Chapter Seven

There's a smile on my face, and this is largely Kairi's doing.

She doesn't know that, of course, and I'm not about to tell her.

She's standing there, all akimbo like a splintered toothpick, sweat pouring down her face in salty rivulets, her matchstick arms bent at all the wrong angles, and her feet – my gods, her feet – are floundering underneath her. Just floundering. There's no hope for redemption. Her size eighteen shoes are forever damned to the realm of the clumsy and fool hearted. Totally disproportionate to her size zero waist, I might add. Not that I was looking.

"Can I take a shower after this?"

"Holy Hell, Kairi. Are you even in the moment? Step One: Concentration."

"Step Two: Eye Contact," she parrots back with dim efficiency.

She stops to clear her throat and continues.

"Step Three – I mean, do you even own a decent loofah?"

"That's it, I'm done." I throw down my chakrams. "This is not how one goes about wielding a two by four."

"Oh, then enlighten me, Axel, since so many have walked this path before, just what is the proper protocol for wielding a two by four? Hm?"

Always with the sass.

"Whatever it is that you are currently not doing. My gods. A loofah? Did that really just make its way into the conversation?"

"You mean our witty verbal repertoire."

"No . . . I'm pretty sure the word I was looking for was just conversation, thank you very much. Laurelled banter is another lesson entirely."

"Laurelled . . . what?"

"Exactly."

I have my chakrams dissipate into the darkness from whence they came.

"Wait, what are you doing?"

She asks this as though it were not completely obvious.

"What does it look like I'm doing, sweetheart? We're done for the day."

"Well . . . you may be, but I'm not!"

Silence.

"That was . . . anti-climatic."

Kairi festers in a stew of personal anguish.

"I'll attack you!" she threatens.

It's devoid of any real danger. I don't bother to panic.

"And however will I compensate?"

She seems to forget I can also wield fire. I don't know why. I make a point of reminding her every chance I get. She's not to astute, it seems. Stubborn, but inveterate. Kind of like someone else I used to know.

"You'd . . . defend yourself?" she finally ventures back with – in the form of a question, no less.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm . . . telling you?"

I go to say wrong answer except that it's not.

"Wrong phrasing," I conclude.

Kairi appears displeased. Let's not forget she's attempting to wield a massive two by four. Minor details.

"Step Three: Determination!"

"We already went over step three. That was step four."

"Wait, no it wasn't – " the dawning of comprehension slowly works its way over Kairi's dainty facial features. " – oh, step three was – wait, step three was the loofah!"

I laugh.

"Learn to count."

Kairi glowers something unbecoming, but the miniskirt mitigates the desired effect just a little. Oh well, she makes up for it by waving that formidable piece of iron. Gods only know where she acquired the prerequisite strength to pick the damn thing up in the first place.

"I bet if I throw my back into it, I could totally give you a mega concussion!"

"First off," I begin, inhaling deeply as I prepare to list off the multitude of sins Kairi had thus committed on the sacred and consecrated ground of the battlefield. "Refrain from using words like totally and mega during combat if at all possible."

"Why? It's the art of smack talk!"

"Look kiddo, you have a thing for words, I get that. But you need to pick better ones."

Kairi pauses as her face resumes a more placid setting.

"That's the first piece of constructive criticism you've given me all day."

"Whaddya mean first?" I scoff, my ire provoked. "I've been offering battle tactics nonstop. I'm not the one who found a way to segue into loofahs!"

"No, not that. I meant with my poetry. Thank you."

Gods. Why does she say weird, endearing shit like that? It's disconcerting.

"I kidnapped you," I remind her pointedly. "Don't thank me."

I don't know for whose benefit I said that for more. Possibly mine. Regardless – someone needed to articulate it. I nominated myself.

"Another thing not to say in battle: thank you. Manners are not priority. Personally, I say just kick their ass and be done with it. But you seem to want to deliver a dramatic monologue before conquering your ill begotten foe. Now I'm not gonna stop you – hell, it works for Saix – but just remember that every second you leave your enemy breathing is another second they can leave you bleeding."

