(So this story is technically finished, but my writing has significantly improved since this was first uploaded, so I'm revamping it. Please excuse any weirdness between chapters while I give it a fresh coat of paint. I wrote this before re:Mind was a thing, so it's not 100% accurate to the actual lore. Let's face it, not even Nomura understands KH lore these days. Happy reading!)
(Also, this story has over 150,000 words, which is more than the first three Harry Potter books! Why did I do this to myself!)
Vanitas had no idea how long he'd spent wandering the Realm of Darkness, but it must've been an eternity.
He should've known better than to think he'd get off lightly after being overpowered at the Keyblade Graveyard. Vanitas would stress that it was very narrow defeat and he totally would've won with both hands tied behind his back if it wasn't for Terra-Xehanort monologuing about his feelings every five minutes. His opinion of Xehanort and his flunkies had never changed – they were all insane megalomaniacs with one brain cell between them, but the old man had what he needed. Vanitas' darkness would never be extinguished while the blinding light that cast the shadow still burned. Ventus spent a solid ten years squatting inside someone else's heart, yet he hadn't learned a thing. The second his body and soul were reunited, the blond hurled himself at his brother with the force of a freight train. Vanitas didn't have the chance to even try to convince Ventus to merge with him; he just went straight for the jugular. His decade-long nap hadn't tempered his impulsive, hot-headed disposition. If Ventus had just stayed asleep for five more minutes, they could've both been on a one-way trip to the afterlife by then. What a nerd.
Even before Ventus hit the snooze button on his coma, Vanitas suspected that his brother was destined to be one of the thirteen Guardians of Light. His heart was literally devoid of darkness after Xehanort sucked it all out through a straw, so the blond was almost a little overqualified. That meant Vanitas' best chance of slaying his brother was with the Seekers of Darkness. He was a force to be reckoned with, and his rage was indiscriminate and unconditional, but he wasn't stupid. Despite any evidence to the contrary. Vanitas couldn't take on seven pissed-off Keyblade wielders and two talking animals on his own. Xehanort was a few Orichalcums short of an Ultima weapon, but if he had to submit himself to the frivolous whims of the bald man and his eleven clones, then so be it. That's eleven, not twelve. Vanitas firmly refused to count himself among the 'norts'.
What a cruel twist of fate, to be slain by the two people he despised the most – the one who gifted his half-baked heart, and the one who gifted his face. Their lights were as dazzling as bonfires against an endless night sky, but the shadow they cast together was even stronger for it. Vanitas and Sora had violently clashed before: once in La Cité des Cloches, and again in Monstropolis. The brunette had a vile habit of getting in the way at every turn, constantly finding himself wrapped up in the Organization's mischief. Vanitas had no idea how he managed it. Sora was playing by a different rule book, was playing a different game, yet always found himself in the lead.
Xehanort should've just travelled back in time to when Sora was an infant and drop-kicked him off a cliff or something. Would've saved future-him an awful lot of hassle.
Ultimately, Vanitas' downfall was of his own making. He was a damn fool, allowing his spiralling emotions to consume his heart and influence his actions like that. Vanitas' existence was fueled by unadulterated hatred, and the sight of Sora's face only stoked the flames. He had come to terms with their shared features long ago but neglected to consider that the brunette had never seen what was hidden beneath his motorcycle helmet. As a stray blow from a ruthless Keyblade shattered the visor, Sora laid his eyes on Vanitas' face for the first time. Something about the bewildered expression smeared across his twin's face as he gazed upon their near-identical features sent agitated shivers running down Vanitas' spine. There was no logical reason why the uncharacteristic shock on Sora's face riled him up so fiercely, but emotions rarely adhered to the rules of logic. Witnessing the reflection of his own features distorted in such a pathetic display of weakness made Vanitas sick to his stomach. He longed to wipe that expression off his brother's face forever.
Vanitas could only laugh at what a big dumb idiot he was. That was something that he, Ventus, and Sora shared in common. Vanitas was desperate to free himself of the iron-clad fist that his emotions had clenched around his half-heart. In the end, his greatest weakness was himself. The black-haired Keyblade wielder was so consumed with frenzy that his vision narrowed and the only thoughts that ran through his head were of separating the brunette's head from his shoulders. His movements became sloppy and careless, and Sora took full advantage of that. Vanitas had spent hours training for that very moment, but as he stood before the two people responsible for the insurmountable summit of hurt in his soul... he saw red.
Vanitas wasn't even that upset about being defeated. Every negative emotion that sprouted from his withered heart spilt more Unversed into the world, and the pain that tore through him every time one was slain only increased their numbers exponentially. It was an endless cycle of anguish, a rollercoaster with no exit and ship with no liferaft. His own existence was the source of his torment, and the black-haired Keyblade wielder was open to any solution that would take him away from it. Vanitas was past the point of caring. It no longer mattered to him how drastic his actions were, or how many lives were decimated in the process.
Vanitas didn't know what awaited him beyond the veil of death. Would he join the immense congregation of damned souls in Hades' Underworld? Would he wash up on the iridescent white shores of Davy Jones' Locker? Would Kingdom Hearts do its goddamn job for once and assimilate his soul? Whatever lay at the end of the road, it was better than what he had now.
Even after Sora brought all of Vanitas' plans crumbling to the ground and stomped his ass to the curb, the brunette had the sheer audacity to beg him to stay in the Realm of Light. If Vanitas hadn't just endured the most brutal ass-whopping of his life, he would've burned Sora to a crisp with the intensity of his acidic glower alone. The brat was terminally insufferable, and his face was ever so punchable. Sora clearly hadn't considered why Vanitas would side with Xehanort in the first place, the man who cleaved him from his brother's heart and left him to drown in his suffering. The brunette was far too eager to see the goodness in a person's heart, even where it didn't exist. Sora didn't understand that some people were beyond saving. He didn't understand that Vanitas was beyond saving. The raven boy was going to come out victorious or die trying, and he had chosen to die trying.
For what it was worth, Ventus could sympathise a little better. They had both fallen victim to Xehanort's schemes, forced to become each other's antithesis and shoulder the burden when it all came crashing down. Vanitas prayed that his brother's acceptance of the darkness in his heart would allow him to return to his rightful place. He could go back to being part of Ventus, as he was always meant to be. Whether it happened willingly, or if he had to drag his brother kicking and screaming with him, it was all the same. Vanitas was too injured to hold himself together, and his body dissipated into dense black smoke. As his remains were scattered to the wind, he felt the first glimmer of hope in his desiccated heart. Perhaps he would finally get his happy ending.
So when Vanitas was unceremoniously regurgitated back into the Realm of Darkness, he cursed every God that existed with words that would've made Hades blush.
The sensation of saltwater filling his lungs snapped Vanitas back to consciousness as if he had been hit by a cannonball. His yellow eyes opened to a boundless sea of inky black, so dark that he could barely make out the bubbles streaming from his mouth and rising to the surface. His chest instinctively sucked in as panic gripped his racing heart, drawing yet more water into his screaming lungs. Vanitas could barely tell up from down as the weight of the water compressed his rib cage until he was sure they would snap. He clamped both hands over his mouth in a futile attempt to keep what little oxygen remained within his body before he drowned. This was a really bad time to learn that he couldn't swim.
Somehow, through sheer willpower and a lot of flailing, Vanitas breached the surface of the ocean. He violently spluttered up salty brine as he gasped for precious air. His hair was wetly plastered to his face and obscuring his eyes, jet-black strands merging with the oily water until there was barely any distinction. Vanitas scrubbed the saline droplets from his irritated eyes. His entire chest burned, and he was consumed with the desire to get out of the ocean before he ran out of energy and slipped below the surface once more. He might not have the strength to save himself a second time.
Vanitas couldn't think of anything other than the feeling of solid ground below his feet. He frantically splashed his way towards the shore, fighting to keep his head above the waves. The black-haired Keyblade wielder practically crawled up the gentle incline of the slate-grey beach as the undercurrent strived to pull him back out to open water. He clawed his way forward until he could no longer feel the lapping of waves around his ankles. Vanitas sunk the ground, lying on his stomach with his head turned to one side. He never knew that the feeling of gritty sand against his cheek could be so rewarding.
