disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts.
tw: abuse
a/n: I found this in my drafts. It might go hand in hand with what I posted just a few minutes ago. I hope you enjoy.
xo, hanasinspring
A Glitch in the Universe
Where the past and present merge.
Xion woke to the soft hum of the TV. She hoisted herself up off the couch, mindful of how quiet it was.
A kids cartoon was playing. It was the creepy one with the puppets.
Click.
The TV screen went black.
Her hands curled into fists in an attempt to stop the trembling.
It was slow; remembering the sound of picture frames shattering one after the other. The worst part was not that; it was the yelling. Next came the heavy footsteps. The silence. Then the yelling once more. A push. A shove. A punch. She'd stood very still like a good girl. This wasn't her fight. She made things worse. All she had to do was go to her room and blast some music like she always did.
Xion didn't do that. Not this time.
She walked out the front door, phone in hand and nothing else. It felt odd to see a vibrant sky and soft winds. The continuous storming throughout the week probably had more of an effect on her than she realized. When her feet hit the pavement, she didn't run, but she did look behind herself occasionally. Just in case. Familiar roads led her to the park. Xion stretched her legs. Yeah, sitting on the bench wasn't quite as comfortable due to how rickety it was and really, the town had enough money to replace it, but they never did.
She'd looked past the park and toward the gaping hole no one bothered to fix. A part of her said, "Go in there."
...
Wait, no. That wasn't right.
Xion looked toward the sky. The sky seemed warmer—calmer, almost like a sunset, but it was only early afternoon.
It flickered.
The sky flickered.
She was back in Nibelheim. Probably just a trick of light or lack of sleep. Stress, even.
When Mom came looking for her, Xion stared at her.
"Let's go home."
What an easy thing to say.
More fighting awaited her at home.
But family stuck together through thick and thin, right?
And now here she was, awake on an itchy green couch they should've gotten rid of years ago.
The fight happened, she knew this. She had recordings of it, camera pointing down so the only discernible feature was the sound.
A part of herself said, "Delete them," but Xion hadn't done that. Not yet.
Did it happen? Did the fight really happen? No glass littered the ground. The wooden floor shone and the pictures were back in their rightful place, albeit new frames.
A sigh escaped her lips. She hadn't realized how tense her shoulders were.
The fight happened. She knew it happened. She'd been there for the majority of it, but nothing about it felt real. Maybe somewhere in her twisted mind, she'd made it up. Maybe she hadn't hidden in her room the day after and waited for everyone to leave for work and maybe she didn't cry with her hands clamped over her mouth to stifle the sobs.
Why was it so hard to admit the fight happened? Why repeat herself?
Leave.
Xion made herself a bowl of cereal.
.:skip:.
The summer sun warmed her skin as she took photos of objects. She got looks because who took pictures of dirt roads? Why not take pictures of the people or the mountain? Why not take pictures of beautiful things?
Xion continued despite the looks, chewing on the inside of her cheek.
Summers were never her style anyway. There was nothing to do. At school, there was a set schedule and acquaintances to converse with. Sure, the hallways at school made a pitiful attempt to replicate the town and maybe the schoolbooks were in shambles, but she didn't have to go home. Xion could say, "Hey, I'm studying with a couple friends. Be home later," or she could say, "Club meeting's today," and her parents wouldn't bat an eye. Xion strived to make those excuses the truth. It made the truth tolerable. Being "involved" meant success and success meant her parents were proud and afterschool clubs meant more time away from home.
She didn't have that excuse anymore.
.:skip:.
Her mother's voice made the words, "Move out!" sound like a war-cry.
"I raised you for nothing!"
Xion cracked her door open.
"Mom, give me a week!"
"No, I've done so much for you. And for what?"
"Dumb bitch," her father spat.
When those words left his mouth, Xion wanted to laugh because he sounded so stupid and juvenile. She shook her head. This wasn't funny. Dad, despite his words, loved them. He loved them. He did so many things for them. Like that time he took them to the zoo. (They left crying.) Or when he watched movies with them. (Inappropriate movies that scarred her for life.) And sometimes when he was in a good mood he would have actual conversations with her and Sister.
Xion's hand gripped the doorknob, ready to stop the fight. Sister needed her. Xion could reason with their parents. There was so much she could do, even if the words, "You only make things worse," rang through her head.
Xion shut the door softly and stared at her phone.
"I love you," she typed out.
"You never cared about me!"
"We gave you everything and this is how you repay us?"
Crash.
She stiffened.
The world went quiet.
Ping.
"I love you too."
Another crash.
Xion wondered if those would be Sister's last words to her. (How melodramatic.)