Kairi drops her impromptu weapon. It's audible.

"Ohmigosh, that's a keeper!" she blathers, scrawling what I can only assume is my latest catchphrase on the inside of her palm. "Just remember: every second you leave your enemy breathing is another second they can leave you bleeding. Perfect!"

"The sweat will wash that off, you know."

Not that I cared. Just stating the obvious.

"Nu-uh," she retorts, pride creeping into her eyes. "Sharpie!"

She then proffers the writing utensil in question and I am left utterly speechless.

How is it that this little anorexic red head from the tropics can catch me off guard so easily? Am I slipping? Do I need Larxene to belittle me back into shape? I should not be without words. I don't necessarily recommend them in the throes of battle but life has been known to present opportune moments to chew the scenery. At least this is what Xemnas has led me to believe, at any rate.

Meh. Enough about them. I have to focus on her.

True, she is now wielding a sharpie instead of a two by four, but I'm sure she'll rectify the situation momentarily.

"So, about that shower . . . "

Or not.

"This is a gummi ship, not a sauna."

"Surely you place even the most rudimentary of values on human hygiene."

" . . . rudimentary of values? Stop using big words. It's too early for that shit."

"You always say that."

"Because it's always true! And yes, I do take the occasional shower, alright? I don't exfoliate three times a day like Marluxia but I do make sure I wash up every now and again!"

I hear the question before she even voices it.

"Who's Marluxia?"

"I don't feel like having a moment right now," I reply, shifting my weight from one side to the other. "Ask me some other time. Preferably when I'm feeling vulnerable. Then you might actually get an answer."

"Why can't we have a moment right now?"

The real question is, ladies and gentlemen: why are we having moments at all . . . but I'll let it slide.

"Because you're holding a sharpie in one hand and a two by four in the other."

" . . . So?"

"So that is not the time to have a moment. Trying to have a moment on the battlefield will get you killed. Emotion of any kind is a hindrance and should be eradicated without so much as a second thought. It's a weakness and you're better off leaving it behind."

I had forgotten how indoctrinated I had become since joining The Organization. How much their dogmatic mantra had penetrated my hefty defense system. I had forgotten it all until a sixteen/thirteen/fourteen year old girl looked at my with such empathy I began to doubt my own lack thereof.

"You don't really believe that . . . do you?"

"I dunno sweetheart, you tell me. I'm still alive, aren't I?"

No. But she doesn't know that.

"Not with that mentality you're not. You might as well be dead."

I am.

"Says you."

Don't do this to me. Don't make me want what I can't have. Not necessarily you, per se, in all your scrawny teenage glory, but what you stand for. The vivacity. The emotion. The freedom.

And this is why I didn't want to have that goddamn moment.

I pray for Kairi to say something characteristically moronic so I can escape my personal reverie.

After about thirty seconds of staring each other down without so much as a labored breath on her behalf, I'm ready to give up on the notion of her patented idiocracy right when she blurts, "I wanna name my two by four."

"No you don't," I sigh, clandestinely very grateful she chooses to voice whatever wanders through her head at any given moment.

"I just think that if it had a name I'd bond with it better. You know, Lesson Fourteen? Be one with your weapon?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't advocating you name the damn thing."

"Well why not? What could it possibly hurt?"

"Your pride," I answer, exasperated. "Not to mention my sanity, questionable though it may be. At least I haven't stooped to christening my chakrams. Besides, a two by four barely constitutes as a weapon. It's a bludgeoning stick. Nothing more."

"Samantha," Kairi states, apropos of nothing. "I like the name Samantha."

"Kairi. What did I just say about writing poetry on the battlefield?"

Kairi ignores me to cast a loving glance towards Samantha, running a hand down its polished exterior. "I feel Lesson Fourteen strengthening our bond already. I think you may be on to something, Axel. What about Lesson Seventeen – be prepared at all times? Can I shower with Samantha, too?"

