I do not own Kingdom Hearts.
Promise Me
After another midnight encounter with the heartless—the third in as many nights—Riku reluctantly left his frantic companion by her lonesome to have a talk with the only people whom he felt could give him advice. Leon and Aerith were the only ones in the kitchen at the daybreak hour, as usual. The duo worked restlessly to keep the town in order and the reconstruction running smoothly. Riku hesitated in the doorway a moment. He was not accustomed to seeking guidance, but the circumstances left him feeling more helpless as each night passed. Any words of counsel or encouragement would be welcomed to sooth his worries. Resolutely, he gathered the courage to bring up the troubling subject that occupied his thoughts.
"Oh! Hello, Riku. What are you doing up so early?" Aerith greeted kindly, sifting through papers and files. She motioned for him to take a seat, but he declined and stood awkwardly behind an empty chair.
"The heartless were here again last night," he reported uneasily.
Her eyes widened and she turned to the man beside her. "Again? Leon, we need to tell Cid to set up that security system."
"It wouldn't be very useful," said the stoic leader, straightening a stack of papers against the surface of the table. "But Riku, if you need help fighting, we'd all be willing to take shifts—"
Riku waved away the notion. "No, that's not why I'm here. I'm just worried… about Keiya."
He concealed a blush when he spied a smile spread across Aerith's face and averted his eyes to the wooden table.
"She hasn't been herself ever since that first attack. She's been waking from nightmares at least two or three times a night…" he explained uncomfortably.
"I'm sure she's just anxious, Riku," said Leon.
He shook his head. "It's been getting worse and worse. She locked herself in the bathroom last night for hours. I kept calling her, but she wouldn't come out until early this morning."
Aerith smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry—you're leaving in just three days now. She's probably nervous, and the heartless aren't doing much to help. Keep your spirits up," she cheered. "It seems hard now, but everything always works out in the end."
He felt his mouth go dry. Their kind, oblivious words weren't doing anything to ease his apprehension. Before the attacks had started, he hadn't given that much thought to Maleficent's determination. He'd assumed whatever problems that arose he could combat, but the persistency was incredible. Each night the heartless were tougher and fiercer. While he refused to worry that the assaults would last forever, he did contemplate the possibility that they could continue even on the islands. There would be no escape—trying to hide would be futile. He'd been counting on serenity when they returned home, but if they were followed, he had no plan of action. Keiya would be devastated: he knew she'd never sit still if the worst circumstances were realized. She'd run away, unable to be persuaded otherwise, no lingering second thoughts. He'd lose her in a heartbeat.
He still couldn't erase her forced smile from his memory. Her shaky voice, her awfully pale skin…
"No, you don't understand. It's getting serious," he stressed. "I'm really worried—she's making herself sick over everything. I keep trying to get her to talk, but…"
Leon looked only slightly troubled as he considered the teenager's concerns. "It's only three more days, Riku. She'll endure it until then. I agree with Aerith. Just stay optimistic."
His gaze shifted between each face in frustrated disbelief. "So you're telling me there's nothing I can do for her?" he exclaimed. "She's in so much pain… There has to be some way I can help!"
"The best thing you can do for her now is stay positive," Aerith explained. "Don't give her more reason to be upset."
"Really, Riku, what else can you do? You're fighting for her, you're taking her home with you—all that's left now is to let things play out. You know that."
The stubborn boy didn't want to acknowledge that there was no course of action left to take. He fought every night, but he felt that his efforts were insignificant. The attacks wouldn't just go away on their own—not at this rate. He wanted to confront the enemies head-on, to put an end to the needless suffering, but Keiya absolutely refused to let him go. She was terror-stricken and distraught each time he brought it up—to such a point that he couldn't contradict her wishes.
After a dissatisfied, hesitant nod, he turned and walked briskly back to his room, where his companion undoubtedly lay awake. He turned the knob gently and slipped inside, hoping his suspicions would be false.