.:skip:.
The violence always subsided after intense fights like that, mostly the fights were verbal, but hearing that crash made her realize this wouldn't be over for a long time. Her hands grazed the purple duffle bag hidden in her closet.
She didn't remember putting it on her bed.
Xion put it back.
.:skip:.
When Xion confided in her mom about her recent sadness (depression, but Mom didn't believe in that stuff), they went for a night drive and got some yogurt. Maybe she should delete the recordings. Mom wasn't that bad. She felt safe with Mom. She always did. (She felt safer with her than with Dad.)
Anyway, Mom usually freaked out when there was even a reference to mental illness, but she didn't this time. That had to count for something, right?
.:skip:.
There hadn't been any fights recently, but somehow her hands had found their way to the purple duffel bag again.
She rummaged through it, checking the pockets for a specific piece of paper.
Dear Xion _:
Why was her last name left blank? She rubbed her eyes and tried focusing in. Stress. That's all it was. There was no need to panic.
Our faculty here at Mirage, (There was no academy or university at the end. Only Mirage.) are pleased to inform you that after a long and difficult decision, you have been accepted into our science program!
(Blah blah blah. Science this. The human body. Environment. Animals.)
Visit us at to learn more.
We hope to hear from you soon!
(Blah blah blah. Dr. Whocares. Professor at Mirage.)
Location: Rumble, Mirage Arena, 104 Southeast, 46th street.
She rubbed her eyes again.
Midgar. Galbadia. Besaid.
Mid gar. Galba dia. Be si ad.
Midga. Galbad. Besa.
Tw ilig ht T won. Rn dait Gerdan. Dsteyni Iaslands.
Coocon. Garn Plsue.
Hlloow Bas tion. Snauctm. Wlal Mkaret. Znaarnkd. Bmalab. Tarveser Twon.
Nausea swept in like a hurricane.
Not once in her entire life had words done this when she read. Not once. Not even when she was dead tired.
Xion put the letter down on her desk alongside her books and journals.
Leave.
She was old enough, but she already had an acceptance letter to Nibelheim University. Everyone went there. Her friends went there. All she had to do was get her nursing degree, find a stable job, settle down, and make her parents proud.
It'd be a nice life despite SOLDIER breathing down everyone's necks. She imagined her husband: Faceless, aside from a content smile. The vague image of children and their house popped into her mind. She'd come home to their laughter and then complain about her coworkers while her husband rubbed her back and the kids would wait for nightfall to hear bedtime stories. (Isn't that what she wanted?)
She'd love her children unconditionally. Not one scream. Not one hit. Not one plate broken in a fit of rage.(What if she was an awful mother?)
The front door slammed shut. Xion hid the letter in her math notebook.
"Don't slam the door!"
She grabbed her earbuds and turned up the volume. No need to hear this one.
.:skip:.
Xion stopped writing her true feelings down in journals at fourteen. Once Mom came into the room demanding why she would write such "vulgar thoughts" in her journals and how much it "worried her" so Xion stopped.
Not writing. No, she kept writing, just not how she really felt. She filled her journal entries with inspirational quotes, boys she found cute, how hard history was, what outfit she would wear the next day, the latest gossip.
Mom wanted that, didn't she?
.:skip:.
She found herself awake on the couch again alongside that shitty kids puppet show, and the next she was on the train deleting all her social media, email addresses, and cancelling the bank account her parents set up and monitored. A horrible feeling sprang from her stomach once what she'd done set in.
Go back home.
She left the acceptance letter for Mirage—no, it was Midgar—back in her math notebook before leaving the house. Xion did not leave with the purple duffel bag as she thought she would. She left with the backpack she went to the library with instead.
(Why keep that math notebook anyway? It had no purpose now.)
Dad and Mom were fighting again about whether or not her sister could stay in the house. Xion hadn't meant to leave just as the fighting began. All she knew was the second she shut her bedroom door and walked a few steps forward, her sister came bounding down the stairs and the fighting commenced. She retreated quietly back to her room and found a pair of clothes her family was unaware of and shoved it into her bag.
She heard it faintly.
Leave.
So Xion left.
.:skip:.
After all traces of her existence—the parts she could erase at least—from the internet were gone, Xion wiped her phone completely. It was in good condition and people paid well if you knew where to look. (What about the videos? What about Sister?)
Rumble, Mirage Arena.
The words on the welcome sign flickered just as the sky flickered that day in the park.
Welcome to Midgar.
She got off the train.
This, despite what her family might think, was a temporary stop. She only needed to do one thing.
"Where's the bathroom?"
"Down the hall, turn left, and it should be there."
