Ah boy time for another warning before a chapter. This one's got blood, vomit, and uhhh self harm. So yeah, great carefully with this one. Either way I like how it turned out! For something that was originally just supposed to be a simple interval, it has quite a bit going for it So I hope you enjoy! Let's get started!
Chapter 57: Turmoil in Traverse
If you wanna take it to an even higher level
(I don't, I don't mind)
Naminé is used to being a prisoner, far more than she'd like to be. She's used to sitting, sad and silent, behind stone walls, used to waiting for someone else to save her. She's used to being seen as little more than a pawn, than a tool to accomplish everyone else's selfish ends. She's used to being coveted and controlled for her power, a power that she's never seen as anything other than the bleak burden it truly is. She's used to being used, a theme that's been troublingly consistent across her relatively short existence. And yet, despite hoping that theme would end when her existence began anew, she's found that vicious cycle to be every bit as inescapable as the castle that contains her now.
Despite being one and the same, the Land of Departure is drastically different from the Castle Oblivion she'd been born within. Naminé recalls the long white hallways, with little to no windows to the dreary, unchanging darkness of the empty world surrounding it. Her latest prison is, at the very least, much more present to look at. She isn't able to roam about freely like she could in Castle Oblivion, but the room she's confined to–one that she assumes used to be Aqua's–is comfortable, with a bed, a bookshelf, and a wide window facing the picturesque mountains surrounding the structure. A particular change is that time moves here, between bright, sunny days, and crisp starry nights. Naminé wishes she could find some sort of comfort in that, but instead, she only finds herself counting just how many sunsets and sunrises she's seen since she's been stuck here. A reminder of just how long she's been entangled in the Organization's latest web of untold treachery.
She knows she won't be saved; she's fine with that, really she is. She knows the guardians of light are far too busy searching for someone else to give her a second thought, she knows they should be focusing their efforts on him above her anyway. She knows it's her lot in life to be the one who's left behind, abandoned, forgotten. And she's not bitter over that in the slightest. At least that's what she keeps trying to tell herself.
She's not entirely convinced that the Organization isn't keeping her here just to torture her. Through her powers, she can see far beyond the walls of this castle, far past the borders of this world. She can see the memories of someone who's suffering, someone who's been suffering for such a long time now. Someone she can't do a single thing to help so long as she's so far away.
While she's been languishing in loneliness here, she knows Sora has been doing the same thing, in ways she wouldn't even be able to imagine if she couldn't see them all for herself. Peeking through his memories over these past few months has given her glimpses of starvation, of captivity, of raw, unfettered fear and despair. She's seen him struggle to survive against the elements and his enemies, watched him endlessly bound between worlds in a self-imposed exile he's too scared to bring to an end. And she's wished every single day that she could even just send a message to Kairi or Riku or any of his other friends, telling them where he is and how to help him.
She wishes she could find a way out of here and go to him herself. It's the least she could do to make up for how badly she'd nearly damaged him before.
"Oh Sora…" Naminé whispers wistfully, resting her arms and head against the windowsill to stare at the bright skies outside. "How did things end up like this…?"
She knows how, of course. Through memories, she's witnessed every moment of this mess, every sordid step of the way. And just like Sora, just like everyone else it seems, she hasn't been able to find any solid way of stopping it. Not that she's sure it can even be stopped at all now.
Naminé flinches when she hears the door unlocking behind her. She sits upright, drawing in a nervous breath as she awaits whatever abuse her "wardens" will put her through today. It's only fitting that, after she'd tricked them by sealing Xion's memories away instead of erasing them, Xemnas had appointed Marluxia and Larxene to guard the Organization's sole captive here. A fitting punishment for such an act of deception, for the only victory she's ever really had against them.
Her heart sinks when Marluxia enters with her dinner in hand. As a Nobody, Naminé hadn't needed to eat, hadn't needed to be taken care of in any way at all really. But her newly-granted humanity has forced her captors to feed her, to give her a place to sleep, to make sure she stays alive long enough for whatever twisted scheme they plan on using her for.
Initially, Marluxia says nothing to her as he sets her meal down on the table near the door. He shoots her a dry, silent look, one that she returns with a cold, brazen scowl. That scowl seems to amuse Marluxia as his lips turn up into a small smirk. "You look as though you have something on your mind today, Naminé," he says, his tone falsely cordial, just like it always is when he speaks to her. "Would you like to share? I'm more than willing to listen to anything our esteemed guest has to say."
This is a trap, Naminé knows it is. It's part of why she strangely wishes Larxene were here to deliver her food instead of Marluxia. While Larxene is no doubt cruel and hateful, at the very least she's straightforward and honest. She doesn't hide her awful intentions behind a placating smile, between smooth, cunning words like Marluxia does. Naminé is in no mood to feel like she's being cornered and coerced into saying something she'll later regret. But of course, that's exactly what Marluxia intends on doing to her anyway. So instead of playing his dangerous mind games, she decides to take a different, much less riskier route instead.
"Where's Larxene?" she asked boredly, turning her attention back toward the window.
"She's out searching for the final few Keys alongside our other members," Marluxia states simply. "I'll be sure to tell her that you 'missed' her when she returns though."
Don't bother, Naminé thinks scornfully. She'd just as rather never see Larxene or Marluxia's faces again if she ever manages to get away from them. "Oh," is all she answers with, still not turning to face him.
"As I'm sure you're already aware," Marluxia takes a step forward, his calculated grin growing. "Sora is out there looking for Keys too. And when he finds them, he's vowed to bring them back to us, to loyally hand them over to the master."
"I know," Naminé says shortly, trying to keep her tone as empty and unaffected as possible. She should have figured he'd bring up Sora, he does almost every time he pays her a visit. It's a way to get a rise out of her, a tactic that worked all too well during her first few weeks of captivity. But by now, she's learned to not let it show how much it truly bothers her. To keep her worry, her dread, her fear as far under the surface as it all can possibly go.
"Isn't it fascinating?" Marluxia asks as he comes to stand at the window alongside her. Naminé makes sure to keep her attention away from him, to keep her jaw set and her expression neutral as she anxiously listens to his despicable rhetoric. "That someone who was once so dedicated to the light can slip into the folds of darkness so easily? A few short months of lonely wandering is all it's taken to break Sora from the outside in. We've bent his body, his mind, his very heart to our will, without even needing your powers to strip him of his memories. He's erased every trace of who he used to be entirely on his own."
"Then why are you still keeping me here?" Naminé asks, largely without thinking. It's a question she's voiced many times before, one that she's never gotten a clear answer for. Until, of all days, today.
"I'm surprised you haven't already figured it out yet," Marluxia says, reaching down to cup her chin and force her gaze toward him. "You're a backup plan, Naminé, a failsafe in case something goes awry. Sora is aligning well with our plans now, yes, but in the event that he diverges from the path we've laid out for him, well, something, or someone will need to force him back in line. And that someone is you, Naminé."
Naminé swiftly pulls herself away upon hearing this, rising to her feet as she faces the man with a bitter glare. "I've already told you so many times now," she says, her voice rigid, her former calm fading into a tide of anger she can no longer keep hidden. "There's nothing you can do that will ever force me to use my powers against him again! You can threaten me, you can hurt me, you can even try to kill me for all I care! But I will not help you ruin him any more than you already have-"
Before her final word is even out, the back of Marluxia's hand slams into the side of her face. The force of the brutal blow is enough to send her stumbling back into the bookshelf, knocking several tomes off of it in the process. Naminé collapses to her knees, clutching the stinging side of her face as she fights back tears, refusing to let her foe score yet another point against her.
"You will do as you're told," Marluxia says as he stands over her, his tone firm and frigid. "Unless you wish to spend the rest of your pitiful existence locked away from the world. How unfortunate it would be for you to finally be released from your other's heart, only to remain a prisoner all the same. You crave freedom, Naminé," Marluxia slips on a smile, a stark contrast to his harsh demeanor as he offers a hand to help her up. "And we can grant you that freedom… as long as you assist us in return."
Naminé bristles, ignoring his hand as she shakily manages to stand on her own. "For the last time," she begins, fixing her captor with a stern, unflinching, courageous glare. Because whatever "freedom" he intends on promising her is nothing more than a lie, every bit as much as it had been before. "My answer is no."
