She worked in flurried motions, her powers fluttering like the wings of a dove. The softest touch, the smallest pressure, the slightest alteration. One flick of her ability and the damage is unfixable. She could very well break him at this point. Crush his memories between her fingers—ruin the perfect quilt that he had been knitting together ever since his memory was existent—and make him exist no more. A vegetable. She could turn him into a ragdoll without a soul.
She shook those devious thoughts out of her head. No, she had attempted to destroy enough. She had done enough damage. The least she could do is try to fix it.
It was the very least somebody like her could do.
She worked feverishly, day and night, at every hour. She pushed DiZ and the boy away, focusing on her job. Her only job. The only righteous purpose she had been given in her entire life. How could she ever want to stop? This was all she had. Sora was all she had. And when he was gone, he would be all she would have ever had.
She stopped.
He was in that pod, deep in slumber. The silence was awful to her, but that was how Castle Oblivion worked. The walls sucked in the light and the noise and left nothing. What they left behind was worthless. Excess. Something that the wind might carry out instead.
She held her hands together. She was shaking.
She had to keep working, she had to finish helping the only goddamn friend she had ever had…! She could not let him down. Not again. She would do her job, and she would do it so perfectly that no blemish would remain. Her work as a master seamstress was to create a perfect replica of what she had so easily destroyed. Not to improve or enhance, but to duplicate. No blurs or wrong stitches or bleak yarns out of place.
Carefully, she pulled out all the flaxen yarns. And the white ones, the blue ones. The blue of her eyes, the pale peach of her skin. She extracted them with flawless grace, until not one remained. She was gone from the quilt, she was gone.
Perfect. Now all she had to do was fill the empty holes with vibrant reds, delicate lilacs, intense blues that seemed almost violet.
Her hand slipped.
She felt herself falling, but someone caught her. She fell into strong, capable arms. They held her as if she were made of eggshells, and one wrong move would make her fall apart.
She did not think about her savior for much longer, not when she realized that she had stopped. She had stopped fixing her mistakes. She had stopped repairing the damage that she had caused. She had stopped.
"Let me go! Let me go!" She screamed and writhed. "I need to help him! Sora, I need to help Sora!"
"Does he get all the girls like this?" The person said, mostly to himself. She did not care, not when she was not doing her job. Let her finish it! Let her be done with ripping herself out of the mind of the only friend she could possibly have!
She continued her struggle, her strength leaving her by the second. Her hand slammed into her captor's chest, but her body was traitorous. In his arms, it warmed and lulled. She was too tired to scream, too numb to cry.
She was letting him down.
But the breath of satisfaction that escaped her lips was, if anything, her true sentiment. She was so, so tired. Tired of this torture. She did not want Sora to forget her. She wanted to live on in his heart.
"Sleep, Naminé. Stop putting yourself through this misery."
And as if by magic, she slept. In those arms, with shameful satisfaction and a guilty conscience. She slept so soundly and she said a name. The only name. The hero's name. "Sora."
Before sleep took her entirely, the person chuckled. "No, I'm not him. I'm sorry about that." They didn't sound bitter, but tired, like she was.
"You're just as kind…" She said as she felt their chest get sucked in with a breath. A shock. And then she was gone.
Her head shot up immediately. She knew where she was.
She recognized the soft cushion of the pillow under her head, the carefully wrapped blanket around her body. But she had no time. She was procrastinating, again. Over and over and over, she found herself in this room again. A room that would only see her in times of weakness, when her body would not have any more to give.
"You're not getting up, so you might as well flip that pillow over and go back to bed."
She turned to face him. Him, because now she knew who it was. It was never anybody else. Nobody else pretended to care as much. Nobody reminder her so much of everything that was riding on her. No one could replicate that look of tender care, even when she could not see his eyes.
"Please, you know how important this is—"
"You're important too." He replied simply, as if he were not throwing his feelings, feelings she envied, because she did not have them, around. "You need to rest. This is the fifth time this month."
"I'll be fine when Sora's back, and so will you." She looked at him. Strong, capable. Gorgeous. And yet so guilty, so reproachable. Is that what a heart does? Does it give you so many flaws that you cannot see anything else every time you look at yourself? And if that were true, then why did she feel the same way?