"Now you're just trying to be annoying."

She can't repress a smirk.

"That obvious, huh?"

In response, I have to repress my own smirk, but at least I am successful.

"You just named a piece of metal the most generic thing I've ever heard fly outta your mouth. Samantha. I was expecting something much more nonsensical – like Lethal Starlight or some morbid bull shit like that. But no. You choose a name straight out of the top ten list from the eighties. That was my first hint."

"And the second?"

"What makes you think there was a second?"

"Why else would you have labeled the former hint as the first?"

"Sweet Mother of – does anything escape your infatuation with word play?"

"Well, I'm right, aren't I? Admit it."

"I'm not admitting shit," I protest stubbornly.

"Petulant as always."

Kairi attempts to be bad ass and give her weapon a nonchalant swing. It ends about as poorly as can be expected, and she takes a chunk out of the adjacent wall.

"You know," I supply for good measure. "Armies need white mages, too."

Kairi graces me with an encore performance of the infamous glower.

"Yes, I'll heal my enemies to death. That will work out nicely, Axel. Fear me and my Curaga."

I shrug, unfazed by her verbal venom.

"Just saying. You'll stay alive, at least. Maybe even win with the proper back up."

"But that's just the thing, Axel! I don't want back up!"

"Going alone isn't always an option," I counter.

She doesn't recognize the lie in my last statement thanks to the moment we are decidedly not having.

"Yeah, and I see a lot of able bodied partners just lining up to help me save my best friends." Here she inserts a sigh of melodramatic magnitude. "I'm in this alone, Axel."

That could have hurt if I let it.

"Thanks," I drip sardonically.

Looks like I let it. Whoops.

"You . . . you kidnapped me!" Kairi all but squeals in defense. "We can't be partners!"

"I could have left you out there to die, you know."

"Well maybe you should have!"

She spits out her latest insult and runs off in a rage of post pubescent hormones. I know better than to follow. I value my extremities.

o-o-o-o

I wait five minutes and then decide to follow her.

I stare blankly at the large metal door lying in wait at the threshold of Kairi's room. Picking locks has never been my thing, so I simply enter the numeric password on the corresponding keypad – hell, it is my ship, after all – and mentally fortify myself for a guest appearance. Understand one thing: I wasn't checking on her out of remorse, I simply wanted to ascertain that she was alive and breathing (as opposed to alive and bleeding, to reference my earlier quote of unbridled genius.)

Gods, did she really write that piece of crap on her hand? Am I supposed to be flattered? And, hypothetically speaking, of course, if I were, say, flattered, why did I care?

The door opened with a swoosh and upon crossing the threshold I became personally acquainted with said two by four.

I've had better experiences.

"Are you trying to realign my teeth?" I sputter, rubbing my forehead – the unfortunate recipient of Samantha.

"Actually, I was hoping for a concussion," Kairi retaliates, "but a few missing teeth would suffice nicely."

Upon delivering her statement, Kairi resumes her previous activity – something to do with the sink I installed at the behest of Larxene and her poor decorating choices.

"Were you actually laying in wait?" I ask.

"No. But I heard your footsteps."

"My footsteps?"

I glance incredulously at Kairi's monstrous feet.

She didn't take heed and continued washing.

"What are you doing?" I finally ask, curiosity getting the better of me – despite my best efforts, I assure you.

"Washing off your idiotic catchphrase."

"You thought it was brilliant when I said it."

"Well, that was before."

"Before what?"

"Before you resorted to being an ass."

"Um. Kairi. I'm always an ass. It's part of my job as the resident antagonist."

She ignores my insightful comment.

"And you demoted me to a mere damsel in distress."

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to."

She then mutters none the complimentary piece – something to do with being relegated to a mere white mage.

"You know, for a girl in love with words you sure do have a funny habit of sticking them in other people's mouth."

"And for a guy in love with himself you sure do have a habit of – " Kairi pauses. "I'm so angry I just lost my train of thought. What was I saying again?"