Vanitas lay morosely on the cool grey sand for longer than he would admit. His throat was hoarse from coughing up water, and his muscles burned with exhaustion. He hurt in places that he didn't know could hurt. Vanitas rolled himself onto his back, arms and legs splayed out at his sides as he stared at the sky above. Organic rock formations stretched over his head like long, slender fingers encased in obsidian. A dense cloud cover shrouded the heavens, allowing only the occasional beam of moonlight to trickle through. The light was so cold, chilling his bones and turning his blood to ice.
As the clouds lazily drifted past, Vanitas caught sight of what lay beyond the shroud. What hovered overhead was none other than the sickly blue pallor of Kingdom Hearts.
Vanitas lay in silence for a moment, listening to his steadily stabilising heartbeat, before taking a deep breath.
"FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"
Vanitas didn't know what he was expecting. Shame on him for believing that the universe would be kind enough to release him from his torment. Give them an inch and watch them take a mile. It was Ventus' fault for refusing to accept him and his darkness back into his heart; it was Sora's fault for saving Ventus but leaving him to die; it was Xehanort's fault for tearing him out of Ventus and tossing him into a world that didn't want him; it was his own fault for being too weak to fight back. It was everyone's fault and no one's fault, and Vanitas didn't know which hurt more. Maybe he deserved it after all the atrocities he had wrought upon the universe in the name of the Seekers of Darkness. Perhaps this was his own personal hell.
Well, he was here now. He was alive. Nothing he could do about it. It only made sense for a creature comprised of pure darkness to reside within the Realm of Darkness anyway – Vanitas just had to make the most of it.
The Heartless drastically outnumbered the swarms that scurried around the Realm of Light, but there was little resistance from the monsters now that they were effectively leaderless. Most were perfectly content to wander aimlessly - more interested in fighting each other than the black-haired boy in their midst - scrapping over the tiniest morsels of light that trickled down from Kingdom Hearts. The moon hovered ominously above like an eyeball observing the squirming of insignificant insects. Vanitas hadn't lived long enough to witness the inevitable clash between Sora and Xehanort, but the heart of all hearts was just as intact and dangerous as he remembered it. Xehanort had probably kicked the bucket, otherwise the moon wouldn't be lost to the shadows along with all the hearts it had bottled up. Something had sealed Kingdom Hearts within its prison in the Realm of Darkness, ready to be summoned by the next megalomaniac in line to get their grimy hands on the χ-blade. Vanitas just hoped that Sora was taking good care of the weapon. He was probably using the legendary blade as a golf club right about now. His Keyblade was very patient.
Vanitas often wondered how Aqua had survived as long as she did in the Realm of Darkness with only her wits and her Keyblade to back her up. The longer he remained entombed in the inky wastelands, the more he understood. Day and night were merely abstract concepts, the moon never setting nor rising as if the flow of time had stood still. The only indication of the passage of time came from the distant bonging of a clock, affixed to the pinnacle of a faraway castle tower enveloped in thorns. Vanitas felt like he had spent only a couple of days in his new prison, but it could've been months. There was just nothing to compare it to. He was lucky that he didn't need to eat or sleep. The Realm of Darkness wasn't the best place for a power nap.
Vanitas hated to admit it, but he was deathly bored. Even the most potent Heartless, as uncommon as they were now, barely held a candle to his prowess and he could easily slice through them like warm butter. There was only so much laying on that cursed beach and drawing obscene images in the wet sand with his Keyblade that he could endure in one lifetime. A tiny sliver of his half-heart sorely missed the Realm of Light and its inhabitants. He wasn't delusional enough to hold any emotional attachments to the brats responsible for his current situation, but the raven boy hadn't met anyone else that could give him the challenge he so badly craved. His Keyblade-hand was itching for a fight, and the brain-dead Shadows weren't cutting it.
Vanitas started pouring his remaining brain cells into devising an escape plan. It didn't go very well.
He mostly zoned out whenever Xehanort went on one of his maniacal rants, but some words must've sunk into his brain at some point. Vanitas could recall a passing remark thrown carelessly into a conversation regarding the 'Door to Light'. Unfortunately for him, it was framed between a rant about the true nature of hearts and a lecture about the POWER OF DARKNESS™, so most of the information had gone in one ear and out the other. Vanitas wasn't even sure if Xehanort had described a physical door or a metaphorical door. He wasn't sure if Xehanort even knew himself. The old man claimed that it was the sole passage for those seeking to escape from the darkness and flee into the light. The alternative was for Vanitas to sit on the beach and twiddle his thumbs until the heat death of the universe. It was worth a shot.
Vanitas was shot like a bullet into the ocean on his first arrival to the Realm of Darkness. Perhaps the sea would also hold the key to his escape.
If the ocean was a metaphorical key, then he must hold the physical 'key', right? Vanitas didn't particularly consider himself an intellectual, but those damn Keyblades seemed to unlock literally anything that could be regarded as a 'lock', even in the most abstract sense. He was pretty sure that Sora used his to play minigames with those illustrated woodland animals. How he hadn't broken the weapon or had it desert him aeons ago was beyond him. The Void Gear was better suited for breaking locks by bashing them to pieces with brute force, but Vanitas' definition of 'unlocking' was vague enough for it to work.
Summoning the Void Gear into his right hand scattered a flurry of sparks across the charcoal sand, leaving flecks of glass behind from the surge of intense heat. The weight of the weapon was a comforting reminder that he was not as powerless as he seemed, that he still possessed some of the strength that had once made him so feared. Vanitas had used enough Corridors of Darkness to have an idea of how this worked – if he concentrated on his memories of the place he wished to travel to, his Keyblade would open a path. Even for the half-heart that pulsed within his chest, the chain of memories held as steadfast as ever. The black-haired boy didn't know if the Door to Light was connected to a specific place, or if it even existed at all, but the last ground that his feet had touched was the scorched badlands of the Keyblade Graveyard. It would have to do.
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Vanitas forced himself to dig up those stale memories from the locked vault of his mind. How Terra-Xehanort spat complaints about being partnered with him, seeing the black-haired Keyblade wielder as nothing more than a failed Replica not worth his time. How Aqua looked at him with such venomous malice that was so alien on her soft features, and how Ven looked at him with an ocean of pity that turned his stomach. How his strength hadn't been enough, how it was never enough.
With the memories now painfully hanging at the forefront of his mind, Vanitas raised the Void Gear and thrust the teeth of the Keyblade towards the horizon across the rippling black ocean. Yellow eyes squeezed shut and knuckles white with effort, he opened his heart and called out into the darkness.
…
Nothing happened.
"GODDAMNIT!" Vanitas bellowed and stabbed the Void Gear into the sand. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"
Only his own gravelly voice reverberated back. The sound merged with the countless echoes until an entire chorus of clones sniggered across the quiet beach. Vanitas clung to the embedded hilt of the Void Gear, his forehead resting against the pommel in resignation. He panted in frustration as a single tear threatened to roll out of the corner of his right eye. The cacophony of voices gradually faded until only the roaring of the ocean waves could be heard. He wanted to snap his Keyblade in half.
Vanitas was a powerful being of darkness, not some crybaby Guardian of Light. He should've known better than to think the Door to Light would respond to the pleading of someone with no light in their heart. His light was living his best life, probably sipping cocktails on the warm sands of Destiny Islands surrounded by friends who loved and cared for him. Vanitas didn't have anyone like that in his life, and the light that continued to burn within Ventus' heart would keep him alive until it eventually snuffed itself out.
Nobody would come for him. He was where he belonged.
Sora had no idea how long he'd spent floating in the endless sea of darkness, but it must've been an eternity.
