I do not own Kingdom Hearts.

Falling to Pieces

Keiya traced a trembling finger along the edge of the dresser as she examined its contents. Her heart still raced from the previous night's ambush, but she tried to fool herself, to act leisurely. It was a battle all its own; it seemed nothing could fully calm her nerves or diminish her fear. Each time she coerced herself to sacrifice a glance at the clock, she could only think that the minutes were ticking down to nighttime: where monsters were waiting to strike.

Behind her, a loud rush of water came from the private bathroom. Riku had risen first this morning. After walking her to his room, he'd spent much of the night coaxing her to relax and forget. She hadn't been able to stop shaking—and she still couldn't. After hours of his cradling and sweet, reassuring words, she'd pretending to sleep for him. In reality she hadn't been able to let down her guard until the break of dawn. Both of them had woken late this morning, he first, and she only able to creek open her eyes for a second when she'd sensed him sit up before dozing off to sleep again.

She wore her long, white nightgown, having just woken up. Her hair was disheveled and pulled back in a low pony-tail, though a few curls, left out of the bunch, lingered on either side of her face. She rubbed her eyes every so often to break from the haze of sleep. The jittery feeling throughout her body refused to melt away, and she clenched her fists momentarily in an attempt to halt the nervous shaking. Searching for any distraction, she turned her attention to Riku's possessions arranged around the room.

He had several books scattered on his desktop along with some pictures, all in plain wooden frames, of him and his friends at various ages on the islands. She managed a smile when she came across the collection and gingerly, with her still slightly skittish hands, picked one of the photos from the bunch. In it was a young Riku and Sora, presumably seven or eight, each donning a yellow raincoat and lugging a school bag. The spiky-haired menace was creeping up behind his older friend, smiling slyly and holding the signature bunny-ears up to his head. The next photo in the sequence appeared to be taken after-the-fact, showing a quite pestered Riku knocking his friend into a puddle. She couldn't stifle a small laugh; there hardly appeared to be a difference now.

Another photo appeared to be taken after a race. Both boys were out of breath, Sora playing dead on the sand and Riku slightly bent over, clutching his knees. He wore a victory smirk aimed towards his younger friend, and a girl who resembled Kairi was in the background, running to catch up.

She smiled softly, looking over their memories. I guess they were always like this… Always having a good time…

She thought of her own childhood which had consisted of no such folly. Sai had been her only "playmate," for lack of a more appropriate term. The two of them had endured hours of training each day with the occasional conversations only when time allowed. It wasn't like this anymore—not since he'd acquired his new powers and full apprenticeship. After that incident—the one that drove a spike through their formerly awkward yet innocent friendship—she hadn't been able to forgive him, and he unable to bend in his new ways and thoughts. He'd still tried, these years after, to mend the broken companionship, but she hadn't let him get as close to her again. She wanted no part of the new Sai.

Despite the overwhelming hatred she now held for him, she couldn't deny that he'd always been ready to help her and keep her company when they were young. He'd been sweet—a bit rough and careless, and half the time oblivious, but his intentions were always sweet.

A single droplet threatened to spill from her eye, and she immediately shook the thoughts and feelings out of her head. Firmly resisting the now somber memories, she reached for another photo and longed to see a happier time. This one appeared to have been taken only a couple years ago, in someone's house. The scene was that of a small party, with several streamers adorning the ceiling and walls. A handful of people filled the decorated room, and in the forefront were Sora and Riku, the former posing for the shot and the latter laughing but turning away, arms crossed uncomfortably.

Everything seemed so carefree; it was hard for her to imagine such a life for herself. The concept of living without restrictions, without unwillingly needing to comply with another's abhorrent demands, had been steadily steeping into her mind like a toxin since she'd made her decision. The stories and the promises all threatened to cloud her judgment, the effects of which she'd realized only the night before. Nevertheless, selfishly, she still wanted it. Nothing in the descriptions he'd fed her struck her as real, but the constant excitement and planning had dictated to her otherwise. With one sentence, she'd opened a whole new life for herself. Who dreamt of running away to an island? Prior to this, she'd never have thought it possible.

However, after the attack, the happiness and optimism had acquired a dismal overtone. There were still terrible things out there just waiting to happen, it seemed to have said, and they would not simply vanish overnight. They were there, threatening, scheming, and just waiting for the next moment to strike. She hadn't escaped them yet, and she wasn't sure she ever would—even on an island. Especially on an island.

This venture was, on one hand, her only hope: they might not find her there, and she and Riku might truly enjoy making a life together without interference. That was all she wanted: to make a life with him.

