A/N : FYI if you read the first chapter a week ago, the prologue is new, and this chapter has been extended, so it would serve you well to re-read Chapter 1 and after the chapter split mark in this chapter.
Let me know what you think!
-the rains-
in which it begins like nothing should - in water and somber regret.
-I-
Drip. Drip. Drip.
His eye twitched, pulsing in time with every droplet.
The rain refused to cease. The relentless pounding of water attacking the thatched straw roof of the one-room home had long since dulled into an endless roar in his ears, but the lessened noise did little to ease the young man's restless heart. Every once in a while, he could hear the roof groan and strain under the weight of it all, and the water that had eventually managed to seep through the ceiling continued to drip, drip, drip into the few scattered bowls and pots set about the room to catch it all.
None of this was natural. Once upon a time, the rain had been a welcome sight. In the Great Plains, the rainy seasons were short and nourishing, revitalizing their entire community like nothing else ever could. Lea remembered playing in the rains ever since he was a child- he and his friends would always play in the rains, pulling out oiled coats that they always saved specially for that time of year. Families would line Main Street during that time, the bells ringing in town hall every evening for the village to come together and offer prayers and thanks to the heavens for nourishing their tiny community yet again amidst the dry heat of the Plains. The rains used to bring him joy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the two chakrams hung up on the wall. They were wooden and well-worn, well-loved. He used to spar and toss those disc around with Squall and Cloud, the two young men having trained him and Tidus and Wakka and everyone else his age in town, ever since they were children.
He missed Squall and Cloud. He missed Wakka. He hadn't seen Tidus in weeks, either.
His eyes fell upon one leak in the roof. It had long ceased to be simply a few droplets falling- now, the stream was steady, with tiny rivulets trailing across the ceiling and sliding down the wall, infusing the air with even more damp and cold than he had thought possible. With a sigh, he stood, pulling up a small stool underneath the leak. The hole was repairable, he realized. They only needed dry silkstraw, and that would be that.
I guess we're not fixing it, then. The sound of the constant stream of water would have to be pushed into the back of his mind, joining the cacophony caused by the rest of the torrential rains.
There was one sound that could never escape his mind, though. It was pervasive, ever-present. The growling stomachs of the little ones caught his attention, and for the nth time that day, he sighed, staring up at the clusters of herbs which hung in great rows upon the ceiling. We're almost out of mintberry leaf, he noted numbly, counting what few bundles of the greyish-green herb remained. I'll have to go hunting for some.
A few months earlier, this wouldn't have been a problem whatsoever. Mintberry, just as all the other local vegetation, had once been plentiful. He had never known hunger before then. His heart knew, however, that any search he performed now would prove to be fruitless. The rains had long since washed out any good soil, effectively destroying all of the herbs his family depended upon for their livelihood. After this batch, they would truly be left with nothing but each other.
"The gods are angry, child," his mother cooed softly. The woman's eyes were kind and understanding, but the lines in her face were far more prominent in the dim ambient light than Lea remembered. As she stroked the head of a slumbering tot in the tiny cradle to her right, Lea meandered over to her, dutifully fixing the pink ribbon holding together her long hair. Her hair was coarse between his fingers, her scalp showing through brunette in patches.
She shared a quiet, appreciate smile with him before he wandered back to the window, pulling over the same stool he had stood upon earlier. It was woven from silkstraw, just like the rest of their appliances. His mother had once woven the stool, just like the rest of their home, with her own hands. His father had never been great at weaving, after all.
Within her cot, the baby gurgled uneasily in her sleep. At the sound, the five year old boy clinging to his mother's hip to gaze up at his older brother, eyes wide and solemn. Roxas didn't like it when Kairi was upset.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The young man sighed again, resting his head against the ledge of the small window-hole. There was such little to do these days. Staying indoors was suffocating- he missed being able to roam. He ran bony fingers down the strands of silkstraw which made up the tiny building in its entirety. The grasses upon the plains they lived upon were strong, stronger than any of the wood in Naminé's Forest, and was perfect for building– so, the people of Nibelheim had used it for decades to shelter themselves and the village itself where the Lady Naminé and her fiery temper could not.