He found her indeed awake, sitting atop the wide windowsill and still in her nightgown. The glass panes were shut, but she'd drawn back the curtains. She sat watching the early morning routines of the creatures and the sun and the shadows it created on the ground. She didn't even turn to acknowledge his entrance. Riku came up next to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey," he greeted softly. He reached over her and pushed the windows open, letting the fresh, warm air sooth her senses.
She responded with a quiet, distracted 'good morning' and was about to stand up when Riku firmly wrapped his arms around her frame. She stayed stationary as he kissed her cheek and smoothed back her hair. Her heart was still sick with terror from her latest nightmare—one that, unlike the others, remained clear and strong in her memory. It was the worst yet. Her whole being was still lost in the depth of its contents, the sadness it had invoked in her heart.
"Let's go out after breakfast," he suggested with a smile. "You haven't left the house in a couple days. The air will do you good."
"O-okay…" she murmured reluctantly.
He freed her from his embrace so she could gather clothes for the day. She stumbled a bit when she stood from the windowsill, and Riku automatically helped her regain her balance. He kept her close to him for a moment, taking in the lack of color in her face, the hint of red starting to form in her eyes. Her body swayed when she tried to stand on her own, and she was forced to grasp the wall for support. Riku watched her traipse sluggishly to the dresser, where she plopped down and tugged the bottom drawer open. Her motions were heavy and uncoordinated.
"Keiya…" he trailed off somberly.
"Hmm?"
"Why are you so sad?"
She kept her back to him as she contemplated a response. He wanted to approach her, but her rigid posture and pensive aura seemed to oppose him. Familiar with her evasive answers, he simply added, "And don't say you're not."
"I'm just tired," she admitted, a hand lazily fishing through the clothes, her concentration completely elsewhere.
He crossed the room and knelt down next to her. When her hopeless search for clothes carried on without success, he reached in and pulled out the first fabric his hands touched. He handed her a top, earning back her attention, and watched her set it aimlessly in her lap.
"Maybe you should just get some sleep. We can go out tonight," he offered.
Keiya shook her head. "No, it's alright. I want to go outside."
"Are you sure? You'd be better off getting some rest first. You look exhausted."
"I said I'm fine," she snapped impatiently. She heaved herself up and headed toward the bathroom, stubbornly refusing his help. He dejectedly folded away his outstretched hand. She grasped the doorknob possessively when she reached it, needing it for balance. When she closed the door (forgetting to bring the rest of her outfit with her), Riku sighed and flopped onto the bed.
She's overtired. She probably hasn't gotten more than three hours of sleep these past few nights… She keeps waking up.
He stretched his arms and breathed in the summer air that was working to clear the room of its blue atmosphere. When he gazed over to Keiya's side of the bed, he noticed a small spot of darker hue on her pillow. Curiously, he let his fingers brush the stain. What he felt was damp and cool.
Teardrops…
~…~
Sai dragged his feet as he walked back to his shabby house, a ripped brown bag of food in one hand, his other one bloody from his most recent fight. Mud splashed up his legs as he plowed through his swampy yard. Tall grasses grew on either side of the walkway to the entrance, which consisted of only a few flat rocks here and there, as most had floated away during a flood some seasons ago. When he reached the splintering door, he lazily fished through his pockets for his key, turned the lock, and entered his house.
Upon arriving in the kitchen, he realized that he'd forgotten to take off his shoes. He panicked inwardly and quickly kicked the dirty sandals off, but it was too late: a trail of mud now lined the old, white tile floor. Hastily, he threw the bag of food onto the table and searched the room for something with which to clean. He came up with his mother's wash rag and sloppily moved it across the floor with his foot. The week before, he'd been sternly reprimanded by his father for making such a mess in the house. He shuddered at the thought of a repeat.
His efforts to wipe the floor clean were in vain. Most of the mud came off onto the rag, but the rest was now spread thin across the entire area. Just as he was about to look for another rag or towel, spots of blood from his hand fell onto the tile. He whispered an incoherent curse and skidded to the sink to clean off the wound.
