~*~Kingdom Hearts: Mirror Dance~*~
By: Dew
Author's Note: After 'bout six months, I have finally written the fourth chapter! Yay for me! *dodges rotten fruit* I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I know I promised two weeks but…*ducks random sharp objects* But I /do/ have a life outside of this fanfic and I was suffering from an evil writer's block! Also, Maya's explanation on the Keyblade is going to be traveled to the next chapter. =P Why? 'Cuz I felt like putting the explanation in a different way than just "blah blah blah". ^^ "http://www.squaresoft.com/web/games/TOF/" is the official site to Threads of Fate for the people who asked. ^^;;; Sorry for the confusion! It's been a long time since I've written Riku…I hope he's not too OOC…T-T
And to Cooro-sama…
*bows so low her forehead hits the ground* THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR BETA-ING THIS CHAPTER!!!
Disclaimer: I DO NOT CLAIM KINGDOM HEARTS. IT BELONGS TO SQUARE AND DISNEY. ONLY THE STORY PLOT BELONGS TO ME. SUE ME AND YOU WON'T GET ANYTHING EXCEPT A PENNY AND THAT'S IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE LUCKY. THREADS OF FATE DO NOT BELONG TO ME EITHER.
~Chapter Four~
The Heartless were waiting.
They were quite good at it, despite popular beliefs of their impatience. No, that only applied to situations they were sure to come out as the victor. Who made up strategies when their enemies consisted of humans sniveling in fear? All the Heartless had to do was chase the humans down until their legs and lungs gave out, sending them sprawling to the ground. The Heartless took great glee in sucking out the hearts of such humans. Of course, hearts quaking in fear weren't as delicious as the rare pure hearts, but the Heartless were always hungry. They took what they got and pursued for more.
Currently, they were on the look-out for The Pretender's wielder, a human that suffered day and night thanks to them. They wondered…how much torture could this Keyblade Master possibly withstand? A lot, obviously, seeing that despite such pain, the Keyblade Master's heart was strengthening, not weakening. Darkness loomed over it, yes, and perhaps its purity was based on what humans would call obsession, but the Heartless didn't really care. It might not be the type of purity they had been bred to seek and devour, but this "obsession" was as pure as anything got…and hearts like those always tasted so very good…
Their usual whisper session began, darkness hissing to each other, each agreeing that this would be a feast they would always remember. It wasn't everyday the Heartless were able to taste the heart of a Keyblade Master. The Heartless giggled, flexing their tiny, deadly claws, while their antennae twitched in anticipation. Oh, they would enjoy this alright. They had the barest amount of lick when one of their comrades had nearly succeeded, and now, they hungered for more.
It was like a drug, this heart swallowing business. Except this drug kept them alive. If they didn't get enough they would die. Hunger was a painful way to go – even more so than dying by the Keyblade. Hunger was suffering. The Keyblade hacked through their bodies in one smooth slash, barely giving them the time to scream. Not that they actually liked being hacked in two – its touch burned their skin – but it was a much favored death in comparison to their ever-lasting hunger. The Keyblade was merciful. The hunger, the lust, was not. The Heartless played these thoughts over and over, eyes glowing with intensity as they thought about the torture that awaited them if they could not pull of this stunt.
Master did not like failure.
"…fail…" they whispered, shuddering and twitching. "…we…must…not…"
Then, as if on cue, a haunting melody drew their attention upwards, towards a roof of a tall building. Upon it was a figure, who had donned themselves within simplistic human attire, the hood of the coat drawn over their face so that the feature visible was the lips, which had been drawn into a tight line. The Keyblade's song quieted when the figure swept a hand by it, the gloved hand grazing it just barely, as if quieting the singing weapon. But the ghostly touch was enough.
No other heart could possess so much light…not even the princesses…
They knew who this was. Not only the figure himself, but they knew the Keyblade's melody as well. Each of the magical weapons was unique, possessing their own song, hum and something that resembled a personality. Each served their respective masters, waiting until the master was worthy enough for the Keyblade's full power. The said event was quite rare. For one thing, no Keyblade Master was skilled enough to even survive so long. Not to mention the Keyblades, unlike the Heartless, were very picky in choosing their masters. It was that very trait that made this particular Keyblade reject The Pretender's wielder.
