Kokoro no Hanashi
(see disclaimer in the Prelude)
"N-Niisama…"
With one last glare at the older children who'd backed away once he'd plowed through their circle furiously, Kiri turned anxious eyes on Kumo, sprawled in a desperate, defensive curl, his eyes wide with fear and his face tearstreaked. He was shivering, and worse yet, a livid blue-purple bruise was already beginning to spread from his cheekbone to his slightly swollen lower lip.
"Touch my brother again," Kiri told the other children in a low and poisonous voice, rage hammering along with his heartbeat, "and I will tear every single one of you apart."
"W-we won't forget this!" cried one boy as their circle pulled back, then broke, unwilling to tangle with Kumo's far stronger, very angry brother. Kiri curled his lip at them disgustedly. How these cowardly creatures would ever hope to harmonize with the Way, he had no idea.
"Niisama…" Kiri drew his attention back to Kumo, who was shivering now, fresh tears spilling down his full cheeks. "N-Niisama… ugh… Niisama…"
Kiri held his arms out and let Kumo collapse into them, stroking the white-haired child's back and letting him cry. "There, there. It's okay. As long as I'm here, nobody's gonna bother you."
"I-I'm sorry…" Kumo clung to him, still shivering, still sobbing. "I-I'm so sorry, N-Niisama…"
"Don't apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for," Kiri said sternly, giving Kumo a sad, pained smile even so. "Now, c'mon. We'd better get home and find something cold to put on your face. If it's like that when Mom gets back, she'll throw a fit."
Kumo managed a bare giggle, then pulled in close, hiding his face in the side of Kiri's throat, heartbeat to heartbeat. Kiri shivered at Kumo's innocent touch: Fifteen and filled with the longing he'd barely discovered, still not quite sure how brotherly adoration for Kumo had changed so drastically in so short a time. He desired, and it frightened him, as he wasn't sure he would always be able to restrain it for Kumo's sake.
"You'll… always be there to protect me, won't you?" Kumo murmured, snuggling closer.
"I will. I swear on my life I will," Kiri replied softly. Even from myself. "As long as I live, you'll never face your fears alone."
---
As Kumo stood in heartless silence with his Maken turned on Kiri, the red-haired swordsman just stood there in a state of shock. This was impossible. He wouldn't, couldn't accept this. How could this be happening? And why? Were his sins, his mistakes still weighed against him so? He'd thought he would be willing to do anything to get Kumo's heart back, to save him from this fate. But… but this? No! Never. He could never turn his sword on the one he loved. Even if he tried, he was sure his Maken would shatter completely from his grief. Being forced to harm Kumo would kill him.
"Kiri! Kiri, move!" he heard someone yelling from behind with him, but he couldn't. He could barely even breathe.
But then Kumo let out a soft sigh of Mist and lunged gracefully forward, and almost thirteen years of rigorous training forced Kiri's shock-numbed body into motion. Kiri whipped his Maken up just in time to barely parry Kumo's strike.
Kiri struggled beneath the blow—Kumo had thrown all his force into the strike, whereas Kiri's counter was weak, only a reflexive motion. Knowing that he couldn't shove Kumo away, Kiri slid to the side instead, dodging around Kumo and leaping back towards the center of the glyph, the closed Gate. Kumo staggered, unbalanced, then ran at him again.
Kiri's block was stronger this time, but still not strong enough, and besides, the counter he'd learned for the attack Kumo had used had been drilled into him with a vicious attack to follow it up. If he tried it, how could he be sure the years wouldn't force his muscles into the maneuver, even if his mind and heart didn't mean to do it? And so Kiri only leaped away again.
They continued in that pattern, leaping and striking and leaping away, for vital moments as Kiri's mind raced, as he scrabbled in a panic for some option, any option.
Finally, Kumo thrust his Maken up beneath Kiri's guard and pulled hard; as Kiri let out an unbelieving gasp, his blade flew out of his hands, jerked in a wide arc that carried it over the side of the bastion's roof.
Instinct had Kiri leaping backwards and flinging out his left hand, throwing his entire soul into a desperate call. A flicker of red sang over the horizon, and slowly, his Maken drifted back through the air towards him.
Kumo followed the movement with blank eyes, then let out another steady breath of Mist, swirling his Maken in a wide oval above his head. The white haze around them both expanded and contracted at once, forming a near-solid curtain that cut the two brothers off from all outside interference. As Kiri's Maken shot the last few feet through the air, it hit the barrier hard and bounced off, clattering to the stone floor.
Kiri stared in horror, then whirled back around to Kumo, who had leveled his Maken at Kiri again.
No. No… I can't… if I can't call my sword, then… what can I…?