"Thank you, sir."
"No problem, Miss. Be careful now, you hear me?"
She giggled. "I will!"
(Play the part you are given in order to survive.)
.:skip:.
"Do you know how to do this?" her dad asked her, pointing at the computer. Why didn't he just ask her if she knew the password?
She shook her head.
She was just thirteen after all. No thirteen year old knew how to use a laptop. Of course she was book-smart, but technology and computers? There was no way she grew up learning how to use a computer as a small child. Not a chance. Xion was young. Naïve. Dumb. How could she possibly know how to do the simplest of tasks? That's what her older sister was for. That's what adults were for. That's what everyone else was for. It didn't matter that Dad had seen her do this numerous times. Oh no. Xion was helpless. That's why it'd be easier to settle down with a nice guy and snatch an "easy" job.
"Let me show you. First you need to click on the blank square on screen and then you use the keyboard. The keyboard is the one with all the letters and numbers. Type out what it says exactly on this piece of paper, okay? The shift key can be used for uppercase letters or caps lock, but you need to press caps lock again to make the letters lowercase again. The little light on the caps lock key means all the letters are uppercase. Are you listening?"
He took her incredulous look as confusion.
.:skip:.
Xion's hands gripped the sink.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Breathe.
She reached for the scissors.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
Her ponytail fell to the ground.
She gave herself bangs for good measure.
Then she changed into the clothes she bought with the pocket money she accumulated in secret. Apparently there was a market for smuggling in books that the government banned led by the sweet, old librarian no one suspected.
She wiped off the makeup, cleaned up her hair and put the excess hair and face wipe into a plastic bag, then shoved it into her green windbreaker.
"You're a replica; a mere puppet in the grand scheme of things. Know your place."
Where—Where had she heard that before? She stared at her hands. Was it true? Was she a clone? Maybe Sister was right. Maybe she was never meant to be here. Sister told her that once. And sure, Sister could be mean, but Sister was hardly wrong. Sister protected her and always looked out for her. Sister had her best intentions at heart. And Xion supposed the truth hurt. All it meant was she needed a thicker skin, right? That's just how siblings were. That's just how they were. Mom and Dad were the monsters, not her sister. Because if Sister wasn't on her side, then who was?
Xion shook her head. Never mind. It didn't matter.
.:skip:.
The great thing about being near the outskirts of Midgar was no one asked for Trackers. Probably because of the Slums. She left hers in the bathroom anyway.
Xion told herself she needed all the anonymity she could get, but a small echo in the back of mind told her she was wrong for leaving her phone and Tracker. She'd end up dead and then there'd be a true crime episode aired on TV talking about her murder as a way to fearmonger its people into staying where its "safe".
.:skip:.
"Here, it's a present," Sister said, smiling. The café was nice. Mostly because they were in the nicer parts of Midgar which, in itself, was a gift.
Xion untied the ribbon and lifted the lid.
"I—"
Her sister held up a finger and pointed to the Tracker on her wrist. Ever since SOLDIER began lining the streets of Nibelheim with their men, their parents gave them wristbands to track their location. Most people from Nibelheim could get away without wearing one because of the relatively small population. Trackers were practically uniform elsewhere aside from places such as the Slums or areas not as technologically advanced. Some whispered of Holders—the people gifting others with the ivory wristbands—of tapping into Trackers to listen in on conversations. Supposedly the color meant unification and to quote the creator, "We must stay unified in these trying times."
Xion knew for a fact their parents only tapped in to listen when they were in crowded areas or outside of Nibelheim.
"I really like this cake. It's delicious!"
A laugh escaped Sister's lips. "I know, right?"
"Thanks."
"No problem. Just think of it as a small celebration for acing your midterms."
Sister left a note taped to the front of the book she handed Xion.
Happy birthday! :)
Xion exhaled softly as her hands grazed over the cover of the book. Mom and Dad forgot about a lot of things and reminding them about what they called "trivial" such as birthdays led to more fights.
The more she stared at the book the more she—
She attempted to swallow down the memory of her friends. Well, when she had friends, but then she looked at Sister's face and decided thinking about them just a tiny bit was alright.
It felt strange to remember the Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling despite the cool summer night or the loud music or the laughter wafting through the air. What she remembered most was the sky; the amalgamation of blue, purple, and green sifting through the millions of stars she'd never seen before that day. They all looked like idiots, including herself. Then reality set in—
There's no use dwelling on the past.
"I really do like this cake. It might be my favorite, actually."
Dad asked her about sweets and midterms once they got home.
.:skip:.
The next time she woke up, Xion found herself on Besaid Island.
