, really hard to ignore him, or this entire endeavor was a waste of time. No response at all.

"... Oh, come on," Sora moaned in despair. He let his hand fall and slumped on coffee table, slouching over. "Please? Can you hear me?" However, if he could, the actor was persistent in his refusal to respond. Maybe he had a roommate? Or something?

Then again, the small dining table made of glass and steel, just visible from the couch, had but one sleek, black chair sitting at it. It matched the single red rose in a slim vase centered on the table. So, he was the only resident. ...A very fashionable, manicured resident.

"Please," Sora said again, his voice dropping to a hopeless whisper. "Please... if you can see me, hear me, anything, please, I need your help..."

The silveret's eyes visibly flickered up and then back to the page. There was a window just behind Sora, though― a wide, glass window that provided a breathtaking view of the sunset over the town. It still wasn't proof.

Sora bit his lip, frustrated anger bubbling up inside his chest. Why was this so difficult? He /acted/ as though he saw him, right? But maybe they really were all coincidences. Maybe all the silveret saw was empty air, maybe all he felt was just a cold brush of something... After all, no one had been able to see him thus far.

An eternity alone, with no one even looking his way, laid in store for Sora. No one would ever smile for him. No one would ever laugh at him. No one would help him, no one would talk to him― not even a 'sorry' from an accidental bump in the street. He was worse than alone. At least, if he were alone, he wouldn't have to see eyes looking straight through him like the transparent window he had become.

Sora dropped his gaze to his lap, hastily wiping his eyes. What would being angry achieve? At best, nothing. He would just have to move on and find someone else, if he could... Even though he was told to come here, maybe there was someone else. There had to be, right? He wasn't forsaken in this world, right? He couldn't have been. Why would such a sweet-looking girl like Naminé do that to him?

Sora breathed out shakily, lifting his eyes up to the ceiling. "It's okay," he murmured, trying to reassure himself. "Someone has to be able to see you. You just... Haven't looked in the right place, yeah, that's it."

There was a short pause as Sora built up the courage to go out and search for that person. After all, the world was a huge place; he was even more insignificant and unnoticeable than average. He slowly rose from his spot on the coffee table, fighting back more tears, when the unmovable silveret suddenly sighed.

" You aren't the usual annoying spirit, are you?" he asked, dropping the script in frustration and frowning slightly at the ghost. "You actually have a reason for bothering me that isn't revenge. Right? Because I refuseto be a part of any more of these revenge hunts."

Sora glanced around for a moment, wondering briefly if a second person just materialized into the room. When no such being came into view, he rounded back on the only living, breathing occupant there was. "... Me?"

"No, there's another annoying spirit that won't let me read. Yes, you," the silveret replied, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I'm really getting sick of this. You're the third spirit this week expecting me to be some paranormal action hero. Sorry, movies only, please."

"Aura? What aura? Oh, well, it doesn't really matter. I'm just happy I found you."

There was a short pause, and the other had gone back to staring at Sora. Then, he shook his head in confusion.

" Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean, what aura? You know, the aura. All people who can see ghosts have an aura that attracts the suckers like flies to rotting fruit."

"I don't see anything," Sora said with a smile. "I was told to come here."

This only caused the mysterious, ghost-viewing stranger to stare at Sora in even more confusion. However, he seemed to believe the boy's claim and switched to a position more suitable for confused staring. Now seated properly, he hummed and looked the spirit in distress over.

" Now that I think about it, you're pretty odd. I somehow doubt you were chained up when you died, since you have no wounds. That, you're not glowing. Most ghosts glow. This is weird. How did you die?"

"Iunno," Sora said, shifting to his knees on the floor. He lifted his wrists, shaking the chains that were linked to the cuffs. "I woke up like this."

"Huh?" the silveret breathed out, even more confused than before. Then, he shook his head again and pushed his hair out of his modeling-worthy face.

"Let's start with the beginning," he decided. "My name happens to be Riku. Riku Karada, actually. And yours? Or shall I just call you Annoying Spirit?"

"... Um. Sora. At least, I think it is."

"... You think it is?"

"Yup!"

"... This is going to be very, very annoying and time-consuming, isn't it? I refuse to be involved, please bother someone else."

"B-but... You have to help me!"

"Why? Will I catch on fire if I don't?"

"... Maybe?"