She braces herself for another strike, one that fortunately doesn't come. Instead, Marluxia simply sneers, turning to the door and retrieving the meager serving of food he'd brought for her on his way out. "Suit yourself," he says, scowling back over his shoulder at her. "If you don't want to help us, then we have no obligation to help you in return. Starvation has served to adjust Sora's once-unsavory personality well; perhaps it will do the same for you, Naminé."
Without another word, he makes his exit, taking her only meal of the day with him. Naminé heaves a sigh of relief the second he's gone, absently skimming her hand against her still sore cheek. She isn't surprised by his sudden decision to starve her, and she's hardly even shaken by the physical aggression he used against her. If anything, she's come to expect that by now; in fact, she's bewildered that they aren't treating her even worse to make her pay for past transgressions against them. She guesses it's because they still have need for her powers, but even that's a flimsy excuse. As much of a 'backup plan' as she might be, she knows she likely won't be needed, not with how things are currently going. Which means it's only a matter of time before the Organization disposes of her, just like they already disposed of DiZ, how they tried to dispose of Roxas, how they aim to dispose of anyone who doesn't serve a purpose in their perverse plans.
Since she hasn't eaten in over a day, Naminé is already considerably hungry, something that only grows as the empty hours drag on. To try and circumvent that hunger, she pulls her sketchbook out and takes to her favorite hobby to pass the endless idle time. She's immensely grateful for the unique kind of magic that sketchbook possesses, that its pages replenish themselves whenever it's full. This allows her to draw as much as she pleases, though as usual, the subject of her art is still mostly made up of the memories that she's seen. As a result, very few of her drawings have been pleasant lately, largely since so few of Sora's memories over the past several months have been even remotely happy. She'd taken some solace in finally drawing a smile on his face again in the brief weeks he'd been taken in by the Radcliffes, but outside of that, his consistent misery has been her unfortunate duty to capture. Misery that she knows is only bound to get far worse from here if the Organization has their way.
As the first signs of twilight start to fill the skies, Naminé closes her eyes and focuses her powers on Sora's chain of memories, hoping to at the very least get an update on how he's doing. She hasn't actively checked in on him in awhile, knowing only that he's in a new world, searching for the second to last Key. She tries not to pry too much, but she can't help but be curious and concerned, especially considering his current condition. This time around, she expects to find what she usually sees: Sora wandering alone, trying to avoid the Organization, trying to avoid Maleficent, trying to avoid the lights, even when he should be running to them instead. But this time… what she finds when she peeks into his most recent moments is something far different. What she finds is something she never thought she'd see, something she'd never thought could even happen at all.
What she sees… is Sora tearing his claws straight across Riku's face.
A shuddering gasp escapes her as her eyes fly open, her sketchbook sliding out of her lap. She wants nothing more than to forget the awful memory she's just seen, but the bloody, brutal image is already imprinted heavily upon her mind. She knows it was an accident, that much is clear from the distraught distress she'd seen flash across Sora's face in the seconds that followed such a sudden, violent act. But it still happened all the same, and now… now she can't even imagine how both Sora and Riku might be feeling.
Naminé hastily reclaims her sketchbook, unable to do much else other than put the horrors she's just seen down on paper. Her lines are sloppy and unsteady, her newfound tears dripping onto the edges of the page. She's only about halfway finished with the drawing when she has no choice but to stop, when her racing thoughts finally overwhelm her, when it all becomes too much to take.
Just how long is this going to go on for? Will it ever see an end at all? Or will it just keep going, a maddening, unstoppable cycle of disaster that will only serve to drag everyone caught up in down into the deepest depths of darkness and despair? She hates that she has no answers to her own questions, hates every single part of the pain, the torment, the torture almost everyone she knows have had to go through. Hates that she's so painfully powerless to help herself, much less to help Sora or anyone else for that matter. Because even if she could escape this castle, this world, the Organization's vicious clutches, it's not like much would change. She still can't wield a Keyblade, still can't call upon corridors of darkness or gates of light, still can't turn back time the way she can so easily look through it.
She still can't save Sora the way he once so selflessly saved her. She can't repay the debt she knows she owes him even still. And even against everything else, against being trapped yet again, against her captors' cruel treatment, against her own fears for whatever the future may bring… that's what hurts her newly-formed heart most of all.
Eventually, Naminé puts her sketchbook away and settles into bed. She wraps her arms around herself loosely, tears still silently slipping down her cheeks as she faces the wall. She's all but resigned herself to another restless night of troubled dreams when a stark chill shoots down her spine. And in that split second, Naminé suddenly senses she's no longer alone.
She darts upright with a gasp, wishing she had something, anything to defend herself with. Even so, she steals a quick, cursory glance around the room, deep shadows filling it as night begins to emerge outside. At first, she doesn't see anything; she nearly passes it off as her nerves getting the better of her… until she spots the undoubtedly ghostly figure standing at the window.
"W-what?" Naminé gasps before she can think better of it. "Who-"
She freezes when the specter turns to face her, an older man clad in stately attire. His features carry an air of worn wisdom to them, but there's a clear hint of sadness, of remorse in his eyes. And though Naminé can't be too certain, she almost feels as though there's something undoubtedly familiar about him, as if she's seen him somewhere, or some when before.
"...You can see me?" he asks, his tone and expression both incredulous. Naminé nods nervously, flinching in fear as the ghost takes a silent step closer to her. "Truly? After all this time….? How very odd…"
"Wait," Naminé interjects, a sudden realization dawning on her as she gets a better look at the phantom. "I… I think I know you. Are you… Master Eraqus?"
The ghost stills, taken aback. "Why… yes, I am," he nods. "Or rather, I was, before I met my end to become the faded fragment you see now. But you, child… have we met before?"
"Not in person, no," Naminé manages a small smile as she takes a proper seat on the edge of the bed. "But um… I… know your students," she ventures, knowing that's really the simplest explanation she can give.
"You know Aqua, Terra, and Ventus?" Eraqus inquires, suddenly immensely interested. "Have you seen any of them recently? How are they faring? Do you know?"
"Um… well," Naminé rubs her arm. "I've never really spoken to any of them before, much less lately. E-except for Terra, I guess, but even then, that was…" She stops, shaking her head before she turns her attention back to the specter standing before her. "If it's ok to ask, h-how are you here, uh… sir… er–master?"
"Just Eraqus will do just fine," the phantom counters. "Such a title isn't deserved by one who fell to his own folly as I did. And through that folly that my spirit remains tethered to this land I swore to protect, unable to pass on in peace. Or at least half of my spirit does; the other rests, ironically enough, in the heart of the pupil I failed most."
"Terra, I know," Naminé nods solemnly. "Don't worry; he's safe. They all are. It took some time, but… the three of them are finally together again. Like they're supposed to be."
Eraqus finally manages a small, genuine smile upon hearing this. "You seem to know much about my students despite having never apparently met them," he muses cordially. "Naminé, was it? I've been watching you since you arrived here. Those miscreants in the black coats… they treat you horribly."
"Oh," Naminé frowns, glancing down. "The Organization has… always treated me like that. In a way, I guess it's kind of my fault; I'm the one who has a power that they keep finding new, horrible ways to use, after all."
"That hardly seems like it's any fault of yours, my dear," Eraqus notes sympathetically.
"It is when I end up hurting the people I care about," Naminé shakes her head. "And it's why they're keeping me trapped here in the first place. They want me to use my powers to completely wipe the memories of my frie–o-of… of a boy named Sora." She falters, wishing she had any sort of grounds to call Sora her friend. But after everything she'd done to him in the past, after how fate had forced him to forget they'd ever met, she knows she has no right to even try.
"Ah yes, Sora," Eraqus repeats, curiously stroking his incorporeal chin. "I often hear you speak to him when you're alone. I assume the two of you are close?"