He couldn't put a finger on the moment he had woken up surrounded by nothing but numb inky black, as if he had existed in that state since the beginning of time. Part of his mind was sure there was something before all of this, but the longer he remained incorporeal, the larger the holes in his heart became until they threatened to swallow his entire identity in one gulp. Sora was nothing more than a heart without a body floating wherever the undulating darkness sought to take him. Something about that seemed awfully familiar; the sensation of losing a heart to darkness and leaving his body behind as a husk. The memory was so faded that it slipped through his fingers like smoke.
Sora was just so damn tired. The void was like the vacuum of space, sucking away at any flicker of life until entropy took over and extinguished it forever. It took all of Sora's willpower to hold onto his light, the only remnant of who he was before he was lost to the abyss. He knew that his heart was strong. He didn't know how he knew that, but he felt as if those words had been drummed into his head a thousand times over. His light was strong. There were people who had depended on it before, and there were people that still did. Sora swore that he heard voices in the dark calling out to him, two male and one female, growing increasingly desperate and increasingly muffled as the darkness that encased him became more impenetrable by the day.
Someone once told him that the worlds were connected, all under the same sky. Sora had no face to connect with the message, but something about it rung true.
Every time those voices reached his heart, a little bit of his identity came back as if he was developing photos in a dark room. Three figures sitting on a tree with a crooked trunk, laughing and smiling while star-shaped fruits looked down like angels on high. A boy with silver hair, whose light was strong enough to pull three Keyblade wielders from across the galaxy, yet whose darkness gained the upper hand and devoured everything in its path. A girl with red hair, who was at the centre of a tragedy that spanned the breadth of the universe. Two boys with blond hair, both identical yet nothing alike, and a girl with black hair who only had a face when Sora didn't think about her. There were so many others, so many hearts connected to his own with tiny red strings. Sometimes the thread that bound them together became so thin that it was almost invisible, but it was there nonetheless.
If even a single person was waiting for him to return, then Sora would cling to that hope. It gave him the strength to continue onwards in a world of emptiness.
Sora remembered something about a 'Reaper's Game', but just the thought of that name made the gaping void in his chest expand like a black hole. He could remember the image of a boy with mismatched eyes, who looked eerily similar to another grey-haired friend that he knew, but attempting to dive further into that memory just pulled up a blank. The brunette's thoughts were beginning to slot into place to form a cohesive picture, yet his memories of this so-called 'Reaper's Game' had no puzzle pieces that matched. The edges had become warped and bent so they would never fit into the puzzle again. Sora couldn't help but feel that this was done intentionally, by someone who had deliberated interfered with his ability to recall. Someone was trying to hide that chapter of his life from him.
Sora wondered if Naminé would know anything about that; she always seemed to have one foot stuck in his memories.
Eventually, Sora mustered up the strength to open his eyes. It took every ounce of willpower in his body to resist the urge to slip back into sleep, to let his heart follow the river bend to wherever fate decided to take it. Sora had never been one to follow the path that destiny laid out for him. If he was told to do one thing, he would go out of his way to do the exact opposite. The brunette gently peeled his eyes open, wincing as his pupils struggled to adjust after an eternity of blindness. The exquisite stained-glass windows and towering pillars of blue were a sight for sore eyes, literally and figuratively.
Sora had been here many times before – the Station of Awakening straddled the line between life and death, a manifestation of his own heart that appeared to him in his dreams. It kept asking him to choose between a sword, a staff, and a shield. Sora still wasn't sure why he couldn't just take all three – just strap the shield to his right arm and carry the other two in each hand. He had figured out how to wield two Keyblades at once, but it would be rad if he could use three!
It had been such a long time since his boots last tapped against the reinforced stained glass, but still... this wasn't how Sora remembered his Station. The mosaic beneath his feet that showed his own visage wrapped in peaceful sleep, surrounded by the friends he held closest to his heart, was shattered to the point that the brunette barely recognised his own face. Everything from the waist down was missing as if something had dragged its claws through the glass and cleaved chunks away en masse. The few coloured panes that remained were discoloured and dull, their alignments displaced so that they no longer formed a cohesive picture. Sora could make out three individual points of impact from which the cracks originated as if three meteors had struck the Station of Awakening and pulverised the pillars, ready to break off and tumble into the abyss at the slightest movement.
Sora had seen this before. This was how Ventus' Station of Awakening appeared to him, the first time the two had connected their hearts. In his case, the missing pieces of his mosaic had been torn away to form Vanitas.
So what had happened to the fragments of Sora's heart that his Station was on the brink of vanishing forever?
The Keyblade wielder squinted his sapphire eyes, peering into the impenetrable veil of darkness that surrounded the lone pillar. Where were all the lavish doors and endless staircases that bridged the gaps between the facets of his personality? Sora's heart had enough space to support not only his own life but also that of three others without stretching itself too thin, not to mention the piles and piles of data that Ansem the Wise kept dumping inside of it for safekeeping. There was no way this single pillar jutting out of the abyss was all that the brunette had left of himself... right? If he focused hard enough, he could make out minuscule flecks of dim light, other hearts just like him caught in the underflow and carried to their final resting place.
Kingdom Hearts. They were all going towards Kingdom Hearts.
Most lost souls would be overjoyed at the prospect of joining their brethren within the endless light that radiated from the heart of all hearts, but Sora was laden with dread. No one knew for sure what lay beyond the event horizon, but no heart had ever returned from the celestial moon. Except for that time when Xemnas cleaved a hole straight through its centre, allowing the avalanche of hearts to spill from its core and coalesce into mindless Heartless. The closer that Sora drew to those pale, icy moonbeams, the more his own light was eclipsed and out-shone, and the more distant those voices became.
Sora had spent such a long time putting himself back together; for it all to have amounted to nothing was a prospect that he refused to accept. There were so many hearts calling out for him, begging him to just hang on a little longer, that he would not allow the darkness to consume him.
Sora didn't know if he still remembered how to use his lungs, but he had to try. He inhaled as much of the dense air as he could until it felt like his chest would burst, pushing his lungs to the limit. With a volume that could've deafened the loudest Heartless, Sora wailed into the darkness as hard as his vocal cords would allow. The hoarse scratching sensation in his throat betrayed the disuse of his voice, but the pain was just a reminder that he was real. That his heart was not yet trapped under innumerable layers of sleep. The void was so viscous like syrup that the sound barely travelled, absorbed by the darkness around him as if he was in a sound-proof chamber.
Sora felt his heart drop into his stomach until a small burst of light radiated out in front of him, responding to his cries. It was so faint that his weary eyes almost overlooked it, but it was there. A tiny spark, dimmer and paler than any other stars that floated past, and barely standing out against the endless sea of obsidian, but it was there. Someone had responded to his call for help. If Sora hadn't spent such a long time staring at nothing but oily black, then he might not have even noticed the small burst of light. Feeling his blood rushing through his head with adrenaline, the brunette called out to the light again.
"Hey, can you hear me?" he yelled hoarsely. "I'm here! You've found me!"
Sora instinctively reached out a hand to touch the flame; perhaps it was the Door to Light ready to usher him back to the land of the living, or it was the soul of a friend that heard his cries in their dreams. No matter how hard he strained his shoulder, the light never seemed to draw any closer, as if it was somehow resisting his presence. It was as if the response was involuntary, like the source of the light was struggling against the urge to join their hearts and lend Sora their strength. Sora didn't have the freedom to question the motive: he was so close to fading away that he had to grasp for any straws he could. He wasn't sure that he had enough strength left in him to wait for another chance.
As Sora's faith began to waiver, depleted as the faint speck of light fought his cries with everything it had, his ears rang with a chorus of countless hearts. That tiny, uncooperative flame wasn't the only one that had heard Sora's prayers. The sea of stars that floated aimlessly in the river of darkness suddenly increased in luminosity, as if they were combining their own power with that of the struggling light until Sora could barely stand to keep his eyes open. His head was filled with a thousand voices, pleading with him to stay strong and to keep pushing forward. Sora didn't recognise their identities, but he knew in his heart that they were right. He was a Defender of Light, the hero chosen by the Keyblade. Sora always swore that his friends were his power, and the hurricane of stars were of the same mindset. That tiny little light didn't have the strength to support the brunette's injured heart, but when combined with the light of an uncountable number of allies, there was nothing that could stand in their way.