After a while of staring at the smooth, dampened yellow stalks, he peered out of the window, taking in the barren road before him. Their home was the last out of a total of thirty little huts which lined the main street of Nibelheim, each building serving as both a home and a workshop for drying herbs, making remedies, and curing ailments of sick travellers. The only buildings which were any different were the grand town hall, which could seat the entire village, and the elder's homes, which also housed the emergency stores.
He had never liked being the last house on that road; it meant that by the time any adventurers arrived close enough for his family to strike a deal with, they had already emptied their purses and filled their bellies. It also meant that any fun trinkets or sweets they may have carried had already been given away and traded amongst the other families. After all, no one generally needed his family's prime resource, mintberry leaf- while his mother had learned to make everything out of the herb, somehow concocting miracle cures for any normal illness, the leaf was mostly known to ease the cramps or headaches from Her gift – but when did women ever really accompany the travellers and merchants to their little village?
"Mum, I know that," he replied at last. "Knowing that don't make it any more easy to accept. We didn't do no harm to Radiant Garden, nor to those tyrants down south. Why do we have to suffer their foolishness?"
His mother chuckled, pulling little Roxas upon her lap and motioning for her eldest child to come closer. "Lea, I know it's not fair," she murmured as the older boy came and sat cross-legged before her. "But what can we do? The gods will do what they want. In time, this too will pass just like everything else in our world, and the war shall end. The important thing is that we don't get involved with Heartless, and them don't get involved with us."
"But Mum," Lea protested as he took Roxas off of his mother's lap and into his welcoming arms. His heart broke as he felt his little brother's spine press against his chest, the bones jutting out against thin, young skin. He placed his hands gently over the little boy's ears before lowering his voice, whispering with a pained look in his eye, "Kairi's hungry."
His mother sighed. "I know."
"But soon- you can't make no more good milk without bread on the table or meat in the cooling shed. When was the last time we saw any fruit, for that? When? You haven't eaten anything for day or three, to give some goodies to me'n Roxas." His voice cracked, his chest trembling to control the sobs which threatened to burst. "Please, Mum. We've got to find a way. The whole village'll starve before we get another loaf of bread brought to us."
His mother smiled sadly, but shook her head. "Sweet, you'll see – soon, the rain'll stop, and we'll see another wagon bringin' us supplies from Radiant Garden. Maybe it'll even be by the end of the week – that way, we can give the last of our stock for food, and once Zack comes home, you and your Da will be able to go find some more mintberry leaf for us."
But Da's not coming back- not while this rain continues. Lea felt heat rise up to his ears, but he bit his lip to prevent any angered words from slipping out. Speaking ill to your mother is something that She wouldn't be happy with, the seventeen year old scolded himself. Be well and proper, it ain't something that She would be happy with at all.
His mother's eyes glazed over, the bright green tranquil as she retreated into her own mind. "She'll bring your Da, and Cloud, and Squall, and everyone home. Don't worry."
Lea wished he was as hopeful.
Thinking of Gaia, the mother of their great world, his heart grew clouded. Wasn't it Her responsibility to end this suffering?
It was folly. She had caused it all, after all. Some goddess of healing. Protector of humankind…
It wasn't right to think those thoughts. One day, he would pass, his body would return to earth, and his heart would have to meet Gaia at Kingdom Hearts. They would all rejoin the Lifestream one day.
Why couldn't Lady Naminé be as forgiving? he moaned internally, pressing his cheek gently upon Roxas's head as he fell deep into thought. If Naminé allowed anyone into her forest without turning the animals and trees upon them, then I might be able to find something that could help us. Even in this blasted rain, we might have had a chance, at least…
"Leelee, we'll be okay!" Roxas protested from his lap, wriggling his head out of the man's hold, peering up at his elder brother anxiously. "Bahamut will keep us safe, won't he?"
"From your lips to the god's ears, silly child," their mother scolded softly. "You've got no right to call His name, just a tot you are."
"Sorry, Mummy." Roxas pouted, but said no more.
Lea chuckled, ruffling Roxas' blond hair lovingly. It was shorn unevenly, his cowlick sticking up in all directions. Lea's heart stung seeing how thin his hair had become. "That's a good boy, Roxy," he cooed softly to his little brother. "You be a good boy, and He'll make you a great warrior someday."
