Title: Not Quite There
Author: Paineful
Genre: General/Romance
Rating: K+
Summary: After the events at Castle Oblivion, Sora sleeps to repair his damaged memories. Nobody back at the Islands can remember the name of that sleepy-headed boy... ...Roxas, was it? (Roxiri, in-progress.)
Extended Summary: I always wondered what would happen if Roxas took Sora's place in everyone's memories, during the time when Sora was sleeping to regain his memories. This idea is partially inspired by Chain of Memories. The Organization forcing Namine to replace Kairi got me to thinking. In this case, poor Roxas really believes Sora's life was his. He's in for a rude awakening...
Notes: I've decided the Organization left Roxas completely in the dark on everything. He doesn't even know they lack hearts.
Warnings: None. Rating may go up in the future, but I highly doubt it.
If you see anything I can improve upon in terms of writing or grammar problems, please let me know! I'm always looking to improve myself, so I appreciate your feedback incredibly.
All Roxas wanted to know was who. Why.
The problem was, there were many different answers to those two simple questions. He knew "who" he was. He was Roxas, the youngest and newest kid at the Organization. His name had been chosen for him by the Superior, a silver-haired man he saw maybe once in a blue moon.
But he didn't know "who"; he didn't know who that man was.
He knew "why." That is, he knew why he was with the Organization. He had no home; no memories. Everyone needs a home.
But why didn't he have a home? Why didn't he have any memories?
Why was the Organization so interested in him that they treated him like their pet project; that they hushed their conversations when he came walking around the corner, or dropped their voices and pretended they hadn't been speaking of him only a moment earlier? Why did thy give him funny stares (Vexen) and improperly orchestrated snickers (Larxene)? Why did they spy on him from shadows (Marluxia) and act as if such behavior was perfectly acceptable for someone of their standing? Why did they take on such an unusual tone when they spoke to him, telling him where to go, what to do--why did they make him travel from world to world with those overgrown keys, unlocking doors and slaying shadows?
Why keys?
Why "Roxas," of all names?
And why--why was he never told whenever he asked?
It was beginning to grate on his nerves. Finally, Roxas decided to get up and leave; to find the answers to those questions nobody wanted to hear him ask.
He could still remember the look of shock on Axel's face; the way he'd called him names at first, like abrasive speech would keep him around. The insults quickly turned into desperate attempts at reasoning, and for some reason, they made Roxas frown.
Axel could have come with him if he'd really wanted to. After all, Axel was the only one Roxas really liked. (Well, Demyx was okay, too.) But he'd flat-out rejected the invitation to join his friend in search of the truth. After all, Axel already knew who he was. He'd had a home once, somewhere else. He'd had a different name, too. He didn't think any of those details mattered.
Roxas thought they mattered.
He shook his head and walked a paved path through the darkness.
X X X
"Accessory Shop?"
Roxas squinted up at the sign suspended over the red, tiled roof of what he could only assume was the aforementioned shop. The letters were neon green and bright pink. They were blinding.
The town was almost as dark as the World That Never Was. Faint stars dotted the midnight-blue sky up above; he tilted his head back and peered up at them, intrigued. He'd been to so many worlds already, but every time he visited a new one, he was always interested in seeing the stars. The World That Never Was never had any stars.
There sure were a lot of them.
Standing around in the plaza of the brick-built town was getting him nowhere. Roxas shook out of his reverie and headed up the steps leading towards the Accessory Shop.
The place was familiar, though Roxas couldn't quite say why. He thought, at first, that it was like Never Was; but it really wasn't. The place was cheery and ragtag; warm. It was like... Like a lot of people had put themselves into making the place, lovingly building it from scratch. This strange and familiar new world reminded Roxas of a kind old lady who took in stray cats. Dying stray cats.
Traverse...
A sharp pain seared through Roxas' head. The boy squeezed his blue eyes shut and gripped his head, swaying on the topmost step.
He could hear incredulous voices from down below; some utterances of "Whoa" and "Watch your step!" But none of it mattered. A second latter, he'd fallen over backwards, sprawled out on the ground in a messy heap.
...Town.
Right! Traverse Town.