Sora wondered if this was how Ventus felt when he plucked the blond Keyblade wielder from the grasp of darkness. The light that was once miles upon miles away was now so close that Sora could barely make each heart out from the next. Perhaps he was dying, but this felt nothing like the first time he passed away in the Keyblade Graveyard. If he closed his eyes, he could hear the voices of all his friends shouting at him to prevail, until it drowned out his own thoughts. Sora couldn't stop smiling. He was coming home.
As Sora allowed the light to sweep him away into the abyss, a single pathway appeared behind him. A rope bridge barely clinging to the rugged edge of his stained-glass image, trailing off into the abyss. His fading heart was now connected to another that remained shrouded deep within the darkness. One that desperately needed Sora's strength to continue fighting, just as much as Sora needed theirs.
It would be OK; he had done this for many others before. Now, it was his turn to be saved.
Let's open the door. Together.
If Vanitas had spent any more time pacing, he would've worn a trench into the sand.
He still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to him, which was becoming a disturbing trend, but the aching in his chest refused to subside. His organs were suddenly taking up too much room, his skin threatening to split open as if something was pushing out from the inside. The only sounds for miles around were the gentle breaking of waves against the blackened beach, and the words of spite muttered under Vanitas' breath. He angrily kicked a rock that was half-buried in the sand, sending it tumbling into the sea with a loud SPLASH. A few Heartless had scampered over the sand dunes to investigate the commotion, salivating at the thought of a lost soul to devour. Whether it was because of the furious raven-haired Keyblade wielder, or the Keyblade itself that was still embedded in the sand, none dared to brave the cloud of wrath that hung overhead.
"Stupid Guardians of Light… more trouble than they're worth… always getting in my way..."
The throbbing ache in Vanitas' chest only continued to grow as he became more and more agitated, centred at the intersection of the red lines that crisscrossed his leather bodysuit. He dug his fingers into the spot above his heart as if trying to gouge the organ out of his body. Vanitas could feel the arrhythmic pulsing beneath his palm as two heartbeats pounded away side by side. He grumbled to himself and turned around, completing another lap of his pacing.
Vanitas had tried and failed to summon the Door to Light and spent a few minutes reflecting on his situation and definitely not moping or feeling sorry for himself when he first heard the voice. It was feeble and muffled as if some was calling from over the sand dunes and within the Forest of Thorns. At first, Vanitas was sure the Guardians of Light had found him, ready to finally put him out of his misery, but it wasn't the sound of an approaching ambush. The voice was calling out for help. Someone was trying to get Vanitas' attention, and they were really insistent about it.
Vanitas had huffed and thrown himself onto the sand, stubbornly crossing his arms and refusing to answer. The last time someone called out for his heart, Xehanort roped him into yet another of his crazy schemes. As desperate as Vanitas was to escape the miserable wasteland, he wasn't desperate enough to become someone's flunky again. He could do it on his own; he just needed to figure out the whole 'light' shtick, and he would be on his way.
But the yelling hadn't stopped. Vanitas couldn't make out any words as if it was the rambling of someone on the brink of death. The voice wasn't trying to deliver a message, it just wanted his attention. There was a moment where it seemed to pause for breath before continuing even louder and more obnoxiously than before. The voice went from a murmur to a whisper, a hum to a wail, until the shrieking was so loud that it masked the crashing waves. Vanitas instinctively clenched both hands over his ears to block out the noise, but it echoed around his head and in his heart until even his own thoughts were drowned out. The voice was accompanied by a burst of light that was so intense that Vanitas could feel the hairs on his arms singing from the heat. The sun had consumed him, and it was roasting him alive.
Vanitas would've given anything to stop the pain. Apparently, that was all the consent that the voice required. The pain had vanished in the blink of an eye, and he suddenly had a 'stowaway'.
You were the closest that answered.
"Now I gotta clean up everyone's mess... just 'cause Xehanort can't do his job properly... this is such bullshit..."
Vanitas ceased his repetitive pacing and flopped down onto the sand, sinking into a small indent that parted under his weight. He let out an exasperated groan and rested his pounding head in his hands. His metal chin piece was icy cold, reflecting the pearlescent light of Kingdom Hearts that continued to taunt him from above. The Realm of Darkness was such an incredibly hostile place, but now it seemed that the greatest threat was coming from inside his own head. Vanitas wasn't asking for much, just a little peace and quiet. For someone who wanted to die so badly, he was very good at staying alive.
Vanitas didn't know the full extent of what had happened to him, but it seemed that Sora was not content to allow him to disappear into the aether. That voice that bellowed out across the Realm of Darkness to find him, that wormed its way into his heart until it refused to be moved. It was Sora. Sora's heart was now stuck inside Vanitas. Vanitas wondered if throwing himself into the ocean was still an option.
"What a pain in the ass," Vanitas groaned to himself. In stating that he was willing to do whatever it took to make the screaming stop, he had essentially invited Sora into his heart. Just rolled out the red carpet and let him stroll right on in. The thought had passed through his head so fleetingly that he had no time to consider the consequences. Sora's voice had crossed the lengths of the Ocean Between and found Vanitas sitting on a beach in the middle of nowhere. It was a miracle that the two had crossed paths at all.
No one else came.
Vanitas considered his options, which were admittedly limited with his current imprisonment in the Realm of Darkness. He had been defeated long before Sora faced off against Xehanort, and part of his mind suspected that this was intentional. The old man was just insane enough to purposely ensure that the brunette was triumphant so the two could fight mano-a-mano, his clones thrown at Sora as mere obstacles to weaken but not destroy him. Larxene and Marluxia planned to abandon ship as soon as the going got tough, and Demyx and Vexen betrayed them and provided the means for Roxas to get his own Replica body. It seemed that Vanitas wasn't the only one to have suspicions about Xehanort's ulterior motives. Vanitas himself just fodder for the χ-blade, one of the thirteen pieces of darkness needed to forge the weapon. Xehanort would never allow one of his flunkies to land the final blow on his arch-nemesis.
What was concerning him most was that Vanitas hadn't lived long enough to see the result of their inevitable clash. If Sora was here with him now, then... had Xehanort won?
Vanitas couldn't see Sora, but he could feel the presence that he was exerting on his body. Sora was in such a bad state that Vanitas was shocked the brunette hadn't devolved into a Heartless already. Sora's light was so staggeringly bright that it could support not only his own life but also the hearts of three others alongside it. Four, if Vanitas counted himself. Which he didn't. The soul residing in his chest like an unwanted squatter barely held the light of a newborn, so dull and faint that it was almost unrecognisable. It was a flickering flame at the end of its wick, fighting to stay alight; nothing like the light that blistered his skin when Sora's voice first reached his ears. Hell, it wasn't even comparable to the light that Sora exuded during their final battle in the Keyblade Graveyard. If it hadn't been for the flashes of crystal blue eyes and chocolate brown hair that accompanied the incorporeal voice, Vanitas would've thought he'd just lost his mind. He still hadn't completely ruled that possibility out. The Realm of Darkness was starting to get to him.
Vanitas huffed and pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the hilt of the Void Gear and wrenching it from the sand. The Keyblade vibrated softly in his grip and warmed his palm at the contact. Every aspect of Sora as a whole just pissed him off, but there was one thing in particular that was bothering him - the admission that the brunette had only reached out to Vanitas because the others hadn't responded to his pleas for help. Not because he was the strongest Keyblade wielder out there, able to fight an entire army of Guardians of Light without breaking a sweat! Vanitas' ego was a little bruised, but his sense of concern hit a new low. Sora seemed to collect friends like he was going for a completion achievement, coming from the furthest corner of the galaxy until he had pals in every world. Was there really no one else? None of his Nobody friends? Riku? Kairi?
Out of every person that Sora had ever called 'friend', why was Vanitas the only one to answer his call?
The only person who could rival Xehanort for the number of people sharing his heart was Sora, with pieces of himself inevitably leftover in his Nobody even after he got his own body. And his other Nobody. And whatever the hell Naminé was. And whatever the hell Vanitas was. And the data version of him…
Never mind, one Sora was already one too many.
