A/N: Well I've had this idea for a fanfiction for a very long time. So yeah, please read, and tell me if you want me to continue the story.
Warning: This fiction (if continued after this chapter) will contain shounen-ai. For those who don't know what that means…. There will be some Riku-Sora pairing fluff going on.
Disclaimer: If I owned Kingdom Hearts do you think I'd waste my time typing this? Honestly, I'd be hugging Sora right now if I owned him. Of course, by all rights, he SHOULD be mine….
Chapter 1: Dark Mist
Faint mist lingered across the planes with a resemblance of a blanket, torn to pieces by the cold merciless feeling of the air. It possessed an ethereal glow, frightening those weak at heart.
A smile appeared on the hooded man's face upon considering the weak of heart. For that now constituted the world in its entirety. After all his travels, he was reassured of the darkness lurking in ever corner, every building, and especially in every heart. No one could escape such a fate, even himself. Perhaps long ago he remembered thinking otherwise, but now, the hooded figure understood the fear and darkness spreading across the town in a tangible mist.
Walking forward, straight through the fog now threatening his courage, he approached a seemingly harmless bar. Before entering, he cautiously turned around, judging whether or not a creature was following him. On too many occasions, trouble searched and found him with dark results, and now the man was all too careful in dark alleyways.
Rubbing his left shoulder with slight annoyance, he advanced through the crowd of weak-hearted men, all of whom looked tough despite the hidden fear emblazoned in their eyes.
"Bartender," said a young voice, surprising the man as he realized this voice came from the ominous looking person in the hooded cloak. The cloaked figure continued to sit down and placed his elbow on the bar for balance, "Give me the cheapest, strongest thing you got."
The bartender, now cleaning a glass with a dirty towel, inspected the stranger from head to toe. He appeared overly suspicious, and at long last the bartender sighed, "Not unless you take that hood off and show some cash. I don't normally ask for my customers to do so, but in your case…. I'm going to have to make an exception."
A loud sigh could be heard escaping from the cloak, as the person from beneath it placed his hand on his forehead and slowly pulled back, allowing the hood to fall off nonchalantly.
"The weak at heart always fail to trust," sighed the voice again, which now appeared to belong to a young boy. Ignoring the surprised countenance of the bartender, the stranger continued to rub his left shoulder painfully. "Cheapest but strongest thing you got, please."
"Whoa, kid. Are you even eighteen?" The man asked, leaning forward and gazing deep into his cold eyes.
"What does it matter to you? You're still going to get paid," he replied, not particularly wanting to answer the question. Only the customer's order should be of any importance, not shallow numbers. The boy groaned with slight pain in his chest. "Well?"
Looking slightly nervous, the bartender nodded, and left to fetch the 'cheapest and strongest' drink he possessed. He gazed over his shoulder to see the stress forming on the brunette's forehead. "So kid, something bothering ya?"
Raising an eyebrow, the boy merely gazed through him, not adding to the conversation. Several moments passed until he gave in, deciding to continue the dialogue before the bartender might change his mind about his beverage. "Life's not how I use to look at it."
A weak smile crossed his lips as the bartender passed the large mug. "Half off, simply because you look like you need it."
"Maybe so," he added, attempting to gulp down the rancid drink, "But I'm not a fool."
The bartender was beginning to like this stranger. Despite his harsh and less-than-optimistic comments, the boy certainly had experiences and wisdom beyond his youth. The man had seen many drunks and wise men in his day, but this child did not share their superiority complex, famed to follow those with knowledge.
"And how so?"
The boy smiled briefly, but quickly halted, clutching his left shoulder with reawakened pain. Snapping his eyes shut, he shuddered and clenched his teeth. Panting he managed to regain his composure and replied, "There are too many reminders in this world of reality to possibly get lost in fantasy. Those who fail to see them… are weak fools."
Frowning, the bartender dropped their conversation, "Are you all right?"
"Fine," he replied harshly, and took out several coins from his pocket. "This should cover it."
"Wait a second; don't leave. Not in your condition…"
"I'm fine," the stranger repeated, retreating to the exit. The last problem he wanted was for this man to interrogate him. Before the brunette realized it, he was outside in the fog and darkness, trudging forward blindly.
All alone, he placed the hood over him and continued to drag his feet. Not knowing where he was headed, the boy refused to care and desperately disregarded the shadows around him. After all this time, he truly had changed. The fatigue in his joints merely added to his pessimism. Again clutching his chest, he slowly wondered where his friends were and how he was separated from them.
In truth, it mattered not now, for with or without their presence, the boy doubted the pain surging within him would vanish. Somehow, he knew it never could. All these years, and it still failed to dissipate. How would now be any different for him?
The pain in his heart was spreading, growing. "Not again," he whimpered, almost tripping over his feet. He leaned against a brick wall for support, wishing the throbbing sting would evaporate. Closing his eyes, he could see the darkness smothering him, suffocating him, trying to trap him in fear.
Panting breathlessly, he clutched his heart tighter, but it failed to stop his visions of ever-growing darkness. Everything was fading except a pair of yellow empty eyes. He knew them all too well. Not just in his dreams but everywhere. The heartless eyes stalked him at every turn.
And despite all his efforts, the only thing in his battle that was waning in strength was himself. His memories, his personality, every aspect of himself were fading, and without the aide of his friends, Sora collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.