He thought briefly that it was weird his parents hadn't come to investigate all the noise he was making, but he was grateful for the chance to avoid a lot of trouble. After washing his hand in the tap water, he hoisted himself onto the counter to reach the box of bandages tucked away in a cabinet. It took several tries before he managed to scoop the box off its shelf. When he'd finally gotten his hand wrapped up, he hopped off the counter and returned to his mess on the floor.
A strong gust of wind distracted him from his dilemma. He hated to admit that the shallow rumors in town were true: when the wind was strong, it did seem to blow right through the weak walls of his house. Usually during hurricane season his family took shelter in the center of the house, in a small closet where no windows could break over them.
The sky didn't look promising, and he couldn't remember seeing any fishermen in the waters on his way home. As he listened to the creaking of the wood, he became concerned that his parents were still outside in the rice field, oblivious to the impending storm.
Neglecting the mess temporarily, he ran to the window to see if they were indeed still at work. However, the yard was completely empty. He looked around curiously and cautiously.
"…Mom? Dad?" he called into the silence. He edged through the kitchen to the small living room. "Are you guys here?"
When he rounded the corner into the next room, he was met with a nightmarish scene of chaos and the sickening, metallic smell of blood. Furniture was toppled over, pictures had fallen from the walls, and in the center of the room, one on top of the other, lay his parents, their bodies floating in a small pool of crimson.
He lost awareness of his breath; he was either hyperventilating or disregarding the notion altogether. After a moment of standing frozen, pathetically in shock, he darted over to the listless bodies. He grabbed his mother's shoulders and roughly, urgently tried to shake her awake. Cries poured from his mouth in shaky waves. His tears fell onto her pale, frigid skin and mixed with the blood spilling from her neck. When he caught sight of that clean slice—that solitary mark on her body—he felt his body tremble and threaten to gag.
"Mom, wake up! Mom!" he sobbed, violently shaking her small frame. The neckline of her dress was completely soaked in blood; an old, inherited necklace she always wore was now unrecognizable, hidden in the folds of severed flesh.
"Mom! Wake up!" His words came out incomprehensibly; his voice wavered uncontrollably.
As his strength escaped him, his mother's body slipped from his hands. Sobs broke from his throat between heavy, quivering breaths, and his eyes were wide in horror. He sat there motionlessly, desperate to gain control of himself. He could barely move without his body jolting and his senses taking off in a torrent of hysterics. Goosebumps surfaced on his skin as the smell began to affect him. The blood's trail across the floor spread to stain him.
When he thought he was calm enough, he morosely shifted his gaze to his father, and the uncontrollable cries started up again.
"D-dad…?" he called fearfully. "Dad? P-please wake up…"
He hesitantly reached out to touch his father's shoulder and shake him awake. His clothes were soaked through, his hair matted with the drying crimson. Sai managed to shift his father's body, but as soon as his head flopped over to the side, he withdrew his hand and let out a cry of shock. The incision was deeper and sloppier than his mother's; his neck had been brutally ravaged by the blade.
"Dad!"
He sat hopeless and clueless in front of the corpses, his body still trembling violently, his hands still desperately nudging his parents to escape from their lifeless states.
"Mom, wake up! You two… Wake up!"
"Sai, wake up," came a sharp voice, followed by a rap across the face.
Sai gasped and sputtered in surprise when he was forcefully yanked out of his nightmare. Maleficent stood before him, steaming in frustration. He had no time to mourn and indulge in the reawakened sense of loss; he was in deep trouble.
"Sleeping on the job, Sai?"
He jumped up from his desk and tried to defend himself. "No! I mean, I-I'm sorry—"
She silenced him with a wave of her hand.
"Your sleeping is a waste of my time!" she chastised bluntly. "Why do you think I let you stay here? So you can laze about, taking naps on my time? Who do you think you are?"
He grudgingly averted his gaze and bowed his head in deference. His fists were clenched at his sides.
"You don't need to sleep—I thought that was clear. Do anything so careless again, and I'll have you thrown to the heartless, understand?"