"You can't fix Sora if you're bedridden. If this keeps up, we might have to take you a hospital. Magic can only do so much." There it is again. The tenderness that unhinged her, that made her compliant to everything he said. Yes, I'll stay in bed. Please, watch over me. I'm tired, I don't want to do this anymore. I want to stay with you, the only other person who's shown me kindness.
"I know, but what am I supposed to do? I need to fix him."
"And you will," he reached for her hand. The leather gloves are lukewarm, but bring enough satisfaction. "God know you're more of a hard worker than he ever was."
This made her smile. Yes, she could recall how Sora was always the lazy one, the easygoing one, while…
"Riku," she said. In reply, he raised his blindfold, giving her a good look at one of his eyes. Endless ocean green, the kind that she would love to get lost in, if only one. "Thank you."
He flushed. He was never good at taking compliments, even when he knew that she could not feel a thing. Even though she was supposed to not feel a thing…
"It's fine. Just rest. Go back to sleep. I'll be here."
She did not say anything else. As much as she wanted to go back to work, he would not let her. He would gladly raise his blade at her if it meant keeping her in bed. She just laid down, her back to him, and allowed the slumber to take her again.
The girl would have slept in peace if not for the breeze. She shivered harshly, and while her body was trying to rest, her mind was wide awake.
There was no wind inside of Castle Oblivion.
She had long since returned to work on Sora, having lost the thread of her work. Now she had to venture through millions of memories to find the correct one, the one she had already begun to weave back. Yet, in this sea of threads, it was tedious. She lost herself in the seas of silk and yarn and cotton, memories of happiness and content. She could wander in his head forever and never tire. She would replay the scene of the Destiny Islands again and again, hoping to feel the sun on her skin and the sand under her feet.
It was nice to dream. Even Nobodies were given that pleasure.
She pushed the memories away. They were distractions, dangerous afflictions to her working mind. No, this witch had other things to do. She had work.
They were going to be moving Sora soon. To Twilight Town, to keep him save. She needed to do what she could. She couldn't afford to lose any more time. The worlds needed Sora, and she had messed everything up, and she needed to fix it. Fix it, fix it, fix it.
She stopped at a memory she had not seen before. It was worn and old, and by the looks of it, Sora probably didn't even remember it anymore. Like her, it was waiting to be forgotten, and just like Naminé, it would be gone soon.
The girl had no business touching that memory. It was of no importance, and it had nothing to do with what she had altered. It was best being left alone, away from her troublesome hands. Yet the winds grew louder, more insistent. Her curiosity was getting the best of her. Sora cherished every single memory of his childhood. They all glowed with the warmth of a happy recollection. But this one was so lonely, just like her.
She twirled her finger around the memory. Slowly, she pulled on it. And then she was someplace else.
Naminé was on the beach. She had been here many times before, but as Kairi. Not that she recalled any of it. Gazing through Sora's memory, she had a sharp recollection of the Destiny Islands' shores. It was like she had been there herself, not as her Somebody, but as Naminé. The statement itself was sort of redundant, but she enjoyed the idea of being a separate person, if only a while.
As she had suspected, the Sora in this memory was a child, he couldn't be any more than five. Even back then, he was extremely adorable. Chubby cheeks, huge eyes, a brilliant smile. Her heart leaped. This boy couldn't have known what would happen to him in a couple of years. What absolute hell he would go through.
His hand was outstretched, a ghost of a light dancing on his fingertips. He didn't know what was happening, and Naminé was just as lost as he was. "You can stay with me. Until you feel better," he said.
Thank you.
Naminé blinked. There was a voice, emanating from the ball of light. A boy's voice. She couldn't believe it. Was the thing alive?
She could only watch as the ball of light entered Sora's body, right where his heart would be. Her hand ghosted towards her chest, where her own heart would be. Was that what a heart looked like? And if so, then what the hell was it doing talking to Sora? Who was it?
She shivered. The winds had gathered up together, curling up at her feet. But it was never windy on these islands. She didn't understand.
Yeah, I guess it's hard to explain. I was a wreck, and unfortunately, not at my finest.
She twirled, expecting to see someone behind her, speaking sheepishly in her ear. The voice was almost tangible, and she could visualize the boy who would say something like that. Spiky, windswept hair, eyes like the ocean depths. A strange attire, and a bright smile.