"I refuse. Isn't there anyone else you can rope into this? There are a couple hundred other people with dead eyes like mine out there."

"Yeah, but who knows how long it'll take me to find 'em!"

"I know about thirty of them. I could give you directions. Then again, they aren't exactly... personable..." Compared to this guy? That was quite the horrible achievement.

Sora's smile dropped at that. "... O-oh. Okay..."

"... Huh? What are you talking about...? I need to find my body."

"What are you talking about? Isn't it in a cemetery?"

"Ummmm... Nope. Don't think so. She told me I wasn't supposed to die."

"That's..." Riku stared at Sora for a moment. Then, a dark smile spread across his pale lips. "... Interesting. You know, I've been a bit bored of being a fake hero."

"Ah? Does that mean you'll help me?"

"No. But it will be interesting to watch your progress."

"H-huh? What do you mean by that?"

"Do your own investigation! You're invisible and you can go through walls. What possible use could you have for me?" Riku said through a cruel little laugh, though it immediately faded to a frown. Sora had the sneaking suspicion that Riku already knew the answer to that last question.

"... Because... Because I do need you. I need your help. Please? I'll never bother you ever again afterward."

"You realize that this is, more than likely, going to be some epic and character-strengthening journey that's going to sort through both our pasts and uncover some ridiculous conspiratorial plot, right? It's ridiculously obvious."

"... Well, I don't remember anything, so I don't know if there's much to uncover."

"Oh, come on. The amnesia is obviously covering some deep, dark family secret. Or rape."

"No, really," Sora said earnestly, staring up at Riku with foggy blue eyes. "All I know is my name. And that's because that girl told me."

"I know, I believe you. That doesn't invalidate my theory," Riku said, stretching his arms back with a little groan. "What girl, anyway?"

"Um, she said her name was Naminé..."

"Don't know her. I wonder why she knows me." Riku hummed and looked Sora over. With a very, very reluctant and dramatic sigh, he gestured at the spot beside him. "Want to sit down? … Or something? I could get you a drink but I doubt it would be helpful."

"No, sitting's fine," Sora said, a relieved smile spreading over his face. He took the offer, but sat on the other end of the couch, not sure if the other wanted him so close. Sitting gave him no comfort, although he could distinctly feel the smooth material under his shins. After all, he was wearing shorts.

"So, Sora. Even if I do decide to help you on your silly little quest," the silveret began, leaning back. "We'd still need a plan of action. I figure we should figure out who you are before anything else, right?"

"Ummm... Yeah. I suppose. I must be from around here, since I woke up... well, not to far from here, I think."

"Hmm... Then I'll check the obituaries tomorrow. If we're lucky, you'll be in there, right? Then we just have to go to your funeral. Hell, it can just be done there, if we can manage to..." Riku fell into indistinct mumbling, staring intensely at thin air. He suddenly quieted and shook his head. "We can get to that later― we can at least wait until tomorrow. The question is what now? We can't really begin our epic journey after sundown. This is a morning deal."

"Now? Um..." Sora frowned and looked at the script in Riku's hand. "Uh.. Um... I could read some scripts for you?"

"...Yeah?" Riku asked, raising an eyebrow at Sora. He pondered this for a moment, looking at the packet in his hand. Then, he chuckled. "Well, it's not like you can leak them to rival companies. A little company while reading through the ridiculous ones would be nice. Here, get closer..."

The two spent the next few hours laughing over some of the cheesiest screenplays ever fathomed, though Riku seemed to do a lot more laughing. He seemed to enjoy teasing the poor ghost, especially by comparing him to the silliest of the baddies in the scripts. Sora even got mad enough to try and punch Riku, and he seemed to feel it although he just laughed through it.

Although perhaps Sora should have been looking to hurry Riku along with the whole epic-body-finding-journey thing, he couldn't find it in himself to stop and point this out. After all, as he watched Riku sleep on the couch at half past midnight with a script over his face, he was smiling. Fun was something he needed to soothe his fear- the fear of being alone in the world. He knew now that even if his body was never found... at least he could haunt Riku for a while. That wouldn't be too bad.

Sora was still smiling as he watched the sun rise through the huge window, casting pale blue light over the mess they had made and over Riku's body. In fact, he smiled wider; His, as of that moment, only friend in the world― however loosely that term was used― would be waking up soon.