Author's Notes: Well… this took a long ass time to get done. It was started in July 2006, but kept getting reworked and rewritten, and then got abandoned on-and-off for the longest time. Most trouble a oneshot has ever given me.
My problem was that the images in my head weren't coherent and didn't connect. It nearly drove me insane. (Or maybe I already am.) So tell me what you think?
Also, as a side note: writing action is frickin' hard.
Post-KH2, Riku-centric.
"Watercolor"by: Rosalyn Angel
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The sun is setting. It creates the most fantastic colors. Up high is a strong blue, slowly darkening and spotted with wispy clouds, their bellies stained pink. Underneath them the sky melts into a stunning orange, and then a vibrant yellow spans across the horizon. The red sun is reflected onto the rolling waves—sea green into glowing vermilion.
Riku watches it from the old paopu tree. It hurts to sit there long, the bark is rough under his fingers, and the water mists his jeans from below. But it's his spot—no matter how hard he tries to keep away, he always returns. It's familiar. He knows it.
He knows that sun. He knows the ocean waves. He's memorized them long ago.
Riku can watch from his tree for a long time. When it gets too uncomfortable, he moves to sit on the sand in front of it. The breeze ruffles his hair across his face and shifts the palm trees' wide leaves.
The sun disappears, leaving only a midnight blue and specks of white stars. The ocean is dark and unfathomable, calmly moving over and across itself.
There is much to see here. There is much to see, hear, feel, and smell. Sensations surround him at every angle, from the soft sand under his hands to the fresh, salty scent in the air.
He closes his eyes, silver head resting against the trunk. His legs stretch out, pushing the sand aside, and his arms fold loosely across his lap. He breathes in deep and breathes out slow.
Riku falls asleep, but in his mind, he can still see the sky burning.
His hands are diligently working; packing, sculpting, and molding sand to perfection. They're so small, though—his hands are. Chubby fingers, tiny wrists, and skinny arms. A child's hands, unmarred and flawless.
A sandcastle is before him. It's his creation—he's worked on it hard and long. It'll get washed away by the tide, though. It always does.
"But you need the wet sand," he explains, voice high yet factual. "So you have to be close to the water."
He sees the brown-haired boy across from him nod. That's Sora, he thinks, in the little white shirt and red shorts. Sora's all baby fat and youthful enthusiasm, intent on the castle being constructed before him.
"It needs a moat," Sora says, leaning forward on all fours. Sand sticks to his hands and knees.
"No," is the answer, along with the shake of a silver head. "No moat. People can leave and come whenever they want."
Sora sits back on his legs and crosses his arms with a pout. "It needs a moat. To keep the bad people out."
"This is my castle, not yours."
"Then it'll keep the bad people away from you."
He looks at Sora with pursed lips and a lowered brow. He's taller, stronger, and smarter—if he says it doesn't need a moat, then it doesn't need a moat. There's really nothing to Sora, anyway; he's all thin skin and brittle bones. Sora's castle would need a moat, but not his.
"No moat," he says, and looks back to his busy hands.
They're bigger. The palms are wider, the fingers now slender and long. All grown-up and still playing in the sand.
A white cloth is wrapped around his wrist. Silver hair hangs all over, down his back and in his face. He looks at himself and sees his older body; black shirt, white vest, and dark blue jeans.
"It needs a moat, Riku."
He glances up through his bangs. The child Sora is still there, tiny and thin. Riku suddenly feels clumsy—he's all muscle and little grace. His hands can't even mold the sand right. It crumbles under his fingertips, little grains spilling down the castle's sides, falling away to join the coming tide.
"To keep the bad people out," Sora continues, leaning forward on all fours.
Riku stares at him with dull, distant eyes. This child is a snapshot from a memory long gone, unreachable and untarnished by the present. The more Riku looks, the more he desperately wants it to stay that way.
"… You're right, Sora," he replies, and his voice is so much deeper than before. "It needs a moat."
Sora blinks slowly before grinning and bolting to his feet. He's not much taller than Riku even when Riku is sitting down. "We have to hurry! We have to finish before the tide comes!" he exclaims as he turns, stumbling along the shore with bare feet, saying they need a stick—a good strong digging stick.
Riku watches him search. Sora leaves little footprints in the wet sand, and when he gets to the dry, his feet kick it up with every step. He stops momentarily, brown-haired head snapping this way then that, before turning back and frantically shouting that there are no good sticks nearby.