Naminé feels a sudden rush of warmth fill her cheeks as she suddenly finds herself fumbling for words. "N-no! I… I mean, y-yes? I… he's… I-it's complicated," she sighs, knowing that's simultaneously the easiest and most honest way of describing it. "Something… horrible has been happening to him for the past year… The Organization won't stop until he's one of them. They've poured darkness into his heart, lied to him and forced him to run away from his friends… all so their master Xehanort can-"
"Xehanort?" Eraqus interjects, his eyes wide with newfound alarm. "After all this time, he's still toying with the darkness? He's still trying to drag others down into its depths along with him? It seems some things never truly change…"
"You… know, er… knew Xehanort?" Naminé asks, already knowing that fact, but not much beyond it. Xehanort and Eraqus have some kind of history together, but the details behind that history largely lie beyond the scope of her powers to see.
Eraqus nods gravely, turning to face the night sky outside the window. "Xehanort was once my closest friend, my brother. But that was a lifetime ago, far before he became the sinister shadow of a man he is now. The pain he put Ventus through, the way he facilitated Terra's fall to darkness… these cruel acts are unforgivable. But to hear he now has his sights set on another innocent child? How many lives must he ruin before his twisted ambitions are satisfied?" His voice drops down to almost a whisper as he ceases to address Naminé and voices a soft spoken, exhausted question to someone else entirely. "When will enough ever be enough for you, Xehanort?"
"I don't know what Xehanort wants Sora for," Naminé speaks up. Her tone is equally quiet as she absently grips the bottom hem of her dress. "I don't know why he chose him as his last vessel in the first place. Sora defeated his Heartless and his Nobody before, but… I feel like this goes far beyond some kind of revenge scheme. There's some piece to all this that I'm missing, something I can't see…" she muses, more to herself than to Eraqus. "Maybe if I could, I might actually be able to help him somehow instead of just sitting here doing nothing like I have been for months now…"
Eraqus faces the girl again, his former anger toward Xehanort fading into concern for her palpable plight instead. "You seem to hold much remorse for someone so young. I suppose that's something you and I have in common, Naminé. Regret is a heavy burden to bear, is it not?"
"It definitely is…" Naminé agrees with a sigh. "It's funny, when you think about it, how easy it is to pick that regret up and start carrying it around… and how hard it is to put it down so you can finally leave it behind…"
"You remind me of my pupil Aqua," Eraqus notes, impressed by such a poetic observation. "She possesses wisdom beyond her years, just as you do, my dear."
"Thank you, but… I don't think I'd call myself wise," Naminé counters, frowning. "Or strong, or brave… or anything else really. I'm just… a nobody." She can't help but laugh at the irony of such a statement. At how even now that she's fully human, even now that she has her own heart, she's still nothing more than a faded echo of someone far better, someone who shines so much brighter. "I always have been. I always will be…"
Eraqus stays quiet for a long moment as Naminé closes her eyes. She half expects him to be gone when she opens them once more, but instead his ghostly form stands only a few feet before her now, his expression steadfast and resolute as he kneels down to her level. "The girl I've been watching these past few months is far from a nobody," he tells her firmly, yet kindly. "She is clever enough to come up with a quick plan to save a friend in need." Naminé jolts at this, surprised that he's been keeping an eye on her for that long, amazed that he had witnessed how she barely managed to salvage Xion's memories. "She is strong enough to withstand the worst her coldhearted captors have to say or do to her. And… she is courageous enough–selfless enough to still strive to help someone else even when she could so easily be focusing on helping herself instead."
At first, Naminé isn't sure how to respond. She folds her hands in her lap, staring down at them as she explains herself in the best way she knows how: using the truth. "I just… want to set things right. That's all I've ever wanted."
"A noble goal," Eraqus assures, smiling now. "Along with an unshakable resolve to make it happen. Even if you don't think so, Naminé, your perseverance truly is inspiring. And for that, you should be more than proud." He pauses for a moment or two, seemingly mulling something over as he rises to properly stand once more. "Inspiring indeed…"
"Mast–um… E-Eraqus?" Naminé ventures, curious.
"Naminé," Eraqus returns, a warm, almost fatherly look in his eyes. "I don't know what whim of fate has allowed you to see my spirit on this night, but I do not believe this meeting was by chance. Xehanort needs to be stopped at all costs; the danger he poses to the worlds and everyone in them is unspeakable. But my time in the world of the living was brought to an end over a decade ago; there is little I can do to oppose him now. The only thing I can do… is light the way for those who still can."
"What do you mean?" Naminé inquires, still not following.
"My influence beyond this world is all but nonexistent now," Eraqus explains. "But by using the last of my faded power, I might be able to open a light gate leading away from this land. In other words, a way for you to escape from here, Naminé."
"R-really?!" Naminé exclaims, her hopes skyrocketing the moment she hears this. She's quick to ground herself back into reality though, when she recalls the first half of what the deceased master had said. "But wait… the last of your power? What happens if you use it all up?"
"...I suppose the half of my spirit that remains in this land will cease to exist," Eraqus says simply, inconsequentially. As if it doesn't matter to him in the slightest.
"But… no!" Naminé protests, swiftly rising to her feet. "I… I can't ask you to waste that on me. I can't just… stand by and watch someone else sacrifice everything they have for my sake. That's happened way too many times now and I'm tired of it! I can't… I just… it's not fair…"
She trails off, forcing her emerging tears back under the surface as she rushes to wipe the few that slipped out away. All the while, she wonders just how long it will take before the feelings of uselessness, of helplessness, of unshakable weakness she's always been so well acquainted with will finally overtake her entirely. As if they haven't already.
For his part, Eraqus remains calm, even despite the girl's emotional outburst. He offers her a small, encouraging smile as he hovers an intangible hand over her shoulder. She finds it strange that she still feels a trace of warmth from it, even if its weight is all but non-existent. "You have no reason to bear any guilt for this sacrifice, Naminé," he assures her gently. "It is one that I will be glad to make if it means atoning for my many mistakes. I have nothing left to give but this chance that the tides may at last turn. A chance that those who have been scarred by Xehanort's treachery, my pupils, your friend, each and every world he's brought harm to, may finally begin to heal. And as far as I can see, Naminé, that chance begins with you."
"B-but… how?" Naminé presses anxiously. "What can I even do to help anyone? I can't use a Keyblade, my magic has only ever been used to hurt others. Whatever you think I can do, I can't. I can't do anything…"
"You can," Eraqus counters evenly. "You need only believe in yourself and be willing to try. So before we begin, I must ask you one final time, Naminé: are you willing to try to do what you say you want? Are you ready to set things right?"
Naminé hesitates, out of nerves, out of fear, out of a million different thoughts swarming through her head all at once. The one that stands out most is that unlike her captors, Eraqus isn't trying to force her to do anything. He's asking her, he's giving her a choice, something she isn't accustomed to ever really having. She appreciates the sentiment, but ultimately, she knows there's only really one answer she can give. Either she'll continue to sit around here in the dark, uselessly moping and dreaming of a future she'll never see… or finally step into the light and find a way to create that future, to become a part of it for herself.
Which means her only choice is to take the chance she's being offered. The last chance she might ever get to fix what she once played a hand in breaking.
"Yes," she finally says, having never been more sure of anything in her entire existence. "I am."
"Very good," Eraqus nods. Suddenly, a dull glow begins to envelop his spectral form; that light grows brighter with each passing second as the master pulls the final remnants of his faded magic together. "I should warn you that even if I am able to create a light gate, there's no telling where it will lead. It's destination will be beyond my control; I apologize."
"No, no, it's ok," Naminé counters. "Believe me, anywhere is better as long as it's somewhere far away from Organization XIII."
"Then may it take you to a place that is safe from their reach," Eraqus earnestly wishes as his form starts to flicker in and out of sight. No doubt a sign that his spirit is indeed fading, just as a light gate begins to form in the space behind him. "May it take you to where you need to be."
"Thank you, Master Eraqus," Naminé smiles, scarcely able to express her gratitude for his solidarity, his sacrifice. Her gratitude for one of the only few friendly faces she's had to turn to since her sudden return, a friend she'd managed to make simply through a short conversation, one that she wishes could have happened under different, better circumstances. One that she wishes didn't have to end so soon. "For everything."