On the other hand, if they were to locate her and her lover, the consequences…

She bit her lip thoughtfully as images of the previous night's bombardment resurfaced. The consequences would be devastating…

~…~

After a well-timed and commendably executed lunge, Sai pinned his teammate to the concrete floor: both her wrists bound, her legs trapped beneath his. She glared up at him and struggled to throw his weight off before their mistress could call the round won. Sai didn't budge, as usual. Sparring was his forte, and he could hold her there with rigid muscles for hours if need be.

He watched her with determined but questioning eyes; the way she writhed so obsessively to get away from him and the dirty looks with which she was stinging him clearly stated that he had provoked her resentment. Her mood swings baffled him sometimes: they'd only started training an hour ago—he wasn't sure what he could possibly have done to have angered her so quickly. She dug her nails into his hands and tried to pry them off, but he only had to spread his fingers over hers to terminate the struggle.

When Maleficent stepped forward, Sai moved to let her out of his grip. She violently and vengefully threw him off her as soon as she was able, before he could rise on his own. He gave a pained groan when he hit the floor, but she paid him no mind. His whole existence evoked a blazing pyre of rage and impatience to scorch within her. She wore a scowl that warned of her infuriation, but Maleficent could not be the one to absorb the results of this anger. Practically quaking with the task of remaining still and silent, Keiya proceeded to nurse her aching wrists that had forcibly succumbed to his dominance. She dared not look at partner and bit her tongue hard to prevent her rage from breaking loose. At an expectant look from his mistress, Sai hastily made to stand, his elbows scuffed from the harsh impact.

"Sai, that move was sloppy. Never be so inattentive to your enemy, and never hesitate to get back on your feet."

He nodded in apology and refrained from glancing over at Keiya when he saw the girl drift a few steps away.

She continued, "Other than that, an adequate job done. Tomorrow I'll bring some of my men in for you to fight. I need to see that you can handle opponents your size and larger. If you pin them all and finish them off, I think there could be a mission in store for you."

His face brightened immediately, and he struggled not to show it. "I understand. Thank you," he said, a gleam of victory shining in his eyes.

"Keiya, get back here," she commanded the fiery figure. "I haven't excused you yet."

Keiya grudgingly stepped forward but didn't lift her face to her mentor until the witch's cold, bony hand forced the eye contact itself. When she observed the unadulterated fury in her apprentice's expression, Maleficent rapped the girl across the face just hard enough to scare the deference back into her.

"You need to learn some respect, child. Let that attitude interfere with your work, and I'll make sure you're locked up until you forget how to be irreverent."

Keiya gave no sign of acknowledgement, and so earned a steady menacing glare from her lecturer. She was ready to boil over inside; Maleficent's complaints and blackmail barely penetrated her mind through the thick determination and ire that occupied her focus.

When her victim's obstinacy finally relented to a forced, barely audible affirmation, Maleficent dismissed her students with a wave of her hand and gracefully exited the room. Sai was left on his own to handle the enmity steaming from his comrade.

Meaning well, he approached her and reached to place a hand on her shoulder. He thought he may have hurt her in combat, that that was the source of her temper. The red on her wrists only confirmed his suspicion: he'd gone too rough on her in training.

She visibly tensed as she sensed him come up behind her, but he thought nothing of it. He was focused solely on gaining her forgiveness. His fingers had only brushed her arm before she whipped around and knocked him to the floor with a clenched fist.

He hit the concrete hard, his back immediately sore and his head dizzy. A single murmur of pain escaped his lips as the initial blow had beaten the air from his lungs. For a few seconds he coughed helplessly to catch his breath. Keiya only watched void of remorse as he fought for his bearings. He deserved this and more, in her opinion. Her fists unconsciously remained primed for another blow.

Sai's hand gripped the throbbing pain in his head and neck, and he struggled to lift his body. He watched her cautiously through his still blurry vision, an arm out in defense as he slowly got back on his feet. His eyes were narrowed and demanded her explanation, but part of the frustration he held was for himself: he'd been caught unprepared twice. He saw it as an assessment of his skill, which evidently needed more work.

She backed up a couple steps when she saw him ready himself for defense, but was only more fired up to fight back. In her hands she allowed commanding orbs of darkness to gather. Sai eyed her in skepticism that she'd use such tactics on him; they were meant solely for serious combat—only for the kill.

"W-what the hell's your problem?" he finally blurted out, his concentration divided between the ferocity in her stare and the intimidating magic growing darker in her hands.

"You were holding back!" she spat in accusation.