I sat on the room's only cot. If I was going to be degraded I might as well get comfortable.

"Something insulting. Damned if I'll help you."

"See? Asshole!"

"Um. I'm okay with that."

"And again! Gods Axel, you're … you're … incorrigible!"

"Would you rather have me any other way?"

She doesn't answer. I wonder what that means. Implications abound.

"I taught you how to swing a two by four," I offer helpfully.

"Yeah. But you also kidnapped me."

"We keep coming back to that," I muse. "Let's write it up as character building. You didn't want to stay on Destiny Islands anyway." Silence. "Did you?"

My repetition goes ignored. More scrubbing ensues.

"You're going to rub your skin off. There's a reason sharpies are also known as permanent markers."

"Not listening."

"Yes you are."

Silence; the sequel.

"I know – let's talk poetry," I say without preamble. "That'll perk you right up." Why did I care if she perked up or not? "Maybe then you'll stop wasting all of my liquid soap." Ah, that's why.

"What could you possibly have to say to me about poetry? Also: do you have any dishwashing detergent? This isn't working." She punctuates her tirade with a sigh. "Or rubbing alcohol. That would work too, I suppose."

"I have regular alcohol," I comment off handedly. "But you'd just go on about me spiking it again. Like the cough syrup."

"Oh shut up," she mutters. "I had goo reason. You – "

" – kidnapped me. I know."

Awkward silence bestows itself upon us once more. Our conversations are beginning to carry on a very staccato cadence.

"Poetry?" she ventures. "I believe you were going to say something about poetry."

"Oh, am I permitted to talk now?"

Kairi scoffs at this.

"Like you care about permission."

"Good point."

Occasionally she does make them. Good points, I mean. Not with any sort of regularity, but the have been known to make cameos now and again.

"The sharpie," I begin. "Do you usually write in sharpie?"

"Ball point pen."

"Ah; I see. So what were you doing carrying a sharpie to battle practice?"

"I had to make due," she says with another sigh. "I found one on the floor next to your escape hatch/pod/thing."

"Right under the duct tape sign?"

"Yes."

"Thief."

Kairi abandons her struggle with the sink to fix me with a stare.

"So what other personal belongings of mine have fallen victim to your five finger discount?"

I ask without really caring, because I happen to own nothing of worth.

My human cargo bristles.

"At least I don't steal people."

"Oh Kairi, how you wound me," I feign great offense, falling backwards onto the bed for dramatic effect. It goes unreciprocated. "Tell me something, Kairi. Would you rather be dead?" I prop myself up on my elbows and await an answer.

She takes a moment to think this one over. I can see her calculating viable responses in her mind. "Well, I certainly don't know what you have in store for me."

"So far I've given you everything you've wanted. Even writing utensils and legal pads. Not to mention battle lessons." I rub the slowly forming lump beginning to substantiate on my forehead. "Which you took to heart, it seems."

"Step Thirty Five: Never Be Caught Off Guard."

"I'm pretty sure that was Step Zero."

"Then what was Thirty Five?"

"I believe it had something to do with properly cleaning your accessories. If you take care of your gear, your gear will take care of you."

"So I should shower with Samantha, then."

"Will you drop the Samantha thing already? It stopped being funny five pages ago."

"What can I say? She's served me well."

"Yes, the whole one time you used it … her."

Kairi returns her attention back to the task at hand: eradicating my catchphrase with eighteen gallons of coconut ginger soap.

"That stuff isn't cheap, you know."

"What, the soap?"

I roll my eyes heavenwards.

"No, yellow legal pads. Yes, the soap."

Silence returns for an encore performance.

"Why coconut ginger?" she queries, once again apropos of nothing.

"Because why not?"

"How typical."

After what seems to be another thirty minutes dedicated to scrubbing, Kairi finally gives up on the endeavor and extracts her raw and wrinkled hands from the confines of the sink.

"Axel, why are you even here?"

She says this as though she has expended all of her energy on cleanliness and has none in reserve for inquiries.

