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e T E R N A L
kairiku collection x;
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iii . fighting dance ;;

The pillar of Heartless grew and grew, swelling profusely until the pathway within The World That Never Was was eventually completely blocked off by a pulsing, writhing wall of inky shadows. The sight made her gorge rise and temporarily cut off the oxygen from her trachea to her brain from a blinding rush of fear, sending a shudder throughout her entire anatomy. How was she and Riku going to get to Sora this way? How did he even manage fighting these bestial creatures with their spasmodic black bodies and globular moon yellow eyes without losing his sanity?

Watching the Heartless multiply in a matter of seconds with widening eyes, she was terrified; but notwithstanding Kairi was determined to reach her friend. She clutched the chrome keyblade now with both hands (its grip was somehow reassuring that way and made her feel slightly more in control) and looked over to the side at Riku in the form of the man who had once reigned over his soul and life. He was poised and ready to fight, but there was a hesitance drowning his posture. He saw her watching him – waiting for a 'go,' perhaps – and lowered his weapon a few inches.

"What are we going to do?" The redhead whispered miserably, desperateness shining on her pale face, seemingly lighter in the sterling surroundings. She'd do anything for the two boys of her childhood, even if it meant getting near those repulsive creatures. Hurt once by them before, maybe it'd be like breaking a bone – it's stronger and less fragile after it heals. However, there was one little problem. The girl could not simply take the easy way out and throw a stick at them to divert their attention so the path would be clear and the teens could pass through. No, saving her friend would have to be sacrificial. I've made it this far. The rest will be like cake, right?

Riku's lips barely moved, but his voice was strong and undisputed and his mind made up. "We fight."

The word of violence stirred a sinking feeling in her. It was exactly what she had been dreading. Thanks. I love you too, Riku.

"But Riku, I don't know how! I can't fight!" She promptly yelled in protest; hearing it played back in her ears, her tone was wrung with complaint and she sounded like a wuss. Unless he could give her a three-second lesson on offensive and defensive combat skills, she was Doomed and Dead, the fated D and D. The Heartless were relentless in their advancement and their surplus was grotesquely huge. The smoky essence of failure began to settle in like years of acrid dust: She had failed Riku for not knowing how to swing an oversized key and hit its target, and had failed Sora because now she'd never be able to see him again. And I've waited so long for this day . . .

Fortunately, Riku always had an alternative plan. That was why she looked up to him – admired him, even; it was as if his strength, power and fortitude was even more apparent in the strange body he had obtained. He offered comfort, but not in the way she would originally think of. Riku wasn't about soft touches, kind words and caring embraces. He was a source of information that brought assurance with the truth.

"Then don't think of it as a fight, Kairi. Think of it as a dance."

The two hesitated, both never expecting such insight to issue from Riku's knowledge. He paused, his face a disarrayed puzzle, shoulders slanting in a shrug. Kairi's expression remained thoughtful and retrospective. Why hadn't she compared the two seemingly contrasting words together before? Too many years she had spent watching Sora and Riku's scuffles, the clacking of wooden swords echoing in her ears and permanently leaving their marks on her mind. She had never viewed their competitions as anything but brutal shows of strength – never even thought to consider them as a dance. But it could be. The metaphor wasn't that unbelievable, after all.

A smile blessed her thin lips, and she raised her weapon to salute her friend. Riku was unnerved by the gesture, wondering what exactly it was that he had said to make her in such disturbingly placate good cheer.

"A dance," She confirmed, startling contradicting timbres of both sincerity and frivolity in her voice. In an instant, she was a blur of salmon-and-cream movement, swirling like a slender whirlpool towards the blockade of shadows. The erected blade in her hands became flexible, bending every which way to dematerialize the Heartless in a flash of obsidian. The flowers designed on the keyblade's hilt sprouted into a bouquet fluttering silently as she whirled and twirled, short skirt changing into an elegant train that rippled in the self-created wind. Kairi metamorphosed into the star of the dance floor, illuminated in the spotlight. She was fiercely beautiful mirrored in Riku's temporary orange lenses, like a previously captured feline set free.

After his initial shock dispersed, Riku followed suit in attack, but not nearly as magnificently as Kairi had lunged herself into battle. He could shift his footing all he wanted while slashing at his enemies, but Kairi would always be the true dancer, now and forever. When the last Heartless was reduced to a pile of sporadically trembling matter, the ballerina was exhausted. He caught her as she fell, dipping backwords in his supporting limber arms for a moment (A common dance move, Riku mused) and gently brought her back up to lean against his chest. She sighed into the steely line of his torso, turning her cheek against the smooth leather of his coat and closing her eyes. She could breathe in the musk the form gave off and still it would be Riku's scent, telling her that though he looked like a stranger, he was not one and she was safe again.

"You did great," His quiescent voice of approval floated into her ears, leveling out all her sore and aching spots. The large hands on her back were an alleviating and welcomed pressure. She remembered all the times when he had been this close to her no more than a year before, when her heart had been in limbo and her sense of awareness supposedly paralyzed. During that state of unconsciousness, she had wisps of memories of feeling. She had known Riku was there. Riku had known that she had been there, too, for those celebrated moments of when a finger might have twitched or when she breathed deeply meant that she had been alive – alive and right beside him as she was now. Kairi also retained fragments of recollections such as when she had been transported in Riku's brawny arms, maybe because Sora had seen her being taken away from him in that manner.

She felt her will to remain conscious slipping. Nothing more had to be done. Let me sleep and be with you, she wished, whispering something else before her senses blinked out.

"Hold me like you used to."

The girl went lax against him, the only thing about her that was not in hibernation being the beating of her heart. He absent-mindedly gazed down upon her and stroked the top of her carmine head like he used to when she was waiting in Neverland. Then he picked her up and held her like he used to, using the crook of one of his arms as a bar against the back of her shoulders and the other beneath the silky bend of her knees.

So he carried her, a dainty slump in his arms, as a groom would cart his bride to their doorstep after a wedding. It didn't seem quite so much like he was just carrying her to Sora anymore. Each step caused him to descend further into the bleak black heart of the nonexistent world, each distance losing its charm as he grew nearer. The girl he felt partial to began to fade from his attainment, bitterness and remorse shifting to what inevitable scenario would lie ahead. It was all suddenly rather unromantic, as if he was heading towards his own funeral. And that was a decidedly unattractive duty in and of itself, indeed.

a.u thor 's n.o te;;
Ahaha, Riku's jealous of a certain someone because he's going to steal his girl away from him. Once more, Riku's reduced to just being the delivery boy. ;.;

Leave the goodies.