Kairi does not wear a crown, nor does she remember that she ever had.
...
As a little girl, the only thing Kairi could remember was her name. All else, before the sands on the shore, or the faces of two smiling boys, was nothing in her mind's eye but a space so abruptly obliterated to black. The amnesia frightened her enough that she rarely thought upon it, instead reciting only the letters in her name as a small comfort that something had filled the gap, a memory of a place she once called home.
But the matter of where, how or why, was never really asked, nor did Kairi ever care to find the answers. Time replaced the void, with days working in the sun, and dusks spent playing around fires of drywood. The islands, the boys, were her world.
And in her world, she had believed herself intrinsic; of something that survived on the reliance of each and every. On an indescribable connection.
Some time after their return, Kairi found herself watching from afar as the boys celebrated in their reverie. Splashing and laughing, a well-worn blitzball flying among them as they played a winning streak against Tidus and Wakka. It used to be that Sora couldn't catch the ball to save his life, nor could Riku spike the ball without sending it a million miles down the shore.
Kairi looked away, allowing the laughter to be lost in the echo of the waves.
As she wandered along the beach, her eyes were grabbed by a shrub of beautiful hibiscus, frilling blooms in shades of oranges and pinks. She reached out to touch them, reminded of how once when they were young, she and the boys would play with the blossoms, decorating each other's hair in adornments of vibrant colors.
The gargantuan pedals were soft, eloquent in their delicate texture. She remained by the flowers, for longer than she should have, brushing them with her gentle fingers and a distant smile.
...
The boys disappeared once more through a letter in a bottle. Kairi assumed it would again be another year with the fishermen and the farmers to pass the time.
They were gone at least a week when Riku was unexpectedly at her cottage door.
He gave no explanation to his return, or why Kairi was suddenly to leave with him beyond the islands, but the urgency in his voice was enough. She wandered into her room, pulling out a large duffle bag and unzipping it furiously, then haphazardly throwing her affects into its gaping mouth without rhyme or reason.
Riku stood in the doorway, expecting his help to be invited until eventually he took his own initiative, folding the harried pile of garments and loading toiletries into pockets in the lining.
Kairi could feel the look he wore, the air between them heavy in the profound silence. She avoided it on the guise of distraction, pacing back and forth across the room to nearly walk a ditch in the floor.
"Hey." Riku muttered finally, and Kairi turned to him, half-way reaching for a bar of unopened palm soap above her bedroom sink. Riku took a moment to scan her face, trying to read Kairi's empty expression as if it was an open book.
"You okay?"
She gave a light nod, almost looking him in the eye as agitation grew pronounced - "Yes, I'm fine" - then threw the soap with a casual toss.
...
In their small village, strangers did not exist. Kairi knew vividly every face, every unique voice that called out, as neighbors gathered in their short reunion. Riku's family was the first, his mother eager to place a kiss on their foreheads, and his father kicking the breath out of their lungs with hardy pats of familial love. Sora's mother inevitably had her turn, enveloping the youths in a tender embrace while Riku reassured her that her only son would be safe and well.
Through the height of the fanfare, Kairi broke away from Riku. She passed from one well-wisher to the next, accepting their farewells in a manner that strikingly reminded her of royalty. Some offered her trinkets, like small, speckled shells and straw dolls. Others parted with only a blessing, praying for wisdom and strength to guide them through their journey.
Then, out of the density of the crowd, a crusted hand abruptly grabbed at her own. Kairi spun, her posture growing rigid as she nearly tore at the elder woman's arm unwittingly in her surprise. She bowed in apology, anticipating an admonishment that was sure to come.
But the dark-skinned elder said nothing, instead smiling quietly and widely as calloused fingers again took up her arm. Held within a loose fist, Kairi saw in her free hand the pedals of a familiar flower, stems strung along a fishing wire to make a small wreath of marbled oranges and pinks.
"It was only a matter of time." The elder chuckled softly, her voice barely audible above the cacophony of the affair. She placed the garland slowly around Kairi's wrist, wrapping row after row with a practiced grace until what was left hung from the side. When she looked up to Kairi once more, her smile remaining infallibly grand, the younger's face had been visibly struck with shocking disbelief.
The elder nodded gently in return, patting Kairi's hand in comfort as her throat rumbled with a humored chortle.
The party began to disperse. The elder turned with the sway of the villagers, leaving Kairi to look onward as they waved for one last time. Riku was all but ignored when he walked to her side, his arm swinging a few returning gestures as he looked down to see the gift, the loose end calmly dancing in the midst of an idle breeze.
...