The young boy immediately jumped, brandishing his invisible weapons at the hordes of enemies before him in his mind's eye. His blue eyes sparkled, his imagination running wild. "And then, I'll be strong, and I'll stop the rain!" he squeaked, hoarse voice still vibrant in his play. Lea smiled warmly, watching the tiny boy jump around clumsily. "No more healing, we won't even need to heal no mean travellers anymore! No more Heartless in Radiant Garden, and all those bad men would be kicked out of the Northern Realms, and they'd never even see Kingdom Hearts!" he cried so excitedly that his mother had to cuff his ear before he calmed down.
"We've an even littler one here who needs to sleep, child," she scolded gently, releasing her grip on his ear. "Calm your tongue."
"Sorry Mum," he repeated softly.
Lea told the boy, "Even if you wanted to fight the Heartless, Rox, you won't get your fight. There's nothing for them here."
And it was true. The Heartless, the amassed force of warriors from the southern Realm of Darkness had no interest in their little village. Nibelheim was upon the outskirts of Naminé's Forest, which sat at the foot of Mt. Nibel and the Twilight Mountains. While Radiant Garden remained in the eastern end of the vast county, their home lay westward, all the way across the Great Plains.
In peacetime, wagons had made the arduous trek from Radiant Garden to Nibelheim biweekly to buy herbs for healers back in the bigger cities, bringing bread and dried meats – but with the rain, there was absolutely nothing for the Heartless to come and take.
Even if soldiers wanted to come through the Twilight Mountains to escape detection by Radiant Garden's soldiers, they could not. The range was impenetrable due to the presence of Bahamut, who made his keep upon the tallest peak, watching over the world with his all-seeing eyes. Anyone who tried to enter the Northern Realms by the Twilight Mountains never came out. And if they did, then they would meet their end by Naminé's wrath.
Roxas nodded, then skipped towards the corner of the room where his bed mat lay. His clothes hung from his frame like a sack, the material patched and worn and dirty and grayish brown. They had clearly seen better days – back when he had still had his baby fat, which hadn't even been too long before, the clothes had fit him nicely.
A tear pricked Lea's eye, and one glance in his mother's direction told him that the elder felt the same way. He's too thin. He's too thin, the kid'll break soon.
As the young boy lay upon his mat and drew the tattered blanket over his body, Lea looked around, examining the room. It was empty, far emptier than he had ever seen it. No longer were there worktables with drying herbs and jars filled with poultices and tea leaves resting upon them, nor was there the old dining table or the stools. It was just their mats, their mother's chair, Kairi's crib, and a small chest in the corner containing what little of value they had left.
Really, though, it was the absence of his father's uproarious laughter which made the building seem so empty. He had left three months before with a few of the other men, daring to trek the rapidly flooding roads towards Radiant Garden to search for any stranded wagon which might be bringing Nibelheim some supplies. It was a long shot, but his father had thought it was worth taking the risk, no matter how hard his mother and the young man himself had protested and pleaded.
He had yet to return, and in the rain, seeing his silhouette within the showers would be impossible.
Mouth set in a resolute line, his mother muttered, "Lea, we'll get through this. The Heartless won't come this way – we've aught for them to take. Rest."
Lea's eyes were drawn towards his mother, but as he gazed upon her dwindling form, he felt the sadness threatening to crush him. Before his father had left, his mother had continued to be a beacon of light in the small home, smiling and laughing constantly to brighten the dark, stormy days. However, now that he was gone, his mother had shrunk into herself. It wasn't noticeable to the young ones, but Lea knew. Everything about her seemed to sag, from the drooping corners of her full lips to the faded pink ribbon holding back her hair, the one his father had proposed to her with.
"But Da-"
His mother paused for a second, face frozen and unreadable, before she relaxed once more. Lea, however, didn't miss the doubtful look in her eye or the hardness to her tone as the woman murmured, "Your Da will come back soon, child. Breathe easy."
But Lea could not – not without food in the house, not with his father's absence, not with the possibility – no matter how small – of the Heartless coming to their tiny, defenseless village. No one knew how to fight, now that his father and the other men were gone. Lea had never learned, either.
