The process had been so laughably simple, but it took him so long, too long, and perhaps, too many failures. When he finally succeeded, can you imagine his incredulity? Can you imagine his rage?
It was the pain in his hands that woke him up from his stupor, angry blistering pain that made him cry out for the first time in many days. Blood ran from his knuckles, pooling slowly in the creases on his fingers. They hurt, ached as he tried to flex them. Finally, he tore his gaze from his injured hands, to see the room in utter shambles."That was a foolish thing to do." Maleficent had suddenly appeared behind him, her raven screaming in a flurry of black wings. "You will need to curb your rage."
"I did this?"
"Do not do it again. I am not your nursemaid, nor your keeper."
But of course, the simplest things are often the hardest to discover, don't you agree, child?
He leaned heavily against the mirror, feeling the cold freeze his back. If he looked very closely, he could see his own image faintly superimposed over Sora's. If he stood very still, especially if Sora was sleeping, and if he believed very, very hard, he could feel Sora's warmth washing over him.
There was a little voice that told him, some times, that the warmth came only from a memory, like the warmth from a stone left in the sun for too long. And other times, it mocked, whispering that the warmth was only a reflection of his own, and that Sora was nothing.
But he still believed anyway.
What was it? That silly rhyme about the requisites need for flying? Faith, trust…and yes, of course, pixie dust.
"Three days. Get your girl ready, boy. We're going to find her heart for ye."
Captain Hook's namesake flashed as he laughed at Riku's incredulous expression. "Why, did you think we're all…heartless? We only want to help ye, boy." The pun sickened him, and he turned away.
'Is it true?'
About flying? Dear boy, haven't you learned anything by now? Has your journey meaning nothing? Nothing is impossible, not even flying, if you have the right tools.
The witch had forced him to attend one of her little gatherings with her compatriots. As usual, it was loud, messy and filled with egotistical, self-absorbed topics and comments. He hated it, wishing all the more that he was in his room or with Kairi. At least her silent company was preferable to what he likened the meal as an opportunity to "one-up" your fellow villains.
"Silent little chap, isn't he?"
He gritted his teeth, striving to focus on the cold veal on his place. The speaker was a pompous man who went by the name of Gaston, and delighted in trying to get a rise out of Riku as often as possible.
"Leave him." Maleficent replied, drinking almost elegantly from the goblet in her hand. "He's just brooding."
"Oh really?" Gaston's smile was the epitome of maliciousness. "Over what?"
"He's brooding over the loss of his love."
He swore vengeance on her that day, paying hatred to her with his eyes as the whole table erupted into laughter. She, for her part, smiled.
You'll probably have the easiest time getting the dust though.'Why is that?'
You've lost the other two, haven't you? You're only clinging on to hope.
'Shut up. Tell me what I must do, or get lost. I have better things to do that listen to your opinions of me.'
'That's better. I tire of this ceaseless prattle.'
The short staff cut through the air, hitting some imaginary enemy that he hadn't envisioned since he left Destiny Islands. Sweat matted his hair and left it sticking uncomfortably to the sides of his face and his neck. He was grateful for the exercise; it took his mind of things like Heartless, like Kairi, like home.But it made him focus on Sora, and indirectly, he knew that it was what the witch had wanted. In his mind's eye, Sora fought with him and against him. Sora was a shadow, his shadow, following his every action.
Sora was a ghost, whose smile and laughter gradually faded, leaving him to grasp futilely at the unraveling threads of memory.
He flung the staff against the wall, relishing sickly the sound of breaking wood.
The Heartless can be manipulated through the means of a blood bind. They are not stupid, thoughtless creatures, child. They were once alive, after all, and if imbued with the blood of a living person, well, you shall see later.
It took him the time for a candle of burn down to a lump of wax to decide whether he wanted his own Heartless. Ansem's books told him little more than what the voice had said, and it annoyed him. Still it lent credibility to the voice.
"I'm not doing this for you," he said, voice trembling, to the girl on the bed, to the boy behind the mirror. "I'm doing it for me.
"For me."
All you need is a bowl, a knife and the clear, clean memory of the one you wish to re-create.'Is that all?'
Maybe. Maybe not. But they're the basic requirements.
The knife and bowl were easy to procure. All he needed to do was to wish aloud for them, and they appeared. The memory, however, was much harder. He couldn't get his thoughts to settle.Perhaps it would be better if he didn't settle them at all. Somewhere inside, he was uncomfortable in making a Heartless in someone else's image. If he didn't have a specific person in mind…he could just have the Heartless, wouldn't it? It wouldn't have an identity, and he didn't need to look at the pseudo-person. Would he?
Did he want Sora?
Gritting his teeth, he drew the blade down, hard, across his bare palm, watching the pain and the blood flower like some blooming rose. And he waited.
'Who are you? How is it you know how to do this? Are you Ansem?'It is none of your business.
But I…I knew him once. He was a good man.
And now I know him no more.
The voice was right.He watched as the darkling approached him, its head cocked slightly to one side like a curious child. Softly glowing eyes fixed their gaze on the slow, languid flow of blood from his fingers, and Riku sucked in a long breath as he looked at it. It uttered a series of bird whistles and clicks as it glided smoothly across the floor, reaching out cautiously with one antennae to touch him. When he made no move to chase it away, it grew bolder, coming almost up to him.
It did not attack him. Instead, it took his injured hand almost gently, inspecting it almost, before putting his fingers in its mouth.
Riku shivered at the gesture, almost mesmerized by the cold, dark and strangely shy tongue that now licked slowly at the wound along his palm. For a moment, he thought he saw Sora kneeling in front of him, a crumpled, dirty-looking handkerchief being pressed gently but firmly onto the wound. Riku fought the now-familiar feelings of despair welling up, and he tired to draw away from both the Heartless and the memory. To his surprise, however, the darkling continued to hold his hand and pressed its own subtly clawed one over the wound, in a mimicry of what he saw Sora doing in his mind.
And to his horror, it began to shift, dark skin stretching and changing into someone familiar, someone he knew, someone called, "Sora"…
'Then who are you?Answer me!'
Word to the wise: Beware of your own heart's desire.
Beware your own dark reflections.
It was sleeping next to him, curled up under the sheets like a pool of dark ink, or a sculpture of ebony or black rock or black pearl, but breathing and alive. It liked being with him, like the warmth that he gave, hot like the sun.The wound on his hand had healed, leaving only a thin, white scar behind. He wondered if a Heartless' saliva had healing properties. And he wondered, what the voice really meant, when it said, "Maybe not."
It was time.
Gently, he ghosted lips over the perfect, black eyelashes of the sleeping Anti-Sora, his hand touching its shoulder. It stirred, slowly opening yellow eyes and looking almost adoringly at him.
He couldn't help but smile.
"Wake up, Sora. It's time to go. Time to help Kairi."
Riku had not looked back at the mirror since.
Author's Note:
It is finished. :D It's a little darker than I expected, but truthfully, I enjoyed writing this part the most, even though it gave me the most trouble with it. To the personalized scene in Chapter 2, I apologise because I have never seen that scene in my life (I have not completed Kingdom Hearts since Agrabah, and never will) and just referring to the game script is a little more than difficult to envision the proper scene. So I had to make do. Apologies to anyone who wasn't happy and felt that it wasn't true to the game!
Thank you for reading thus far. I hope you have enjoyed this story.