Reunion
Disclaimer: I claim no rights to the fanchise of Kingdom Hearts and its riveting plot line.
Based on the scene on the mountaintop in the Village of Dragons (Mulan's world). Enjoy!
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It is cold, is all he can think. It is cold and lonely, as he stares around at the white landscape. Untouched, unmarked and silent it stares back at her, so white and pure that she feels blind. And a part of him resents it for it.
The snow is still falling up here, fat flakes that are catching on to him and seeping into his clothes, his hair, his soul. She barely takes heed to the fact that she is not really alone on this mountaintop, even though inside she feels over and over again like she is.
Especially when there is something in his heart, something pulling—
"I think we lost them," from his right Mulan states, and Sora can not bare to turn and look at her. Instead he nods once, silently, and lets his companions take over.
"Where could they have gone though…?" Sora asks quietly, continuing to search the horizon. "I mean, did they go up the summit…?"
Somewhere Sora tells herself to get a grip, and unclogs the ice that seems to have built in his throat. "No, I don't…know. But does it matter?"
With a frown on his lips he turns to face them, cheeks pink from what he hopes they will think is the cold. "They're no longer here, so we don't have a reason to stick around. Let's go."
Mulan, Donald and Goofy nod. They think little of it.
"Yeah, let's go…" Sora repeats at length, and together as a unit his friends turn and without looking back begin to walk down the summit again, talking quietly, talking quickly. And Sora, for the barest second, is left alone. That's all he needs.
He whirls around, the snow clinging to his lashes as he stares down the figure in black that had been the purpose for this excursion in the first place, the person his friends thought they had lost. But he had known, because somewhere in his heart, in the swirling snow, he had felt it.
Turning his body to face the intruder, he brandishes his keyblade, Oathkeeper pulsing in his hand with the promise of battle. He stares at the hood, at the place the person's eyes would be, with a scowl covering his face.
Unlike the other Organization members he has encountered, he does not threaten this one, nor does he try to guess what number this one is. His heart tells him that this is different, so he simply asks, "Who are you?"
The figure seems to pause, the dark coat moving around what seems to be a lithe figure. They stand near the edge of the summit, their feet at the edge of the cliff. Sora thinks that they are going to jump and takes a small step forward.
"Just tell me—" Why was his voice so desperate? Why—"Just tell me who you are!"
The figure stops, freezes, becomes a part of the dead landscape it seems. He notices the hood lift, the eyes behind it training on something behind him just as at his back he feels a gust of cold air.
Unwilling to take his eyes off the mysterious cloaked figure and yet knowing he had to see what was approaching from behind, he turns slowly, his eyes fastening on the hill of white in the distance as his body goes numb in shock.
Up on the hill ready to fall thousands of heartless prance, their mechanical small bodies flitting in the bright sunlight. They are thunder type, a type he had encountered before, so he is not worried; instead he finds his attention turning back to the figure behind him, even as the heartless begin to descend down.
Now the figure is not weaponless. In their hand is a blade, the handle made of two dark demon wings, the body a combination of red and black that ended with a sharp point at the head of it, a white wing protruding like s sickle. Somehow it seems familiar.
He has seen it before.
When she had been too naive to know of the dark and the light, when he had had it pressed to his throat by the one person he had always trusted.
He has seen it before in his nightmares, in those now vague images of his first journey of sealing keyholes and meeting new friends and experiencing a torrent of new things.
He has seen it before, clasped in his best friend's hand. .
Whereas before everything had been so cold, abruptly everything got too hot. Eyes widened as a face paled, and the hand holding his keyblade went slack as his lips formed a silent question, a name that has for over a year been frozen in time.
"Riku…?"
Just like that, as though that silent, frozen name had broken the spell that had weaved between them, the figure lurches forward just as from behind the heartless began to assault him.
He yelps, Oathkeeper immediately coming up in a knee jerk reaction to first knock the heartless away before parrying the blow. The strength against the other blade which rests on his is familiar, reminiscent to that year or two ago, when in that dark castle they had both let all their feelings crack.
And yet still all Sora can see is a hooded face.
They break apart as the heartless swarm around them, bobbing in the dead mountain air as ten at a time they seemed to sweep in, and in one or two thrashes of his keyblade they are gone, disintegrating back into the dark they were formed from.
Even as he casually takes down the weak heartless that seem to be growing in amounts, he does not take his eyes off of the figure, now simply standing there again, keyblade lowered, watching him beneath the hood.
A familiar gaze.
"R—"
More heartless are there to cut him off, a never ending cycle as almost savagely he starts to bat them away and make his way towards the still silent figure, knowing his time is limited. A giant clock hangs over his head and soon it will break, he knows, and he fights harder.
The figure watches him approach without moving a muscle, and even once in awhile raises an arm to throw dark energy at the various thunder heartless attacking him. Helping him, it seems, get closer and closer as though they too know that time is of the essence.
Soon the heartless begin to dwindle enough for him to stand before this mysterious figure, his blue eyes widened and full of emotions he has not dared show for so long.
Did he dare to show them all now…?
"R-Ri—"
The name is right there, but he can not seem to get it out. The figure seems to cock their head, considering her, as they raise up that familiar dark keyblade.
But no, he thinks, it can not happen like this. It just couldn't…
"Rik—"
Denying him the figure throws their weight forward, thrusting their weapon at him as he yelps, surprised, barely blocking the blow. The person is close, and yet he still can not know—
"Please—"
He is violently pushed back, a grunt escaping him as he nearly loses his balance in the soft snow and grips Oathkeeper tighter. All the while his eyes can not leave the dark figure.
He is getting impatient, fed up with these teasing little blows, the silence, his own inability to say the name of the person he held so dear. His teeth clench in his mouth and he lets loose a quiet growl, almost astonishing himself as he forces the keyblade in his hand to vanish. His only weapon, his only defense, gone, so that he is left bare before this dark figure that he knows and so desperately wants to believe is not an enemy.
The figure hesitates, he can see, and he can all but feel their questioning stare on him. He only glares right back, through the hood, through all the lies and pain, to say in a quiet voice his challenge.
"Go on, attack me. If you really want to hurt me, do it."
This was the point where it all was to end. He would not back down until he knew, until he knew that his heart was telling him the truth. Until he knew that there was still hope…
And the answer came with the fall of the dark blade. The figure lowered their weapon slowly, as though almost afraid too, and continued to watch him from beneath the hood.
All the air left Sora's chest in a giant gush that held the lingering traces of a sob. Again he tries to fight for composure, for time, but it was slipping, especially now. Especially now that he knows the truth.
The black portal opens just as he manages to get that frozen name out, his friends coming back, noticing his absence, just as that name echoes and echoes all around, as loud as it can ever be.
"Riku!"
An echo…
"RIKU!"
Echo…
"—Riku—"
But it is too late; in a flare of darkness the hole closes, and the figure and all Sora's hopes are gone. In the distance he hears his friends banishing the few heartless that remain as he falls to his knees, uncaring of the cold, of how wet it is, and buries his face in his ice cold hands.
Under his breath, silently, he can only keep mouthing his name.
"I was so close…"
Somewhere, on the breeze, in the echo of his anguish, he heard him.
"Come on, Sora, I'll always be here!"
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