"It is a pleasure to aid a heart filled with as much kind and courageous light as yours, Naminé," Eraqus returns her grin, though it's quick to fade back into sadness as he glances down at his own fading form. "If you see Aqua, Terra, and Ventus, please… tell them their foolish teacher is sorry for failing them. That I have missed them dearly, and that I am so proud of how far each of them have come."
"I will," Naminé readily agrees, knowing that's the least she can do. "I promise."
"Thank you…" the master closes his eyes, clearly at peace as his image slowly fades away. A fully-formed light gate has taken his place, one that engulfs almost the entire room in a radiant glow that fills Naminé with a kind of warmth and hope she hasn't felt in so very long. Even so, she stays behind long enough to listen to the final words Eraqus has to offer her before his presence vanishes altogether. "May your heart be your guiding key…"
Naminé embraces that ancient phrase as she steps forward into the light, not wanting to waste another second of her life trapped and alone, not wanting to waste the incredible opportunity Eraqus has so selflessly given her. So she lets her heart guide her to the freedom she's longed for, to the life she finally has a chance to live. She lets her heart guide her where she wants to go, to who she wants to see, to save, to say sorry to for so many things.
To Sora. And amazingly enough, that's exactly where the light, where her heart leads.
You did this-
His own fierce, frantic thoughts pierce him like knives as he stumbles through his own dark corridor, each one stabbing away at his shattering heart even more than the last.
You did this on your own-
He doesn't even hear his own voice pitching up into a scream against the ringing in his ears, the thundering in his chest. He pays the darkness no mind as it leaches into his body from the portal he's passing through. He doesn't even care about that same darkness worsening his already sickened stomach, doesn't care about the bile rising in his throat, about the edges of his vision becoming blurred and spotted, doesn't care about anything at all except-
They didn't have to force you to do that-
Except the blood, so much blood, still staining his clothes, his face, his hands. And what's worse… is that not a single drop of that blood is his own.
You just DID that without even thinking-
His thoughts are hateful, accusatory as they ring loud and agonizing through his mind. In many ways, they sound almost like his master, unsympathetically confirming this catastrophe, like any number of his friends, coldly condemning him for the unspeakable crime he's committed. But above all else, they sound like his own voice, screaming at him for something he'll never, ever be able to fix or undo or even just forget.
You HURT HIM-
He finally collapses somewhere on the other side of his portal, falling to his hands and knees upon a stony street in a night-covered city. He spares not a single glance at his surroundings as his nauseous stomach finally forces him to expel what little is in it, splotches of liquid darkness and a good bit of his own blood mingling with what's already covering him. With the blood that he so carelessly, so callously spilled.
YOU HURT RIKU-
The second he's finally done painfully heaving up whatever he has to, his voice erupts into another scream, his claws digging into his hair as his powers react in turn. Countless shimmering spikes burst out of the ground, shoot straight into buildings, shatter glass windows, rise high over their creator toward the starry sky above. They surround him on all sides, entrapping him in a cage of his own grief and guilt, a cage he'll escape from, not after what he's just done.
YOU'RE A MONSTER!
His breaths come out in short panicked gasps as he finally looks up, as he immediately, albeit distantly realizes where he is. It's a place he's been many times, essentially the place where his very first journey began.
He's in Traverse Town. And just like he was the first time he arrived here, he's lost and afraid and alone.
Monster-
That word, bitter and brutal, keeps echoing through his mind and heart alike, the very definition of what he is now, of what he's always been and what he'll always be.
MONSTER-
It suffocates him, strangles him, sears him with how terrible, with how true it is. He can't deny it any longer, can't hide behind excuses or lies or spells, can't pretend to be something he isn't ever again. He's looked the part of a monster for so long now, he more than played the part when he killed others in cold blood. But now… now that he's hurt his longest, closest friend, now that he's so violently mutilated someone he cares so much about, now that he's viciously blinded someone he once claimed to love so deeply… he can't see himself as anything else.
MONSTER!
A monster… through and through. Nothing less and nothing more. A monster who deserves to be cast out, to be captured, to be killed. A monster who somehow always manages to escape the justice he should face for every awful thing he's done.
But not this time, not after something like this. He won't allow it. He thinks about the image, still burned into his memory, of Riku's bloody, ruined face… and he knows that he should suffer the same fate. After all, it's only fair…
He does it before he can even try to stop himself. He reaches up and slams the tips of his claws into the side of his own face, landing far lower than he had with Riku's. The sharp tips pierce his right cheek and he swiftly, sloppily scrapes them across the lower half of his face, tearing five deep cuts over his lips, down to the base of his chin. It's agonizing, of course, but he doesn't scream, doesn't allow himself to cry any more than he already is, refuses to let himself gag up the blood that's already starting to flood into his now gnarled-mouth. Because even the pain that such a grave, self-inflicted wound brings him can't come close to what his heart is still going through. It can't compare to the anguish that will forever follow him, just as the horrendous, hate-driven scars he's left both on Riku and on himself will forever remain.
Traverse Town is silent, essentially abandoned around him without any lost, wordless hearts to call it home. As such, his broken sobs echo through the familiar streets, sobs that hitch a bit higher when he catches sight of his own reflection in one of his own nearby spikes. Sure enough, the bottom half of his face is painted scarlet from the garish gashes torn across it, and with his eyes as wild and glowing golden in the darkness, he hardly even looks human–not that he's much of a human anymore to begin with. But what scares him even more is that his eyes are now entirely yellow, his hair completely white; darkness engulfs the entire length of his arms and legs alike and even stranger still, his ears now taper to a point. He doesn't know when or how he managed to miss it, but by all accounts, it seems as though his physical transformation has reached its peak. How fitting that he's now every bit as hideous on the outside as he is on the inside.
Somewhere only a few short blocks away, a sudden burst of light blooms to life. Out of that light gate, Naminé emerges, initially confused by her surroundings, though it doesn't take her too long to recognize them. She's never been to Traverse Town herself, having only seen it in Sora's memories, but she knows enough about it to understand why it's so empty. Stores and homes stand locked and quiet, not a single soul strolls through its lamplight streets. And yet, as Naminé begins to curiously make her way through the first district, she soon catches onto a soft sound slipping in through the otherwise dense silence.
The sound of sobbing, from a source that she soon catches sight of. A sight of someone she can scarcely believe she's seeing, much less here, and much less now. Someone she can't believe she's found so soon after being set free, someone whose unspeakable sorrow she can practically feel even from several feet away.
"Sora…" she whispers, her voice barely audible as she draws in an equally quiet gasp. He's on his knees, surrounded by spikes of his own creation, and though his back is turned to her, she can see a steady pool of blood on the ground beneath him. Only the briefest of glimpses through his most recent memories tells her exactly how that blood got there, a horrific sight that nearly makes her sick. Especially when it dawns on her that the grizzly wound strewn across his face had been entirely of his own doing.
She pushes ahead, preparing to call out to him, to run to him, to do anything she can to comfort him from the crisis he's currently caught up in. But before she can make even another sound or take another step, she freezes dead in her tracks when a dark corridor suddenly forms in the wide gap of space between her and Sora. Naturally, Naminé panics, terrified that the Organization has already found her again, that they intend on dragging her back to the Land of Departure, or even worse, to their own haunting castle abode. That Eraqus' final act of sacrifice will end up meaning nothing at all.
So she makes herself scarce, darting to hide behind the nearest wall. Her heart is racing when she narrowly peeks out from behind it, immediately realizing two things as she does: 1. The Organization member who's arrived here isn't Marluxia or Larxene or even Xemnas, it's Ansem. And 2: he isn't here for her; he's here for Sora.
And in realizing that fact, Naminé finds herself even more frightened than she had been before.
She watches anxiously as Ansem approaches Sora, his footsteps completely silent, his pace akin to a predator stalking their unwitting prey. Sora only realizes he's not alone when a heavy hand suddenly lands on his shoulder, scaring him stiff.
"Where is the Key, number thirteen?" Ansem asks him, not even sparing him any sort of falsely cordial greeting this time around.
"...I don't have it," Sora is forced to say, the first words he's spoken since… since it happened.
"Why not?" Ansem presses, a question he must already know the answer to.
Sora swallows hard, his entire body trembling as he struggles to talk, his lips still torn raw and bleeding profusely. "I… dropped it…" he whispers, his voice barely audible.