"Holding back?" Her hand rose slightly, sending him staggering a few steps backward. "Is that why you're mad at me?" he asked incredulously. "Of course I held back a little—I didn't want to hurt you—"

"You have the nerve to hold back now?" she snapped. "After what you did last month, you decide to take it easy now?"

"What are you talking about? Last month… Put that down, Keiya!" He pointed to the darkness she had raised in his direction. Reluctantly she obliged, but made no effort to moderate the looming cloud.

"Why bring up last month? That was an order, and it was because you—"

"You hurt me then! Why bother being nice now?"

"I…I'm always nice to you, aren't I?" he defended. "Last month doesn't count and you know it!"

"Oh, know what?" she scoffed. The frustration pulsating through her veins, throughout her body, fed her power. It manifested itself as darkness in her hands; the orbs grew thicker with each word that slipped out of his mouth.

"Would you put that stuff down?"

She continued to vent, "I can't believe you would try to take care now—"

"Well I can't hurt a girl!"

"—but you had no second thoughts when she told you to suffocate me last month!"

"You're being ridiculous, Keiya."

"Do you think I can't handle it?" she inquired crossly, unconsciously raising one of her hands. Sai stepped back a foot and automatically adopted a defensive stance.

"...I am stronger than you are in sparring. I-I don't know if—"

"Go ahead: fight me without holding back! I don't care if I get hurt—you already took care of that!

"But I don't want to fight you!"

She moved toward him: much closer than he'd have liked. Magic, seemingly uncontrollable, threatened to fire in his direction at any moment.

"Come on, Sai," she urged mockingly. "Why so hesitant now?"

"I already said I won't fight you. J-just forget it, okay? I won't go as easy next time, if you want. I'm sorry if I offended you."

"Offended me? Please."

"Let's just forget about all of this—"

"How can I forget what you did to me?" she threw at him. She'd been holding in the anguish for weeks, but this little spark—this display of "manners" or "affection" to contradict his wrongs—created an outpour of all the hate and sorrow that had accumulated since that horrific day. She didn't want mercy from him.

"Hey, you're not being fair," he protested, making ready to vindicate himself. "Orders are entirely different from training."

"I wouldn't have listened to those orders," she proclaimed.

"You, of course not. You never listen to anything," was his too truthful response, but she wasn't yet ready to let him escape her cries of censure.

Perceiving the wary look on his face, she kept her power flowing steady and fast to intimidate him from sudden movement. Her own wishes were unclear to her; she could not determine if she truly desired for him to fight her as she'd provoked, but she couldn't have him leave her wrath unharmed and unaffected. Her senses craved a battle, this time without restrictions. She wanted to suffocate him, to see his face blanch white, to witness his body listlessly lift from the ground. Conversely, she also wanted him to hurt her. She wanted to be fought as an opponent and a threat, not the friend whose favor he'd been desperately grappling to retain. Her hate for him couldn't be tainted with fondness and gratitude; it had to stay deep and thorough: that was how she wanted it. She'd have it no other way.

His concept of magic would not rival hers, nor would hers of sparring overcome his. Combined, the outcome could only be guessed.

He won't get away with it.

Determination consumed her trembling body and instilled within it a blind hatred. All she let her thoughts fall upon was the sick, intrigued, ignorant gleam in his eyes when he pushed aside years of comradery to fulfill their mistress's command and discover the extent of his new powers.

Unable to read the indignation of her motions, Sai was taken by surprise when she let her magic loose full on, in a near-disastrous result. Her desperation and preoccupation drove the orb off-course to the right, and while he was able to avoid the initial attack by falling over with the force of the impact, the rubble and blocks of concrete that were released in a torrent by the bolt dealt damage enough to handicap him. His arm was administered a crushing blow from a large piece of rock fallen from the wall. His eyes and head were dusted with rubble and some minor slabs left streaks of blood as their marks on his body.

Keiya's chest heaved in anticipation and agitation: her subject was suffering, but she was receiving no satisfaction from the sight. Hopeless in her search for both vengeance and equality, she pressed him to rise with another glow of darkness in each hand. He stared at her dubiously for only a moment before his instincts kicked in and he stood to meet her challenge with all the ferocity he would an enemy.

He didn't bother with magic; rather, he searched her stance for an opening. He would utilize his strengths against hers, his fists to her art.