Riku smiles quietly. For a long moment he doesn't answer—just looks at Sora superimposed over the green of the trees, the blue of the sky, and the gold of the sand. It's perfect, all those hues working together—Sora's brown hair bringing out the sand's gold and his eyes matching the sky.
When Riku waves for Sora to return, the child comes running. This time Sora runs slowly, like he's moving through water, and left behind him is a streak of soft colors: brown, white, red, and tan; ghost images of where he once was. Riku stares at them as they fade the farther from Sora they get, and then he looks at the surrounding island. Dark green shudders around the palm tree leaves as they shift in the breeze; blue and white is left trickling across the shore each time the tide recedes.
Watercolors, he thinks. It's like a watercolor world, blending and bleeding together.
Sora reaches him and sits down, saying they have to start digging. He starts to claw at the damp sand around the castle, making little tan lines as his fingers drag through, and Riku nods before helping.
The moat forms, protective and deep, its bottom rough and uneven. Riku looks up from their work and sees Sora again: his figure isn't defined from the rest of the island—only a batch of moving tints and shades creates him.
"You love him."
The voice comes from neither of them. Riku feels someone else sitting at his back, leaning against him, but his eyes remain locked on Sora, who looks so content with their creation. It's all he can think of: Sora so young and happy, the time they had back then, how they were, and how he himself used to be.
"You were the big brother type," the other says. The voice is a man's, calm and almost taunting. "Horribly protective. Always thought you knew what was best. Did every thing the best, didn't you?"
"Yes," is Riku's first response, nonchalant and without thought. But then he looks down at the castle, at the moat, and shakes his head with a quiet, "No."
Riku feels the other lean heavier against him as there's a chuckle. "Jealous, huh?" the man asks. "Wish you could be more like him. After all, he's so perfect, right? Keyblade Master, savior of the worlds. Always follows his heart on a true and just path, and all that."
"No," Riku says quietly, "Sora's not perfect."
"But he might as well be," the other replies. "You'd love him in either case, wouldn't you?"
He closes his eyes. "I…"
They open.
"—knew I'd find you here!"
Riku looks up and sees Sora leaning over him with his fists on his hips. He groans a little, rubs at his eyes, and tries to ignore the sticky taste in his mouth when he groggily asks, "What?"
Sora's figure blots out much of Riku's view. Behind him the night sky is expansive and dark. "Your parents called me and Kairi to go find you." His arms cross as he leans away. "Everyone else is back at the mainland already. Kairi's waiting at the dock."
Riku's brow furrows for a moment until he glances around. He feels the paopu trunk behind him and the sand underneath. "Oh," he mutters. "Sorry. I fell asleep."
"Yeah, no kidding," Sora says, grinning. He reaches out a hand to help his friend up. "Come on. You have a bed at home, you know."
Riku chuckles lowly as he grabs the hand and staggers to his feet. He rubs at his eyes again, using the trunk as support. "Sounds good. I'm still tired."
Sora hums thoughtfully as he nods, mouth twisting into a little frown. "You've been sleeping a lot lately. Is anything wrong?"
Riku shakes his head and pushes away from the tree to begin walking. Sora follows closely, jogging once to reach his side. "I'm all right, Sora. I'm just tired."
Sora peers up at him. Their shoes clunk heavily against the wooden bridge as they cross it. "Are you sure?" he asks, tilting his head. "I mean… You've been acting—well, there's just something different about you, that's all."
Riku silently gazes straight ahead. The small shack with stairs leading to lower ground is close. He enters first, holding the door open for Sora to slip inside, and then begins to descend the steps. He feels Sora's eyes on him as they walk, his own watching his feet.
It's only when Sora takes a breath to say something more that Riku finally answers, softly and sadly: "A lot of things are different about me now."
They hit the sand again. Riku keeps going toward the dock, but Sora stops with his mouth open. He shuts it quickly, pursing his lips together, blue eyes anxious and concerned. Sighing, he shouts for Riku to wait up, and runs after him.
The rock is cold under his fingertips. Riku traces the line carefully, watching how it turns into the next or branches off into many. Together they create fantastical pictures, all drawn on stone with children's chalk, white on gray.
He steps away from the cavern's wall, eyes roaming. That one over there looks like Atlantica, he thinks. There are fish and little bubbles floating up. Another one has a haunted house with bats flying over it. Halloween Town, maybe. He can spot one that resembles Disney Castle, and another Sora's magician friend.
