Author's notes: Well, this is the end. It has been one entertaining ride. I make no apologies for what I have done in previous chapters. If you enjoyed this story, thank you; if you didn't, maybe whatever I write next will be better.

In case you're interested:

Writing began: May 23, 2004. Writing ended: June 29, 2004. Editing began: June 30, 2004. Editing ended: July 23, 2004. (Nice symmetry, no?)

PLAYING FOR KEEPS

Act VI / Epilogue

There was a star shower that night. And the Heartless came.

Sora had been conditioned to expect a full-blown war that would push him to his limits both physically and mentally.

It was anything but.

The Heartless certainly caused a commotion: they overran the streets of neighboring villages and covered the castle's yards. Neo-Shadows clambered up and down walls like demented spiders while Blue Rhapsodies and Yellow Operas crashed through every window they found. Air Soldiers winged by in chevrons, bypassing the barricades erected to stop most grounded Heartless. Black Mushrooms roamed the untamed countryside, attacking anyone trying to flee from civilization. Sora ran and the Heartless that sensed his presence followed him in teeming waves, but there were still droves remaining to terrorize the hapless populace.

Shootings stars lit up the sky; they were big and bright and shiny, and their tails left milky streaks that faded come morning. Looking up, Sora knew that the worlds' boundaries had officially fallen, though there was no forthcoming explanation of how the postman had come for him days before this event . . .

The war room was crowded and loud; military strategists—stuffy old men who had never waged an actual war, but instead read about them in fictional novels until they were experts—poured over maps, drawing important-looking little symbols and pushing around hand-painted figurines with the butts of their batons. Royal advisors were part of an angry fray next to the center table: there was no King to sanction the actions of the military, they roared. But no one paid them any attention, because no matter what, nothing but the Keyblade could permanently destroy the Heartless. They were short on Keyblade-wielders.

Sora found them fermenting like that, discussing evacuation and harikari. The scruffy, bloodied kid with the ripped shirt and shorts wasn't noticed at first, but the kid assessed their progress, summoned the Key, and stepped atop a metal dais rusted with neglect. Silence swung outward; one at a time, the military strategists and royal advisors looked up and saw the glowing Key.

"Show me where the Heartless are coming from," Sora said.

They hurried him over to the table and its maps, indicating a known "hot spot" where Heartless had been seen preparing new battalions of aggressors. Sora knocked aside the markers and figurines, studied the layout quietly, and then nodded.

"What should we do?"

"Evacuate the towns closest to this point," he commanded, tapping the map. "That spot is a Keyhole, and it has to be locked. I'll need two knapsacks: Potions and Ethers."

"Yes, of course!"

He heard the movement start up around him as people scrambled to get the supplies; no one arrested him and demanded to know where he had been, why he had done what he did to Donald and Goofy and the guardsmen, or anything else. Privately he felt alleviated despite his cool businesslike exterior.

Someone touched his elbow. "Thank God you're back. Is there anything else we can get you, Keyblade Master?"

"No, there isn't—" Sora said, but then he felt a smile coming on. "Actually, a jar of peanut butter would be good."

There were never any formal charges brought against him; his heroics in The War (with capitals even when spoken about) had been enough to expiate his sins, or so the Court believed. No formal ceremony reinstated him as King Sora because he had never truly been denied the crown. It made things easier that way. The public soon forgot they had been in crisis for several days in late summer.

"Puberty. His emotional disturbances came from simply being a late bloomer," said one royal psychologist in the final dog days of the issue. "Obviously."

Sora had seen real warfare. Among other things, he had seen his own home ripped apart by an army of Heartless. The War had been a mere shadow of what it could have been, and Sora believed it to be a warning shot. The Heartless that temporarily overran the Kingdom were no more impressive than those he had fought inside Hollow Bastion. Even without Donald and Goofy, he mowed through them and finally locked the door they had been pouring out of. It only took three hours to accomplish this; he returned to the castle, smiling and nursing a Potion and looking more alive than ever before. Fighting the Heartless cured him of his funk, people agreed behind closed doors. Inactivity must've made him so moody before.