Sai lunged at her after her next attack, closing in and dodging the blast simultaneously. He knocked her off-balance while she was still focused on the dark magic. Her pending attack disintegrated at the surprise, and she just barely managed to catch herself before she could collapse to the floor. Sai's impulse commanded him to seize the chance and throw a myriad of punches before she could recover; however, he couldn't clench his fists. His mind restrained his body with all its will, and he couldn't even comprehend using so rough a technique on his female companion. That weakness threatened to drown the adrenaline on which he was running. Cursing himself for possessing such a defect, he halted in his attempt to fight her as he would another man. Notwithstanding, he still wanted to win. Lacking the time to think the strategy out thoroughly, he settled for grappling her to the ground once more.

This time not bound by only physical strength as a weapon, Keiya wasted no time in releasing the parasitical dark force that lingered in her body: something she'd normally never let herself use for disgust of the power. She succeeded in throwing Sai backward and into the cloud-creature. His cry of shock was almost immediately cut short and his body unable to regain footing on the floor.

With a mixed feeling of regret and triumph, she watched him fight to escape the fog reminiscent of the one he'd used on her that short time ago. He looked blatantly terrified. His hands were caught on his throat, and his face was twisted in hopeless fear as his body was paralyzed to any sort of movement. His expression, no longer one of arrogance and savageness, pleaded for an end to the torture. Clearly, he was no longer concerned with victory; she'd depleted him of that vice.

As the seconds ticked down, she found herself faced with another dilemma: did she want him to die? Even she wasn't sure of the final result of this attack. He might be frozen for as long as she upheld the magic, or he might not endure the span of time she chose. Her conscience, she was aware, beseeched her to stop. Her will, however, egged her to continue, as he'd held no remorse for her when their roles were switched.

The choices battling for dominance in her mind momentarily distracted her from the attack, and in a panic she reasserted all her force on her victim. During that brief lapse in focus, however, she could swear she'd seen Sai's lips part to form a single word:

Please.

Her own eyes widened in fear and realization, and her nerves automatically released him from the leeching grip.

Sai fell to the ground with a gasp, his body limp and out of breath. He sucked in air hungrily through uneven, husky murmurs of infliction. Watching him shiver and toil to breathe, she was overcome by a sense of guilt: he may have been in the wrong before, but now she was, and she couldn't stand to feel remorse for him. She stood tall over him just as he had her, her power flowing eagerly and precariously through her body, her anger fueling the torment.

The new perception of her actions made her sick. Sluggishly, she maneuvered herself to another corner of the room, where she didn't have to look at Sai, knelt to the floor, and proceeded to fight cold sweats and the urge to vomit.

Her opponent's frantic regain of breath contrasted her lack thereof. She was barely conscious of the strength rapidly abandoning her to the whim of the power she'd let loose. When Sai finally recovered energy enough to pull himself up, Keiya collapsed, pale and fatigued, into a hopeless mess on the ground.

The boy wordlessly approached her, still shuddering from the dark chill, and, despite an evident irritation and confusion, took care to transport her body from the room. His feet dragged in exhaustion as he carried her across the entryway. He let the stone doors crash shut behind him and fill the room with an echo.

~…~

Keiya was still looking over photos when Riku entered the room. He was dressed in his usual attire, his hair still wet, a towel thrown carelessly over his shoulder. His gaze fell warmly upon her as he observed that she was browsing the collection of memories. He greeted her with a careful embrace. The last he'd spoken to her, she'd still been quite shaken and inconsolable. He didn't want to startle or provoke her.

She leaned into him without a sound. In her grasp was a photo depicting the two boys, around ages ten and eleven, engaging in a rather heated argument. Faces were threatening, mouths were opened to spout out insults—the scene was not one that would normally be photographed. He gave her a smile and reached for her face, but he was met with some resistance. His reaction was one of worry, and he immediately reached for her again. Things were too fragile for him simply to endure her aloof moods. She tried in vain to turn away, but he caught her chin and brought her expression into his view. It was with concealed disquietude and bitterness that he welcomed a small stream of tears falling silently down her face.

"You're crying…" he stated despondently.

She shrugged him away and shut her eyes. "No, I'm not," was her stubborn reply. He shook his head and brought her into him again.

"You are, Keiya… What's wrong?"

She whispered predictably that it was nothing, to which Riku only sighed. He wiped away the tears with one hand while the other ventured to discover on which picture she was caught. Her fingers fell from the frame obediently, neutrally. She didn't want to look at it anymore.

"Oh," he started, observing the photo, "I remember this. Kairi was taking pictures of us racing, and Sora and I got into a fight. We made up right away, though, and she gave us each a copy so we could see how ridiculous we looked." His voice drifted into a brief, embarrassed laugh. "We were kind of bratty, weren't we?"