Riku moves to sit against one of the thick tree roots that twist along the cave's wall. He comes here sometimes to remind himself, or whenever he needs a space that's closed in. Sometimes the open sea is too much; he has to retreat before the wanderlust takes hold. It's frightening when it does.
The innocent wooden door stands to his right. Riku remembers reaching out for it; the memory is in his hand. It begins to feel weighted—hurts at the wrist—so he clenches it tight.
He glances away. His eyes settle on the drawing of two people, just their smiling faces looking at each other, with sweeping arms giving a star to the other. He stares dully at it, unable to think about much besides how Sora can't draw.
Each line of the drawing connects to another.
Riku begins to feel tired. His body is heavy and hard to move. Soon he's resting his head against the tree root and letting his eyes close, breath evening out with chalk smiles on his mind.
The shell is as big as his hand. It's pale like his skin; he holds it delicately, turning it over to inspect the other side. There's nothing that sets it apart from the others on the shore. He gently puts it into the bucket he carries anyway.
Riku shifts the plastic bucket from one hand to the other. The handle strains when it grows heavier. It's a big bucket—roughly the size of his stomach—or maybe he's just small. It bounces against his bare legs as he walks, and the collection of shells clink together inside.
A young girl in a little white dress walks next to him, sometimes bending over to pick up another treasure. She has short hair the color of burgundy—a deep brown-red—and eyes somewhere between violet and blue. That's Kairi, he thinks.
They stop when she cups a coiled shell in both hands. Her head tilts, purple sandals toeing into the ground. Then she brings it to her ear, looking up with a smile. "You can hear the ocean in it," she says.
Riku frowns. "You hear the ocean all the time." His voice is still childish. "We live next to it."
Her smile falls as the shell is lowered. "It sounds nice," she defends weakly. "You should try it."
"Why? I've heard it before," he says, glancing away. "It's not like it'll be different or anything."
Kairi's face scrunches together. It's a glare, but it looks more like a pout. "Why not? It doesn't need to be different. It just needs to be nice."
Kairi's a girl, he reminds himself. Girls aren't practical; they romanticize things. They think in weird ways—Kairi can't understand that Riku's heard the waves all his life, that they hold nothing new for him, that it'd be stupid to listen to a shell when the actual ocean was right there.
"It'd be stupid," is all he says before he looks at the bucket he carries.
It seems smaller than before. The handle isn't as hard to wrap his hand around. Silver bangs hang in his face, and his form is filled out with muscle. He wears jeans instead of shorts, and when he looks to Kairi, she only reaches his waist.
Kairi was pretty even as a kid, he thinks. Innocent and stubborn, too. She hasn't really changed much. He thanks her for that.
She brings the coiled shell to her ear with a smile. "You can hear the ocean in it."
He looks at her, watching how she sways on her feet and begins to hum, the shell cradled close. But soon she whirls around, red hair flying, and says, "You should try it, Riku."
He smiles softly at her eager eyes and replies: "I'd like that."
Riku sets the bucket down safely onto the sand and kneels as she bounces over. Kairi doesn't hand the shell over but instead presses it to his ear with her own small hand. She leans in close, still wanting to hear—all Riku can see is her purple-blue eyes, the burgundy of her hair, and the sea-green waves behind her. He reaches one hand up to place over hers, and silently listens.
Riku hears the ocean inside and outside of the shell. Somehow, he finds it comforting. "It's nice," he says quietly, lowering his hand.
Kairi takes the shell back as she nods. "Isn't it?"
He looks to the hand that was over hers. His eyes narrow curiously, and he turns his hand palm-up to see a mesh of color there. It looks the same as Kairi's skin. He holds the hand up to the sunlight and watches how the pale color drips down his palm and onto his wrist, slowly blending in and finally fading.
Everything turns into the watercolor world. Kairi is all red, peach, purple-blue and white moving against blue sky and green sea.
"You love her."
The other voice returns. It's a ghost presence behind him—enough to know it's there but not enough to turn and see. Kairi's more important, anyway.
"Playing big brother again?" the other says darkly. "Or maybe not. She fascinated you, didn't she? She wasn't from this world."
Riku remembers clearly. "She gave me the idea about building a raft."