Is this… is this how everything's going to end…?
Kiri glanced just past the edge of the barrier, right at the center of the Gate's glyph, where something pink and crystalline was giving off a feeble white glow, flickering like a pulse. But I was… so close…
Despair overtook Kiri, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes tightly.
But something rose up in his chest, a solid, forceful heat, and…
---
…and the Darkside's body crashed against the glass, Kiri touching lightly down right after it, the shock of collision reverberating through his legs. Strangely, the big Heartless' body didn't vanish into a twist of darkness in the air. Instead, it seemed to lose its solidity, melting into black ooze that spread along the glass circle. All the little Heartless the goo touched melded with it, merging and spilling into the congealed, sticky mess.
The darkness you will face is ancient, and bitter, and all-encompassing.
The voice had barely spoken when Kiri realized with a sick shock that the black ooze had wound its way around his ankles and was steadily flinging tendrils of itself up his legs. When he tried to slash at it with his sword, he saw with a deep, sickening terror that it was gone from his hand. He tried to pull away, but its grip on him was too strong, and he almost fell backwards. As he flung his arms out for balance, the darkness beneath him seethed and shot up, entrapping his arms and winding around his chest.
But do not be afraid…
Kiri let out a wild yell and struggled. Behind the panic, that feeling like he was right on the verge of something important was increasing. The heat in his body focused in his hands, in his fingertips—and in his heart. But whatever it was, it wasn't coming fast enough—the darkness had a thick black tendril around his throat now, was spreading in sticky waves across his face, over the bridge of his nose.
…for you possess the most powerful weapon of them all.
---
With the jolt of memory, that feeling rushed through Kiri's body, powerful and sure, and he looked up with wide eyes, staring at Kumo's blank-eyed, remorseless, heartless form, the helpless puppet with the sword.
"…It's too important."
That almost-realization was back, the heat in his heart and all. Kiri started to tremble, his eyes stinging, as he spoke the words aloud, his voice awash in wonder and regret and love.
"It's too important. All this is too important. I can't… I can't give up yet."
As one tear spilled down Kiri's right cheek, then another down his left, he smiled at his brother's empty body, holding out his hands.
"I love you too much. I made a promise back then, and I vowed it when I left home. I won't let anything stop me. I can't let anything stop me. Not anything.
"…Not even you.
"Forgive me, Kumo. I only hope that… you'll understand. I will save you, no matter the cost."
And as the heat ran from his heart to his hand, gathering at his fingertips, Kiri raised his right arm into the air, spreading his fingers wide.
The air rippled, and there was a call from somewhere deep within him, a hidden place that Kiri hadn't even known existed before now.
And the lost word that that mysterious voice had begun to say that time, as the dream had ended prematurely and Kiri had been awakened by Ai, echoed through the air as it swept simple and magnificent into being.
Keyblade
It was about the length of Kiri's Maken, the rounded square of the hilt (didn't they call that part of a key the "eye"?) a shiny metallic red and the grip itself black leather. The long shaft of the key was pure silver, and the spiraling design of an Ittouju was carved around and along its length. The teeth of the key, set a handspan before the shaft ended in a deep gray point like a Maken's tip, were wrought with the negative relief of a crown, as if the shape of one had been carved out of this metal when it had been forged.
From the back of the hilt (eye) hung a short length of silver chain, ending in a miniature of one of Kiri's Mist bottles, in a perfect shade of deep red.
"…Dragonheart," Kiri murmured, staring in wonder at the lovely weapon. "…I see, so your name is… Dragonheart…"
Kiri swung his Keyblade in a wide circle, slicing through his own lingering disbelief, and crouched down into a waiting position. "Get ready, Kumo…!" he cried, certainty in the words even as they tore at his heart.
And then the two of them rushed each other, Maken meeting Keyblade in a brilliant clash.
This time, though, Kiri was thinking as they struggled. Kumo seemed to be reacting mostly by logic, by instinct. He'd been trained well—first by Kiri, then by Kiri's own teacher—to react and adapt to every possible situation, but muscle memory could only do so much without the conscious mind to aid it. Kiri had been proving that plenty well only a few minutes ago. And Kumo had only just graduated from his training, as well. Kiri still had three years on him there, even though Kumo had a natural skill with the blade that rivaled even his.
But experience counted here, more than anything else. If he concentrated, if he thought, he could do this—all he had to do to destroy that barrier would be to render Kumo unconscious. With a master, barriers lasted until death or until the maker broke them, but Kumo's inexperience would prove his downfall.
