You wake up to small paws poking at your side and groan lightly into your pillow.
"Rise and shine!" Chirithy exclaims much too loudly for this time of the morning. "It's mission time!"
"Five more minutes…"
"You said that five minutes ago, kiddo. Come on, up and at 'em, there's Heartless to be slain! And friends to be helped!"
"Okay, okay…" You sit up slowly, stretching your arms above your head. You're careful not to re-open the wound on your right side that you got two days ago from a particularly angry multi-weapon wielding Heartless.
Chirithy hops off your bed. "I'm gonna gather you some more intel, so do whatever you need to get ready for the day! Meet me at the usual place, okay?"
"Yeah," You yawn into your hand. "Thanks, Chirithy."
As Chirithy disappears into their usual poof cloud, you groggily saunter into the bathroom, sitting yourself down in front of the vanity mirror. You get ready to battle your hair to get it exactly the way you want it but as you're pushing it back, you take notice of the scar on your right temple, too big and pink for your liking.
You scoot a little closer to the mirror and ever so gently run the tips of your fingers over it. It's strange. You remember the first time you noticed it; a few months ago in the same spot you're sitting in right now. You were absolutely puzzled but Chirithy was quick to tell you that you had gotten it on a particularly tough mission involving multiple Heartless that had ended up swarming you.
You had believed it at the time because it sounded plausible. But the more you look at it, you can't help but start to wonder if that was really the case. Surely you'd remember a mission that hard? Surely you'd remember receiving a scar that big?
The problem is, you don't.
The second problem is, every time you try to think about why you can't seem to remember it, your head starts to hurt. And it's not just for the scar on your head. It's the same with the scar on your left side, the scar on your hip, the scars on your upper arms and your shoulders and the long one on your back that's always itching.
(You twisted yourself backwards one time to get a good look at it. It almost looks like it could've came from a Keyblade.)
You've tried to bring it up with Chirithy every once in a while, but they always seem to change the subject or tell you not to worry about it. That it was in the past and that you should be looking forward to the future instead. You don't know what to make of your companion's vague answers. In fact, you've noticed that they've been acting strange lately. While Chirithy is still as helpful and kind as ever, there's something different about them. And there's something different about you.
It's like you've lost a part of yourself. Something vital has been ripped out of you, as if an important page has been ripped out of your book of life. And it drives you insane because you just can't seem to find the answer to why you feel this way.
A little part of you wonders if Ephemera could've figured this enigma out. You wish you could talk to him again, if only to hear his cheerfulness and warmth. But you quickly push that part of you away. Ephemera's not here, after all. He's busy doing…
Gathering…
Leading?
Yes, that's right. Busy leading the Dandelions in Master Ava's stead. You and Skuld - whom you also miss dearly - were accepted into the Dandelions at the same time. You definitely remember getting tossed around by Master Ava quite a bit.
But wait…what was the Dandelions' goal again? It was something good. Or bad. No, you're sure that this organization that Master Ava put together was meant for good, and you definitely wouldn't have accepted her offer if it was bad, but your heart feels a bit heavy for some reason, which you can't seem to figure out at all—
Enough.
You heave a long sigh, resting your pounding head on your palms.
You're sick of not knowing why you feel the way you do. You're sick of feeling this strange haze in your memory. You're sick of the headaches and the weird dreams that you have every once in a while. Nothing seems to make sense anymore…
After a few more minutes of staring at the darkness of your palms, you decide to just start getting ready. There's no use in moping. Chirithy's waiting. The worlds are waiting.
The worlds we visit—the worlds of fairy tales—are nothing more than holograms.
"…What about me?" You whisper to yourself. "Could I be…a hologram too?"
You close your eyes and press your hand against your heart, focusing on the constant rhythm of your chest.
Of course not.
You breathe, you feel. You exist. You're definitely not a hologram. You may not have the best memory, but that doesn't mean you're anything less than human. Your scars are proof of something. Of what exactly, you're not sure yet. But they're there and they can't be hidden. They may fade but they will always be a reminder. If only they could talk—then you'd know whether Chirithy was telling the truth or not.
Perhaps this is some kind of test, you muse as you finally begin fixing your hair. In order to become stronger, you have to go and find the answers to all your questions. Like what you tried to do with Ephemera and Skuld.
(Little do you know, the answers lie in their hands.
And as always…they're just out of reach.)
.
.
.