As his eyes found themselves wandering out of the window once more, he simply turned away, crawled into his mat beside Roxas's huddled form, wrapped his rapidly thinning arm around the little boy's waist and closed his eyes, trying to block out the assault on the rooftop.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
It was still raining.
xXx
The hunger grows too strong to bear.
"Lea, I'm hungry." The voice was quiet and unsure, muffled by the speaker's face pressed against the small of the young man's back, tiny fingers clinging to him like a lifeline. "My tummy's grumbling, all groaning and like."
It wasn't the first time he'd heard that statement- but by the gods, Lea would do his damnedest to ensure it wouldn't continue like that. He had had enough of waiting. "Hush, Rox," the teen muttered, "you've gotta keep your voice down."
The younger pouted briefly. Lea grinned, wrapping the little boy in a quick, loving hug before slipping the threadbare cloak over his own shoulders. The oiled material was so worn that it would scarcely protect him from the rains, but there was nothing he could do about that.
His mother had barely stepped out of the building before Lea had made his mind up. The elders were outside with her, likely bearing no good news. Unfortunately, Aerith seemed hell-bent on ensuring that Lea was coddled forever, and when she returned, she would probably tell him nothing negative. She wanted to protect him. He would take it no longer.
Pressing his body flat against the wall of their home, Lea closed his eyes and tried to shut out the rhythmic beating of rain upon the rooftop, concentrating his ear onto the hushed murmurs outside underneath the awning. The voices were low, but the panic and frustration was evident despite it all. Even through the walls, the relative silence permeating through Main Street seemed to make the elders' conversation amplified amidst the rainfall. "We're even out of mintberry," Lea's mother whispered, her tone indicating her fright. "I don't know what to do, especially now that we're down to our last loaf."
"What about meat?" Lea could recognize the voice belonging to one of the village elders, Xemnas. "Do you still have any?"
"I wish I did," was the strained reply from her mother. Lea heaved a sigh at that – his mother had told him that they still had enough to last for a few more weeks in the cooling shed, that the dried foodstuffs would be enough to keep them going. Why'd she allow Roxas and me to get extra slivers last night if we have none left?
Yet, he knew. Lea knew better than anybody that his mother hated depending on others, hated sharing her problems – that must be the reason she was out there in the rain, speaking to Xemnas. She had always been an incredibly resourceful woman, able to fend for herself. So, seeing her actually seek advice was more than a little unsettling. Her one goal must've been to get any food she could bargain out of the old man to prevent her children from going hungry, ensuring that she would never again see fearful eyes and empty bellies.
"That's too bad," the man murmured, "but everyone is in the same boat. There is no extra, Aerith. You've got to realize that your little'uns may just have to get used to the hunger." He chuckled dryly, an unnerving sound. "Anyways, Lea is clever and young and strong, for such a feisty lad. He'll figure something out."
"But I don't want Lea to have to figure nothin' out for us!" She registered how loud that cry had been and instantly continued in a hushed voice, "Lea's just a little boy to me, elder. There's no way I can send him out there on a wild goose chase for some morsels which can last us for a few more days until his father comes home."
"Still no word from Zack has come to me," Xemnas relayed softly, voice compassionate.
Zack and Aerith had been sweethearts for a long as anyone in the village could remember. Lea winced as he noted the distinct softness in the elder's voice. Xemnas was known to be an oddly cold man amongst the elders, but apparently, even he could feel sorry to see Aerith without her husband. "He's a strong man. You'll see him soon, don't you fret."
Da, where are you?
Lea heard his mother chuckle half-heartedly. "I wish my children were as faithful," she muttered over a rustling of cloth, presumably from pulling her shawl around herself just a little tighter to block out the chill. "Lea has absolutely no faith in him. He believes his father's dead." Her voice rose in suppressed hysteria at the last word, a tiny gasp and shuddering sigh the only indication of her grief.
You're the only one with any hope left, Mum, Lea thought, tears pricking his eyes. We've been waiting forever.
He hastily blinked the threatening tears away, turning to face Roxas who was still right behind him. "'Rox, I'll be back soon, alright? I'll bring you something yummy." He flashed a bright smile which instantly fell, seeing his brother's horrified expression. Damn, did he hear what Mum…?