Kumo broke the clash of blades this time, jumping back only to lunge forward again with a wide, sweeping slash. Kiri leaned far to the side to dodge it, but even so, when he dropped and rolled and pulled himself up again, there were a few severed crimson hairs drifting to the ground.
That was close— He couldn't afford to underestimate Kumo. Both their lives were on the line now.
Kumo was gearing up for another swing. Kiri gritted his teeth, shifting to grip his Keyblade with both hands. It's now or never—
As Kumo lunged, Kiri pushed out strongly and flew low across the ground to meet him, whipping his Keyblade through the air in a shoulder-wrenching crescent that hurt like hell but accomplished its aim—he'd stopped Kumo's Maken, catching the blade in the key's teeth.
Kiri hissed, forcing a tense breath through his gritted teeth, then yelled and put his shoulders and all the strength in his arms into one tearing shove—and the tension Kiri pressed against gave, and Kumo's Maken slipped from his hands, clattering against the stone much like Kiri's had done.
Kumo made no move to call it back; Kiri hoped that in his heartless state, his brother lacked the immense strength of will that was required to do so. As Kumo stared blankly after his dropped weapon, Kiri closed the distance between them and put his arms around his beloved, holding him tightly but still not letting go of his Keyblade.
Closing his eyes tightly, Kiri fought tears, then leaned in to lightly kiss that unresponsive cheek. "I love you so much," he whispered. And then: "I'm sorry."
Kiri pulled his Keyblade arm back, flipped the weapon so that the shaft and teeth pointed behind him, and slammed the heavy grip straight into Kumo's belly.
Kumo made a soft surprised sound, then gave a cough that was half gasp and slumped into Kiri's waiting arms. Just as Kiri had counted on, the hazy barrier of Mist dissipated almost instantly.
Kiri held his brother close for one more moment, then laid him out against the stone, looked over to his startled companions, and called.
"Lisa—please, we haven't much time. I need you to give him his heart back, now."
---
Kiri knelt anxiously at Kumo's side, clasping his brother's hand in both of his own, as Lisa closed her eyes and sighed, preparing herself, across Kumo's body from him. Kaze stood slightly behind her, with Fabula and Aura still leaning on each other, hovering nearby.
After a brief confused moment of staring at Kiri like she hadn't known what he'd meant, Lisa had snapped into action, crossing the Gate to its center and gently coaxing Kumo's heart out of the glyph. She'd expressed a moment of worry over its weakened state, then begun her preparations. While she'd gotten ready, Kaze had voiced a hoarse concern of what would happen if they were attacked; Aura had said then that she couldn't feel the presence of any Heartless at all—not just in this city, but anywhere in the world. Wherever the former Ansem had gone, he'd taken all his forces with him.
As for Kiri, he didn't really care about any of that. As soon as he'd focused on Kumo, his Keyblade had vanished into thin air, but he wasn't worried—he knew that the next time danger threatened, he could call it easily. That didn't matter. All that mattered now…
"Kiri, open his shirt up a bit," Lisa said suddenly. "His heart has to be in direct contact with his skin to transfer in this state."
Kiri blinked, then nodded. "Uh… o-okay." With hesitant hands, Kiri pulled at the laces that held Kumo's far-too-revealing shirt together, loosening them enough to slide the flimsy little sheath of cotton over Kumo's shoulders and down, baring his chest. The gaping wound Kiri remembered was nowhere near as ugly as he'd thought it would look—there was only a glimmering patch of silver there now, the mark of Fabula's spell, all that kept Kumo alive. It was shifted just left of the center of his chest—a hole the size of Kiri's hand, maybe a little bigger, which stretched from the side of Kumo's breastbone to barely an inch from his left nipple.
As Kiri wrapped both his hands around Kumo's again and stared down at him, his heart in his throat, Lisa sighed again and nodded. "Alright… let's try this."
With everyone watching closely, Lisa laid Kumo's frail, weakly pulsing heart against his chest, right over the magically cloaked wound. She then picked up her staff, holding it so that its head sat just over the heart, and closed her eyes, resting both hands along the gnarled wood.
The air around the staff rippled, and the rose-colored crystal at its head began to glow steadily.
There was the sound of a heartbeat, magnified a hundred times. It echoed again, and one more time, and slowly, so slowly, Kumo's heart sank back into his chest where it belonged. The silver traces of Fabula's spell vanished, and the wound that had almost been mortal closed over as though it had never been in the first place.
"Now what?" Kiri asked hoarsely.
"Now… we wait," was Lisa's faint reply.
The seconds seemed like years as Kiri clutched Kumo's hand, anxiously staring into that pale face, searching for any signs of life, of awareness.
