The Gathering
Chapter Two: Something So Simple
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Interlude…
"I kept the right ones out and let the wrong ones in.
Had an angel of mercy to see me through all my sins.
There were times in my life when I was goin' insane,
Trying to walk through the pain.
When I lost my grip and I hit the floor,
I thought I could leave but couldn't get out the door.
I was so sick and tired of living a lie.
I was wishin' that I would die.
That one last shot's a permanent vacation,
And how can you fly with broken wings?
Life's a journey not a destination,
And I just can't tell just what tomorrow brings."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Surprisingly enough, once the aftershock of Sora's bizarre appearance and cryptic message in my dream wore off, I managed to pacify my somnolent body with some semblance of sleep. When I did awake, I found the other bed empty, my estranged partner missing.
No worries. More than likely I already knew where he was.
Rising from bed, I began to get dressed, slipping into the clothing that resides beneath my cloak that rarely anyone sees, save my traveling companion. Walking over to the window, I noticed the shutters were already drawn back, the sun rising in the far off distance.
I realized how fond I was of the sunrises in this world. There was something about the colors, the rich palette of reds and oranges, that was uniquely reminiscent of home.
Home, I smirked sullenly, pulling on my gloves. I wonder if I have the right to call it that anymore.
Sitting on the ledge of the windowsill, I leaned backwards out over the town below, the wind whipping up from the streets to slap at my bare arms. Reaching upward, I took a firm hold of the precipice above, giving it a sturdy shake to ensure its stability.
Satisfied that I wouldn't plummet to the ground, with one smooth, quick movement I swung my legs out over the window, dangling from the edge of the roof like an icicle. Bracing my feet against the side of the building, I pushed off with a powerful thrust, the momentum enough to allow me to easily back-flip onto the roof. My boots made a loud clacking against the loose tiling.
I took in the scene before me, my head tilting a little in concentration.
It's a little funny when I think about it. Although Mickey is a King, I've never seen him wear a crown. I've never seen him in lavish clothing, or expensive jewels. I've never been to his kingdom, seen his throne, or anything else that could attest to his royalty. Even Mickey's demeanor seems un-kingly to me. The way he speaks, the way he treats me and those we encounter. No one would ever guess the true power of the King.
Then, I know personally how the label of "King" doesn't really amount to much.
But as I gazed at him solemnly resting atop the rickety rook, his knees drawn up beneath his chin and his silhouette offset against the morning sun, I couldn't help but think he looked… majestic.
I suppose sometimes it's too easy for me to forget who Mickey really is- that he, too, has loved ones he's searching for.
Greedy… I'm so greedy. Maybe I haven't changed that much after all.
I walked over to him, my footsteps clicking along the shingles. Plopping down unceremoniously beside him, I watched as he absent mindedly twirled a pink, silk ribbon across his bare fingers, his gloves discarded beside his feet.
"You must miss her a lot," I said in passing, drawing one knee up to drape my arm.
He smiled despondently at me. "Immensely."
I'd never heard Mickey speak of her, his Queen, but somehow I had always known she was out there. He'd always have that same, familiar look I would when we'd jump worlds and realized we had landed in a brand new land… nothing recognizable.
"What's her name?" I ventured, hypnotized by his ribbon twirling.
"Minnie. Her name is Minnie."
His voice was laced with pride and adoration, the kind of tone that only comes from one who speaks of true love and destiny.
"Does no one where you come from have a normal name?" I poked fun at him.
"This coming from a boy named Riku," he said, turning away from Mother Nature's floorshow to tie the ribbon securely around his wrist.
"Do you think she's looking for you?" I watched as he slipped his dark gloves on over the silky material.
I think I'm jealous. I don't have anything at all to remember Sora or Kairi by.
"No, I think she's waiting for me," he said grimly, pulling his hood up around his face as if to shut out the intimacy of the moment.
"Well, your Majesty," I clasped him on the shoulder, "let's not keep the maiden waiting any longer than we already have." I rose from my sitting position, turning to swing back into our room.
"Careful, Riku, your humanity is showing," he deadpanned.
I shrugged, swiftly jumping over the edge of the building. But before sliding back through the window, I rose just a notch, only the top of my head and my golden eyes visible to Mickey.
"I'm sure it'll be back to normal by the time we're ready to leave." I ducked back into the room, almost losing the sound of his sardonic "Unfortunately" as my feet thudded against the floor.
--------------------
"Can I come in?"
He glanced nonchalantly at the girl standing in the doorway.