The ride was a blur. She remembered the airship and the people covered in armor mixed in with civilians. Xion figured getting on an airship was much safer than boarding another train lest someone recognize her.
She pulled her hood down further. In her dreams, she was always falling. No matter how many times she tried to go up, something ended up pulling her down. Xion never liked dreams all too much anyway.
"You shouldn't be here. You were never meant to survive."
Sister.
Mom and Dad never struck her. They only struck Sister.
A memory tugged at her mind.
"You're nothing more than—"
"Daddy, stop!"
"Go to your room, Xion. She needs to be taught a lesson. I won't stand for disrespect, especially from a child of my own."
A scream tore through her mind.
Was it her own?
She turned to see a girl, no wait, a boy? Or was it—the person flickered. She saw … She saw … someone examining a photo.
Their eyes met hers.
"The world is more than this. Come with me and I can show you," they whispered. The voice—it sounded strange yet the words felt familiar.
Wait. Not only did the person flicker, but the world too, like that day at the park and there was that gaping hole in the wall and the sunset.
Xion took a step back.
"Trust me."
The person held out their hand.
"I can save you."
The world fell through.
.:skip:.
No light, not even a sliver.
At first, Xion thought she was drowning, but then the water darkened to black. She felt around. It didn't feel like water. Not now.
It felt like how she fell in her dreams. Was this a dream? Would she be back home by the end of it? What if she never left in the first place? What if this wasn't real?
.:skip:.
"We didn't have to take you in. If you keep being bad, you're going back to the orphanage."
A pair of innocent blue eyes met a hardened gaze.
Father.
No, Dad. She shouldn't be so formal.
"I don't wanna go! I don't wanna go!" she wailed over and over, as if it were a mantra. "I-I wanna s-s-stay h-here with you, and Sister, and Mommy."
"Then don't be bad."
What a simple answer. Xion remembered how one side of his mouth curled upward whenever she, specifically, got in trouble. She always wondered why Dad gave her that look, but she figured now he liked yelling at people with less authority than him. Her stomach dropped at the thought. Sometimes she wished she could just rip out her own memories.
Were all fathers like this?
"Mommy, no bye-bye! No bye-bye!"
"You have to learn."
Was Mom's voice always this cold?
.:skip:.
Xion once read that if you had enough willpower, you could turn your nightmares into dreams. She squeezed her eyes shut and visualized an island. There was a tree that curved upward, white sand as its base as patches of grass sprouted at the edges. It was almost like she was there. A soft breeze picked up over the sea, the smell of sea salt reached her. Quiet footsteps approached her. In most instances, Xion would jump, but a warmth enveloped her.
"It's alright to be afraid. I am too," the person behind her said.
When Xion turned she saw the face of a girl with features not dissimilar to her own.
"Was I wrong to do this?" she asked.
The girl tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. "That's something only you can answer." She placed a seashell in Xion's hands. "You don't have to wait anymore. You shouldn't have to."
...
…
…
…
Her eyes opened and—
Nothing changed. Not one flicker of light. Of course it wasn't true. What made her think it would? It'd take a miracle to get away. (But what about that girl? Was that real?)
The sound of bitter laughter filled the void.
She shut her eyes once more with the hope that this dream would end, but as the moments dragged on, her heart rate sped up.
.:skip:.
Xion didn't open her eyes once her feet hit the floor or even when she heard wings fluttering about or even when the floor began glowing. No, Xion opened her eyes to the sound of a voice.
Journeys wait for no one.
"Huh? Is someone there?" Xion asked, her voice wary. She hastily wiped away her tears and cast her gaze downward.
What surprised her most was seeing herself in the image below—curled up into a ball, the platform glistening purple. She studied the stained glass closely. Seashells decorated the frame her body was encased in, an eerie castle behind her, but the strangest part of it all were the blank circles. Something told her this wasn't right. Those circles weren't supposed to be empty.
Certainty tugged at her core—there was definitely something wrong and those flickers she experienced were a part of it. What part, she didn't know.
If this is the path you choose; step forward.
Xion's eyes met the gaze of the cold abyss. Her hand found its way to the front of her neck which, for her, meant discomfort.
This was only a dream.
She lifted her right foot.
There was nothing real about it.
She took a deep breath.
This was delusional.
She took a step.
This was a metaphor.
She exhaled.
Stay in reality.
She kept walking.
Good. You are braver than most.
Xion's shoulders tensed. Brave? She could hardly speak and defend herself in arguments.
Bravery comes in many forms. To be brave, you must first be afraid.
The girl squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Could she go back? Would she; if given the chance?