For the remainder of the night he sat by Goofy and Donald's besides—they were still unconscious—and cried for them until all that had happened overcame him with sleep. He dreamt about gorging on shadows and woke up feeling starved, every muscle aching. When he looked in the mirror he saw the spark was back in his eyes; he tested out a smile and was pleased. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not get rid of his peculiar hunted look that emphasized his premature wrinkles and darkly smudged the skin under his eyes, aging him many years.

"I should have locked the door when I first came here," he later lamented while addressing a crowd of subjects from the royal balcony. "I didn't realize. I'm sorry."

"Who cares?" the proletariat called, and he was inclined to agree.

Like everything else calling for a celebration, The War's victorious finish was observed in festivities that lasted an entire week. Expensive balls fit for the fairytale ending were thrown each evening; fireworks displays painted the sky each night. Sora shied away from most of these events and preferred instead to stay with his wounded escorts, chatting and joking to their memories as if nothing had gone wrong. (Goofy and Donald came out of their comas weeks later; curiously, they couldn't remember anything about the circumstances of their injuries. Sora was guiltily grateful.) On the second to last night he went up to the fifth floor and sat at the window seat, leaning back on the cushions with his knees hugged close. The stars were peaceful; he didn't dwell on the strange and huge holes still in his memory.

He couldn't get away after dinner on the last night. Royal advisors accosted him and offered peanut butter sandwiches in exchange for his presence. (The story about Sora asking for peanut butter before he won The War had morphed into something of a legend with embellishments here and there until everyone believed it was his only staple.) He pointed out the sandwiches were made with "chunky" peanut butter and he only liked "smooth." Grinning, they had him beat anyway once everyone else in the room joined in: people pleaded, begged, and blocked all the exits. Sora finally conceded and allowed them to have their King and savior, their winner of The War, their Keyblade Master who had drunk only three of the twenty-seven Potions that had been stuffed into a knapsack. He even gave a stuttering and bashful little speech. It was an affair.

The fireworks were as beautiful as he remembered them being on his first birthday here, and he didn't feel so discontent about having to stay with the real party. He leaned against the banister in one of the yard's gazebos and watched colorful concentric circles dilate. Advisors milled nearby; after some minutes of murmuring, one approached him.

"King Sora?"

"I've told you guys so many times," Sora said and turned, smiling, "that you don't have to call me that."

"Senator Axel wants to congratulate you personally—if you'll grant him audience," the advisor said nervously.

"Sure. Bring him over."

"King Sora!" Senator Axel said and swept down in a bow. Sora was faintly amused and thought the man was going to kiss the floor before he straightened. There were a few white bandages on his cheeks that stood out like new scars. "It's such a pleasure being able to see you again."

"You were . . ."

"You remember me? I attended your birthday party—and I went to your coronation with the other Senators, though we didn't get a chance to talk then." Senator Axel winked. "I'm your biggest fan."

Sora rubbed at the blush warming his nose. "Thanks for your support. I really haven't been the best King, but I think things will be all right from now on."

"That is something I've been hoping to hear from you," Senator Axel asserted, smiling his own broad smile. His eyes slipped down onto Sora's silver crown necklace. "Oho—and what's this? It's so chic."

"It's a necklace one of my friends gave me a while ago," Sora said, reflecting fondly as he closed his fingers around it. "It means a lot to me."

"What a shame. I was going to go buy one if you got it someplace around here. I think it would've gone well with the vesture I'm wearing." Senator Axel shook his head as if to clear it and tugged at his expensive black velvet. "But that's all the time I have, I'm afraid, so I'll have to meet and greet you whenever my schedule isn't so packed. I already have another commitment with a friend."

Sora blinked several times and opened his mouth, but said nothing.

"Until then," Senator Axel said, waving and disappearing into the crowd of advisors, Senators, and noblemen.

he smiles at me and holds onto my necklace my neck hurts from where the chain dug in he wants to know "don't you think this would go gorgeously with my vesture" and i just want to spit on him

"Senator Axel is an important ally," one advisor then said to Sora. "If you ever want anything done in the Senate, you should speak with him about it. He'll help you out—especially since he likes you. He was your number one supporter when the issue came up of whom was to be King during this time . . ."

Sora could not reply because his voice was gone. There were bandages, weren't there? Right where I struck Postman? he thought, startled. I must've been seeing things again . . .

"Majesty! Are you all right? You're so pale—you look like you've seen a ghost!"