"You dropped it," Ansem echoes with an air of almost cloying sarcasm. His hand leaves Sora's shoulders, and a cold rush of dread fill's both his and Naminé's hearts when the wicked man comes to stand before him. Before Sora can even properly look up at him, Ansem reaches down and snatches him by the throat, holding him high above the ground in a tight, oppressive grip. "You mean you left it behind for the guardians of light to claim, didn't you?"
"I-I-" Sora chokes, struggling for air as the rest of his body dangles limply below Ansem's unrelenting hand. His superior's expression is icy, severe, demanding answers that Sora doesn't know how to give. But he's still made to futilely try all the same. "I-it was an accident!" he cries, and even he's unsure of if he's referring to the Key… or to something else entirely. "I didn't mean to, I just-"
"Silence," Ansem orders, narrowing his vicious glare at the boy in his grip. He reaches his other hand up, tracing a thumb along one of the several still-bleeding cuts strewn across his face. Sora lets out a shuddering gasp, wincing from the pain such a rough gesture brings. "What is this?" Ansem asks, not giving him a chance to answer. "You've damaged yourself, number thirteen."
Damaged, as if he's a piece of property and not a person. And lately, with just how much he's been used lately, with how many places he's been forced to go, how many things he's been forced to say and do on someone else's orders, that's exactly what he feels like. Nothing more than an object, a puppet, a tool. A slave.
"I can't say I'm surprised," Ansem continues, his gloved fingertips now fully brushing against Sora's cuts to an agonizing degree. "You've come to be so careless with your master's possessions lately. Still, he wants his thirteenth vessel to be presentable; which means that this… unpleasant alteration you decided to give yourself," he rolls his eyes when Sora lets out a tiny, almost pleading sob. "Must go."
"W-wait," Sora interjects, pulling a hand up to try and push Ansem's away. "P-please, superior, don't-"
"You want to stay maimed and mutilated like this?" Ansem raises an eyebrow. He quickly slips on a smug smile only a second later though. "Oh, I see. You wish to feel even a fraction of the pain you put your dear 'friend' through. How sweet… and utterly pitiful. You should know, Sora, that whatever injury you inflicted upon that boy can scarcely even compare to what the guardians of light would have done to you if you had gone with him like you almost did. You made the right choice, child." He finally smiles as he silences Sora's ongoing sobs, his hand completely covering his mouth, as well as the deep scratches torn across as he begins to heal those scratches against the boy's will. "You did the right thing."
Ansem's magic is potent, acting quickly to seal up the skin Sora had sliced through. Naminé continues watching from a distance, finding only the scarcest shred of relief that such a grave wound is being healed. Her heart still begs her to emerge and do what she can to help Sora escape from this wicked man, but her mind forbids her from doing anything but hiding. Anything but being the coward she knows she's always been.
As soon as Sora's face is fully healed and clean of blood, Ansem finally drops him. He chokes out a sharp gasp, skimming his hand against his smooth, unmarred skin in absolute shame. Not a trace of pain remains and he hates that, hates that he's been so easily healed and that the damage he's done to Riku will remain. Hates that his superior won't even let him suffer that same kind of damage in turn, hates that he isn't allowed to even just feel the agony his heart is begging him to shoulder. The agony he knows he should be bearing the brunt of far more than Riku ever should.
"You will not make such similar attempts again," Ansem swiftly, sternly orders the second Sora so much as tenses his claws against his face. Sora sighs, his hand drifting away as he's forced to stand, forced to pay respect to his tormentor, forced to give him gratitude for something he never wanted in the first place.
"I won't," he mutters, his gaze trained on the ground. "Thank you… superior."
Ansem simply sneers as he turns away from the boy, strolling forward across the lamplit square. "You're falling short of our expectations, Sora," he says, placing a hand against one of the many spikes surrounding them. "In failing to acquire that Key, you have disappointed your master, disgraced your Organization, disobeyed direct orders. This kind of incompetence will not be tolerated moving forward. You claim you want our protection, but your continued incompetence demonstrates otherwise. Perhaps if we let that witch get her hands on you again, then you might have more of an incentive to succeed."
"N-no!" Sora protests, a rush of ice-cold fear flooding through him. "She–I-I—I'll do anything you want, just please, don't let her find me again-"
"Then deliver the final Key to us," Ansem commands, absolutely apathetic to the boy's clear distress. "Don't forget, Sora, that you were the one who made a deal with us to gather them. Though in an ironic twist of fate," he smirks, eyeing the remnant blood still staining Sora's clothes. "It appears you were the one to break your own bargain, in more ways than one. You begged and pleaded with us, sacrificed yourself and your freedom to us, solely to spare your former friends from harm at our hands. Only for your own hand to harm one of them so heavily instead."
Sora isn't allowed to say anything in his defense, not that he'd have anything to say anyway. Because he knows that every last poisonous word his superior is saying is undeniable, unbearably true. "You've dealt a grave blow, not just to Riku, but to the guardians of light as a whole," Ansem's haughty, cunning grin deepens as he slowly circles Sora, who stands frozen in a storm of frigid fear and despair. "They will never forgive you for this. There is nothing you can say to them, nothing you can do to ever convince them to accept you into their fold again. If you still had any doubts in your mind that they hated you before, make no mistake, number thirteen, that each and every last one of the lights despises you now. Riku despises you. And why wouldn't he, after what you've just done to him? Now that he's seen you for the bloodthirsty beast you truly are?"
"Stop it," Naminé whispers from her hiding spot. She shoots a sharp glare at Ansem, one that she knows he won't see, though it's still filled with immense disdain all the same. Disdain for this despicable man and the despicable lies he's weaving; lies that, unfortunately, Sora continues to believe.
He says nothing, his mournful tears saying far more than words ever could. He finds no comfort when he notices Ansem summoning a dark corridor, preparing to finally leave him alone and end this bout of torture. For now, at least.
"You will only be told this one final time, number thirteen," he says, scowling over his shoulder at the boy. "Bring us that remaining Key. Once you do, only then can we bring you home at last."
The most Sora can do is obediently nod as his superior disappears. The second he's gone, though, as soon as he has complete control of his own movements again, he collapses to his knees once more, a strangled sob escaping him. Naminé steps out a bit from her shelter, still hesitant to fully make her presence known as she watches Sora slowly make his way over to the nearby alley, sitting against the stone wall as he hugs his legs to his chest and buries his face into his knees. There, he continues to pour out his grief, a series of small spikes jutting out from the ground around him, spikes that Naminé does her best to avoid as she carefully begins to approach him.
As she does, she acutely realizes she really has no idea what to say to him. Though she knows him exceptionally well, he doesn't remember a thing about her; in fact, he only knows that she exists at all thanks to Kairi. At first, she bemoans that fact, wishes there was a quick and easy way to help him remember the history that they share, the friendship they'd once forged before he'd been forced to forget it. But then, as she stands at the entrance of the alley that he's in, it dawns on her that she might just have a unique advantage here. She isn't one of the guardians of light, as far as he knows, she's not one of the friends, she's not one of the people he believes will lock him away if they find him. From Sora's perspective, they might as well be perfect strangers; and from what Naminé has seen of his memories, lately, he's been much more open to trusting strangers than anyone else.
So she takes in a steadying breath, her footsteps quiet as she continues walking toward him. He doesn't hear her, doesn't even know she's there as she takes a seat next to him, his shoulders heaving from his ongoing tears all the while. She knows the risk his unpredictable powers pose and she doesn't care in the slightest. Not when he needs the kind of comfort and support she can only hope she'll be able to provide. She reaches a hand out to skim his shoulder, but quickly draws it back, worried he won't respond well to that kind of unexpected touch. Instead, she speaks up, her voice small and tremulous as she starts with something simple: his name.
"Sora…?" she whispers. She narrowly manages to keep calm when his response is immediate and every bit as anxious as she anticipated it would be.