Leaving is a form of bravery. You—
"Stop! I've never been brave. I never helped Sister. I haven't helped anyone." She paused. "Not even myself. I was rude and indifferent and all I cared about were my own problems. If anything, I'm self-centered. Who would want to run from such an easy life? I kept most of my classmates at a distance, but I was average and friendly and my parents were proud and Sister and I got along. There are others suffering more than me. She suffered more than me. I have no right to feel this way."
If you continue to hold yourself back the truth will stray.
"The truth?"
(A)— . . . . . . DESTRUCTION . . . . .
(B)— .. . . . . WISDOM . . . . .
(C)— . . . . . FRIENDS . . . . .
Which do you choose?
"They all sound right."
Indecision is a mighty foe.
"What about the people I'm leaving behind? What about my sister?"
Xion imagined the uproar at home. Sister would be texting her frantically by now—maybe even calling her. She had to be. Mom and Dad were tearing their hair out. Word would get around that some girl from Nibelheim disappeared around late afternoon. Sightings near the Slums, Midgar, even an airship, and then poof! She was gone. The people would gossip.
("I bet she ran off with some boy!")
("What a shame. She was such a nice girl. You know what? I heard the darndest thing about girls disappearing around town recently.")
("I hope they find a body. It would give the family closure.")
("This is why we need Trackers.")
It was kind of funny how she got away so easily, and a bit suspicious too. Xion ran a hand through her hair. A trim—and a huge one at that—couldn't change a person too much, right? She tugged on a strand of her black hair. At least it was practical for—
Xion furrowed her eyebrows. Practical for what?
Questions and uncertainty will only get you so far. If you wish to move forward you must pave a path for yourself. Choose one of the three.
She opened her mouth and promptly shut it. Which one was correct? What answer did this disembodied voice want? (That sounded creepy. She must've been exhausted to take this all in stride.) What if she gave the wrong answer?
Her shoulders fell.
She placed a hand over her heart and looked over each option. Option One was accompanied by an image of a myriad of planets. Option Two concentrated on what looked to be a scrambled up puzzle being put back together haphazardly. Option Three looked like an ordinary picture aside from the people facing away from the camera who were blurred out. Xion squinted her eyes, hoping the people would come into focus.
Option One and Two sounded and looked correct. Anyone else would pick them, but—
"Three. I choose Option Three."
—Xion wasn't any of those people.
Are you satisfied with this choice?
"Yes."
.:skip:.
Xion woke up in a bed, sunlight pouring in through the window. The walls were unfamiliar, but everything felt … light.
"You're awake!" A woman with blue hair, straightened up. "Ah, I'm Aqua. We found you in the courtyards. I think it might have something to do with the glitches."
Xion sat up with some difficulties. "Glitches? Where am I? What's going on?"
"It's … hard to explain so I'll give you the simple version. Some time ago a group led by a scientist by the name Ansem created a temporal paradox leading to a multitude of irregularities in our worlds. Some people are able to sense them. You ending up here may be an effect of said irregularities."
"I ... " Xion suddenly felt heavy. "This is weird. I don't. I'm sorry, I don't understand. I just wanted to leave Nibelheim."
"It's okay. It's a lot to process. I shouldn't have jumped the gun and waited until you were more adjusted to your surroundings. How about this? I'll go make you some breakfast and then show you around. You aren't the first person to end up in Radiant Garden."
Radiant Garden.
That sounded familiar.
"What's your name, by the way?"
She felt comforted by Aqua's warm smile even as a flood of other emotions came her way. "Okay." She paused for a moment to take in the fact that Aqua was actually seeing her. She wasn't used to being seen. "Xion. I'm Xion."
"Great!" She clapped her hands together. "I'll be back soon. Is there anything you like in particular, Xion?"
"Chocolate chip pancakes."
"Ooo, I have a sweet tooth too. The others might drop by if they see that you're awake. You can shoo them away if they pester you too much."
Xion nodded again. When Aqua left the room her shoulders slumped. Her heart felt light, but she left Sister behind and basically everyone she ever knew. From what she could see, there was no way back.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
Xion picked up the small stuffed animal on the table. It was a dog with floppy ears and light brown fur. Cute. She held the dog in her hands.
She left of her own volition. Maybe not being able to go back was a good thing.
A boy with silver hair, around her age came by some time after Aqua left to make breakfast. He halted.
"Hi."
"Uh, hi."
The boy went on his way after opening and closing his mouth a few times. Maybe he was shy?
.:skip:.
There was an ambulance, but Xion didn't know any of that.
She was gone.
She'd already begun her new life.
She was not there to see Mom or Dad or Sister grieve.
She had a new family.
(They never did find the body.)