It reminds me of…

She shrugged in his arms and buried her face in his shirt. He swallowed nervously, starting to sense that she was slipping in her faith. He'd been trying to keep her spirits up, but he was battling with unseen enemies and dirty tricks. Her nightmares roused her every morning and at least once at night, he knew, though regretfully he sometimes slept through the awakenings. Her tendency to keep things hidden only fed the uneasiness.

He refused to let his heart race further in apprehension. For now, he'd have to have strength enough for both of them.

"What's wrong, love? Only five days left," he reassured her.

"I know," she said indifferently. "I was just thinking…"

She couldn't find the words with which to explain her fear. It was foolish and unfair to Riku, she was aware, but she couldn't deny that things weren't as clear to her anymore. She was trying fervently to overcome the doubts, but there really was no return to serenity for her—not unless the nightmares stopped. When she'd given him her answer, she'd forced herself to ignore the warnings. Now they were back, prominent and fulfilled.

"About what?" he pressed when faced with her silence.

Her voice remained weak and unsure. She reluctantly admitted, "I had another dream last night. I was just thinking of whether or not it could happen."

He kissed her forehead, as it was all he could think to do to comfort her, and he kept his arms tight around her.

"Of course not. None of that is real—you know that."

"Of course," she repeated, feigning conviction.

The seconds passed without a sound.

"Keiya… Why don't you talk to me about it?"

"It's no big deal."

As silence once again leaked in to fill the void between them, Riku turned to the photos on his desk and picked one from the bunch. He directed her attention to the picture and away from the troubles.

"See this?" he began lightheartedly. "This was taken when Sora and I got back to the islands after fighting the organization. Some friends decided to throw a "surprise" party for us, but one of our friends, Selphie, couldn't keep the secret."

She smiled in acknowledgement. It was the same scene she'd encountered in the other photo. Everyone here was arranged around and on the couch. The unfamiliar faces—presumably his friends on the islands—were all lounging on the sofa, some holding plastic cups, one boy resting his legs obnoxiously across the others' legs and earning from them unconcealed death glares. The three keyblade wielders were standing behind the couch. Kairi was smiling blithely in the middle while Sora and Riku eyed their friends with amused grins.

"It looks wonderful," she commented. He agreed happily with a nod and placed the picture back in its rightful spot. Each piece of the collection glimmered in its glass covering. After a brief glance at the clock, Riku went to put his towel back in the bathroom. His recovering companion stayed by the pictures and again chose the one she'd found earlier, of the same party. She couldn't overlook the disappointment on his face, the suffering beneath the surface.

You don't look happy in this one…

"Do you take them everywhere you go, the photos?" Keiya inquired over her shoulder.

"Only on long trips," he answered embarrassedly. "I guess it's kind of childish, huh?"

"Not at all. Sometimes I wish I had things like these… Not photos, but something…"

After opening the blinds, he made his way back over to her. His face shone with curiosity. "You don't have anything at all?"

"N-no, but… I guess it's kind of good I don't. I'm not sure that I'd like it so much."

He raised an eyebrow. "But you just said you would."

"Oh, I don't know," she said with a forced laugh and a wave of her hand. "It's so weird. Anyway, I don't want to remember anything else before this. No, it's good I don't have anything."

She wandered to sit by herself on the bed. She felt inferior talking to him like this; she had so little experience in everything, from friends and family to keeping up strength in a difficult situation. Sometimes she doubted just how she would fit into this society of his. He had such a close-nit circle of friends, after all. Sai was her only comparison to such a relationship, and he'd gone twisted several years ago.

"Are you talking about your friend?" he asked carefully, coming up next to her. He was suggesting a tricky topic, he knew, but he hadn't been satisfied with her responses the last time. Her "co-worker," as she'd referred to him, apparently occupied some place in her mind that he'd never been allowed to know.

She immediately corrected him, "He's not my friend."

"But you must have gotten along with him at some point. Why won't you talk about it?"

"There's nothing to say." Anxiously, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and ran her hands through the wavy strands. This again… I just can't get away from him, can I? No matter where I go.

"If there's 'nothing,' then you can tell me about him," he pressed a little impatiently. "What are you trying to hide?"

"Nothing," she snapped.

"Then go ahead: just tell me a little bit," came his plea. "I've told you all about my friends."

She sighed and waited to see if he would drop the subject. He proved steady as a rock, not moving once form his position or wavering from his resolve.

"It's different," she said to erase the silence. "It's… uncomfortable."

