Author's Note: Another chapter! Well, I'm running out of ideas for the plot... Hold on, no I'm not. I'm just too bloody lazy to write anything. Well, seeing as I've got lots of time on my hands now, I don't think it really matters. Well, on with the fic! Remember to review!
Forgotten
Chapter Three :: A Present
by Virgo Shadow
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Then he would be calm and serene forever.
"There are three kinds of men: those who are preceded by their shadow, those who are pursued by it, and those who have never seen the sun."
(Gred de Ley, Undictated Thoughts)
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Sephiroth raised his sword over his son's head and drew back. "Then you can just go to hell."
A five-year-old Riku bit his bottom lip and held tightly onto his Grandmother's hand as he sat on the sofa. His ears could hear muffled screams coming from upstairs... followed by the smashing of glass and objects hitting wood. Things breaking. People hurting. His father screaming at his Grandfather and his Grandfather's deep voice trying to reason with the vile words coming out of his father's mouth... Riku fought back tears and took a few deep breaths.
"Grandma... Is it my fault? Did I make mommy die?" Riku asked, looking up at his Grandmother.
"...No." She said kindly, cradling the little boy and holding him tight.
"Then why is dad so angry with me?"
"Because... he's afraid." She said softly, stroking the boy's pretty silver mane.
A long silence followed before Riku spoke again. "Afraid?"
"Yes. He's frightened. Because he knows he's going to have to raise you himself and he doesn't know how to do it."
Riku squeezed his Grandmother's hand tighter.
"Riku. I want you to remember something... No matter what happens to me, or you, or anyone. I want you to look after your father. You're all he has left in the world now... He loves you very much. Never forget that. I know, he would never do anything to hurt you. He loves you."
Riku snapped back to full realisation. He was lying broken on the floor, eyes wide, blood painted across the wall and on his face, pouring out of his stomach. He was cut, bleeding, the warm blood trickling out onto the floor. His Father's prized sword lying next to him.
Summoning all his strength, Riku picked himself up off the floor and rested his forehead against the cold wall for support. Why wasn't he dead? He should be dead...
He loves you. The voice of his Grandmother filled Riku's head, filling his consciousness. What was this...?
His thoughts focused on one thing. Father was always so terrible to Sora, Kairi and himself. But he'd be better than that... His green gaze drifted across the room to where his Father's sword lay. The light from the moon making the silver blade glow handsomely... calling to him.
He'd give him a present.
The glow in his eyes' danced as he eyed the blade longingly. He stumbled across to it and picked it up with both hands. Damn... It was heavy. He centred his consciousness onto the present that he'd give his Father. He thought of Kairi and Sora one last time... reaching out into their slumbers, feeling the peace and the calm... How, wonderful. He would give his Father the one thing that could match the calm. Then he would be calm and serene forever. Within his soul, he knew he must complete the job, the gift must be given. The darkness welled up again, soothing him and strengthening him; intoxicating him... The Darkness.
"Hell." Riku said, the word vibrating around the darkness and the emptiness of the room.
Riku began to slowly make his way up to his Father's room, the sword dragged behind him and making a hollow noise each time it hit the floor. The age-old wooden stairs creaked as Riku trod on them, ever so carefully making his way up to the second floor.
He silently moved across the landing, ears listening for the sound of his Father's breathing. He walked up to the door of his Father's bedroom to slowly open it. It creaked and Riku cast a glance at his half-conscious Father, who was beginning to pick himself up off the floor.
He turned around. "Riku...?" He croaked out. His voice sore and quiet... He had been crying. His Mako-green eyes were heavy and bloodshot. "Riku, I'm...sorry."
Riku felt something trickle down his face and heard it fall onto the cold wooden floor and he looked down... tears? Tears. Riku did not understand. Instead, in an attempt not to mistake the tears for weakness he raised his Father's sword and held it at arm's length.
"Back. Off." He said, slowly. His breathing was heavy and desperate. He stared to feel, light-headed. Fearing he might pass-out he began to back away from his Father. His head was beginning to spin. "You'd," Riku began, leaning on the wall, "you'd just better leave me the hell alone."
"Would you just fucking listen to me?" Sephiroth pleaded.
"No." Riku replied, unwillingly fingering the cut across his stomach. "No!"
Riku broke down, he let the sword drop to his feet, and he leaned against the wall and slid down it. Huddled in a crouched-up position. His green eyes wide and frightened, tears drying on his face. He began to slowly rock himself back and forth; he was beyond crying...he was beyond feeling anything. "...no."
Sephiroth staggered over to his son and bent down, picking the fifteen-year-old up in his arms. He sat there, for the rest of the night, holding the boy, whispering endearments and gently running his cool fingers through Riku's hair, never ceasing to comfort him. "Oh, Riku... forgive me. Forgive your Father."