He swallowed and nodded his affirmation. She walked around him, her robe sailing gracefully behind her despite her current harsh demeanor.
"You're not invincible, Sai. Keep that in mind before you dare to defy me again."
"Yes, ma'am…" he mocked under his breath. She didn't catch his saucy response as she strode to the door.
"I've called a meeting," she informed him. "That was your job, but you weren't available to deliver the messages yourself." He tried not to let her persistent scolding arouse his anger. He was already sore and aggravated from his nightmare; he didn't need her to tell him not to fall asleep again. He didn't want to experience that suffering another time.
"Be downstairs in three minutes, and don't get lost on the way," she ordered over her shoulder.
Sai managed to maintain a stern composure while he watched her leave, but as soon as she exited, he sank back into his chair and let his body relax. His head throbbed relentlessly, weakening him to the sorrowful memory's dominance.
He angrily rubbed the haziness out of his eyes. In his heart he could still feel the familiar, childish sense of abandonment and loneliness that had driven him to seek revenge, but he wanted no obligation to it now. Years of discipline had cleared him of his naïve fantasy of vengeance: he'd accepted its likelihood was small and reluctantly became content to let the chance come to him, not to diverge from the delicate path of apprenticeship he trotted. It hadn't ever left his mind, but he'd slowly recovered and managed to focus on the present over the past. However, with this unexpected return to his childhood, he was overcome with a revival of his grudge strong enough to tempt him otherwise.
His fingers drummed impatiently on the desk. He couldn't sit still. It was as though he'd taken several steps backward, lost some of his newly acquired self-control. The power was in his hands now; the suppressed desire for revenge could easily, torturously be fulfilled. The strength would be fed by the reawakened sense of deprivation and injustice. But still along with it came anguish, longing, and heartbreak.
In a moment of torn fury and distress, he let out an agitated groan and swept his hand across the desk, throwing the contents to the floor.
Why can't I just forget?
~…~
When the troubled teenager left the room, Leon and Aerith let out simultaneous sighs. The latter lost her smile and left her station to put up a pot of coffee. Leon also abandoned his work to deal with the more pressing matters. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.
"I hope the heartless really do stop once they leave. We can't have them attacking headquarters every night like this."
"I think they'll sense it when Riku's gone—I just worry they'll track him all the way to his home."
"I've been thinking of that too. Though I'm surprised at Maleficent; I'd have thought that by now, she'd want a confrontation. This seems very petty, coming from her."
Aerith nodded her agreement, a frown creasing her face. "Riku wants a confrontation. I don't blame him, but I don't know whether that's really safe or not."
"It depends on how you look at it," Leon responded. "These attacks could mean she's afraid of a confrontation. She's taking a detour. In that case, it would be wise to crush her so early on. We don't know how strong her heartless can get. The sooner the better."
"But Keiya's the one who's afraid. She knows what Maleficent is capable of—that should be warning enough," Aerith pointed out.
"True."
Thoughtful silence filled the room as each tried to balance the circumstances and weigh the various courses of action. Their home was in tentative jeopardy, and the enemies hidden and not entirely known.
"Speaking of Keiya," Leon said suddenly, "she sure has been putting on an act: not leaving the house yesterday, locking herself in the bathroom… and it sounds like she doesn't even help Riku when the heartless come at night."
"What are you saying?" Aerith asked warily.
"We should consider every possibility," he said icily.
"Oh, Leon! She's been here three months, and you still think she's plotting something?"
"Like I said: anything's possible. She has Riku by a string. If she wanted to lure him into a trap, it would be dangerously easy."
"That won't happen," Aerith argued. "They have only three more days here—what could she possible do? Why would she wait this long?"
Leon stated simply, "To go home with him."
Before she could retaliate, Sora and Kairi entered the kitchen and took their usual seats at the counter.
"Morning!" he greeted with a lazy smile. "Did I beat Riku up?"
"No," Aerith said with a forced carefree smile. "Riku was just here."