Riku, unable to withhold his thirst for this knowledge, continued to push forward to his main concern: "Was he close to you?"

The hum of the cicadas was his only answer. Keiya rose from the bed and opened the drawer that her clothes were currently occupying. Her mouth could do nothing but open mutely; no sound came out, as her mind could process for him no response. Guiltily, she pulled out a dress and made to enter the bathroom with only a murmur stating that she wished to be excused. Riku grabbed her hand forcefully, though, and took the clothes from her. He tossed them onto the bed and took her wrists in each of his hands. She hid her discomfort by wearing an inquisitive mask.

"Seriously, Keiya, why can't you talk to me? It shouldn't be like this—we're going to be living together now. You never want to talk about these things, but don't you think I have a right to know?" he reprimanded.

"Well, I'm sorry, but I just don't want to talk about it," she upheld defensively. "There are some things better left in the past."

"I haven't kept any secrets from you," he argued.

She bit her lip to restrain a hasty reply. Automatically, she thought of the photo that clearly illustrated his insecurity. He hadn't given her any description of his home except of how wonderful it was; he'd skipped over how he felt, being there amongst friends. It seemed to her he'd felt isolated. He never elaborated on that part of the story.

"I'm entitled to keep secrets if I want," was her stance. He gazed at her in disbelief, momentarily hindered by her lack of indulgence.

He released her hands and tucked his own in his pockets. He took only one step back, but it was enough to instill worry throughout her body.

"Do you understand how that sounds from my point of view?" he asked sourly. "I don't understand why you can't talk about this guy, if he doesn't mean anything to you."

"He doesn't!" she almost interrupted.

"Then tell me about him! I've been asking you for months, but you always change the subject!"

Her arms folded tightly. "You're making such a fuss over nothing. Why does it matter to you, anyway? I said I'd go with you; obviously I'll never have to see him again."

"Because we're together, and that's what people do," he informed her crossly. "I just want to know what he was to you. I think that's a reasonable question."

Her lips pursed as the various retaliations fought for dominance in her throat. He watched her with a mixture of concern and chagrin, all the displeasure in her vagueness finally coming to the surface. She was suddenly angry with this obsessive interrogation of his: all of that was in the past. She wanted no reminders of it now.

"…It's not reasonable—you're just being jealous," she spat out.

His eyes narrowed. "Well, the way you're talking, I don't know what I'm supposed to think. Right now, I am jealous," he admitted frankly. "It sounds like you were his lover before you were mine."

"What?" she exclaimed. "And how do you come to that conclusion? I've told you before: it was never like that!"

"Then what are you trying to keep secret?"

"Like I said, there was nothing! Don't you trust me?" she threw at him as a last resort, hoping to stimulate some guilt.

"I'd trust your explanation, if you'd give me one," was his evasive answer. She scoffed and reached to pick up her clothes, but he obstinately stood in her way and took her wrists again. She pulled away violently without hesitation.

"I thought I made myself clear: there was nothing between me and Sai—that's it!"

"You're not being clear at all," he said bitterly. He forced his hands on her shoulders to keep her from escaping, but she wrestled against him with all her strength. It was a continuous struggle that she knew she couldn't win, but she expended the energy nonetheless.

"His name's Sai?" he asked calmly, trying to still her squirming body and sooth her temper. "That's a start. But what happened—"

"Jealous!" she spat again, writhing wildly in his grasp.

"Right," he murmured through gritted teeth. He knew better than to deny the envy; he wasn't even ashamed anymore. What weighed on his mind was the mysterious relationship between his girl and this stranger of whom she was reluctant to discuss.

"Were you really just friends?" he pressed urgently.

"Yes!" she shrieked, still trying to break from his hold. Somewhat frightened by her tone, he let her loose and stepped back to give her some space. Her wrists had reddened considerably, and the feeling was all too familiar.

She held back any exclamation of pain until the aches had subsided, then finally continued, "And not anymore. That ended years ago. Now drop it!"

He watched her apprehensively for a moment, his arms uncomfortably drawn to his chest. "Alright," he relented, knowing he wouldn't get much else out of her without a fight. She gave no acknowledgement and kept her head turned away in embarrassment. Somewhere in her mind, she knew she'd overreacted, but once she was in a moment like that it was futile for her to try to maintain composure and common sense. Tensions had heightened since the previous night; between preparing to leave and worrying over any future invasions, a spark could immediately spiral into a fire.

"I still want to know what happened," he added, "but for now… it's fine."