He gasps, his head darting upright as he glances around with wet, wide, terrified eyes. When those eyes finally settle on her, her heart skips a beat, though it swiftly sinks when confusion fills his features at the sight of her. Of course he doesn't recognize her, why did she ever think that he would? She should have known that he wouldn't-
"...N-Naminé?" he says her name, uncertain and bewildered. But the sound of his voice so much as speaking it fills her with a burst of untold warmth. Warmth that she doesn't want to let go of, not this time, not ever again.
"Y-you… know who I am?" she asks, fighting back a smile. Daring to hope against hope that he might just remember the promise that they once made, that she might still have a place in his heart after all.
Sora nods, absently wiping some of his tears away. "Yeah, you're Kairi's Nobody. O-or, uh… I guess you were before… you know."
Ah, right. She should have guessed that would be the only context he'd have for her. The reality of it hits her harder than she thought it would, but she does her best to take it in stride. After all, she's here to help him, not to satisfy her own selfish, impossible desires.
"Um… yeah," she brushes a few stray hairs out of her face. "Thank you, by the way, f-for setting me–for setting all of us free. I know you only really meant to release Roxas and Xion when you used the Key to Return Hearts, but… it, uh, got me out of Kairi's heart too, so… thanks."
"Oh, uh yeah, no problem," Sora returns just as awkwardly. A beat of somewhat unsteady silence lingers between the two until he makes the effort to keep the conversation with a show of gratitude of his own. "Oh, that reminds me; thank you, Naminé."
"Huh?" she raises an eyebrow when she catches the small, wavering smile he's sending her way. "For what?"
"I… don't know," he scratches the back of his neck. "I just… Jiminy's journal said we were supposed to thank you, but it didn't say why. But since you're here, I figured I might as well. So thanks, for… something."
Naminé sighs, shame slipping over her features as she refuses to meet his obliviously grateful gaze. "You shouldn't thank me, Sora," she mutters guiltily. "I haven't done anything to deserve it." Because if anything, she'd been the one to cause the problems she'd once had to fix for him. And even still, she's done nothing to help ease the pain of his current plight, she hadn't even had enough courage to defend him against Ansem when she'd been right there, perfectly capable of doing exactly that. Nothing's changed, she realizes bitterly. She's still nothing more than a waste of a witch, still just as weak and worthless as she'd been from the moment her existence began.
Sora frowns, wanting to press her for more information, wanting to discover why she sounds so sad, wanting to know why he suddenly feels so compelled to help her chase that sadness away. But he barely knows her, knows it isn't his place to pry, so he decides to change the subject by posing an entirely different question instead.
"What are you doing here?" he asks. "Xion said that the Organization was keeping you prisoner-"
"They were," Naminé confirms, her tone turning bittersweet as she thinks of Eraqus. "But… a friend helped me escape and somehow, I found my way here, to you. And now that I am here, I'd… I want to do what I can to help you, Sora."
His expression darkens at this offer, his nearly relaxed manner tensing as he starts to pull himself to his feet. Naminé also stands, following a few steps behind him as he walks back out into the open square. "You can't help me," he says softly, loosely wrapping his arms around himself. "In fact… y-you should probably go. It's not safe for you to be around me. It's not safe for anyone to be around me…"
Naminé doesn't have to think too hard on how he's reached such a dejected conclusion. Empathy sweeps through her when she sees him glance down at his hand, traces of blood still dried on the tips of his already crimson claws. She knows what it's like to hurt someone so special to her without even meaning to, without ever wanting to at all. She knows what it's like to have such a horrid kind of power, to feel like a monster in almost every way imaginable.
"I heard everything Ansem said to you just now," she says, taking a small step closer to him. "They're all so horrible to you, Sora. You don't deserve to be treated like that-"
"No, you're right," he surprisingly agrees, much to Naminé's initial bewilderment. Until… "I deserve to be treated much worse." Naminé stops short upon hearing this, immediately wanting to argue, but Sora doesn't give her the chance as he begins to divulge exactly why he thinks that. Why he thinks he should be every bit as harmed and hated and heartbroken as he currently is. "I disobeyed my master and my superiors. I let my Organization down."
"W-what?" Naminé gapes, stunned and horrified by what she's hearing. By how unlike Sora it all sounds, even though, as far as she can tell, he's not being forced to say a single word of it. But he's far from finished as his voice hitches with an emerging sob as he covers his face with his claws.
"I hurt Riku…" he mutters thickly, brokenly. "I hurt him so badly! M-my superior was right… He'll never forgive me for this, he hates me for this!"
"That's not true!" Naminé immediately protests. She knows Sora is just echoing every awful thing Ansem told him, and she won't stand for it. She won't let him blindly believe one more word of the Organization's cruel manipulation. "Sora, Riku would do anything for you. He cares so much about you, trust me, I would know!" Of course, she doesn't bother elaborating how she knows that, but she still stands by it all the same. Because she'd spent an entire year seeing just how dedicated and devoted Riku is to his best friend; she'd spent a year watching him selflessly struggle and strive to save a friendship that can't be shaken, not even by something as severe and seemingly insurmountable as this. "If he were here right now, I bet anything that he wouldn't even be upset with you. He just wants you to come home safely-"
"I can't!" Sora spins around to face her, an array of spikes shooting up behind him as he does. "Don't you see? I can never go home after this, I can never go back to the lights! As soon as they find out what I've done to Riku, they'll wanna chain me up even more than they already do! Even if I try to tell them I'm sorry, even if I beg them to forgive me, they won't! And they shouldn't… because something like this, all of the messes I'd made, all of the pain I've caused other people… It's something nobody can ever change. It's something I'll never be able to fix, no matter how hard I try…"
Naminé stills at this, an idea springing to her mind before she can even try to suppress it. Sora is right, in many ways; what's already happened can't be undone, the past is impossible to change. And yet… it's isn't impossible to forget the past, it isn't possible to be freed from the pain it brings. And incidentally enough, Naminé just so happens to possess the power to do exactly that.
"Sora," she starts, finally slipping a hand onto his shoulder. Her better senses beg her to stop before she can even begin, to abandon this dangerous thought and never revisit it again. And yet… this is the only way she can think of to really do anything substantial to help him, to ease his suffering by making him think none of it ever happened, by clearing away the trauma and torment he has endured, just like she cleared away the memory of how they first met. True, it would do little to save him in the end; in fact, it would do essentially nothing to spare him from any similar anguish in the future. But at the very least, she hopes it could lighten his load at least a little, a load that has all but come to crush him completely.
She hopes that it can help chase his tears away. She hopes that it can help him find some semblance of peace, no matter how small. She hopes that it can help him learn to smile again, to be himself again instead of the sorrowful shadow standing before her now.
"I…" she takes a deep breath, refusing to do this without his knowledge, without his permission. Refusing to force him to forget like she'd once had no choice but to do before. "If you want, I-I could-"
A sharp white spike suddenly shoots up in the sparse space between Sora and Naminé, nearly striking them both as it swiftly separates them. Several more follow in its wake, targeting Sora as one of them does end up slicing into his side, with two more rising up to pin him to the ground by his jacket. He barely has time to even comprehend what's happening before the tip of a dark Keyblade is shoved into his face, held by the figure standing over him, shooting a hateful scowl down at him that's every bit as sharp.
"V-Vanitas?" Sora winces, completely caught off guard by such an unexpected attack. "What are you-"
"Shut up," Vanitas hisses, his Keyblade and his spikes as unmoving as his cold crimson glare. "We're finishing this, right here, and right now."
Despite the dangerous position he's in, Sora can't help but let out an indignant scoff at such a threat. "What are you talking about? You already know you can't kill me, so why are you still-"
"I'm not trying to kill you this time, idiot," Vanitas sneers, biting back a pained flinch from the aura of painful light surrounding him. "Believe me, I wish I actually could end your pathetic life like I wanted to before. But unfortunately for us both… if I ever want to get my hands on the X-Blade, then I need you."
"W-what?" Sora asks, mystified. Before he can press for more details, however, his confusion quickly turns to concern when he hears Naminé calling for him from her spot on the far side of the square.
"Sora!" she exclaims, scrambling to her feet and rushing forward. She doesn't make it very far, however, before a wall of spikes, both Sora's and Vanitas' alike, rise to block her approach.
"Stay out of this!" Vanitas barks back at her, refusing to let anyone interfere with his newest plan.