Yep, that's me. Hello there.
"How are you in my head?" She had to ask when the illusion that had been formed in her head began to speak. This was all kinds of weird. Perhaps her work had reached a null point and she had finally gone over the edge. She had finally gone insane.
I'm not in your head. I'm in Sora's. Well, no. I'm in his heart.
"How is that possible?"
I'm not sure myself. But I've been here for a while.
An understatement. If he had been in Sora's heart ever since this memory happened, he had been here for more than ten years, easy. She blinked. "So you have."
This might seem strange, but would you dive into Sora's heart? It'll do me some good to see another face.
"What? Can I do that?"
Sure you can. Your connection with Sora allows you to. Come see me, please.
She did not have a single reason to say yes. She did not know this boy, and what he was asking of her… It seemed bizarre, crazy even. But she found herself nodding as the breeze soothed her nerves.
"Alright, what do I have to do?"
Follow my instructions.
She arrived on the platform without a sound. She had seen these before, a few minutes ago. Platforms of glass, illustrating Sora's likeness. Most of them had Kairi, some of them had Riku. Her eyes lingered over them, and a small smile escaped her: She had never thought that Riku could muster such a smug smile.
Keep falling, until you see a green one. I'm here, he had said. And when she looked around, sure enough, he was there. The boy who had conjured himself in her mind was now real, flesh and bone, in front of her. Immediately, he reached for her hand. Against her better judgement, she did not snatch away. He was so warm.
"I can't believe it," he said. "You're real."
"Debatable, but yes, I am real. And you are not?" She replied. She could feel him, as solid as Riku or DiZ or Marluxia could have ever been. This boy was in Sora's heart, and he had been there for the longest time.
"I'm sorry. Yeah, I'm real. But I'm just a heart. I've no body to go to." His eyes were intense, alluring. In a moment of doubt, she thought herself as less of a witch next to him. He was the real bewitcher.
"What happened to yours?"
"I lost it. My friend hid it away."
"That seems like an awful prank," she retorted. She was trying to believe what he was saying, but it was insane. How do you lose a body? What are you, if only a heart remains? Is this boy still more complete than her, even without a physical form?
"She did it to save me. I would have been a goner."
"I see. And, where is she? Why are you here?"
His expression darkened. "I don't know. And I can't leave until my body is near. I can't leave this place. I'm trapped." Even with his sadness, his smile seemed genuine. "Which is why I'm grateful for your company."
"I just wanted to understand," she said, and grasped his other hand. "You are here, and you are real. And, most of all, thanks to Sora, you'll be safe."
"Yeah, I figured. He has kept me safe for a long time." He grinned. Her chest fluttered. "So, what brings a lovely lady like yourself to this place? Are you Sora's girlfriend or something?"
"N-No." She bit her lip. Half-truth. She was something to Sora as Kairi. "I am not. I just… I did something to him, and now I'm fixing him."
The boy snorted. "You make him sound like he's a machine."
"In a way, he is. The boy has a one-track mind," she laughed. She found herself enjoying his company. He was… Friendly. And he didn't know what she was yet: a witch, a Nobody. She could pretend to be normal with him.
The boy smiled. Oh, Light. She was a goner. "Those are the best of people. Like me."
"Humbleness is a virtue."
"So is honesty."
At this, she couldn't help it. She laughed, loudly. Louder than she had ever had in her short existence. She laughed and laughed until it hurt. She didn't recognize it. For the Naminé that had slaved away in Castle Oblivion, laughing like this was foreign. Yet, right now, her chest was tight from the lack of air.
She raised her head to see the boy smiling at her. "It's good to have someone listen to my jokes. Terra and Aqua wouldn't have said it, but they must have been tired of them."
Immediately, she committed those names to memory. Names of the people who were important to this precious boy. People who held his thoughts and his heart.
"What is your name?" She asked.
With a grin, he replied.
"It's Ventus. And yours?"
"I'm… Naminé."
A/N: I was originally planning for this to be a one-shot, but the plot is too thick, so I'm leaning towards three chapters.
Also, sorry for the excess of ships. Naminé's feelings are all over the place. I'm trying to get a clear grasp on how she sees the world, and I cannot see her not developing feelings for anyone who has shown her kindness.