...How did he--
X X X
Odd. Roxas didn't remember passing out. Still, it was the only logical explanation; why else was he waking up and opening his eyes? Unless he'd fallen asleep--but people didn't usually fall asleep after falling down a flight of stairs. (The people back where he came from didn't even use stairs.)
His vision adjusted.
People were leaning over him, men and women and children. One of the men's mouth hung open, a pipe jutting out of his jaws; the wind carried the smoke around Roxas' head and made him cough.
"He's okay!" someone shouted.
Everyone scattered.
Roxas sat up and shook his head quickly from side to side. One boy remained lingering near him. His face was so utterly serious that Roxas started to laugh--then hastened himself to cover it with another cough.
"People stopped showing up here a long time ago," said the boy with a meaningless head tilt. His hair was a sunny-blonde, contrasting with his small, dark eyes. Something stirred in Roxas; a sleeping sensation, seconds away from awakening...
Roxas felt naturally at ease with the boy. He stood up. "What do you mean?" Roxas asked, the initial shock of his very brief adventure with a staircase finally wearing away.
"Do you know where we are?"
Roxas paused. Now that was a good question... He remembered dark alleys and gray grounds; tiny houses, red-and-green hotel rooms; white churches and stained glass windows, chiming bells and water fountains...
...Wait. None of those memories were his. They couldn't be; not when he'd spent his whole life in the World That Never Was...
No. He hadn't spent his whole life there. That was why he was on this journey, wasn't it? And it didn't matter how many worlds he had to open and close, how many shadow creatures he had to kill; he was going to find the answers to the questions that drove him insane.
Looked like he was already starting.
Realizing the boy awaited an answer, Roxas lifted his head. "I--Traverse Town?" How did he know that?
"Huh," the boy standing across from him responded flatly. "So you know the place. I've never seen you here before."
"No, I mean--" Roxas was starting to confuse himself. He gave his head another quick shake. "I've never been here before. I just...knew."
The boy raised an eyebrow.
Roxas' thoughts were a rapid blur, his hopes soaring to new limits. Evidently he remembered this place--and it was impossible to remember a place to which you'd never been. So he must have been here at some point; mustn't he? And that meant his memories were returning...
"Do I know you?" Roxas suddenly asked. "Why do I get the feeling I know you?"
The boy shrugged. "You can't know me, else I'd know you too. The name's Shuyin."
Nope; he definitely didn't know any Shuyin. Must've been deja vu. (Shuyin? Didn't his name start with a T...?) "I'm Roxas," he said.
"Right," Shuyin said with a nod, as if he'd known this all along. "I have to get going. Guess I'll see you around."
"Okay," said Roxas, wondering if he really would. "See ya."
The boy left without so much as a wave. But Roxas' thoughts were on greater prospects--of finally finding his identity...finding where he belonged.
"Traverse Town..." He repeated the name of the new, familiar world and smiled up at the sky. "Yeah. Something tells me I'm pretty close."
But not quite there.
X X X
It really worried Kairi.
Kairi knew the in's and out's of the islands by heart. She knew which water channels were connected; she knew the fastest way to reach Selphie's island from the mainland, or when and where the elementary school performed their plays.
And, of course, Kairi knew the watery pathway to the Play Island by heart. She and Selphie and the boys used to spend most of their free time there, playing games and...just building things. All the wooden structures, planks, and piers were built by them and them alone; no adults had ever set foot on the Play Island, and this was something they'd once been very proud of.
But they were growing up, and the boys--and Selphie--wanted to visit those islands less and less. Tidus and Wakka were obsessed with Blitzball, and Selphie was obsessed with Irvine Kinneas. Nobody remembered their long-lost paradise.
And nobody remembered the long-lost boy. The one who had never returned.
Kairi sat by the seashore one late afternoon, watching the sun sinking in the sky, her hands firm around her heart. Something glowed within her eyes to rival the orange sun; but it was a sad sort of something.
When was he ever coming back? He was her best friend; yes, she remembered. About four years ago, they'd met after--after that happened, with that horrible man who wasn't her father, he just wasn't, no matter how much he wished he could be--how dare he steal his name...
...Where was he? Where was her dearest friend?
"Riku..."
She longed to see his bright green eyes again; his soft, snowy hair, and that cocky little smile he took with him everywhere. He was like the older brother she'd never had--well, the brother she thought she had once, back when there was a Garden instead of an Island, but no; big brother had to go and steal her father's name...