"Because I was hankering for a good skull cracking."

"No, I mean – I'm your captive. Yet you keep checking up on me."

"Maybe you're worth more alive than dead."

Three cheers for quick thinking.

"Okay, fine. I can accept that. But what do you ultimately plan on doing with me?"

"Virgin sacrifices."

Kairi's face turns an interesting shade of purple. Something akin to a radish.

"Can you be serious for, like, one second?!"

"One Mississippi," I dead pan.

Kairi runs her fingers through her disheveled hair. I assume she's trying to maintain the façade of a decent composure. She's failing. Just thought I'd let you know.

"We've been flying through space for three weeks. Do you even have a destination or are we going to be floating out here for all eternity?"

"I have a plan," I assure her. And I do. I can't help it if she doesn't believe me. Granted, it may help verify my statement if I provided some minor details, but that's simply not an option.

"You're not supposed to be here," I finally offer.

"So drop me off where Sora and Riku are."

"And what? Watch you die in under ten minutes? You're better off with me."

Kairi is not content with this response and it shows.

"I'm tired of hiding, Axel," she says, exasperated. She actually takes the initiative to sit next to me on the cot and cradle her head in her hands. Usually I enjoy sharing a bed with another woman, but with Kairi the air is too charged to think straight. And the pretenses hardly lend themselves to lust. She looks like she's about to fold in half, and it seems as though we are finally going to share that moment I was so intent on not having. "I'm tired of hiding behind heroes and villains and escape hatches. I want to be part of something. I want to help. I want to be of worth."

I exhale.

She has no idea what she's dealing with. Unfortunately, I do. It puts me in a very awkward position.

"Okay. Fine. New plan."

"New plan?" Kairi lifts her head up, thrilled with the prospect of being confided in. "Wait, what happened to the old plan?"

"Hush, the grown ups are thinking."

I commence pacing the interior of Kairi's room. Nervous energy, it seems. What I'm about to propose would probably get me killed if I weren't already dead.

"I change course. Delay things. Teach you to be somewhat formidable. Right now you're dead weight – and I know you don't like hearing that but it's the truth." Kairi resorts to imitating a radish again, but the phenomenon passes quickly. She's too eager to hear what I have to say, I can tell. "However, we can rectify this situation. Marginally. No more two by fours. That white mage idea is proving to be quite crucial in my upcoming plan. Another thing you don't want to here: more hiding. And a name change. Namine."

"Who's Namine?"

"You, as of right now. But that's not important. I can sneak you in. They won't ask questions if I deliver you as her." Kairi's face contorts in confusion, but she resists the urge to blitzkrieg me with questions. It's refreshing – I didn't know she had that kind of restrain in her. "Gotta find a way around the hair. The face is no problem, but we can worry about the rest later."

Kairi bites the nail of her index finger while she mulls this over.

"What if I don't like this plan?"

"Sweetheart, there are two options. Either you – gods forbid – trust me or I dump your sorry ass back on Destiny Islands in time for the next sunset."

Kairi is rendered blissfully mute in the wake of my proclamation.

"Oh, I should also mention: if you don't play along, you'll never find Sora." I throw in a shrug for good measure. "Details, I know."

Kairi returns to ravishing her fingernail. I half expect her to swallow the damn thing.

"Why are you going through all this trouble for me?" she asks. If only simple questions had simple answers. I offer up nothing in terms of a response, so she continues. "What's in it for you? You're not obligated to assist me. You don't owe me a debt. As far as I know, I'm more trouble than I'm worth and a terrible inconvenience to your mysterious grand scheme."

I nod.

"All true."

"So … why?"

"Now Kairi," I admonish. "I can't tell you everything."

Here is where she returns to the sink, intent on carrying on with her futile mission of washing the skin off her hands.

"No, of course not."

o-o-o-o

Author's Note

o-o-o-o

Hurrah for plot elements! Thank you for taking the time to R&R! It means a lot to me!

If you want to see something specific in the upcoming chapters let me know!