She nodded reluctantly in an effort to satisfy him for the moment. She wasn't sure she could manage to relay the story to him if he ever again asked, and she didn't want to spend their last few days in Radiant Garden engaged in another feud.

After the disquietude had melted into silence, Riku stated disappointedly, "I wish you could be more honest with me, Keiya."

The invocation drowned her with guilt. She felt the pressure become stronger, close in on her until she wanted to give in to his demand and earn back his approval. The feeling was one she couldn't stand; it rivaled her very nature, and she automatically tried to rebel against it.

"You know, you're hiding something, too," she accused in retaliation, unable to control her mouth.

He looked up curiously. "I am?"

"Yes, don't play dumb!" she said thoughtlessly, hoping to bring him down to her level of shame. She snatched up the condemnatory photo and entreated him to look at it.

His eyebrow rose at the first glanced he took. "This? It's just a picture from that party I told you about."

Puzzled, he observed the photo more closely under her gaze to find the source of his incrimination. It hit him hard the second he realized it, and his eyes widened in shock—he hadn't thought to check which photos he was bringing when he'd swept them into his suitcase. This wasn't one he usually kept in his view. It led directly to a melancholy feeling that to this day sometimes assumed control of him.

Keiya bit her lip thoughtfully and waited for him to speak up. Once again, her actions did not appeal to her. Now that she'd committed them, she wished she could take them back. His searching face instantaneously adopted the same expression implied in the photo.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he finally came out with. His insincerity was obvious, as was his discomfort.

"You don't look happy," she pointed out solemnly, her voice gentler now that she was wracked with regret. She couldn't help but humble herself to him to accommodate her extremely careless request. Along with denying him the knowledge he craved, she was forcing upon him old, bitter memories. The misery ran cold through her blood, but there was no way out of it.

"You always tell me how great and exciting everything about your home is..." she explained softly, trying to let her thoughts form words freely, hoping not to sound disparaging. "If that's all true, Riku, why aren't you happy here, with your friends?"

He replaced the photo on the desk but turned it downward, away from both gazes.

Hesitation followed, along with a brief pace on his part to and from the window.

"That was just…"

"Yes?" she asked shyly.

He looked back at her with a small grin of amusement. "Oh, you want me to tell you? I was going to keep it a secret."

She shot him a sour look, rendered absolutely speechless at the reference to her hypocrisy.

"I'm just joking—relax," he assured her, his smirk softening to a weak smile.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, a striking melancholy distinct in his features. His posture was less erect and his gaze less attentive, lost in a mess of thoughts. Keiya advanced to sit with him hesitantly, unsure of whether or not her company was truly wanted. He only gave a brief nod inviting her to join him; his mind was divided on other troubles. For her, his disappointment was always worse than his anger. She'd much rather scream and fight him tooth and nail than endure his quiet, controlled, guilt-invoking despondency.

She sat awkward and still, her hands resting in her lap, until he woke from his daze and glanced in her direction. Despair tugged at his lips, but in his eyes were still detectable glimmers of affection. When his hand found hers, his grasp was gentle and welcoming. His warmth permeated her uneasiness, extinguished her embarrassment, and ultimately persuaded her to relax as well.

She bit back a stutter. "Are you… alright?"

"Hm? Yeah, of course," he replied, his face now adorned by a tender smile. He distractedly interlaced their fingers as if to lure away her attention. He nearly succeeded. However, after performing a frenzied evaluation of the matter, she withdrew her hand and shook her head in revived opposition.

"No—tell me what was wrong," she begged in earnest. Her heart pounded stubbornly in her chest and would not repose until her curiosity was quenched.

He drank in the resolute determination in her stare and heaved out a sigh. While he was reluctant to pour out his feelings—particularly these feelings that he kept so tightly locked away—he knew it was the only way to eventually secure her compliance in the matter of secrets. But all of that aside, he knew if anyone could understand the reason for his distant gaze and slouched, passive form in that picture, it was her. A slight blush coated his face as he tried to think of how to word the complex emotions still fresh in his mind.

"You know what happened three years ago? All the stuff I did…?" he prompted. His mouth was dry and his voice lacking its usual strength, but he only leaned back for comfort and continued at her nod.

"I still felt terrible when we finally got back home. No matter how many times the others would try to convince me to forget what's past… well, it's easier said than done."

Keiya watched his face lose any sense of competitiveness and humor. All of the emotions she'd ever witnessed him experience were suppressed by the only one left over: regret.

"I can't just forget, and I can't put it behind me," he stressed. It seemed to her that he was trying fervently to convince also himself of the assertion. The way he tensed up, the defensive tone of his voice—it was apparent to her that he'd repeated such a speech several times in the past.