"Do you know me?" the newcomer murmured.
"Keyblade!" they screamed back in reply. No longer was their target The Pretender's wielder, but the Oblivion's. "Pure Hearted One!"
The tight line that had marred the lips drew into a small smile. "I guess you do. I'm no Riku but I do hope that you miserable little beasts find my heart just as seductive."
Following that, the Keyblade Master produced one hard push with the help of his legs and leaped off the roof, landing softly in the center of the Heartless ranks. His coat fell behind him like grey wings. He looked up dramatically, the semi-friendly smile never leaving his shadowed features. With agonizing slowness, the Keyblade Master straightened and grasped his weapon, bending down into an offensive position, the weapon glowing with faint light.
"Well," he said, "Shall we get started?"
He swung once, and took out two of the Shadows. With their scream of pain, the battle had been ignited.
The Heartless jumped the Keyblade Master, not giving him a place to run – although quite frankly, running away was the last thing the newcomer had in mind. Even in the midst of battle, the smile never left his face, and stood perfectly still for a moment. He then spun, the blade within his gloved hand screaming loudly. The noise repelled the Heartless back to their companions or the surrounding buildings, yellow eyes burning with excitement, even as their brainless heads throbbed mercilessly with pain.
When the shadows recovered from the effects of the Keyblade's shriek, they found the weapon impaled onto the ground while its master had positioned his hands into a strange shape. The lips were moving quickly, concentrated on something the Heartless could not comprehend.
…but this was an opening. The Heartless jumped at their prey once again, hoping that their greater numbers would overpower the Keyblade Master, as well as the ritual he was performing.
"Simba!" the Keyblade Master yelled, brilliant sapphire glints appearing behind the thick wall of shade that hid his face.
In response to the call, the Heartless were – once again – flung back, but by a different source this time around. Before them stood a proud lion, eyes narrowed and growling lowly. The Keyblade Master retrieved his blade from the ground, pulling it out with ease and nodded at his summoned beast.
Simba let out a roar, and pounced on a large group of the flustered Shadows. Through slashing and biting, the great lion rid some of the darkness, too swift for his victims to strike back before their bodies were obliterated into familiar black smog. He trotted back to his summoner, growling at the darkness, his claws scratching at the sidewalk in a silent warning. Finally, he felt the familiar rush of power, and with one nod from the Keyblade Master, the lion drew back and let out his Proud Roar, the attack annihilating the Heartless that had foolishly circled the duo. Simba let out a satisfied snort, sounding suspiciously like a chuckle.
He straightened when he felt hands stroke his mane, purring like the giant cat he was.
"Thank you."
At the softly spoken words, the lion paused to look towards the Keyblade Master once more before his body disappearing into tiny specks of golden light, then floating high up into the skies, the soul of Simba returning to his original world. His duty was done, he had served his summoner – he would wait until the next time the sapphire-eyed Keyblade Master needed him again.
With the Heartless numbers greatly decreased, the Keyblade Master had little trouble cleaning up after his summoned beast, his weapon leading his hands into a rhythmic attack. The blade destroyed one Heartless after another until the survivors retreated, obviously intending to regroup before attacking again. This had been a great loss for the darkness, and an easy victory for the Keyblade.
The hooded Keyblade Master looked to his right, eyeing a building far off in the distance with another smile – the only difference being the sadness that had been non-existent in the battle just a minute before.
"Don't die, Riku," he whispered, hooking the Keyblade to his belt. "It's way too early for you to die."
---
His eyes snapped wide open, darting from right to left numerously. It took him several seconds to calm his out-of-control battle instincts to sit up properly without squeezing the life out of his limbs with his own muscles, which were…very sore. The recent nightmare was screwing up his senses, mixing in reality with his thoughts in the process. From the bits and pieces of the scattered information he had been fed last night, this was definitely the worst time to have such an internal crisis.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
The words came to his mouth faster than to his mind, Riku mused with amusement, turning his gaze to Maya, who entered the room holding another tray. She handed it to him and the Keyblade Master took it, knowing the stubborn queen wouldn't leave him be until he had drained the bowl of its contents. Riku wasn't particularly hungry (or so his mind thought) although he was pretty sure his body had different ideas.