The little boy registered what his older brother had said, and instantly, long rivers of tears were falling from anguished blue eyes. "You can't, Leelee," he bawled, not bothering to contain his sobs.
In order to keep his plan hidden, Lea frantically ushered the boy to his cot. Roxas didn't fight back, almost limp and numb as he cried sorrowfully, "Mummy just said Da's gone, and you can't go too! Take me with you!"
To calm him down, the teen began feverishly tucking Roxas into bed. When the little boy struggled, Lea kneeled down, pressing cracked lips against his brother's forehead. "Stay here, child," he scolded lightly, trying to shut out his own cries from escaping. "I'll be back soon. You need to stay here and protect Mum and Kairi, okay?"
"No, you won't be back, Da's still-"
Despite how his heart dropped into his soles at the child's heartbreak, he couldn't turn back now. Squeezing Roxas' shoulders gently, he added, "You're the man of the house until Da's home. Don't you do me no shame by letting them cry, you got it?"
The boy slowly nodded, his cries turning into quiet hiccups and the occasional wheeze as he tried to catch his breath, rubbing his tears and mucus upon his sleeve before smiling red-faced and teary-eyed at his brother. "You promise to come back?"
Lea cradled the little boy close. "I'll come back afore nightfall, kiddo, I promise," he whispered, holding the frail boy tight against his own too-bony frame. "I promise, so be safe, okay? Don't cause Mum no trouble, and help her with Kairi."
With the little boy's nod, Lea quickly grabbed his chakrams from their hangings upon the wall. It had been far too long since he had had a use for them- but should anything go wrong, he'd at least be able to use them to buy himself some time. He was nothing but long, gangly limbs and angular bones, after all. He would need all the help he could get if this went sour.
The only other thing he needed was located in the box which contained all of their tools. Twine, wax, matches; all of it was stored alongside his father's old dagger. The tempered steel was the only thing of value Lea had ever owned in his life. The teen could still remember how proud his father had been to give him that blade for his sixteenth year, and Lea knew it would save him when nothing else could.
With those tools secured upon the loose belt slung around his waist, he pulled the hood fashioned crudely from the top of the cloak over his head and slipped out the front door before his mother could finish talking with the elder and see his disappearance.
As his footsteps sloshed and squelched through the muddy streets destroyed by the long rainfall, his eyes lingered upon the small homes on either side of his path. It was heartbreaking to see the state of disrepair in the town. How long had it been since their people had seen sunlight? How long had it been since they had had peace?
Against the onslaught of rain, he narrowed his eyes, trying to avoid tearing up due to the sting of water. However, each of his footsteps echoed through the muddy banks – it was rare that anyone dared step outside anymore. His presence attracted all the attention he never wanted.
Still, he continued resolutely, ignoring the cries that echoed from concerned neighbours as he made his way down the side streets of Nibelheim. He wasn't going in the direction of Radiant Garden – his path would take him straight to Naminé's Forest, the tall trees at the base of the mountains looming upon the horizon ominously.
The townsfolk understood his destination immediately. "It's suicide!" "Lady Naminé will eat you alive! No one is allowed in her lands!" "You'll never come back! Think of your mother, your siblings!" "Don't you dare go there, lad!" The villagers called and pleaded for him to stop, to not head to his death. He paid them no heed.
The only thing he could think was I'm hungry, I'm so, so hungry; Roxas is waiting for me, he needs food too; Mum doesn't want my help, but I've got to help anyways, or She'll never allow me into Kingdom Hearts; Kairi's just a baby, and she's got to grow into more than just that – she needs a chance to grow big, and so does Roxas, and when Da comes back he'll see his children grown and happy and Mum safe and this curst war be over-
By that point, it no longer mattered how hard he tried to remain stoic. The tears were streaming out, the hood had fallen off his head, his reddish-brown locks were drenched and his cries were muted by the sound of rain falling so endlessly. His silenced sobs were deafeningly loud in his head, but he simply continued running long past the edge of the village and onto the side road leading towards the forest.
Lea had never before gone farther than the statue which rested a mile out of the forest, for mintberry grew plentiful enough just north of the statue. The boy, alongside his father, had once collected herbs in those patches for Aerith to prepare for sale and trade. Now, however, those patches were completely washed away. The teen understood the truth – there was no convoy coming with supplies. There was no point holding out hope for aid that would not arrive.