Sora largely voices the same sentiment, albeit much less harshly. "Naminé! Go find somewhere safe! I can handle him-"
"With how weak you've gotten lately?" Vanitas cuts him off, rolling his eyes. "I'd like to see you try."
For her part, Naminé doesn't heed either of them, staying put as she pushes against the spikes barring her way forward. She peeks through the small gaps between them, anxiously watching as Vanitas lands a brutal kick to Sora's side. Now free from the spikes pinning him down, Sora scrambles to his feet, only for a heavy blow from Vanitas' Keyblade to send him slamming into a nearby wall, one that he's just as quickly trapped against by even more white shards. Vanitas approaches him slowly, his Keyblade dragging against the ground, his expression fierce, impatient, unhinged.
"Why are you doing this?" Sora asks, struggling to pull free from the spikes that are practically skewering him. "Why are you still coming after me? What could I possibly have that you would ever need?!"
"Simple," Vanitas finally smirks, his Keyblade still trained on Sora's chest. "I need your darkness to balance out my light. If I can't forge the X-Blade with Ventus like I did before, then I might as well use the next best thing: you."
Sora shakes his head, torn between fear and bewilderment. "I-I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Vanitas huffs, annoyed. "Let me spell this out in the easiest way I can for someone as stupid as you. In order to forge the X-Blade, a clash of pure light and pure darkness needs to happen. My heart used to be full of darkness, and Ventus' used to be full of light before you got involved and ruined everything. Or so I thought. Because now…" He grins as he holds his hand up, light swirling around it, light that makes his spikes gleam even brighter in the night, that makes Sora's seem even darker in contrast. "My heart has light in it… and yours… is overflowing with darkness. It's ironic, isn't it?" He lets out a humorless laugh as he perches the edge of his Keyblade under Sora's chin. "That after all the time I spent trying to kill you, only now have I realized that you're my ticket to finally becoming whole. Because once our hearts join together, then at long last the X-Blade… and every ounce of unstoppable power it'll unlock will belong to me."
For a moment, Sora finds himself speechless, unable to even react to such a twisted scheme. Being used for such horrific ends is hardly anything new to him, not after everything Xehanort and Maleficent alike have put him through to satisfy their sadistic goals. But now, knowing that Vanitas wants to use him too, that he wants to push him toward essentially the same destructive goal as his master… it's more than Sora can reasonably take. But unlike with his master or even with Maleficent… Sora has no problems standing up to someone like Vanitas in the slightest.
"Yeah, right," he rebuffs, shooting his near-twin with a resilient glare. "If you think I'd ever agree to help you with something like that, then you've got another thing coming!"
"Really? Your answer is no?" Vanitas frowns, feigning disappointment as he pulls his Keyblade away. "And here I thought you would have been jumping at the chance I'm trying to give you here. Think about it–a challenge, I know, given that you rarely ever think. If the two of us become one, if we actually do manage to forge the X-Blade and summon Kingdom Hearts… then the old man won't have any power over you anymore. In fact… you'd have all the power you'd need to destroy him, to make him pay for all the pain he's put you through." Vanitas' tone turns a touch darker at this as he glares away from Sora, his expression suddenly distant, as if he's somewhere, or some when else altogether. "To make him call you 'master' for a change…"
"I… I could be free…" Sora whispers to himself, his eyes widening at the thought. Because certainly, Xehanort's power isn't greater than that of Kingdom Hearts'-he wouldn't be going to such great lengths to obtain control over it if it wasn't. But if Sora possessed that power instead… "I-I could stop him. I could end this…"
"Exactly," Vanitas smirks, his impromptu manipulation working perfectly. He lets his own shimmering spikes retract, extending a hand out in offering to Sora in their place. "Together we can put Xehanort through all of the suffering he's made each of us endure and then some. It'd say it's the least he deserves, wouldn't you agree, Sora?"
Sora can't help but nod his apprehensive agreement, his heart tinged with anger toward his master for the abuse he's been through, for the despair his cruelty has wrought. It would be so liberating, so cathartic to drag Xehanort down even half as low as he's been brought by his hand. He knows he can't do it in his current state, with his heart held tight under his master's suppressive grip. But if he were stronger, if he wasn't alone in this fight anymore… then maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance after all.
"Sora!" Naminé's frightened call abruptly pulls him out of his turning thoughts. He glances up to spot her in the spaces between spikes, her expression awash with worry as she desperately tries to make him see reason. "Don't listen to him! Even if his plan does work, even if Xehanort loses his control over you, joining your heart with Vanitas' won't set you free. Because he'll be the one in control instead."
Vanitas rapidly turns to face her, fury filling his features as he shouts at the potential thorn in his plans. "Nobody asked for your two cents, princess–wait," he stops short, narrowing his eyes at the girl he had only gotten a glimpse of before. He waves his hand, allowing several of his spikes to fall so he can get a better look at her. "You're not Kairi. Who are you supposed to be?"
"My name is Naminé," she says, taking a bold step forward. "And I won't let you trick Sora into throwing his life away!"
"Tch, as if he still has much of a life left to hold onto," Vanitas retorts snidely. "Word of advice, 'sunshine'; keep your nose out of other peoples' business, k? Now," he turns back to Sora, his former leering grin reclaiming his features. "Where were we before we were so rudely interrupted? Oh, that's right. You were just about to say yes."
Vanitas isn't wrong. Because as he holds his hand out to him once again, Sora slowly starts to raise his own. He slowly starts to accept that this is what he should do, that this is the only thing he can do if he ever hopes to have even a hint of freedom ever again. He doesn't trust Vanitas, doesn't even really like him after how vicious and violent he's been toward him. But he'd rather work alongside anyone to keep Kingdom Hearts out of the Organization's reach than to be the one who ultimately delivers it into their hands.
So he almost takes his near-twin's hand, he almost becomes one with him, he almost sacrifices every shred of himself he has left to give. But then-
"Sora, please," Naminé pleads with him once. She makes it past the spikes he'd made to protect her, intent on reaching him in any way she can before he's lost forever. "Don't do this. If you let him get his way, who knows what will happen? You don't have to just give up like this–there's still so many people who want to help you, even if you don't believe they do! Think about your friends, about Roxas and Xion, about Donald and Goofy, about Riku and Kairi, about… a-about me…" She notices him draw his hand back the slightest bit when she says this, catches the harsh warning glare Vanitas sends over his shoulder at her. Even so, she doesn't stop, she can't; not when she knows she could be the only thing standing between Sora and what could be one of the worst choices he might ever make.
Which, of course, is why she decides, perhaps at the worst point possible, to offer him the chance to make a choice that's every bit as bad.
"L-let me wipe away your memories of what the Organization and Maleficent have done to you instead!" she exclaims before she can think better of it. Before she can come up with a better way to stop this, a better way of saving him instead of being the one to condemn him herself.
"What?" Vanitas asks hotly, his expression stunned and livid.
Likewise, Sora is equally caught off guard by such a strange, almost surreal offer. "You… can do that?" he asks, his hand fully falling back to his side.
"I… I can," Naminé nods, already regretting this. Already wishing she hadn't spoken such an unsavory idea aloud. "Sora, this… isn't the first time you and I have met. If you could remember, then you'd know that I… I have the power to see, change, a-and even get rid of your memories altogether. If you want me to, I could make you forget about every awful thing that's happened to you since Xehanort began taking over your heart, but… I can't-"
"You can't actually get the old man to leave his heart alone!" Vanitas interjects accusingly, his hands curled into tight, practically shaking fists. "Erasing his memories won't change a thing! It'll just make him even dumber than he already is! You can't set him free," Vanitas turns his attention back to Sora, his scowl switching out for another broad, almost kindly grin. "Not like I can, brother."
Before Sora can even try to say a single word, Naminé continues making her case, desperate as she stubbornly, perhaps even selfishly begs him to let her do something so unspeakable to him. And not just him either. "I can make the other lights forget too!" she adds, knowing that's well within her power. Or at least she hopes it is. "They won't remember that you ran, R-Riku won't even remember what you did to him, I promise! You can start fresh, you can finally go back to them, they can finally help you. Please, Sora, just let me help you, let all of your friends help you!"