"A Princess of Heart, full of light," the other muses. "Waited like such a good girl for you two. But it was more for Sora, wasn't it?"
Riku looks away from her. She dances among the watercolors, white arms swinging. "They're my best friends," he says. "I won't hold anything against either of them."
"So you say," the other replies. "That accepting, are you?" A short pause, and then spoken lowly: "You must love her very much."
He closes his eyes. "I…"
They open.
"Riku!"
It takes longer to focus this time. His mind is still half-dreaming. He gazes forward blankly, feels the hands on his shoulders lightly shaking him—
"Riku, please!"
—and then sees the redheaded girl kneeling before him. "Kairi?" His voice feels disembodied, not quite his own.
Relief floods her pretty face. The worried lines on her forehead fall away and she heaves a great sigh coupled with his name. "You're awake," she says; her voice has a slight tremor.
Riku glances around. He recognizes the Secret Place quickly. "I… Sorry," he murmurs. He looks back to her. "I fell asleep."
Kairi's hands grip his shoulders as she studies his face. "What happened?" she asks earnestly. "I couldn't wake you up. Riku," she whispers, and her eyes moisten, "I got scared."
He stares at her in wonder. She's never cried for him before. "I'm sorry, Kairi," he repeats. "I must've been really tired."
She takes a shuddering breath, bites her lip, and sniffles. Managing a shaky smile, she reaches one hand to touch his cheek and brush aside the silver strands. "We're both worried about you," she says. "You'd tell us if there was something wrong, right?"
Riku doesn't lean into it. "I'm fine," he insists quietly. "Don't worry."
Kairi looks at him closely, and there's a hint of disappointment across her face. "Okay, Riku. If you say so."
She idly brushes his bangs away more, her thumb grazing under his eye. Riku allows it silently, and even admits to himself that the touch is comforting. Kairi's hands are soft and gentle, vaguely reminiscent of a mother's.
She pauses suddenly. His eyes raise to her, and she peers at him in turn, holding the bangs away from his face. Kairi squints once, leans forward, and then sits back. "Your eyes," she begins. "They look different."
Riku's eyebrow raises minutely. "What…"
"They're—" She stops, searching for the right word. "… Greener. They're greener." She shakes her head. "Nevermind. It's nothing."
Her hands leave him as she stands and dusts off her skirt. "Sora's probably waiting for us. Let's go, okay?"
Riku nods slowly. His body feels stiff, but he gets up anyway.
He opens his eyes to the watercolor world. Riku sees the sun-stained sky above and feels the sand beneath. He's lying down on the beach, far enough away from the shore that the tide can't reach him. His right hand is resting over his stomach, but the other lies spread out beside him with a comfortable weight on top.
He's not younger this time. For a few seconds he just lies there, staring up at the sky as the colors work beautifully together, the white sun glaring, the green and brown trees stretching up high.
Then the weight on his hand shifts, and Riku looks over to see Sora and Kairi lying with him.
They're not children anymore. Sora's more mature, his clothes black with dashes of red pockets, yellow belts and white lining. He's the one closest, a hand covering Riku's, his eyes closed and expression peaceful. On Sora's other side is Kairi; Riku can see her short pink dress, decorated with zippers and black straps, her legs long and bare. She's smiling, her eyes closed as well, right hand interlocked with Sora's left.
They're all connected in a neat little line. Riku remembers doing this before they ever left the islands. They didn't need words in those moments; they just lay there with each other and slowly breathed.
"It's tempting, isn't it?" the voice comes, slithering into Riku's mind. "You could stay here forever, you know, just like this. Safe and protected from whatever may harm you or them."
This world is beautiful, with its bleeding colors. Sora and Kairi are beautiful.
"You could stay here," the other repeats, becoming more insistent, more palpable than before. "Just close your eyes and stay forever with the two people you love the most. Sounds good, doesn't it? Sounds real nice."
Riku begins to feel heavy, his eyes sliding down halfway. "Tired," he murmurs.
"Close your eyes," the other says. A presence forms beside him and there's a touch on his shoulder.
Sora and Kairi rest so calmly. Riku wants to rest like that, too.
His eyes shut all the way.
"Riku?"
"Just sleep," the other whispers. Something cool travels down his arm, twining over his shoulder and chest. "Stay forever."
"Hey, Riku."
He stirs. "It's cold."
"It's nothing," the other reassures.
It covers his torso, spreading across his other arm and snaking down his legs.