"………" Kumo's chest rose and fell, and his head turned slightly towards Kiri. "…nnh… unnh…"
Kiri's heart jolted in his chest, and he squeezed Kumo's hand, leaning in fearfully, not daring to hope. "Kumo…?!"
"…ah…" Weakly, Kumo opened his eyes very slightly, only enough for Kiri to catch a glimpse of flickering green beneath those soft black lashes. Kiri bit his lip and held his breath as Kumo moaned again, then opened his eyes wider, staring up at Kiri blankly, his gaze hooded, dreamy, and completely devoid of recognition.
No… Kiri fought back panic, held off tears. There had to be more than this—Kumo had a stronger heart than to just, just…
Kumo blinked again, and his gaze sparked to brilliant life as his eyes went wide. "…Niisama…?" he whispered, his voice cracked with disuse and filled with emotion, fearing to hope.
"Kumo…" Kiri trembled, painful love and relief hitting him hard, and he reached out to take Kumo's other hand as well. He couldn't fight the tears anymore, and he didn't want to. "Oh, God, Kumo…"
"Niisama…" Kumo managed a weak, teary smile, and Kiri's reserve broke.
"Kumo…!" Kiri pulled his brother into his arms, holding him tightly, still shaking, not ever wanting to let go. He couldn't speak. All he could do was sob bitterly, openly, brokenly, and cling to Kumo, almost not daring to believe that after so long, after so much hardship and so many failures, that this was true, that it was really happening.
Kumo's hands wound into Kiri's hair and cape, and he clung to his brother with what little strength he could manage, weeping silently into Kiri's shoulder.
Love and need tangled in Kiri's chest, and he pulled back to stare at Kumo with vision blurred by tears and saw that his beloved felt the same, and then they were tangled together, their hands fisted in each other's clothes, kissing deeply and with utter abandon, never mind that the others were watching. It had been so long. Kiri had gone so long without being truly face-to-face with the love of his life, so long without the taste of him, so long without Kumo's soft warmth in his arms. They held each other as if to express months of loneliness and pain, of living only with their memories of each other, of loneliness so unbearable it was almost unspeakable.
Finally, Kumo pulled back and leaned against Kiri's shoulder, murmuring something in a soft, tear-blunted voice.
"Hm?" Kiri leaned in, trying to catch the words.
Kumo sat up again, smiling at his brother with deep love in his eyes. "You came for me," he repeated, louder, his voice twisting with grateful tears. "You rescued me… I… I-I'm so…" He nuzzled in close again. "Thank you…"
Kiri shook his head. "N-no… I… I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me so long… I just… thank God you're alright…"
Kumo straightened up, and his smile was trembling. "Oh, Niisama… don't cry… it's okay… it's over now… you did it…!"
Kiri laughed at the irony, and let a last few tears stray across his face.
"Hey…" Both of them turned; Fabula had managed to untangle herself from Aura long enough to sit down beside them. "How are you feeling?"
"Fabula…?" Kumo stared at her, bewildered. "How did you… why are you…?"
Smiling, she reached out and ruffled Kumo's soft white hair. "Silly. I couldn't just leave you like that, and I couldn't just watch Kiri struggle to find you on his own. Of course I had to come with him. I care about you two so much more than that."
"…………" Kumo reached out and hugged her tightly; her smile grew as she held him.
"So…" They all turned towards Lisa. "Should I help the children now?"
Releasing Kumo, Fabula sighed and shook her head. "This is going to sound horribly cruel, I know… but you can't yet. We have to leave them like this a little longer."
"What? Why?" Lisa demanded, looking shocked. "They're…!"
"I promise I will explain everything," Fabula said heavily, cutting her off. "But not now. Right now, we need to head back into the city. I'll tell you everything you need to know about this place and what we have to do next tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?"
"Because," Fabula told her with a sigh, "we all need rest. I'm tapped out—I need sleep. Kaze had to summon, and I'm sure he needs to relax for a while, as well. Aura's been through a lot, and you and Kiri can't have come through today with no cost to your energy. Besides, someone needs to explain everything to Kumo, and that will take time. There's a dangerous battle ahead of us—the forces of the Heartless have to be stopped—and we can't rush into it without rest. If we followed them in our current state, it would be suicide. Too much has happened today; we need some time to ourselves so that we can try to absorb it all, at the very least. There are things we all need to resolve before we use this Gate… since it's very possible that only some of us will come back alive."
Kumo leaned into Kiri's side, and he slipped his arms around his brother's waist as he listened to the gravity of Fabula's words.
Whatever it was that they faced—whatever confrontation with the Heartless, with what had once been King Ansem—he would face it without fear, knowing that Kumo was safe… was restored to him at last.
(TBC)