"By all means, it's your place," he stated indifferently, turning to stare back up at the ceiling.
She moved swiftly across the room, taking in the stranger's relaxed posture as he stretched out over the palette on the floor. His arms were drawn back behind his head as a makeshift pillow and his legs bent at the knees- one long, lean leg resting atop the other. Despite the fact that the night had come and gone, he was still fully dressed. However, the cloak had been discarded, haphazardly thrown in the corner beside him, a sliver of something shiny peeking out from underneath the crumpled mass.
Somehow she wasn't entirely surprised that the clothing that lied underneath his coat was also black, molding to his body like a second skin. His pants rode dangerously low in comparison to his cropped shirt[1]. Light danced daringly over the leather of his pants, blinking and dispersing like a reflective strobe light as the ceiling fan swirled above. She frowned, noticing he still wore his gloves and boots.
"Don't you sleep?" She paused in mid-step, thinking maybe that her inquiry was a little too personal for her to be asking the strange man.
He tilted his head slightly towards her, the cascading hair in his face sliding over fractionally to reveal the brightness of one eye.
"Sometimes," he said, smiling pleasantly at her.
She smiled back, somewhat more at ease. Although the man was a mystery to her, sweeping into her little bar like a shadow through the night, she couldn't help but feel somewhat… complacent while in his presence. He didn't speak much, nor show too much outward emotion, but there was still something about his aura that alleviated any nervous feelings that a stranger would normally enliven inside of her.
His smile broadened slyly, flashing a grin of straight, white teeth.
"Do I make you nervous?"
She blinked, wondering just what kind of powers the man might have trapped within the sleek, seemingly relaxed body. Telepathy maybe? Or maybe she was just that readable.
"Not really," she murmured quietly, tugging on the end of her pony-tail. "Though I think you really should."
He sat up, his visible abdominal muscles flexing as he angled his body towards her, tucking his legs beneath him to sit Indian-style and resting his elbows comfortably atop his knees. He propped up his chin inside the palm of one hand, tossing his head to the side, giving him a much more devious, childlike exterior. The smile, though no longer baring teeth, remained intact as he idly drummed his fingers against the side of his face.
"Why? Do you think I'm dangerous?"
She shifted her weight to one leg, chewing on her bottom lip. "No." She thought a moment before adding, "not towards me at least."
"Smart girl," he said teasingly, the drumming of his fingers ceasing.
Her chin rose defiantly, staring the man down over the bridge of her nose. "And anyway, I can take care of myself," she said pointedly.
He raised his arms up to placate her before shifting them above his head, back arching as he stretched. His facial expression contorted, and small pops of joints and bones could be heard over the swish of the ceiling fan. A tiny giggle escaped her mouth as she realized he looked like a lazy, jungle panther, his muscles rippling beneath the black clothing like sleek fur.
He smirked at her, seemingly aware of how funny his actions appeared.
"I'm sure you can… what was it again?"
"Tifa," she said extending a hand to help him up, "Tifa Lockheart.[2]
He reached up, clasping the hand firmly and pulling himself to his feet. He held her hand a little longer than necessary, squeezing it slightly in recognition before letting it drop.
She blinked shyly, a little taken aback by the man's friendliness.
"I'm sure any friend of Cloud's knows how to handle themselves just fine," he said conversationally, turning away from her and squatting down to roll up the palette.
Only then did Tifa notice the length of his hair, the long, loose strands cascading down his back. They shifted and slid along the sculpted muscles of his shoulders as he moved, somehow managing to capture the brightest lighting of the dimly lit room and causing a sort of ethereal halo around his crown. His hair was so pale, void of color. Yet… it didn't look the least bit lifeless.[3]
Tifa was broke out of her silent reverie as he rose abruptly, finished with his task. She shook her head a little, rattling back her train of thought.
"How do you know Cloud, anyway? He wasn't quick to explain anything after returning from pulling you and Aeris into the conference room."
The stranger shrugged, reaching into his pocket to pull out a thin strip of leather. He reached back gathering of up his mass of hair, using the material to tie a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. Two side-locks fell on either side of his face, framing his smooth skin and adding to the coverage of his facial features.
"Who said I know him?"
Tifa's eyebrow rose, eyeing him skeptically, "Well you sure seemed to when he came into the bar yesterday afternoon."
The stranger yanked absently on a lock of hair in his line of sight, the action causing Tifa to briefly get a better view of his countenance. She couldn't help but think his eyes looked warm and inviting, much too large and expressional for such a suspicious man.
"We just had business to discuss," he said shrugging off her accusation, "that's all."
