Disclaimer: Ari does not claim ownership of the characters or settings below; she has merely taken them for her own devices. She does not claim these to be the true or false implications of the real owners of Kingdom Hearts, but feel free to take them as such!

Notes: (waves cheerfully, smiling) Hello, everyone! As you've probably guessed, I'm back from Florida. It was nice to come back to all those reviews. (grins) But I'm guessing you want to read this drabble, so I won't chatter on and on.

Origin: A drabble for flutteriffic.

Suggested Music: Either Eyes On Me, from Final Fantasy VIII, or Suteki da Ne, from Final Fantasy X.

Rikairu Graffiti
IV — Swimming Alone


He wondered how the sun could shine so brightly as she swam.

He wondered why the birds were twittering cheerfully as she swam.

He wondered why he wasn't running after her as she swam, running and crying and calling for her to come back like most children seemed to do.

It was the last time he would see his mother, and yet, he couldn't do anything except stand there numbly, staring after her, eyes locked on the paopu fruit she was holding to her breast.

It had come early that morning. He had woken silently, as he always seemed to do, in the middle of the night, eyes only opening slightly, enough to see her from under long lashes. She'd come to his bed, surveying his 'sleeping' form, then leaned down, kissing him softly on the forehead before whispering, 'I swim at dawn,' and leaving the room.

She had smelled of paopus.

He watched her as she passed the edge of the islands, swimming out further than most dared to go. There was a high danger of being pulled along in the undertow. Yet . . . she wanted this. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun on the waters, keeping an eye focused on her hair, shining brightly in the morning light.

He did not look away as her head finally slipped beneath the waves, failing to resurface this time, paopu bobbing to the surface soon after.

Beside him, Kairi nudged him slightly. He gave a slight nod, finally closing his eyes and swallowing hard. As his eyes reopened, he lifted his chin, trying to make himself look stronger than he felt, and raised his left arm. 'In remembrance,' he declared, listening to his voice echoing around the cove.

'In remembrance,' came the reply, a rumbling chorus of voices. He looked behind him, startled at the sight of so many people. He hadn't known about her swim until that early morning; how had everyone else found out?

He stepped off the rock, his two friends following him down and through the crowd, striding confidently away. He couldn't show his weakness by crying. His father had instructed him not to cry when he had taken the swim, and per his wishes, he hadn't. But back then, he had had his mother's hand to hold, the sound of her voice leading the remembrance call. He had had her strength to guide him, to comfort him when he had realised that his father would not be back.

And now she was gone, as well.

Who could he rely on now?

No-one. He would have to find his own strength.

His pace quickened as he rounded the turn that would lead away from the cove, a twisting path leading further back into the islands. He heard them behind him, but he didn't want anyone to come with him. His pain was his own. He couldn't force it on anyone else. He wouldn't force that pain on anyone.

He was running, now, running from everything. Running from the pain, the responsibility that now fell on his shoulders, the sinking feeling of being alone in the world again.

You promised. You promised you wouldn't leave me until I was ready!

He heard them falling behind, shouting for him to wait, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. He continued into the trees, taking turns at random, trying to be sure they couldn't follow him. A foot caught on a protruding root and he tripped, throwing out his arms to steady himself but tumbling head over heels down a hill.

When he reached the bottom, he lay still, breathing hard, in deep, shuddering breaths. I can't cry . . . I can't! I've got to be strong, he told himself, trying to stop the tears that were threatening to fall. I'm on my own now. I can't afford to be weak! He sat up, scrubbing at his eyes, looking around as his hands lowered hesitantly. He'd never seen this part of the island before. Just where had he ended up?

There was a small pool of water to his left, lined with raised stones, at perhaps knee-height, a path—or at least, a relatively clear trail—circling around either side to the top of the hill. He could see the root at the top that he'd fallen over, leading to a tree that stood watch over the pool, looking somehow proud and protecting. From the tree was relatively straight drop down, rocks covered with moss and other foliage hiding the source of the water that was falling into it. As he looked into the pool, looking at his dirtied, tearstreaked face, he realised that it had been built by someone. However, he had never heard anyone speak of it, and judging by all the weeds that were growing between the cracks in the rock, it had been abandoned for a long while.

He held out his hands, studying them, examining the wrinkles of the knuckles and the dirt under his nails. After a long moment, he plunged them into the waters of the pool, gasping slightly at the shock of the cold, then starting to scrub them clean of soil. It was a new start; a release from his childish side.

He wasn't a child any longer.

From the hands, his washing progressed to his arms and face, to his neck and chest. His clothes were sopping, but he paid little attention as he splashed water over his hair. He frowned at his reflection as the water dripped from the ends of short-cut silver locks; he still looked like a child. He sighed in defeat, dropping his head into his arms, sitting on his knees with his arms resting on the stones.

He wasn't sure how long he remained there, but when a hand brushed his shoulder gently, his head whipped around, meeting surprised blue eyes. 'What?' he growled, instantly wishing his tone had been gentler.

'I was looking for you,' was the response. Quiet. Prying. 'We both were.'

'And here I am.' He gestured to himself, then turned back to the pool. 'You found me. Congratulations.'

'Would you stop that?' There was a cracking sound, like someone was stamping their foot into the dry leaves.

'Stop what?' He muttered, knowing what was meant, but not wanting to listen to it.

'Stop being so . . . so . . . so distant!' his friend finally cried, poking his shoulder. 'It isn't like you. And I don't want to see you acting like that. Okay?'

He didn't answer.

There was a sigh next to him, and a warm weight leaned against him. He felt her forehead leaning against his shoulder, and almost without thinking, he allowed her to take his hands, to run her fingers over the rough, calloused skin, bringing them to her lips. He stared into his lap listlessly, eyes hollowly gazing downward, even when her worried expression filled his vision.

By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. She had already risen, quickly joining her lips to his. They were soft, as his mother's had once been, but this kiss was so much more than a gentle kiss good-night. His eyes closed, his shoulders relaxing; she was settling almost into his lap, her fingers intertwined through his. He moved to deepen the kiss, but she pulled back from him suddenly, kissing his forehead once more as she stood. 'I'll leave you,' she relented. 'But . . . just remember, I'm always here for you, Riku. We're always here for you. We're your friends.'

And Kairi was gone, footsteps crunching on the dry leaves on the ground, leaving Riku to think about what she'd just said, to ponder her final words:

'And I love you . . .'