Vanitas was surprised that anything remained of Sora's heart at all. He was so willing to hand out pieces of it to anyone who asked until there was nothing left. There was Sora, blond Sora, the other blond Sora... The idea of the brunette falling in battle to Xehanort was becoming less likely the more Vanitas considered it. Sora's heart had so many holes that it resembled Swiss cheese; if he had been killed, there was no way his heart would've survived on what little was leftover. The light in his chest was worryingly frail, but it was still burning. Time didn't flow regularly in the Realm of Darkness, so while it was possible that Sora had floated around in the void for years and been none the wiser, it was equally likely that it had only been a couple of minutes.
It's a long story.
Vanitas' beaming yellow eyes were suddenly drawn to something bobbing in the inky black water, a metallic glint reflecting the blue light of Kingdom Hearts. The rolling waves pushed it towards the shore as if the ocean was trying to deliver its payload directly into Vanitas' hands. The black-haired Keyblade wielder was so used to staring at a featureless sea that he had almost forgotten there was anything beyond the horizon. Vanitas allowed the Void Gear to dismiss itself from his slack grip and waded out towards the unknown item, the gentle waves soaking through the seams of his boots and stinging his toes with an icy touch.
The item was not something that Vanitas was familiar with, but at a cursory glance, it seemed to be some kind of technological device. The screen was cracked and warped with water damage, several inches across yet compact enough to fit in his hand. A flashing red light continuously blinked away in the top right corner, indicating that it still had some juice in its battery. The device was encased with something that had a protective rubbery texture, the colours faded as if sun-bleached but with the echoes of bright red and yellow. The rubber casing took the shape of a golden crown, and one of its buttons held an insignia of three circles arranged like a face with large ears.
As Vanitas grazed his finger across the fractured surface, the screen flickered to life at his touch. It displayed a message that announced it was scanning the face of whomever had activated it. Vanitas yelped and almost dropped the device in the water. It could be probing him, searching for any information on his identity, but the item seemed to be happy with what it found. The device unlocked itself to reveal a homepage with multiple applications ready for exploration.
WAIT, THAT'S MY GUMMIPHONE! GIMME!
Sora excitedly flicked through the apps on his phone, ignoring the lines of dead pixels that spread like a spider web across the screen. He had always thought that the crown case was a little tacky, but Ienzo insisted that he keep it attached to the Gummiphone in case he dropped it. Which he had. Several times. Thankfully, it had also protected the internal circuitry from most of the water damage, though the phone had passed the point of sticking it in some rice or turning it off and on again. The chances that the Gummiphone could manage a phone call in its current condition was close to zero, and who knows if the Realm of Darkness got any signal. Sora would have to contact his friends by some other means. The brunette's muscle memory guided him straight to the messaging app, tapping it with his thumb and impatiently waiting for it to load. Even if it proved impossible to reach out using the group chat, then he could at least try and figure out how long he had been gone!
A tear almost squeezed its way down Sora's cheek at the sight of those usernames, his hands clenching the Gummiphone as if his life depended on it. One by one, past messages began to trickle through from the app's archive, painting a portrait of a group of friends that had faced the darkness and fought a war side by side. Kairi, Riku, Roxas… the only ones not part of their collaborative group chat were the few apprentices that remained by Ansem's side, and that was only because Ienzo was the only one who even knew how to use a phone. Sora breathed a heavy sigh of relief as an immense weight lifted from his shoulders. When he sacrificed his heart after abusing the Power of Waking, restoring Kairi's soul at the cost of his own, he thoroughly believed that he would never see his friends again. Just the sight of their usernames popping up one by one was enough to make his hands tremble. Sora still recalled his promise to Naminé, that he would find some way to rescue her from the Final World. He hoped that she would forgive him for failing to follow through and that someone had found her before she became just another Nameless Star.
Strange… no matter how hard Sora tried to scroll the screen, the Gummiphone wasn't loading any new messages. The most recent text was sent only a couple of minutes ago, posted by him when Keyblade Hero 3 landed in Scala Ad Caelum. It was a picture of Sora, Donald, and Goofy in front of a monumental mountain of villas that reached up like a stairway to heaven, topped by a white and gold citadel. He had never received a reply from any of his friends. Scala Ad Caelum technically existed within Xehanort's heart, and Sora doubted that the old man had installed wifi. He struggled to believe that the lack of updates was because he had only been gone for a few minutes. Either the chat had been abandoned, or his phone just couldn't connect to the cloud to feed any new messages through. Sora prayed with every fibre of his being that it was the latter.
Well, he wouldn't know if he didn't try. The blinking red light was a sign that his Gummiphone was running on empty, and he had no way to charge it. Sora needed to make the most of whatever battery life the device had left. He took a moment to compose himself before tapping out a string of messages and hitting send.
aoSora: hello? testin 123 can ny1 hear me?
aoSora: i only have like 20% battry left so if u can c this, now wud b a gd time 2 reply
Vanitas considered himself to be a patient guy. He was very patient during Ventus's ten-year snooze cruise. He was very patient when Xehanort put a little 'nort' inside his heart because twelve Xehanorts just wasn't enough. He was very patient while Sora tried to wrap his thick skull around the repercussion of his actions. Vanitas' patience was very quickly running thin. The feeling of someone shoving him into the back seat of his own body and then driving it around was not one he was willing to deal with.
He and Sora shared a lot more in common than just their faces – they were both equally confused about what was going on – but the two had vastly different ideas about how they were going to unjelly their jam. The raven boy was not about to hand himself over to the Guardians of Light so they could lock him up and interrogate him: they were still his mortal enemies. Something told Vanitas that they would not respond well if he sauntered up to them and dropped the bomb that he was carrying Sora around in his pocket and they should totally just believe him.
...
Huh. The chat remained blank, other than Sora's infantile babbling. No response after all. Maybe there was some truth to the brunette's claims that his prayers had gone unanswered.
Vanitas almost jumped out of his skin as something cold and hard banged against his ankle, catching that one sensitive spot and sending sparks of pain up his shin. He jumped back a couple paces while hissing in discomfort, ready to summon his Keyblade and face whatever dared strike while he was distracted. Whatever the hell a 'Gummiphone' was, it had been nothing but a dead-end, and Vanitas was ready to hurl it out to sea and be done with the damned thing.
The waters weren't done with washing up the contents of Sora's sock drawer, it seemed.
It was extremely rusted and stained a murky bronze from wear and tear, but there was no doubt about it. It was Sora's Keyblade. 'Kingdom Key' or whatever dumb name he gave the thing. A chill ran down Vanitas' spine at the sight of the discarded blade, a feeling that reverberated twofold in his chest as Sora's own heart shared the sentiment. The raven Keyblade wielder bent down and wrapped his right hand around the leather hilt, freeing the blade from the clutches of the water and raising it to eye level. Handling another's Keyblade was the ultimate taboo, and the weapons had a nasty habit of fighting back against those who tried to usurp them from their rightful masters. Vanitas expected the Kingdom Key to reject his touch with a surge of scalding heat, but the blade was content to remain inert. It was pretty banged up: the ethereal silver glow was marred by flecks of rust, the keychain had snapped clean off and was nowhere to be found, and the crown-shaped teeth were bent out of alignment. Despite its tarnished its surface, Vanitas could sense the light secured within the metal, like a star trapped within a gravity field. Just like its master, the Kingdom Key's power refused to be quashed.
There was little relief to be found in such a revelation. The only reason that a Keyblade would ever exist without its master was if its master was dead. The fact that the Kingdom Key had spent who knows how long floating around in the Realm of Darkness did not bode well for Sora.
I don't know if I died... I don't remember. Wouldn't be the first time, though.