Tifa let it rest, though not bothering to hide her expression of disbelief.
"Anyway, how would you like some breakfast?"
"Sounds good," he said nodding, moving around her to move into the other room.
"Speaking of names," she remarked casually as he passed, "I didn't catch yours. What should I call you?"
He paused, looking back over his shoulder to smile somewhat forlornly at her. Giving his name, he said nothing more and continued his trek towards the main room of Tifa's bar, her footsteps trailing behind him.[4]
--------------------
"Boys!"
I looked up from my plate of… well, something trying to imitate the makings of oatmeal. Unfortunately, the poor goop was failing miserably in its endeavor.
The Weapon Shop owner strolled across the room, looming over our tiny table. I could easily tell he had recently stepped out from a morning shower, his scraggly hair still clinging to his broad forehead.
"Glad to see ya kept your part of the deal," he said through a smile, gesturing with a wide sweep of his arms to the pub we were residing in.
Mickey smiled amiably, and I watched sickly as he took in another spoonful of liquid poison. I was waiting patiently for him to kill over right on the spot.
"Unfortunately, I think ya got here a little too early," the chubby man commented, eyeing the "food" set out before us.
It was then I noticed a diminutive, wiry woman standing bashfully behind the shopkeeper. I peeked around his mound of stomach, trying to get a better look.
"Too early?" Mickey echoed, taking a huge gulp of some sort of fruit juice. I suspected his efforts were all in vain. Likely it would take an entire barrel of juice to rid him of the poison's aftertaste.
The man side-stepped, putting a huge hand on the back of the timid woman, pushing her forward to introduce us.
"This here is my wife, Rachel, the real cook. I imagine that concoction," he spat with pungent disgust, pointing towards our breakfast, "was whipped up by the barkeep. Good lad- can make any drink imaginable in the blink of an eye, but doesn't know a pot from the hole in his ass when it comes to the kitchen."
I had a sneaking suspicion he really had used the hole in his ass. "No kidding," I turned over a spoonful of the gelatinous sludge, watching it plop back into my bowl with a nauseating squish.
Mickey kicked my knee underneath the table.
I glared at him, his eyes turned towards the shopkeeper as if he had done nothing wrong. I resisted the urge to growl.
"I can have Rachel whip you up something edible, if you like," he offered, rubbing the back of his thick neck sheepishly.
"I've lost my appetite," I said quietly, pushing my bowl towards the center of the table in revulsion. More like lost it for the next twenty years.
"Actually," Mickey started, sitting down his drained juice glass, "we're kind of in a hurry. Maybe another time."
"Another time then," he agreed, nodding his head. The shopkeeper slapped me soundly on the back, turning with his wife to enter the kitchen. My fingers twitched feebly, calling me to return the smack… only a tad bit harder. Am I irritable today or what?
"Good luck with your traveling, boys!" He called merrily over his shoulder while scooting Rachel towards the stove, anxious to add a few more notches to his already over-sized belt.
I crossed my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow at Mickey's empty bowl.
"I wonder if this junk is corrosive," I mused, waiting for Mickey to spontaneously combust or melt into a bubbling, spewing puddle.
He rolled his eyes, jumping down from his chair and yanking me by my sleeve, "Come along, funny man." I allowed him to drag me along like a scolded child.
"I'm not cleaning you up when you regurgitate that slop."
"Duly noted."
--------------------
"It's a nice day, yah?"
She nodded, not bothering to turn to meet his face.
"Kairi," he began, moving to sit beside her in the sand, "seven years is a long time."
She frowned, turning heated eyes against him. "I know that, Wakka."
He flinched, not used to hearing such a fiery tone from her throat. Kairi sighed.
"I'm sorry, I guess I've just been a little high strung."
Wakka nodded, putting his arm about her shoulders in a comforting manner. "It's just that I noticed you closed off the entrance to the secret place, and I know it's not really my place to say anything, but…"
Kairi leaned into his embrace, resting her head lightly against his chest. "It's ok, go ahead."
"Well, I was just thinking that… you have waited for seven years, what's a little longer going to hurt, yah?" He laughed, somewhat nervously.
"I…" Kairi drew her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down to resist the urge to cry. "I think I made the right decision, Wakka."
He gave her shoulder a light squeeze, rising from the sand. "Ah, it is your life, afterall," he said brushing off the sand from his clothing. Wakka smiled down at her, traces of worry and sorrow outlining his features. "I just worry about you. We all do."
"I know," she admitted quietly, feeling a little guilty.