"Hey, Riku, are you awake?"
"Riku, what's wrong?"
"Sora," he says. "Kairi."
The other's voice turns harsh at the edges. "They're right here next to you. Go to sleep."
Riku feels strange. He feels like something is seeping away, something fluid, down his face and clothes. He wants his eyes to open and look, but they won't answer him. He wants to use his hands and wipe whatever it is away, but they lie motionless.
"Sora," he says, the beginnings of panic spurring him on. "Kairi."
"We're right here."
His breath quickens—fear is starting to shake his bones. Suddenly he's terrified—it feels like he's draining away, something taking over, but Sora and Kairi are next to him and they wouldn't let anything happen to him again.
"Riku, wake up!"
His eyes fly open. Sora and Kairi are a batch of still colors; the world around him is swirling together into distorted shapes. He distantly hears the other's voice trying to urge him back asleep, but he doesn't listen. He sits up and looks at himself—everything that makes him him is dripping away. The colors of his clothes drain out; left underneath is black leather. Grabbing a handful of hair, he brings it around; the silver trickles down his fingers with red showing through instead. He lets the strands drop with a trembling breath and turns to Sora and Kairi, reaching out with a hand whose skin color is leaving it, replaced by another shade. Riku tries to touch them, but his fingers pass through them like they're water, smearing them across the sand.
"Riku!"
He snaps awake.
Sora and Kairi are leaning over him in bed. Kairi is worrying her lip and Sora looks determined, his brow drawn together. The room is dark—they're at Sora's house, all sleeping together like children.
"You wouldn't wake up again," Kairi whispers. Her hair looks brown in the night, falling over her shoulders.
"What happened?" Sora asks. His voice is stern. "You were talking in your sleep."
"You called out for us," she explains.
Riku looks from one to the other. Kairi's behind Sora, a hand on the blanket over Riku's thigh. Sora sits next to him, face solemn and serious.
Riku sits up and they back away to let him. He runs a hand through his hair and looks down at himself—makes sure he's still him—and then returns their curious stares. "I…" he stammers, and then finishes: "It was just a dream."
"Riku," Sora scolds lightly, "tell us what happened."
Kairi nods. "We want to help, if we can."
Then Riku remembers their voices in his dream. He smiles warmly at them and says, "I think you already did."
They exchange confused glances before looking to him again. "Riku?" Kairi asks hesitantly.
"Let's just go back to sleep," he says, lying on his side and facing them.
Sora sighs, probably out of frustration. "Okay, but you're telling us later."
"I will," Riku promises. "But not now."
Kairi scoots over to her side, sticking her legs under the covers. "We'll hold you to that," she warns playfully. "Good night, Riku, Sora."
"Night, Kairi," Sora says, shimmying down between them. He stretches out his legs and yawns widely. "Night, Riku."
"Night," Riku answers.
He keeps his eyes closed until Sora and Kairi stop moving, and then he lies awake. For the rest of the night Riku watches them sleep, both peaceful and so loving.
The next time Riku opens his eyes to the watercolor world, he's in control and aware. He senses things acutely—his own tense muscles, the still air, and the fact that he's not alone.
"Show yourself," he demands, fists clenching. "I know you're here."
Riku glances around the island, at the mockery of the paopu tree and in the direction of the Secret Place. There's no Sora or Kairi now; just him and the ghost presence that's invaded his dreams. He spreads his feet apart in the sand, alert and ready.
"Who are you, and what are you trying to do?" he asks. "If you won't answer me, then get out. You don't belong here."
Then he hears it—the same voice coaxing him from before. It's chuckling, almost dementedly, almost sadly. "Actually, I don't belong anywhere."
Riku knows that voice; its familiarity teases him. "Who are you?"
He feels it behind him—the shifting of space. He spins around in time to see the colors converge into a form. Slowly there are lanky arms and a long black trench coat; blood red hair and green eyes on a pale face follow.
Riku draws in breath sharply. "Axel."
"The one and only," Axel says, grinning with his arms sweeping out.
Riku studies him critically. "Sora told us you died."
"I did," Axel says, shrugging. "Well, my body did. Nobodies are made of leftover bodies and souls, right?" He scratches his head. "Funny. I guess I'm the leftover of a leftover now." A laugh bubbles out. "Talk about your lows, huh?"
Aqua eyes narrow dangerously. "What're you doing here, Axel?"