Vanitas puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. He had half of Sora's arsenal at his fingertips, yet was no closer to escaping his proverbial jail cell, and his impromptu roommate was NOT part of the plan. He glanced back down at the Gummiphone in his hand, still displaying Sora's messages with no responses loaded, or perhaps even submitted. Vanitas had no experience whatsoever when it came to technology, but even he knew how to type something and press 'send'. He had some choice words for the Guardians of Light.
aoSora: if ur gettn these msgs ven is a lil bitch pass it on
aoSora: gaurdians of lite go home
Vanitas swore that he heard Sora let out a barking laugh right into his ear, but it passed so quickly that he could've just imagined the whole thing. What kind of Seeker of Darkness would he be if he didn't take every opportunity to poke fun at the light and their oversized door keys? Riku's Keyblade looked like it fitted the worlds biggest Toyota Prius. He was clearly compensating for something. If the Guardians of Light weren't willing or able to reply to the desperate pleading of their missing friend, then perhaps they would reply to some cajoling.
Still, the lack of response weighed heavily on Vanitas' half-heart, and he wasn't sure why. Perhaps Sora was just getting to him, and his emotions were leaking through the thin barrier between their hearts, or maybe he had just gone soft. The moment the brunette remarked that he had screamed into the void and Vanitas of all people was the only one to answer didn't fit with anything he understood about the Guardians of Light. The raven boy fully expected to spend the rest of his days in the dreary prison that was the Realm of Darkness, at least until Ventus decided he'd had enough of his moping and came to finish him off for good. But Sora? He had legions of people willing to follow every step he took, who would throw their lives down at his feet at just the mention of his name.
Were they really so willing to ignore the guy that had given pieces of his own heart for them, and just leave him to die?
Sora's grip on the soft rubber casing grew in strength until he threatened to snap the Gummiphone in two. Vanitas was wrong. He was wrong. There were a million reasons why none of his friends had found him in the darkness, why they weren't answering his messages or cries for salvation. He just had to think of them... Sora clenched his fist over his chest, feeling the unsteady rhythm of two hearts beating in tandem beneath his ribcage. He refused to accept that he had been abandoned, not after all the promised they had made. Those vows weren't void just because Xehanort was gone and the world order had been restored. Maybe his light had become so faint that he had slipped through their fingers... Right?
aoSora: pls guys im so cold i miss u i want 2 cum home pls respond
Vanitas wasn't one for moping about his situation, but Sora was battering him with emotions that were so powerful that he couldn't defend his own heart against them. A wave of sorrow hammered against his fortifications, carrying a fear of abandonment that permeated into every fibre of his being. Vanitas only knew anger; his whole existence was built off a foundation of rage to ensure the creation of more Unversed. His heart didn't know what to do with the feelings that Sora's heart was radiating. Roxas, Xion, Ventus... They must've endured so much hurt while imprisoned within Sora's spirit. It was a fate worse than death.
The watery tear that had been lingering around the edge of his vision finally slipped free and cascaded down his cheek, glittering like diamonds under the icy light of Kingdom Hearts. Vanitas firmly wiped it away with one arm.
"Yeah, that's quite enough of that," Vanitas remarked. His expression morphed into one of deadpan apathy. He was determined to put a stop to Sora's pouting before it caused either of them to have a breakdown. "You can cry like a baby all you want when I've gotten rid of you. You're in my body, and that means you follow my rules. I do not tolerate backseat driving. Capiche?"
Vanitas didn't receive a verbal reply, but he could practically feel Sora taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. The ten-ton weight that sat on his chest like a dumbbell slowly lifted as the tide of sadness ebbed away. Vanitas took that as a sign of agreement. Whenever Sora - or whatever piece of Sora was left – spoke to him, his irritating voice echoed around inside his skull as if it was bouncing off the back of his eyeballs and giving him a headache. Thankfully, the brunette was so weak that it was a struggle to get more than a single sentence out of him. Vanitas was more than happy for it to stay that way. In fact, Sora could always do one better. He could just not speak at all. That would be nice.
Vanitas was loathed to admit it, and he could taste the bile in his throat just thinking about it, but the Guardians of Light were their best bet. Even if Vanitas managed to dig himself out of the hole that the two had found themselves in, there wasn't much waiting for him outside the Realm of Darkness. He didn't exactly have many allies to fall back on. He could pay a visit to Maleficent, who would be more than happy to extract Sora's heart and exact the revenge that had alluded her for so many years. She would probably just kill Vanitas too, purely because senseless murder was one of the hag's favourite pastimes. If not, then Vanitas and Sora would be on their own, and neither had the foggiest clue where to begin. Vanitas could already feel his sanity slowly draining with every second that Sora was superglued to him. He didn't have much to spare.
You have the key.
Vanitas had all but forgotten the Kingdom Key that was still present in his right hand. Keyblades typically rejected anyone attempting to manipulate their power if they were not its sworn master, but the blade pulsed with a warmth that kept a steady pace with his own heartbeat. Perhaps it could sense Sora's heart deep in the pit of darkness that was Vanitas' soul. Maybe it just couldn't tell the two apart. Either way, a Keyblade was a Keyblade. Not only that, but it was a Keyblade of light; a direct opposition to his Void Gear which was born from the same suffocating darkness that Vanitas himself had been regurgitated from.
Vanitas couldn't summon the Door to Light, but maybe Sora could.
Strengthening his grip on the Kingdom Key and cringing as the rust caking the hilt crumbled under his touch, he closed his yellow eyes and raised the blade up towards the sky. The weapon was so lightweight in comparison to the heavier, bulkier Void Gear as if he was holding a cheap plastic sword. Vanitas had hoped he wouldn't need to subject himself to those memories of the Keyblade Graveyard again, but fate didn't have him on its good cards. Recalling how the wind whipped particles of dust into the air, stinging his eyes and scraping his skin, the black-haired Keyblade wielder reached out to the Keyblade Graveyard once more, and this time begged for an answer.
That's not where the Door to Light leads! Here, I've got you covered.
The sudden outburst of light made the insides of Vanitas' closed eyelids glow pink, a rush of energy shooting down his arm and out the tip of the Keyblade as if it was an extension of himself. His jet-black hair stood on end as the air crackled with electricity. A beam of plasma shot from the tip of the Kingdom Key and arced across the sky, sending a flurry of Hook Bats scattering above the trees as the light cleaved through the darkness that engulfed the shoreline. The beam smashed against an invisible wall like a raging bull, forming the shape of a giant Keyhole that twisted and warped as rivulets of shadow tried and failed to reclaim the light.
The light was so overwhelming that it briefly outshone the glow of Kingdom Hearts as if the sun had finally risen over the Realm of Darkness. The few Heartless that had watched Vanitas argue with himself fled over the sand dunes in fear of the sun that never graced the Realm of Darkness. It seemed as if day had finally broken over the Dark Margin, and it filled Vanitas with visions of an island chain suspended in perpetual summer, where palm trees fluttered in the breeze, and the taste of a mysterious star-shaped fruit lingered on his tongue. From somewhere within the heart of the world itself rang the sound of a lock sliding open, sending ripples across the water with a booming CLICK. Vanitas heard it resound across the Dark Margin, but the sound of something unlocking also came from the depths of his own heart.
From the midst of the thickest black fog, the Door to Light opened.
It was as if a giant rectangle had been cut straight from the fabric of reality itself. Its edges were as sharp as a knife, spilling forth golden light that reflected off the ocean surface like the aurora borealis. The passage punctured the boundaries between worlds, bringing them so close together that the opposing forces of light and darkness threatened to tear each other to shreds.
Vanitas didn't know what to say. He hated the light and everything it represented, but standing before the intersection between dark and light, good and evil, left him feeling humbled. He wondered if this was what the gates to heaven were like. The look of abject awe on his face soon gave way to a devious grin. Vanitas had beaten the system. The universe told him that he would always be rejected by the light, yet he had found a loophole. The Guardians of Light could go jump off a bridge for all he was concerned. They were happy to watch him go, but the black-haired Keyblade wielder was back with a vengeance. They thought the storm had passed, but they were merely in the eye of the tornado.
