Author's Notes: Wow, it's been a while since I've posted on Wrote this on a whim. Takes place after Kingdom Hearts (1), but before Chain of Memories, and obviously before Kingdom Hearts 2. It's got an OC in it. Sorry 'bout that. Warnin' ya now before you shoot me down later. Hope you'll read it, despite.
Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, or any of the characters/world associated with it.
Chapter 1: Where the Lost Are Often Found
He landed on his knees.
Key sighed.
This world was not as aesthetically pleasing as the one he had previously left.
The night sky was fogged over in a sheer cloud of gray, but past it he could see a pleasant deep violet.
'Perhaps it's going to rain?' he mused silently.
He slumped down to his butt. The ground was paved with large bricks, red, brown, mahogany…An urban appeal.
The buildings weren't large, but over-exaggerated in such a way that they almost seemed cartoonish. Yellow and purple roofs were paled under the night, looming over him.
He looked around, brushing off the front of his clothes gingerly.
Clothes.
He'd have to find some new ones fast, as his current ones seemed to be very conspicuous compared to the others that wandered past him.
A woman stopped to stare at him.
"You 'aight kid?"
Her voice was thick with accent, her large painted lips moving sharply at him.
Key nodded.
"Ya sure?"
He nodded again.
"Ya foreign?"
He nodded, three times now.
"Could you…tell me where I am?"
"Hit yer head didja?"
"…No."
"Lost?"
"Wandering."
"Ah. We get a lot of your kind."
Key said nothing in reply.
"Well, kid," sighed the lady, a bit over-dramatically "This 'ere is Traverse Town, a place where the lost are oft' found."
He thanked the woman as she continued on her way. She swung her hips as sharply as she talked.
'Traverse Town, eh?'
He walked aimlessly, trying to find a building appealing enough to duck into. The road was uneven beneath him, and he found that he often stumbled.
Key sneezed.
After what seemed like miles of walking, miles of passing eerily similar buildings, miles of biting his thumb at suspicious stares, miles of trying to avoid conversing with other people, the same curvaceous woman as before stopped him again.
"You're travelin' alone, kid?"
He nodded.
"You awful young for that, aincha? How old're ya?"
He shrugged. "16." Said his voice.
"Tha's an interestin' tattoo youz got there. O'er your eye and everythin'."
He ducked his face behind his hair. It wasn't a tattoo.
"Youz too young for that too." She scoffed. "Where're your parents, boy?"
"Dead." Said his voice again.
The woman faltered for a moment.
Key felt her gaze grazing over him.
"Ya need a place to stay, kid? Jus' for da night, tho. I don' wancha takin' free room and board. I got a business to run, can't be givin' out free rooms to everyone." She seemed to be murmuring the last bit to herself.
Key nodded.
"Aight then. Youz jus' follow me. I aint gonna rob you or nothin'."
He wondered briefly why she said that.
'The crime rate must be high, here.' He concluded to himself.
"Wha's yo name kid?" she asked abruptly.
"Key." He replied politely, almost at a whisper. He cursed himself silently. He should have lied.
"Tha's a funny name. 'Specially with dat tattoo. But I mean no offense to ya, Key. My name's Anitta. Youz can just call me Ann. Or Anitta. Whatever meets yer fancy."
He nodded, and followed the woman back the way he came.
After what felt like miles of walking, miles of passing similar buildings, miles of forced awkward conversation between himself and the curvy, painted women named Anitta, they arrived.
It looked like every other building in the town.
In fact, Key could have sworn he had passed this building at least three times in the past five minutes. He shrugged it off; the similarity of the architecture was just something he'd have to get used to.
Anitta waved her hand spectacularly in front of him. Her nails were long, painted a bright almost grotesque color of red. He blinked, blinded at the magnitude of the color.
"This is it!" She pronounced happily.
Key looked up. Above the large double doors was a large neon sign, and shining in flashing yellow letters was the word 'Hotel'. It was almost enough to challenge Anitta's nails.
He followed her through the double doors.
It didn't take him long to get settled into a room.
Anitta had offered to make him dinner, but he refused.
She offered him a better room, but he refused.
She even offered to talk about his problems, but he refused.
Key often found himself refusing people. She eventually left him to his own devices, claiming that her next day would be a busy one. Key had said nothing in reply. He did not know what his next day would be like.
The room Anitta had loaned him wasn't very big, but felt large to Key as he stood in the middle of it.
It was excessively decorated; bright colors seemed to appeal to Anitta.
Everywhere he looked was red
Or yellow.
Or neon green.
Key decided that bright colors no longer appealed to his senses.
He sat on the lavish bed, the comforter curling around his legs until he stood again. He stared, walking circles around the square rug on the floor. He felt like a vulture.
Or a cat.
Cats often treaded circles around places they wanted to sleep.
'Yes' decided Key 'I'd much rather be a cat than a vulture.'
His glance caught a mirror. Despite his own distaste for mirrors, he approached it.
Unlike the other things in the room, it was very plain.
It wasn't bright.
Or lavish.
Or neon.
Or loud.
'Mirrors are the same, wherever you go.'
Key looked at himself looking into the mirror.
He was slender; but did not possess an unhealthy look to him.
His hair was brown, black streaks blending sleekly into stripes through random tufts of brunette. It was near the length of his shoulders, bangs past his eyes. He contemplated briefly how he needed to shorten it.
His eyes were best described as caramel. Not yellow, but not hazel, almost orange, but not quite.
Over his left eye was an almost tattoo looking keyhole; the same one Anitta had remarked upon earlier. It was a strange pattern, taking up nearly that whole side of his face. He didn't know how it got there, or how long it had scarred there. He didn't know what it was, so he just told himself it was what other people automatically assumed it was-- a weird keyhole tattoo.
It was black.
He didn't like it.
It made him conspicuous.
But his left eye was his best eye; the vision of his right was greatly obscured.
Key suddenly remembered why he didn't like mirrors.
Much like the person he saw in the reflection, mirrors were the same wherever he went.
He turned away, stretching his arms in a fluent motion over his head. It had been morning when he had left the last world.
Despite this, he stifled a yawn, noting that his breath tasted funny and that he needed to brush his teeth when presented the chance.
He needed to thank Anitta, as well.
Needed to find new clothes.
Change the currency of his money.
Needed to cut his hair.
Take a bath.
He yawned again, eyeing the bed with its comfortable comforter.
The phrase made him smile.
'Comfortable comforter. Comfortable comforter.'
He sat down at the edge of the mattress, sliding off his shoes, sliding out of his shirt, sliding his hands through his hair, and blinking slowly as another yawn spread his lips and made his jaw go ajar.
He needed sleep.
He crawled under the blankets after turning off the lights, and again the comforter curled around him.
'Comfortable comforter.' He mused again.
He gazed out the window.
The night sky was fogged over in a sheer cloud of gray, but past it he could see a pleasant deep violet.
Chapter Notes: It's simplistic, I know, and it's short, I know, and none of the main characters from the game have made an appearance yet, I know. See, I wrote this on a whim based off of some character I doodled up during Art History one day. My friend (Betsy, editor for most of my stories and an author of some other stories on this account as well) and I decided that the kid looked like he belonged in KH. So, I couldn't resist. I planned on bringing everyone else into the mix as well, but decided against it. Next chapter, I shall. Hopefully. If I get enough reviews, then the effort will prove worth it.
R&R, flame if you really want to (Kids these days need to let their anger out somewhere, I don't mind being the vent. XD) Constructive criticism is preferred.
Until Next time!
Sarah