When she noticed that his hands were clenching the bed sheets, she gently placed one of her own over his. His face eased at her touch, but he uncontrollably turned to conceal it.

Opposed to the distance he was creating, she scooted closer to him and held his hand tighter. It was certainly a change of roles for her to be comforting him, and she was grateful for the chance.

"Riku… No one's blaming you for anything…"

"But how would you feel, stuck at a celebration when you were the reason for all the trouble in the first place? I felt disgusting," he spat.

She cocked her head. "But I know," she reminded him, a little impatiently, as he seemed to think he was alone with these feelings. She took his arm to hold his attention. "Don't you remember? I went to that dance a few weeks ago, the one to celebrate the town's reconstruction for which I was responsible." Her voice came out strained, eager to get out the story.

He shook his head and tried to comfort her anguish. "You weren't responsible—"

"I think I was. Say what you want, but you can't convince me otherwise. You know exactly what that feels like," she expressed, sincerity in every detail of her face. She stayed still and tried to gauge his reaction. His body seemed looser, and after a moment, his eyes finally fell on her.

He gave a small laugh and pulled his hand from hers, instead choosing to rest his arm around her waist. She fell into him comfortably. However, it was her turn to disguise a blush: she could just sense his amusement as he let his lips fall to her hair.

"What?" she asked apprehensively, now embarrassed by her outburst. He nonchalantly kissed the top of her head.

"Nothing," he dismissed casually. "That was just really… sweet."

Seeing a smirk on his face, she shoved him over and assumed a frown. He didn't hold in his laughter; he only encircled her in his arms again despite her obstinate protests. His spirit seemed rejuvenated, however, and she decided to endure the teases.

"Listen, thank you," he managed to get out as she playfully wrestled him away. At his warm disposition and renewed optimism, she beamed a smile and halted in her objections just long enough for him to catch her in an embrace.

"You know, when we get to the islands, it won't be like that," he assured her, not wanting his past somber attitude to influence her expectations.

"I know," she murmured softly.

He responded with a smile: felt, not seen.

Although he'd tried to explain to his friends countless times his everlasting regret, this was the first time he felt the burden completely lift from his shoulders—at least momentarily. He didn't feel he had to work as hard to get his point across talking to her: she already knew what he was talking about, as he'd neglected to consider. Since her arrival here, she'd gone through trials like the one in his photo each day. Just walking into the kitchen was disquieting to her. Everyone there was on a different side—some like Leon were even still wary of her loyalty. She moved forwards nevertheless, hardly ever complaining to him the difficulties she had in acquainting herself with the others.

He was hopelessly ardent for their departure date; there, she could start a new life for herself. There, her presence would bring a ray of light to his life. For the first time, he could imagine a future.

~…~

Horrors struck again that night, in larger battalions and fiercer temperaments. Riku was up and fighting before she could even comprehend the distinction between her subconscious and this dreadful reality wrought upon them.

Heartless were sneaking up through the floorboards, creeping around the room, seeking out their target. Keiya, full of guilt, was left undisturbed, sitting on the bed. They passed right over her—literally—to reach their quarry. The warrior proceeded to knock them away and strike them down when possible. The swarms left hardly any room for light and this time would not be distracted by trivial obstacles. Unless she could muster the ability to fight with him, there was nothing she could do to aid him.

The night seemed to go on for hours. Riku's blade sweeping through the air was the only sound readily audible in the room, though Keiya's own spurts of breathlessness produced gasps enough to challenge it. She had to wonder whether the room was shrinking; heartless seemed to fill every nook and cranny. They blended into the night so that only their shapes and shadows were observable.

She acquiesced to Riku's encouraging words afterward, as she tried in vain to nurse a wound he'd obtained on his shoulder. But it was undoubtedly harder to believe him this night. Listening and satisfying him with false agreements, she could only hope that her strength of mind and will would return to her with the sunrise.

~…~

Author's Note: The calm before the storm! Sorry if it seems like I'm dragging things out. I don't want to get to the climax without developing some tension first. I promise the pace will pick up a bit in the next chapter.

Please let me know how the flashback came out! Sai's scenes are always my favorite to write—this one in particular. I wanted to do so much more for Riku and Keiya in this chapter, but their scene ended up waaay longer than I'd intended, and I couldn't fit anything more lighthearted. Sorry!

Hope it's not too late to say "Happy New Year!" ^_^ Apologies for the delay, and I hope everyone had a great winter break!

Thank you for reading, and please review!