Wakka reached down, playfully tugging on a lock of her long hair. "I'm here if you need me, yah?"
"Thank you." She turned back to the view of the ocean, listening as Wakka's footsteps faded into the background.
Kairi tilted her head, eyeing the indention in the sand where he had sat beside her. She knew they were all worried about her, not just Wakka, but shouldn't they be happy now? Happy that she was finally trying to move on from the whole incident?
Incident seemed like much too light of word for what had happened. Maybe adventure was more accurate.
She rose from the warm sand, walking towards the surf.
He was right, seven years was a long time. Why had she finally decided to give up hope, she wondered while watching the ebb and flow of water against the sand. She bent down, snatching up a stone and pitching it into the deep blue abyss.
She supposed she was just tired of torturing herself. Sora, nor Riku, were going to return anytime soon- she had to face the facts.
Kairi stared off into the distance, watching the clouds roll against the horizon. She clasped her hands behind her back, leaning into the embrace of the ocean breeze.
It's not as if she had really believed they would just show up one day, magically appearing on the island by some invisible force. But she had hoped, dreamed, that someone or something would send her a sign- a sign that they were ok, still alive. That was all she really needed.
A white streak fell through the afternoon sky in the distance, racing downward like a shooting star.
Kairi gasped.
--------------------
"A puppy?"
I frowned impatiently at him.
"No? Then maybe a cat?"
"Am I really that bad of an artist?"
Mickey shrugged, neither denying nor confirming my question.
The trek across the greenlands was horribly boring, and the view was getting monotonous beyond belief. I had no idea how long it would be before we would reach Midgar, but at that moment I didn't really care what we saw as long as it wasn't… green. The rolling hills stretched for as far as I could see, and the land was treeless, barely even housing a single shrub.
It was this exact monotony and boredom that had resorted me into the… abuse… of my powers.
I used my left hand to point to the glowing animal hovering above my right palm, causing the shape to bounce in place.
"It's a rabbit. Christ." I droned, watching the bunny hop merrily at my whim. At least, I thought it looked like a rabbit. I nodded firmly. A damned good rabbit.
"He looks paraplegic," Mickey commented, his voice straining with the efforts of not laughing at his own joke.
I wiggled the fingers on my free hand, causing the pink, glowing outline of my floppy-eared rabbit to morph, growing into the shape of some demented, mutant bunny. I flicked my wrist, and his radiant form jumped in the way of Mickey's path, blocking him effectively. He raised his huge talons, snarling at Mickey as his fangs dripped with wicked drool.
Mickey rolled his eyes, walking straight through my killer bunny as if it were a summer night's fog. My gleaming artwork fizzled and fainted away. I heard him murmur something along the lines of "parlor tricks" as the rosy light engulfing my palms began to fade.
I shrugged, walking leisurely behind him and chewing on my bottom lip, trying to think of something new to "draw."
"You know," he said to me over his shoulder, having to look up to gaze at my face, "you really shouldn't be doing that. It's not safe."
"You said yourself that this world's border hasn't broken down yet," I said with a feathery tone, distracted by creating the new image that had finally popped into my head. "I can't really summon any Heartless if there aren't any here in the first place."
"It was only speculation that they haven't arrived. And," he added, turning to walk slightly sideways as he watched my new artwork begin to take shape, "you don't want to wear down your strength. What if we run into some of those monsters the old shopkeeper told us about?"
I shrugged one shoulder dismissively. "Yes, mother. My last one, I promise."
Mickey's footsteps faltered as he tried to walk backwards along the terrain to watch me as I worked.
I frowned vaguely as my creation began to materialize, realizing that my memory wasn't quite what it used to be. I was doubting my design's likeness to its original, until I heard Mickey give a tiny gasp of astonishment.
He stopped in place, causing me to halt in step as well. With a wave of my hand, I added the final touches to the construction.
I looked down to Mickey, about to ask him what he thought. However, his look made the words on the tip of my tongue roll away quietly, never to be voiced.
Mickey's eyes were warm, dare I say reminiscent, and the smile that crossed his features was wide and genuine. It was an expression of open honesty, and even traces of recognized appraisal.
"It looks just like him," he said slowly, his voice sounding like the soft spray of the ocean back home.
I grinned, moving my fingers to make Sora's replica run in place, his hips moving with that memorable sway and his face holding that oh-so-familiar brightness as he smiled. The last keyblade I saw him with, the one easiest to recall, the Oathkeeper, was swinging nonchalantly at his side as he ran, his spiky hair ruffling in an invisible wind.