Vanitas broke out into a vicious sneer, his yellow eyes glowing with spite, and snapped a photo of the Door to Light using the Gummiphone. He felt as if a new chapter in his life had begun, one where he got to be the main character. There would be no more sitting on the sidelines, waiting for his chance to be fed to the lions. The Guardians of Light may have abandoned him, and they may have abandoned Sora, but they were about to face the repercussions of their choices. Vanitas chuckled to himself as he posted one last chain of messages to the chat before sending the image of the Door to Light. He wanted the Guardians to be quaking in their boots when he arrived to kick down their door. It was a fitting conclusion that was long overdue.
aoSora: u guys r useles typical lite users
aoSora: well guess wat
aoSora: ill just do it myself
aoSora: c u l8r losers
Vanitas felt the disgruntled grumbling in his chest but shoved Sora's voice to the side. He immediately broke out into a sprint, the flowing ocean forming a solid path that carried him directly towards the Door to Light. He could feel a thousand hands pulling him closer, tugging him towards his freedom before he could look back.
They thought they had seen the last of him. They were so very, very wrong.
Riku knew it was unfair to resent his friends for losing faith in Sora. There were still days where he wasn't able to stop himself.
The moment they lost Sora was ingrained into Riku's mind like a radiation burn. He saw it every time he blinked, every time he slipped into sleep. It sucked any semblance of happiness from his soul whenever that memory reared its ugly head; Riku couldn't even think about his homeworld without reliving that moment. The team were relaxing on the tranquil shores of Destiny Island, the first time that everyone had come together. Their friendship group had grown massively, but Riku wasn't upset about it. It had been such a long time since he could relax without the threat of the Heartless looming over his shoulder, telling him that he was slacking on his training and putting everyone at risk with his inaction. Even though Xehanort was gone, Riku couldn't stop sleeping with one eye open. He had forgotten how to be calm.
Ventus, Saïx, and Lea tossed a frisbee across the sun-scorched beach, competing to see who could throw it the hardest without taking someone's eye out. Ven was losing. Saïx and Lea were far too competitive, and the blond's disposition was far too gentle. Xion and Naminé scoured the shallows, hunting for Thalassa shells that could be painted and knotted together to create Wayfinders for their new friends. Hayner, Pence, and Olette added wet sand to a giant lucky emblem sand sculpture because apparently the World Order just didn't matter anymore. Riku had feared that they would never recapture the memories of their childhood and that Destiny Islands would always remain a monument to their pain. For the first time in forever, he felt as if things might turn out OK.
He turned his head to look at the sunset, its golden glow casting the islands in its mellow light. He saw Kairi and Sora sitting on the crooked trunk of the Paopu tree together, their silhouettes framed by the waning sunlight.
Then he blinked, and Kairi was alone.
Riku knew what Sora would be saying if he was around to say it. He would cross both hands behind his head and put his weight on one foot, beaming from ear to ear as if nothing in the world could dampen his spirit. Sora would tell him that everything had gone to plan, that he knew the risks of his decision and had chosen to bear the burden. That it was his choice and no one else's, so there was only himself to blame. Kairi had beaten the odds and broken free of the cycle of death, and Sora had taken her place. Rather than follow the path that fate had set out for him, Sora had become a master of his own destiny.
That part of Riku's heart grew quieter every day, just as the house that once rung with laughter now echoed with chilling silence.
He was Sora's Dream Eater. It was his job to protect his friend, to make sure that he never fell prey to his nightmares. And he had failed. Riku looked his best friend in the eye and saw the conviction that lay within, how the anger towards Xehanort's evil deeds was now redirected to his determination to save Kairi. Sora would never stay, not while he felt that his mission was unfinished. Riku could drag the stubborn brunette back to Destiny Islands himself, and he would just slip away as soon as his back was turned. Opposing Sora was like trying to stop the changing seasons, and Riku couldn't bring himself to stand in his way. Besides, even with the most impossible odds working against him, Sora always managed to find his way home.
Until the one time that he didn't.
Kairi could describe the moments leading up to her death in excruciating detail; how Xehanort kidnapped her to force Sora's hand, the feeling of No Name slicing through her back like warm butter, the nothingness that swept her into the embrace of death. It was hard to listen to. Everything after the moment that Kairi's heart had stopped beating was a blur, but she remembered snippets that cast a light on Sora's disappearance. How on earth the brunette had managed to track down her heart from the valley of death was beyond her, but she recalled a warm light that filled her entire being as if the sun itself had descended upon her soul. The two battled Xehanort for the final time, releasing Kairi's heart from his clutches and allowing Sora, Donald, and Goofy to close the portal in the old man's soul for good. Then she was on the island with Sora by her side, watching the sun slip below the horizon. He whispered something in her ear, words that made her heart stop beating and the world stop spinning. Then it was just her.
There wasn't a single person present that day that hadn't dropped everything to drag their missing friend home by his spiky brown hair. Riku had always acted alone, either working thanklessly from behind the scenes or disguised behind someone else's face, and he had prepared himself for more of the same. Having a small army of very motivated and very angry Keyblade wielders was a little weird, but he was immensely grateful for their support. Riku had to keep reminding himself that his days of slinking around in the darkness were over, that he finally had people to rely on that didn't judge him for the path he chose to follow. He just wished it was under better circumstances.
The problem was that they didn't even know where to begin. Riku's mind immediately turned to Ventus. The situation that Kairi described through her intermittent tears was awfully similar to his own: Sora had opened his heart and bonded with the blond's shattered soul to save him from the vicious claws of death. Sora had really made a habit out of that. It raised the possibility that the brunette's heart had taken sanctuary within Kairi, mirroring the weeks that Sora safeguarded the Princess of Heart from the impending threat of darkness. The remaining apprentices of Ansem the Wise, who had announced that he was no longer the rightful holder of his work and formally passed it to his students, spared no quarter when it came to examining Kairi's soul.
It didn't take long to determine that there was no trace of Sora's manic energy within her heart. Riku should've known that would've been too easy. Sora wasn't the type to take the easy road.
That left one other option, one that Riku dreaded to consider because of the implications it wrought. Sora was somewhere within the Realm of Darkness.
Well, technically it wasn't the only other option. Sora's heart could be swimming around in the endless light within Kingdom Hearts. He could've been grounded into a fine dust and scattered to the wind so he could never be put back together. Riku refused to acknowledge any possibility that Sora's heart could never be recovered. He would have to be in the Realm of Darkness.
Some days it felt like Keyblades were being handed out to everyone and their mothers, but Riku couldn't deny that there was a particular advantage to having nine Keyblade wielders ready to turn the Realm of Darkness upside down. Even Mickey managed to tear himself away from his royal duties to join the search party, something that was becoming increasingly uncommon as the days passed. Donald and Goofy would've actually killed him if they were denied on the basis that they couldn't wield Keyblades, but they were basically honorary Guardians of Light at that point anyway. It was easy to underestimate the impact that Sora left on those who crossed his path, and his absence weighed heavily on their hearts.
Every day that passed without any sign of that messy mop of chocolate spikes or those piercing sapphire eyes was a day where the sun might as well have not risen.
The King was the first to call it quits. Riku couldn't find it in himself to blame the mouse – Disney Castle had never properly recovered after the wicked thorns had infested the basement that housed the Cornerstone of Light. Mickey had no choice but to leave his subjects to their own devices while he was away assisting in the war against the Seekers of Darkness. He was very good at hiding his emotions – he was a politician, after all – but there was no hiding the pain and disappointment that the King felt towards himself. Queen Minnie had done a stellar job upholding the peace in her husband's absence, but a King was only as strong as his Kingdom. Mickey's people needed him.
Donald and Goofy had to-and-froed about going back with their King. Riku suspected that they had never forgiven themselves for abandoning Sora in Hollow Bastion, choosing to follow the Key rather than their hearts. Riku still wasn't sure if he had made the right decision by convincing them to retreat. The eight remaining Keyblade wielders were more than enough to haul a single lazy brunette back home. The King's floor-to-ceiling bookshelves must have some information that could help, and they were a mere blink of an eye away by Gummiship. Riku got the distinct impression that they suspected he was shooing them away because they didn't have their own Keyblades, but they relented nonetheless. The silver-haired boy was making an active effort to force himself to abide solely by logic and reason, which might have resulted in him coming across a little callous. He was just so afraid that if he allowed his emotions to slip through, he would never be able to put them back in the tiny box that he kept hidden out of sight.