I'm going to need my energy anyway.
Scrapping of chair legs made him jump slightly and Riku noted, with slight satisfaction, despite his wounded state, his senses had not dulled. Yet he found it easier to slip into his thoughts and stay there, while Maya's words haunted him – "This Keyblade is called the Pretender, Keyblade Master" – which only increased the chances of him drifting. He couldn't afford to do that. There were so many things he could not allow himself to do. Riku shoved the spoon into his mouth, barely tasting the soup before swallowing.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine."
"Give it a little more thought," Maya frowned, obviously not convinced by his too-quick answer. "How do you feel?"
"You want my honest-to-goodness answer?" Riku inquired, raising an eyebrow. He leaned back to the wall. "I feel like crap."
Riku did not have to look up to see the worried expression Maya was probably wearing then. He still felt the dull throb, produced by his heart, pulsing against his rib cages, keeping itself alive while it tried to regain the light it had lost when the Heartless had ruthlessly attacked it. He grunted and pushed a hand to stop the pain – or at least crush it into submission so that his mind could focus on the more serious matters, such as trying to pry the location of the Keyhole out of Maya. His injuries could be taken care of later with Curaga.
Do I have enough energy to cast Curaga? he wondered. With a silent sigh, he concluded, I'll figure that out later.
He also felt the frustration floating from Maya, though he wasn't exactly sure what that frustration was pointed at. But she was still just as easy to read as Mint, except in extreme circumstances where the sisters tended to block all feelings. Such as a burning of a certain kingdom.
Riku clenched the spoon tightly. Was that incident his fault too? Was it one of those crazed actions the Heartless took when they baited him? He wanted to growl, voicing his frustration and anger. However, with Maya in the room, Riku preferred to keep his thoughts strictly inside his head. Maybe, when he got away from the queen, he could hunt down some Heartless and kill them just for the hell of it.
His hand shot out automatically when he felt alien warmth near his forehead. He grasped Maya's wrist securely, preventing her from touching unprotected skin. Riku gave her a glare.
"Don't touch me," he said.
"I apologize," Maya answered, looking ashamed as she sat back down. "I was just trying to check your fever."
"Hn," Riku grunted, pushing the tray away from him. "I don't need or want your sympathy."
The queen opened her mouth, obviously willing to snap back, before Riku held up a hand to cut her off, and she settled down, giving him a confused look afterwards. She said nothing, and merely waited for him to finish whatever he was doing – which was trying to figure out which direction he had heard his name from. Riku frowned, and stood from the bed to get a better look out the window.
Nothing.
He shook his head, muttering something underneath his breath about going insane and reclaimed his seat on the bed (careful not to hit the tray), and drew a knee to his chest, securing it by wrapping an arm around it. Maya was staring out the window as well, obviously trying to figure out what he had been disturbed by. When she frowned, Riku's only deepened, knowing that she too has been eluded by whatever that had called him some time before. Had it been the Heartless?
No. It couldn't be. For one thing, the Heartless only knew of his location when the Keyblade lured them to him, and presently, his Keyblade was no where to be seen, hidden from him by Maya while Riku had taken a nap to escape the head-throbbing fever. Keyblade Master or not, he got sick nonetheless, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised. He hadn't suffered from a natural disease in well over nine months. Then again, he wasn't so careless back then. However, in retrospect, he didn't have a solid clue to Sora's whereabouts either.
He missed his Keyblade.
It had been his only companion through his search, and frankly, he felt empty now that the queen had ruthlessly torn it away from him. He could still hear it humming, calling him like he subconsciously called it – Keyblade and Keyblade Master…they were two of the same being. Or, that's what Riku theorized. It seemed accurate, and it had three years worth of proof. The Heartless had never attacked when the Keyblade – now dubbed The Pretender – and he had been separated, either by sleep or something else.
Like now.
"How long will you keep me here?" he growled.
"As long as I possibly can," Maya answered. "You are not well. It is not wise to fight the Heartless in your condition."
"Even if your world is destroyed while I'm recovering?" Riku snapped, adding a sarcastic edge to the last word.
Not that there's a one hundred percent chance that the world is going to be saved even if I get out…
"It is a risk I am willing to take," she said firmly, getting up to stand in the doorway. "It is my duty."