It did look just like him. I'm damned good.
As I watched the young Sora of my past running towards a nonexistent destination, I couldn't help but feel the pull of grief and sorrow upon my heart. I missed my best friend, more than mere words could effectively express.
But… it was more than that. The figure that I held captive in my hand, the one that occasionally graced my sleep in a memory, was a mere shadow. A shadow of a boy that I knew was no more. Sora had been through a lot because of the Heartless, and because of me as well. Somehow I knew, just like Mickey and me, that there was no way he could have came out of the whole ordeal untouched.
Somehow I knew… that the carefree, innocent Sora back on Destiny Island, was nothing more than a memory, a stranger passing in the night. I first began to see signs of it when I ambushed him in Traverse Town. But even after, when things began to spiral downward and I was forced to watch through a non-cooperative body as my own hands, driven by Ansem, fought to relinquish Sora's life, even then I could already see the effects of his journey.
His face was a little sterner, the lines of his smile replaced by the lines of worry and concentration. His body didn't move with the same grace, although still swift and flowing, his relaxed, gliding movements had been replaced by actions that were much more precise and calculated. It was amazing to even think it, but Sora had grown up.
During that short time, he had completely grown up- a man's mind frame and experience trapped within a child's body.
I tilted my head, eyeing the old Sora warily. What would he be like- look like- if I ever found him. If? Had I really said if?
I frowned, clapping my hands together and making Sora completely disappear. Mickey jumped a little at my abruptness.
I couldn't believe that I had said "if."
"Let's keep moving," I said brushing past Mickey. He gave me a curious glance as I passed, wondering my sudden grumpiness had spawned from.
I couldn't help but wonder how many of those worry lines I had seen marring his face in Hallow Bastion had been caused by me.
It was then that my thoughts were interrupted intrusively by a strange sort of roar. Something resembling that of the sick whales I had encountered back home.
I glanced to Mickey out of the corner of my eye, and we both broke out into a run to breach the oncoming hill. Mickey immediately drew his Kingdom Key, and I my Soul Eater[5]- as it had been the only weapon I still had- as we reached the top of the hill. My hands began to glow with a faint pink as I prepared for what await us on the other side. My powers of magic crackled and popped within my tightly gripped hands.
We raced over the land swiftly, my heart beat jumping into my throat in anticipation. As we drew closer and closer, I heard a funny squawk, something resembling that of a bird[6], and another of the low, menacing growls.
We finally reached the top of the hill, and we both skidded to a stop, taking in the scene before us.
"What… are they?" I breathed out, releasing one hand from the hilt of my sword to collect a ball of lightning.
"Monsters," Mickey said equally quiet.
And without another word, we made our descent upon the enemy.
-----------------------------------TBC-----------------------------------
[1] I bet you're wondering what the Dual Wielder looks like underneath that black raincoat we see him wearing in the secret ending trailers. Well, I drew a somewhat crude sketch of my version of him. Of course, as I mentioned, this is my version of him, and there's no real way to know what lies beneath his raincoat in the trailers. I didn't add all the accessories I wanted to, or his keyblades, 'cause this is just a basic character design. You can find the picture at When I get more time, I'll be sure to draw a much better picture and CG color it ^_^
[2] To be perfectly honest, I didn't like Tifa in FF7 at all. I guess it was mostly because I felt as if as soon as Aeris was out of the picture, she made to put the moves on Cloud, and I was a die-hard Aeris fan. *waves her Aeris banner* Something like that. She just wasn't my type of character. However, she's needed in these few chapters to move the story along, and I thought she would interact nicely with the Dual Wielder.
[3] Strange, eh? The Dual has long, white hair. Kinda makes you think. God, I'm so devious, leading all of you around in circles. But it's so much fun. Dance, my pretties, dance!
[4] Aw, and you thought you were going to get to find out his identity, didn't you? Tsk, tsk. Patience is a virtue.
[5] I hope that was the name of the "evil" sword that he was given. It's been so long since I played the game or read any facts on it, that I can't quite remember.
[6] *starts jamming out a familiar "surf tune" on the guitar* Guessss who?
-----------------------------------Author's Note-----------------------------------
If you missed it in the endnotes, go to my profile to see a picture of the Dual Wielder that I sketched out as represented in my story.
I know the first few chapters have been pretty slow, and kind of light and humorous (or at least I attempt humor), but I have to do it that way to build everything up. This fic will turn towards a darker side at many points, but right now I'm still establishing characters and their surroundings. Just bare with me, mmmkay?