That's when Axel's face falls. It turns straight and stony, the eyes poisonous. The look in them is almost frightening. "I was gonna be you," he says calmly. "You were gonna sleep forever and I'd pretend to be you." He smirks. "No one would've figured it out, I bet, that you were actually gone."
Riku can feel the tingling of power around his right hand—his Keyblade, near and accessible. "Why?"
Axel can feel it, too. He notices the summoning of a Keyblade all too well. His arms spread out along with his feet as he speaks with a glare: "I'm not going to fade into darkness like the others. Not me. Who says Roxas and Naminé have to be the only lucky ones, huh?"
"You can't stay here," Riku snaps. In the background the tide rolls along the shore, melodious and constant. "This isn't your place."
"I'll make it my place," Axel snaps back. "I'm gonna be somebody, and the only one standing in my way is you."
Way to the Dawn materializes in Riku's hand with a flash of light. It clinks once as it settles into his grip, the Heartless keychain swinging as he raises it. He returns Axel's glare as he growls, "I've had enough of other people trying to take over my heart."
Axel sighs dramatically and then flicks his wrists—dual chakrams appear near his hands, fiery and spinning. He snatches them out of the air. "Figured it'd come to this."
He vanishes.
Riku feels the age-old rush of adrenalin surging through his legs and arms. He can faintly catch the Nobody's scent nearby, but he can't pinpoint it; it seems like it's everywhere at once. Riku looks around wildly, trying to catch any hint of Axel's location—
The sand underneath his feet turns hot. He looks down. It bubbles oddly.
Eyes widening, he jumps back just before a column of fire erupts, flames shimmering and licking at his clothes.
Riku lands, but it's not long before he curses and jumps away again, a second column erupting where he just was. He begins to sprint down the shore, slipping against the wet sand before righting himself, column after column following his path. He can feel the heat at his back and under his feet—a few times it comes too close and clips the heels of his shoes or the streaming ends of his hair. They even burst out of the ocean when he turns into it, raining small drops of water, unrelenting.
He needs to find Axel. He can't keep running forever. With every pounding footstep he glances around, between the palm trees, out across the ocean, and under the wooden bridge.
The sky, he distantly thinks, looks like it's burning.
Then Riku sees it out of the corner of his eye: the faint glimmer of a red chakram spinning toward him. He twists his body to face it, swinging Way to the Dawn in a wide arc. The Keyblade catches it and sends it flying to lodge itself into the ground.
He freezes. The sharp prick of a weapon is at his back.
"Looks like you're a little out of practice," Axel says from behind. "Getting tired yet?"
Riku's answer is a yell and a swipe with his weapon. Axel exclaims in surprise before deftly ducking and rolling under it, grabbing the stray chakram on his way. Black energy gathers and swirls in Riku's left hand before it shoots out, forcing Axel to dodge again and scorching the ground where he stood. Riku follows his movement, dashing after him with slashes of his Keyblade, its form a dark blue blur in the air.
Axel feels every parry his chakrams make—feels the shock down his arms and into his bones—and hears the screeching strikes of metal against metal. He sees Riku's face across the dance of weapons—his visage furious, the power chording through him deadly. With a deep snarl, Axel begins to match it with his own.
"Who said it, anyway?" Axel spits out as Riku presses against the hold the chakrams have on Way to the Dawn. Their hands and the weapons shake against each other. "Who said that you people have the right to exist over us? Huh?"
He knocks Riku away; the Keyblade wielder skids across the sand with one hand against the ground to steady himself.
"What gives you the right to exist over me?" Axel asks, the words punctuated and barbed. "The things I've done and the things you've done—let me tell you, there's no comparison!"
Riku's eyes are narrowed and focused. His breath is heavy, his grip tight on Way to the Dawn's handle. He stares at Axel. There are many different things he could say in response—about a heart, emotions, the privilege of living first—but he finds that no words will come out.
Axel just laughs, head thrown back, and flames spread from his hands to engulf his chakrams. With a heave he flings one at Riku, a line of fire connecting it back to him. Riku steps aside and tries to cut it but his Keyblade harmlessly passes through. The chakram is snapped back like a yo-yo, another quickly replacing it.
Riku backs away from every throw. One gets close enough to nick and singe his bare shoulder—he grimaces and returns to the offensive, gathering black energy at his palm again and aiming. Axel recognizes the move; a wall of fire protects him as Riku's attack is dispersed inside of it.