Riku's lips drew up into a crude smile. "I'm not part of your kingdom. Hell, I'm not even from your world. Why are you going out of your way to prove something that just can't be true?"
"Because you will not."
"What does that mean?" he asked, scowling.
"Why do you always fault yourself?" Maya asked back. "Do you truly believe that the worlds were destroyed because of you? Such selfishness, Keyblade Master. Even after the much explanation of the origin of The Pretender and the other Keyblades, you still believe that it had been your fault that the worlds were destroyed because of you?" She shook her head. "I have never heard of such nonsense."
That snapped something in him.
His green eyes flashed, and from his hand, a ball of bright fire exploded towards Maya, only to miss her by a few inches. She seemed a bit shaken at his violent rage but stood her ground, not even taking a step back. Riku panted, raising a hand to his face to cover his insane smile.
"Nonsense? You call it nonsense?" he murmured, "You're not the one that had to watch people disappear into the darkness, being swallowed by it, and when you think that you're going to die with them and pay for your crimes, you wake up in yet another world, still alive. It's not too long before that world is destroyed too."
He lifted the hand away from his face, blinking when he found it rather sticky and wet.
One look at Maya's face told him all he need to know.
I'm crying. Why?
"I don't know why I'm telling you all this," Riku growled, wiping away the remains of his weakness in a furious rub. "You won't understand anyway."
The Keyblade Master searched the floor near the western wall. He had thrown the other glove in his moment of frustration – this was before his heart-to-heart chat with Maya, even if it had ended up being one-sided – and once he located it, he walked towards it with deliberate slowness, and retrieved the glove from the floor.
He inspected it long and hard, searching for the stain that his ill-timed tear had probably made. When he found no such mark, he nodded in satisfaction and slipped it on, taking a minute or two adjust to its cooler temperature.
"Who blames you?" Maya rasped. "Who blames you for the crimes you did not commit?"
"People that trusted me." There was no point in trying to convince Maya that the destruction of the other worlds had been his fault. She was stubborn, almost as much as he was. This was getting no where – he might as well cave. "People you will never meet," Riku whispered.
Maya opened her mouth, and the silver-haired youth awaited the sharp remark on his self-loathing ways. But the queen surprised him by closing it and remaining silent. There was an odd silence, and slowly, Riku felt his anger being ebbed away by his weariness. He ran a hand through his hair, still looking for the reaction the queen would make against his undoubtedly selfish behavior.
Oh, he knew he was selfish. He knew that when he had discarded Mickey's pleading for him to stay. To wait for Sora and to trust the brunette. Perhaps the king had already left Kingdom Hearts, and had, perhaps, already rejoined his friends and family in his home world.
Three years is a long time.
He had never realized it before. The war with Ansem couldn't have possibly taken more than a couple of months – a year at most. Traveling through different worlds had a strange effect on the way you looked at time. Yet Riku had measured the years by actually counting them. There had been nothing else to do than sulk. Just about anything beat sulking.
"…I will not stop you."
Maya had finally given up, Riku mused, the bitter victory flooding into him. She stepped back from the doorway, her hands hanging limply by her side. "I can not stop you," she sighed. "Your Keyblade is by the backdoor. The Keyhole is located within the temple in the center of my kingdom. You will have little trouble finding it."
Riku nodded.
The queen produced a flask of blue liquid – which Riku promptly scowled at – and pressed it gently into his hands, giving him a pleading look. "I understand it does not taste very good, but it will heal most of your wounds. If you will not stay longer, please, at least take this."
Heaving out a sigh, the Keyblade Master drank the potion, fighting back the reflexive gag as his taste buds rejected the medicine viciously. He forced it down his throat and felt it settle in his stomach, mixing in with the soup he had eaten before. The only good side he saw in this ordeal was the fact that the pain irritating his heart had dulled, which, Riku guessed, was something to be grateful for.
Riku was well by the backdoor when Maya's voice stopped him…again.
"Keyblade Master."
He turned. "What?"
"Will you promise me something?"
His expression darkened. "Depends."
"Fair enough." Maya closed her eyes briefly and said, "Once you have finished your task, please return here. There is something I wish to give you."