--But wasn't there another? Kairi started with a jolt at this sudden idea. She didn't recall another boy playing on those islands with them... And yet, she felt it as strongly as if it were so.
What was he like? She tried to imagine. Warm laughter and a simple smile... Deep blue eyes...
...Blonde hair?
It sounded right. But not quite...
Kairi frowned as the sun buried itself beneath the horizon. How could she forget a friend of theirs? What kind of friend did that make her?
And where was he...? Who was he?
Who was this mystery boy whose name escaped her?
The stars emerged. Kairi close her eyes and repeated her nightly ritual of wishing Riku well, wishing him a speedy and safe return--only tonight, she included that nameless boy in her thoughts and in her heart.
X X X
Kairi lay awake that night, peering thoughtfully at the ceiling.
She just couldn't sleep. Ever since the discovery of what might have been another lost boy, she kept questioning herself, over and over; trying to remember who he was.
Why wasn't anything coming to her?
She closed her eyes tightly and tried--tried to remember. Laughter and seagulls filled her ears; remnants from distant memories.
A raft... They were building a raft...
He disappeared into the darkness, calling out her name; she reached for him, but farther and farther apart they grew... Why hadn't she gripped his one hand in two of hers? Why hadn't she dragged him over to her side? Now he was fading, and she could see nothing but his gloved hands cupped around his mouth; the shape of his hair, spiky and--
Blonde.
Her heart ached that night as she lay on her side. She never should've let go of his hand.
X X X
Roxas had made quite a few discoveries since he and Shuyin parted ways.
The town was divided into three districts; all of which he remembered clear as day. (He'd never actually seen daylight until leaving the World That Never Was, and it had certainly frightened him the first time he saw the sun.) There was an underground waterway, too, with a beautiful mural on the wall; and when he saw it, his heart leapt...
...Or maybe it hadn't...
And for some unfathomable reason, he expected to see people he knew. A man with brown hair and a gun... No, a sword... No, a gunsword. Gunblade? Yeah! And a woman who wore an awful lot of pink and an awful lot of smiles. And there was a girl, too, maybe; whose shorts were too short, whose short hair reminded him of--
He could have sworn he felt his heart race. He remembered a girl, alright. She was "one of the boys" (he felt certain the word he was looking for was "tomboy"), short red hair framing her face; and her eyes... Strange eyes, but beautiful, a unique shade of lavender...
Didn't he promise her something?
And there was a boy, too, who pushed him around and told him what he should and shouldn't do;but that was alright, Roxas thought, because he didn't mind letting that boy be the leader. Because really, Roxas wasn't leader material. He was used to people telling him what to do.
Was he?
Wasn't he the leader once?
Roxas was so consumed by foreign thoughts that it came as a surprise when he noticed where he was sitting; on the ground in front of a small water fountain, plaza level of the second district.
Roxas rose from the ground and fixed his too-big, black Organization coat. No; Traverse Town was not home. But he was close.
So close.
X X X
The darkness was eerily soothing, particularly when you were walking through it. Roxas found time to collect his thoughts, scattered though they were.
So what did he know so far? Well... Other than a bunch of random, blurred faces...nothing, really. Every now and then he got a blinding shock of sunlight, or a misty, chilly rain... So many blurred faces...
Only one of those faces was clear, and that was the girl's; the red-haired tomboy with the clear, airy laughter and the kind smiles. He got the feeling she teased him sometimes, and that other boy, too--the one who bossed them around. He bossed the both of them around, but they secretly liked it, because they knew he was faking his confidence and pride; they knew how much he relied on them, and they liked the reliance.
And--maybe the girl had a stubborn streak. Maybe she liked teddy bears and pink things, but she didn't want Roxas or the bossy, white-haired boy to see, because she wanted so desperately to be "one of the guys"; to fit in. Maybe she was cheerful and optimistic, always placing her trust in destiny's hands.
Maybe he would give or do anything to see her again...
Maybe.
He found another Keyhole.
Next stop...
Ain't over!
One quick note.
"...big brother had to go and steal her father's name..."
I hope I've made it clear that these are Xehanort and Ansem the Wise, respectively. Clarity always worries me.
Take care!