"You don't need friends," Vanitas counters sternly. "You need power. And that's something you'll only be able to get if you join with me and forge the X-Blade!"
"Stop lying to him!" Naminé shouts, furious by his deception. At least she's being honest about what she wants to do, even if the act itself is abysmal and awful. "You're just as bad as the Organization!"
"Says the one who's trying to turn him into nothing more than an empty shell."
"At least I actually want to help him! You only want to help yourself!"
Sora shudders as he watches this argument begin to unfold, his back still pressed against the wall, keeping him cornered in far more ways than one. He looks between Vanitas and Naminé as they turn to face each other, their voices rising higher and angrier with each harsh word they exchange.
"So what if I do? I want the same thing as he does: to watch the life bleed out of the old man's eyes. We might as well work together to make that happen."
Their voices soon start to blend together, his own thoughts ringing loudly against each other as they clash violently inside his mind. In many ways, both of them are offering him the same exact thing: an escape, a way out when he thought there was none. A chance for freedom after being stuck in the same place for so long. But their ideas when it comes to giving him that freedom couldn't be any more different.
"And to tear apart every world in your path once you're done? I don't think so."
On one hand, the intentions behind Vanitas' offer are abundantly clear. He wants the X-Blade, he wants Kingdom Hearts, he wants revenge against Xehanort for whatever unknown history they have. His intentions are selfish and cruel… and yet Sora can't help but find at least some merit to them. Because after feeling as weak and worthless as he has since this entire disaster began, he'd do just about anything to obtain some kind, any kind of power to call his own too.
"And who's gonna stop me, sunshine? You? Get real."
Naminé's offer is what truly throws him off however. He doesn't know a thing about her supposed powers, doesn't understand where they came from or how they work. But he does believe her when she says they exists, knows she isn't lying when she tells him she can clear the worst of his memories away. The only problem is… he's not so sure that's what he wants.
"I'll do whatever I have to to keep you from hurting him!"
As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Vanitas has a point. Merely erasing his memories won't erase the scars they've left behind. Giving him a clean slate with his friends won't change the fact that he did hurt them, that he has caused so many others so much harm. And most of all, taking away the knowledge of what's happening to him won't stop the final outcome. It won't stop his master from claiming him as his own in the end. It won't truly set him free.
"Even tear his memories clean out of his head? Wow, what a great 'friend' you are. You must really 'care' about him."
But then again, won't Vanitas' way make him every bit as much of a prisoner as he is now? Just with a different warden, a different way of being under someone else's unflinching control? He grips the sides of his pounding head, trying to reach a conclusion here, trying to figure out which path he should take, who's road he should follow.
Only to realize that neither road is really a good one, that neither path will lead him to where he truly wants to be. Neither of them can give him anything remotely similar to the freedom he so desperately craves. Freedom that he'll never get a taste of ever again. Freedom that a lowly, despicable, destructive monster like himself doesn't even deserve.
"I do care about him! I just-"
Naminé stops short with a gasp at the sound of a dark corridor splitting open. Vanitas also turns, genuinely alarmed to see Sora standing before the portal he's just made, only sparing the pair a despondent look as he says what he usually does when all other words fall short. Though exactly who these words are meant for this time is anybody's guess. "I… I'm sorry."
And just like that, he's gone, without another word, without choosing which one of them he'd rather have ruin his already ruinous life.
Traverse Town turns dead silent in the seconds that follow his dark corridor disappearing. Naminé finds herself breathless over just how suddenly Sora had left, how many things she still has left to tell him that will now be forced to remain unspoken. She immediately blames herself for his sudden flight, wishing she'd never said anything about erasing his memories, lamenting that she didn't keep such an ill-conceived idea to herself. She regrets it even more, however, when deadly white spikes suddenly burst up across nearly every inch of the surrounding square. Naminé lets out a frightened squeak as she jumps back to narrowly avoid being struck by one of them, though in the process, she ends up stumbling into one of the several other new additions to the area. A multitude of varying types of uncouth creatures scatter about, all of them loosely swarming around the one who had unintentionally summoned them through his rising fury. Around who Naminé quickly realizes she should probably get as far away from as she possibly can before that same fury engulfs her too.
She doesn't make a sound as she turns to try and run, only for Vanitas to catch her arm before she can even take a single step. He yanks her back toward him, his blood red eyes ablaze with outrage and hatred that, with Sora gone, is now entirely focused on her.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?!" he exclaims, the Unversed around him all slinking back in fear as a response to their master's anger. "I had him right where I needed him, he was about to give me everything I ever wanted! But now I have to start looking for that idiot all over again, just because someone couldn't keep their pretty little mouth shut. Thanks a lot, sunshine."
Naminé pulls her arm away from him, refusing to show fear, refusing to let him see her as weak. Even if he clearly already does. "It's not like things turned out the way I hoped they would either," she scowls pointedly. "You may not know this, but we both caught Sora at the worst time possible. He just hurt his best friend, he was just threatened by one of the Organization's members. Of course he wouldn't hear either of us out after dealing with all that."
"I don't care what my stupid loser of a twin has been going through," Vanitas scoffs crossly. "The only thing I care about is getting what I want. And what I want is that X-Blade!"
"And what happens if you do get it?" Naminé presses bitterly. "What happens if you manage to track Sora down and convince him to join you? What happens when you realize the same exact thing Xehanort has? That controlling a heart as strong and as loving as his isn't as easy as you think it will be?"
Vanitas doesn't answer right away, another flash of fiery frustration claiming his features. Naminé almost expects him to strike her, almost thinks he'll set his Unversed upon her to attack. But then… suddenly, he smiles. A sly, sickening grin that fills Naminé with far more fear than either of those outcomes ever would have.
"Why don't you come with me and find out, sunshine?" he asks, gripping her by both of her wrists this time.
"W-what?" Naminé starts, trying her best to pull away. But this time, Vanitas refuses to let her escape so easily.
"You're one of his 'friends', aren't you?" Vanitas asks, leaning in a bit closer to her, his grip tightening around her arms all the while. "I tried using his precious princess as bait against him before, but she has a bit more bite to her than you do. You can't use a Keyblade, sunshine, I can sense it. You'll do perfectly."
"Perfectly… for what?" Naminé presses once more, still struggling against his unrelenting hold.
"For luring him in, duh," Vanitas explains, a glint of malicious delight sparking in his scarlet eyes. "He'll come running after you as soon as he gets the message that you're in trouble. And if he wants to be difficult, well, a few good threats to rip your heart right out of your chest will change his tune, I'm sure."
Naminé lets out a disgusted shout at such a savage threat, though even still, Vanitas' strength far surpasses her own. Even so, that doesn't mean she's about to go with him willingly, much less quietly. "I-I won't let you do this!" she shouts furiously, going as far as to try to kick him. He keeps enough space away from her to thwart such efforts, but even still, she doesn't stop. She won't stop until she can get away from him, until she can keep herself from being trapped and used all over again.
"Sorry, sunshine," Vanitas laughs at her futile struggle. He summons not a dark corridor, but a light gate, a testament of just how much of his heart has been "corrupted" in his eyes. Corruption that he desperately hopes will finally come to an end when he's finally one with his darker counterpart. When everything he wants, everything he needs is at last within reach. "You don't have a choice."
Naminé continues yelling, continues screaming in sheer, distraught fury as Vanitas begins to drag her into the light. But of course, no one comes to save her–no one ever does. She can't save herself–she never can. She's always the victim, always the tool, always the bargaining chip for others to gamble over. Freedom is something she's never had, and she's starting to suspect that she'll never get it, that she doesn't deserve it either.
After all, she's used to being a prisoner. Why should she ever expect anything else?
Aw, poor Namine. She's just out here trying her best. Actually, we're sticking with her for the next chapter, so we'll get to see whatever drama unfolds between her and Vanitas, which will be fun! Also Before we go, I made a playlist for this story! You can listen to what I consider to be Keys "soundtrack" here! (find it on Youtube) playlist?list=PLC3VWDKBnJXvcZB51gQsh_psVh3nl2dk4 I update it every two chapters with new songs, so keep checking back for updates and listen along as you read!