Riku frowned, "You put too much faith in me."
---
Running wasn't, in any way, difficult. It was simple – put one foot after another. It was the mimic of walking, only running was a bit more faster and it got unfortunate souls out of tight situations. However, running didn't always work in sticky messes Riku always managed to get himself into. Like now, when the sky decided that now was the best time to bawl its eyes out. Riku felt rain roll down the side of his face, even as the hood of his cloak protected him.
How unlucky. It just had to start raining while was he looking for that temple. This was all too much like those sickly dramatic books of stereotyped heroes he had read about back on Destiny Island.
Why the hell the rain had to start now, he wondered. Did the Gods doubt his ability to lock a Keyhole like he was? Were they shedding their tears for their world while they were still able? Riku snorted at his thoughts and, upon locating a roofed house, he pressed himself closely to the wall, taking a moment to take a breather. This was stupid. He felt like a drowned rat.
Even with the aid of Maya's potion, his heart was still throbbing uncomfortably, almost to the point where he was willing to rip the organ out then tear it into little parts to stop the uncomfortable throbbing.
And the smallest slip of feet made the pain worse.
He had been very much aware when he stumbled or when his pace had slowed to give pounding heart some time to recover, because he really didn't feel like running when he could hardly feel his hands. His heart was having a difficult time pumping blood around his body, and Riku was fairly slender. His heart never had any trouble before. In the end, this could only mean that his heart was still trying to recover.
Trying being the magic word.
He hated potions. They were disgusting to boot and they made him feel like barfing was the most wonderful experience anyone could ever experience. But, what he would give to feel that comforting healing it provided. Thanks to this irking weakness his heart had spawned, Riku had found himself counting on his instincts more than his mind to get him through the streets without running into anything.
Pressing a hand to his chest, Riku snorted. That would be embarrassing.
His instincts were the only things he could count on right now, seeing that his mind drifted and kept complaining about things he would not be able to change – even if he wanted to. The green-eyed youth brushed a bang away from his face in annoyance. How useless.
He shivered as some rain managed to reach the back of his neck, where it was still quite warm and dry, and the unwanted cold accompanying it making his knees go weak and lose balance in the process. With a colorful string of curses, he pushed off the wall and started on his way once more. Time was something he could not afford to waste as it was the one thing this world (and he) could not possibly have.
Riku knew he should be quite thankful. There hadn't been a Heartless attack since the beginning of his run. There wasn't the sea of Heartless he had been expecting. Someone else had been here before he had, and had obviously made short work with the bastards from hell. If he ever met this mystery fighter, Riku swore to God he was going to grovel before them and say 'thank you' over and over until his voice box gave out.
Figuratively speaking, of course.
He didn't know why the hell he was so goddamned angry either. His emotions had been a mystery ever since he had thrown his fit at Maya. No…this started when he had listened to Maya's explanation on the Keyblades and The Pretender. Riku shook his head to clear his mind of the thoughts and in hopes of dislodging some stubborn wetness from his hair…
Only to have the locks soaked all over again in less than a second.
…just…great. I'm wet, I'm tired and I can't find the stupid temple. How unlucky could you possibly get?
He didn't know why he was so irritated. In the worlds before this one, he hadn't cared whether or not he had reached the Keyhole in time. Because he knew, as well as anybody else did (at that point), that whatever he did wasn't going to save the dying world. Riku tried, tried his very best, in fact, to reach the Keyhole before the Heartless devoured this world. But…even when he had stood before the Keyhole, and no matter how hard he concentrated, his Keyblade refused to lock the world. It wasn't too far until the world was sucked into a large black void that usually hung in the middle of the sky.
Catching his breath at last, Riku kept close to the buildings, noting that running around blind wasn't going to help him find the temple. Maya had said the middle of the kingdom, which meant, if he went in one direction…he was going to end up at the temple.
So. Which way? North, south, east or west?
Riku sighed. Getting pissed isn't going to help. Alright. Keyblade, tell me where.
The Pretender vibrated from his hand, jerking him towards an unknown place up ahead, humming comfortingly inside his mind. It was trying to calm him, trying to make him think rationally. Muttering something about killing the bloody entity that made the bloody rain, Riku started off in his quick walking pace, heading in the direction his Keyblade pointed to, hoping that his weapon would not be so cruel as to lie to him about such…important matters.