His only chance would lie with risking Naminé's wrath within the woodlands. As foolhardy as the plan was, he couldn't shut away the tiniest hope that maybe there would be something inside the cover of the haunted trees. Even if there wasn't, Lea was aware that no one else in the village would be able to harvest the herb – it took a great deal of skill to extract the budding leaves without destroying the medicinal properties of the sap. Whatever lay within the forest was practically his for the taking.
There's a reason no one else has tried yet.
But he had no choice. Although it was a madman's ploy, Lea was desperate. He had been thinking about trying his luck within the forest for weeks, his options battling each other within his mind. Eventually, the war was clearly won by the cracked side of his mind, since he was heading towards his imminent death. What else was he to do, now that he had confirmed with his own ears that their food stores had run out?
No. I'll get back to Mum and Roxas and Kairi. I'll be okay. He took a shuddering breath as his strength sapped out of his bones, body too weary to carry on in that desperate sprint. No longer did he have protesting neighbours to pull him back for attempting this crazy feat – he could afford to give himself room to breathe.
The sky was darkening behind the eternally grey, ominous ceiling of low clouds by the time he reached the landmark which he had been looking for. Amidst the tall silkstraw on either side of the road, the statue marked the beginning of the road to the cursed domain of Lady Naminé in the forest. It depicted a man dressed in a long, flowing robe, the contours of the billowing sleeves polished smooth by years of erosion. The man was placed upon a stone pedestal and reached over four metres in height, an easily identifiable landmark amidst the Great Plains. His eyes were narrow, stern – but they emanated an aura which made Lea feel warm inside, as if he was safe. All it took was staring up at the magnificent figure, looking at that proud chin, broad shoulders, and mouth open in song, for Lea to feel like a child again, listening to his father's stories of the man and his own people.
The Enchanters.
Lea felt his face contort into a grimace. "If you're so powerful," he whispered, throat choking back the bitter tears which threatened to escape his body once more, "then why aren't you helping us? Why are you doing this to us?" He lamely hit the base of the stone pedestal the figure stood upon with a chakram, but all it did was bruise his heart future.
What could they possibly do? He snorted, turning away from the man in disgust. "There's no way singers could possibly be any sort of powerful. It's nothin' but an old tale."
Yet, as he set forth upon the path once more, watching the looming forest began to grow darker and more dangerous with every step as he neared it, Lea's mind kept drifting off to the Enchanters, to the stories his father had told him when he had merely been a tot.
Nomads, the Enchanters were. The tribes had lived upon the Great Plains many years before. His father had whispered of their powers – so strange, so fascinating they had been to Lea in those days in sunlit wonder – and of how they were the strongest creatures made by Gaia and Bahamut together. They were the chosen few, the children of the gods, those few humans who were instilled with the ability to restore peace in one word.
Well, not one word – one song.
No one who lived in Nibelheim could have told Lea how their powers had worked. All he had grown up knowing was that they were strong, able to kill any enemy and heal any wound with their mere voices. As a child, Lea had fallen in love with the idea of the Enchanters; every time his father went to obtain more mintberry, Lea had come simply to look upon the statue, the man's strength and commanding aura even greater than his father's. It had broken his heart into infinitesimal pieces when he had learned that they had died out after centuries before, after peace was restored following the last turn of darkness. However, rumours of their existence still floated around, and every once in a while he'd look up from his harvesting or training or whatever he might be doing to pray that there would be an Enchanter waiting to save the day.
But Lea knew it was all just a legend. As his feet finally managed to pull out of the mud which grappled his ankles and dragged his heart down heavily, bringing him onto the small layer of grass which rested underneath the cover of the first trees at the edge of Naminé's Forest, the boy knew it more than ever. If they had ever truly existed, those nomads would have come and saved the Northern Realms long before this point – long before the gods grew so angered. If the Enchanters were real, Lea wouldn't have had to be standing at the edge of Lady Naminé's stronghold, waiting to find his untimely demise at the hands of the gods in the hunt for food. They would have brought back his father by then. They would have saved Nibelheim, saved the country, and vanquished the Heartless by then.
He knew they weren't real. Lea hadn't heard a song in a long, long time.