Riku didn't know who was the next to lose hope, but their numbers trickled down one by one.
It was Kairi who finally pulled Riku to one side and demanded that he take a break. There was only him scouring the Realm of Darkness, using his existing exposure to the deadly nature of the shadows as an excuse to continue on his own. Aqua had reasoned that searching beneath every rock and behind every tree was a fruitless endeavour, like trying to count every grain of sand in the Dark Margin. They were best to gather more information and narrow down their search before they ran themselves rugged. Roxas and Xion were already pushing their Replica bodies to the limit, and Naminé needed to give her memory-altering powers a break before she had an aneurysm. Riku hadn't permitted himself to rest once since he set off for the Realm of Darkness, and Kairi could see the tiredness in his muscles and the bags under his eyes.
The truth was painful, more than the claws of the Heartless or the starving shadows. Riku hated to admit it, but Kairi was right. Between the gang back at Disney Castle and the gang at Hollo- ahem, Radiant Garden, there were still people working to fix the disastrous situation they were stuck in. They weren't giving up, just making a tactical retreat. Riku had promised Kairi that he would never try to solve a problem on his own again, not when he was surrounded by droves of people ready to help him carry the burden. It was no longer necessary to bear the weight of the world solely on his shoulders.
Just... what was the point of going home as a pair? Were they truly ready to sweep the third piece of their puzzle under the rug?
It was a little weird coming back to Destiny Islands after all these years. Riku's heart had been irreparably changed by the corrosive impression of darkness, but the islands were untouched by time. The palm trees never lost their leaves and the wooden beach huts hadn't aged a day, a snapshot of a better time that was now out of reach. Granted, Riku's memories were tainted by a vision of the islands enveloped in a hurricane of darkness born of his own creation, so he wasn't the most reliable source. Riku could tell that his friends were going out of their way to make sure that he and Kairi were as comfortable as possible, but his heart still yearned for the exhilaration of adventure. It was like a childhood sweater that he had grown out of, that no longer fit his body but that he was reluctant to let go. So much of Riku's heart was buried under the crystal-white sandy beaches and the rickety wooden treehouses. He refused to allow the darkness to strip away the last fond memories of home.
Riku and Wakka were in the middle of an intense pull-up competition when the call came.
Tidus had very sensibly opted to sit this one out, content to watch the two duelling boys exhaust themselves while he lounged on the sand with their belongings. The tree branch groaned under their combined weight as two repeatedly clenched their biceps and lifted their heads above the bark. The sun was way too high in the sky for such strenuous exercise, but the only thing stronger than Riku's muscles was his stubbornness. Neither were even counting at that point, so focused on trying to outdo the other that the game was just a matter of who tapped out first. Wakka let out a strained grunt as his arms screamed at him to stop, but his pride was on the line. Riku had been gone for several years, and he wanted to show him that he could still keep up.
"Hey, knock it off!" Riku shouted as Wakka kicked the back of his left knee, trying to distract him so he would lose his grip. "That's cheating!"
"It's not cheating if it helps me win!" Wakka guffawed back, dodging his legs out the way as Riku kicked back. "This is just a 'strategic advantage', man."
"Oi, Riku!" Tidus yelled, struggling to be heard over the lighthearted bickering as Riku and Wakka stopped their pull-ups and starting trying to knock each other out of the tree instead. "Your phone's ringing! It's Kairi, she'll kill you if you don't answer!"
Riku groaned and rolled his eyes. He loathed to back down with his tail between his legs, but the threat of the redhead's wrath wasn't worth beating Wakka at anything. Panting with exertion, he slackened his grip and dropped ungracefully to the ground, wincing as his knees absorbed the force of the impact against the grass below him. His body was like a tempered sword, honed for the stress of combat. Not for deadlifting. Wakka let out a whoop of celebration and followed suit, punching the air and wiping away the beads of sweat that evaded his blue headband.
"Oh ya, man! That's one for me!"
Riku sternly ignored him and accepted his Gummiphone from Tidus. Kairi's name flashed on the screen along with a photo of her giving a thumbs up in front of Le Grand Bistrot in Twilight Town. It was rare for any of his friends to call each other, preferring to use the instant messaging app. If the socially anxious redhead wanted to speak to him, then it must be something important. Riku tapped the green button and lifted the phone to his ear.
"RIKU! HAVE YOU SEEN IT YET?! I'M FREAKING OUT!"
Kairi belted down the phone so loudly that Tidus and Wakka could hear her voice, and she wasn't even on speakerphone. Riku winced as his eardrum threatened to burst with the excessive volume, opting to hold the device a few inches away from his head.
"Kairi, please stop yelling," he insisted. "What are you talking abo- "
"NO, I WON'T STO- OK, fine. I'm calm. Everything's calm."
Riku could hear Kairi taking several long, deep breaths on the other end of the line. It had been a very long time since he witnessed such an explosive outburst from the sweet-natured redhead. Riku had an unfortunate tendency to assume the worst of any situation, but the panic in Kairi's voice shot an arrow of fear into his heart. Tidus and Wakka wore similar expressions of concern as they listened in over his shoulder.
"Kairi, what's wrong?" Riku probed. "Has something happened?"
"OH MY GOD, YES!" she belted back, her attempts at restraining her anxiety immediately thrown out the window. Riku turned down the volume on his Gummiphone. "Do you not check your texts?! You need to get back to the house right now, it's about Sora!"
Riku felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of that name. Sora's face haunted his thoughts, reminding him of the friend he had left behind. Every time he agreed to a Blitzball match with Tidus and Wakka, every time Selphie asked him to go to the mall with her, every time Ventus stocked their minifridge with sea-salt ice cream. Whenever Riku took a moment for himself, he thought about Sora sitting all alone in the darkness while his friends continued their lives without him. Riku swallowed deeply, his mouth as dry as the Agrabah desert.
"Alright, I'll be back straight away."
He hung up without saying goodbye, something that initially annoyed his new friends but was just part of his abrupt personality. Riku always forgot to turn his Gummiphone off 'silent' in the morning, so it wasn't a surprise that he had missed some texts. He opened the messenger app to a stream of texts that poured in one after another, his phone barely able to keep up with the conversation before someone else butted in. Riku raised an eyebrow in suspicion. The group chat was lively, but he had never seen his friends scramble like this before. Just what had he missed?
number_imaginary: EVERYTHINGS HAPPENING SO MUCH ALL AT ONCE
notanobody: i knew i wasnt imagining it! hes still out there somewhere!
Luna_Diviner: We need to remain calm and think carefully about what our next actions are.
Master_Aqua: Isa is right guys. We still have no clue where he might be texting us from.
10_year_nap: hecc u aqua im not w8ing ny longer ヽ(ｏ`皿′ｏ)ﾉ
Master_Aqua: Language, Ven.
10_year_nap: sry
With every second that passed, another message popped up until Riku's screen was overwhelmed with words. Maybe it was a good thing that he had forgotten to un-mute his phone after all. Riku shook his head and scrolled up, ignoring the feverish flow of words. He had promised Kairi that he would return home as soon as possible, but he wanted to discover the source of the madness. Riku felt a twinge of hope in his heart, insisting that he already knew what awaited him. It was a feeling that he hadn't experienced in a long time.
Riku didn't need to scroll far before his eyes zeroed in on the offending message. It was sent from a username that he was more than familiar with, one that had not appeared for months despite how many times he had prayed for a single glimpse of it.
aoSora: hello? testin 123 can ny1 hear me?
"That's Sora's username…" Tidus remarked in disbelief. The ocean breeze seemed to vanish as the world around them came to a halt. Riku felt as if gravity itself was trying to pull him down into the earth, suffocating him with dirt and darkness. From within the depths of his heart, that single spark of hope grew into a flame, and then a bonfire.
Tidus was right. That was Sora's username.
That was Sora's username.
Sora.