Riku notices a recklessness in Axel. At first glance it would seem normal, but a strange desperation is marked across the Nobody's face and influencing his actions. For a brief moment Riku sees himself as in a mirror, but then embers surround him on all sides and the image is lost.
The blaze is all he can see. It burns up high, formed in a circle with him in the center. The heat sears his skin and clothes; he has to hold an arm over his face to protect his watering eyes. The crackling flames are loud and vicious in his ears.
He's unable to see the chakram in time. With the fire so close around him, there's no time to dodge when the weapon appears through it. It catches him across the back; he can feel its spikes cut through the vest and shirt and graze his skin. Riku jerks forward, startled, and then another one strikes him deep across his thigh. With a cry he stumbles, his Keyblade landing into the sand with a soft thud. Hurriedly he reaches for it again, wildly swinging it around to knock the next chakram away.
He can't stop them all. They come from different sides, appearing and then disappearing through the wall, the faint sound of laughter on the outside. Cuts, small and big, begin to litter his skin, and his eyes squeeze shut from the pain.
Sora, he thinks. Kairi.
Riku can picture them even now. So clearly can he see the color of their hair, their eyes and skin, and the clothes they love. So vividly can he remember them as children, with their sandcastles and seashells. So perfectly can he recall everything—their concerned voices and their sleeping faces.
He clings onto their memory tight. It fills and sings through his entire being. His eyes open again with a new light, and this time, he sees the attack before it appears. Way to the Dawn drags through the sand as Riku bends away from the spinning chakram, and then he crouches and propels himself through the fire in the direction it came.
For a long moment all he sees is a blinding white and all he feels is an incredible burning. Then he breaks through, and it seems like he's suspended in air, like he's flying, until Axel's wide eyes are in view and Riku descends upon him with a shout and a slash.
The fire dies. It trickles down until it fades. There's a clatter and Axel has dropped his weapons to the ground; he follows them to his knees not long after.
Axel breathes out a long, drawn out breath. Dazedly he looks up at Riku, who stands stoically over him. "Oh," he says quietly. "Is that so? I see now."
The chakrams vanish the way they came. Riku lets his Keyblade leave. "Axel."
"You know," Axel says, voice and eyes faraway now, "I used to wonder. About you over us—what gave you the right. I mean, a heart? Emotions?" He laughs bitterly, sadly. "You people spend a good chunk of your life denying or not understanding them, anyway."
He looks down to his own hands. There's darkness pooling underneath him. "But that Kairi girl is pretty smart," he continues. "When she was with me, she said something. I didn't exactly get it then, but I see it now."
Axel looks up again and their eyes connect—green to aqua. "She said it's not the heart that made someone really exist." There's a pause as his eyes glaze over. "It's the people around them."
The darkness is snaking around his form now. Riku doesn't move, his face unreadable.
"I kinda wish…" Axel starts; his voice trembles near the end. He swallows once, wetting his mouth, before going on: "… I had figured that out sooner."
He smiles then, as the darkness wraps around him, and it's neither smug nor crafty. Riku can see Axel breaking apart, everything that embodies him floating away.
"Do me a favor?" Axel asks. "Leave me out of your little explanation to your friends. I made such a nice last impression before. Hate for that to be ruined… you know?"
Riku regards him before he slowly nods. "I will," he says.
"Heh." Axel laughs quietly, more to himself than anything else. "That's real kind of you."
The darkness completely covers him, and when it fades, Axel is gone. Riku stares at that spot for long moments afterward.
The sun is setting. It creates the most fantastic colors. Riku can watch it from his tree for a long time.
Sometimes, though, Sora and Kairi come to join him. They run across the bridge, greeting him loudly and waving their hands. Sora clamors over, latching onto the tree to Riku's right and heaving himself up. It takes him some time, but Riku helps, and soon enough Sora is sitting and happily swinging his legs. Kairi climbs up the trunk carefully on all fours. Riku helps her when she's close enough, and she places herself to his left.
Sooner or later, in the quiet, they lay their heads on him, one on each shoulder. Their hands reach to take his, and they all sit together, basking in the horizon.
Riku takes them both in. He relishes in their attention, feels them near and their touch close to his skin. In his mind he pictures them all mixing into one another, blending and bleeding, until they're one beautiful entity, composed of grace.
-fin