He didn't know why he was feeling so rushed.
He didn't know why he was feeling so…lost. Riku didn't want to watch the same sequence (of the one that destroyed the world) again. Or at least, he didn't want to witness it happening to this world. There was no real reason to it…it was more like…like…basic human kindness, something people could not explain. Rue, Mint and Maya had all been generous, each providing their own way of comfort to his troubled mind…maybe Riku merely wanted a way to offer something back for their support. What better way than to save their dying world?
Riku had never shouldered something so big as saving the world before. Others had done it for him. This was, quite truthfully, the first time he had decided to do this on his own without another's influence. Bluntly put, he had never tried playing hero before. But the feeling drove him on through this crappy weather, so it couldn't be all that bad.
And a debt was a debt. Not that any of them would remember once they plunged into the depths of darkness…but still…
…I think…I think I want to do this.
He idly wondered where Rue and Mint were…he hadn't meant to ditch them, but it was better like this in the end. He also wondered if the redhead princess found her sister yet…
Riku shrugged to answer his odd questions and continued his path towards the temple, all the while looking out for any kind of danger. As if on cue, the Keyblade shrieked, and the youth whirled to come face-to-face with a group of Heartless. His muscles tensed and mind sharpened, getting him ready for the upcoming battle until he noticed that they weren't exactly moving. Actually, they looked lost.
"Keyblade…Keyblade Master…" they whispered. One of them lifted a tiny clawed hand towards him, yellow eyes dimmed.
Riku frowned.
"Keyblade…Keyblade…"
…what…?
"…run…Keyblade Master…run…listen…"
Riku jumped back when one of them collapsed, exploding into black smog, lifting into the night air, soon to disappear. His eyes widened, and Riku fumbled for his Keyblade when the Heartless took a step closer. When he did, the demons staggered back, eyeing the weapon with weariness.
"Keyblade Master…Pure Hearted One…calls…or…called…here…like us…?"
"It calls…"
"…can not…he can not hear it…"
"We hurt…"
"It hurt…"
"Keyblade…"
"Calls us…"
"…listen…"
"Pure Hearted One…"
"Keyblade …"
"THEY WERE HERE!!" they shrieked. "THEY CALLED, CALLED, AND HURT! WE WERE HURT!!"
Frightened and in a daze, the Keyblade Master did what he could think of in the bizarre moment:
He ran, and ran fast. Away from the dying Heartless, and their fading screams, translated vividly by the Pretender in his hands. What had gotten into those Heartless? They hadn't even made a move to attack him, and they were dying by some unknown cause. Didn't they want to kill him? Didn't they want to devour his heart? Why weren't they challenging the Keyblade's power as they usually did? The Heartless had acted almost human.
Riku stumbled once or twice, and felt his heart jump to his throat, to his stomach and back to his chest, all the while thumping harshly against his rib cages. His breath caught and with one final slip, Riku was sent to the floor, skidding on the wet, pebbled road.
What happened back there?
Followed by:
Why the hell am I so scared?
//Is this the answer you've been looking for?//
At the return of the unforgettable whisper of the voice, Riku glanced up, wiping mud from his face to get a better look. He squinted and stood, breath coming out in broken exhales. This was the temple. Riku walked a little bit closer to the structure, paying close attention to his Keyblade.
It was not responding. The Keyhole was within.
He tossed a glance backwards, wondering if the Heartless had gathered up enough nerves to chase him. When nothing appeared, Riku wobbled into the temple, and relished its dry atmosphere. Even as he was so close to the Keyhole, he couldn't help but think back to the Heartless, trying to figure out why they had been so un-Heartless-like. He shook his head again, but this time, it was to clear it. There was no point in worrying about things that would ultimately help him, he decided, taking more steps into the building, in search of the Keyhole, and noticing that this place was not scorched.
Not like the other houses of East Heaven Kingdom.
What's going on…?
//Is this the answer you've been looking for?//
Riku locked his eyes on the shimmering shape before him. Taking a deep breath, he lifted The Pretender and aimed it directly at the Keyhole.
Please, please, please, please…don't let me fail. Not again…