"Aw man—so I got up early for nothing!" he exclaimed to the amusement of his girlfriend, who was pulling down boxes of cereal and bowls.
Aerith briefly glanced at Leon, who had gone back to reading his papers, then after clearing the table of her work, turned to the young couple and asked, "Sora, Kairi, what do you think of Keiya?"
Leon looked up from his papers as Aerith had predicted he would, ready to gauge their reactions.
Sora shrugged as he swallowed his food. "I never really get to talk to her, but Riku seems to like her a lot, so she must be okay." Kairi nodded happily in agreement.
Before his opponent could comment, Leon said, "What if Riku were being misled?"
"Misled?" he asked. "What do you mean?"
Aerith gave the dissenter a frustrated stare, but he only turned his attention back to the couple.
"By Keiya? Are you saying… Do you mean she's not really our friend?" Kairi questioned anxiously.
"Of course she is," said Aerith. "Leon's just thinking. He likes to prepare for the worst."
Her nonchalance seemed to rejuvenate and relax the teenagers' spirits, and they slowly started up with their chatter again. Leon remained unconvinced, however, and silently stood from the table. Before he left the room, he paused by the door to get his thoughts off his chest.
"Just be on your guard," he warned, "now that she'll be living on your islands."
~…~
Sai eyed his mistress carefully, awaiting her reaction to the councilman's demand. She did not falter in her stance, but he could see in her face that she was appalled.
"What did you say?" she snapped.
"We're the last twenty-three members left in this operation—roughly one-third of what you started with. We want to negotiate a more equal distribution of power for when our goals are finally reached," the representative said icily.
Maleficent scoffed, but the man didn't even blink. "And that would entail…?"
"We want total dominance over our worlds, as well as over those of our late comrades."
She pursed her lips in concentration; a scheme was undoubtedly cooking, Sai thought. However, to his surprise, she still did not retaliate.
The man continued, "In addition, we want higher salaries. It's not our fault we've had to lie dormant all these months. We want the pay we would have gotten had we been on schedule with the plans."
"That is impossible," she declared, waving the notion away.
"I think you'll agree that it is quite possible—that is, if you want to keep the rest of your council on board."
The threat didn't weigh the same in Sai's mind as it did in hers. He wondered, as he looked on, why she even stood for this man's insolence. The other defiant ones had become unwilling victims for the heartless; he didn't see why this situation should be any different.
After a moment of tense frustration, she coolly asked, "Is that all?"
He nodded, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes, and said as he made his way out, "I'm glad you've decided to consider our requests. I'll return tomorrow to discuss the terms on a more technical level."
She gave no reply, but when he exited the room, Maleficent struck the ground with her staff loud enough to create an irritating echo. Sai had to restrain from covering his ears in her presence. The witch swiftly marched across the room to her now prized crystal ball and began conjuring up a myriad of violently bright colors in its center. Sanguinary shades of red filled the glass orb most prominently, with oranges that burned as flames combusting outward from the center, and a twist of sickly green weaving through the ball like a serpent. She seemed suddenly enthralled with her efforts, and obtained a subtle gleam of her own in her eye, but not one denoting generosity.
Sai slowly approached her, afraid to make too much noise, as she seemed to be in a troubled, dangerous state. He watched in fascination as she presided over the magic. He had never seen such an elaborate sight in the old-fashioned mechanism; it had continuously been summoned with its usual murky tones and occasional spurts of bright color. This magic, however, was lively and powerful—even his amateur knowledge could tell. And the nightmares it could produce with such strength were unimaginable. He wasn't sure whether he felt relieved for the action or guilty for the harm. Maleficent had mentioned several times that she could twist her mind to her liking. He wasn't certain how harmful and how thorough a twisting it would be. He'd rather his heartless chase her home than expose her to some torturously graphic, mind-altering fantasy. His own had been practically unbearable.
"Traitors, all of them," she murmured spitefully in his direction. "They'll get what's coming to them—don't think they've triumphed."
"Right," he mumbled for his own sake. "But why not just dispose of them?"
"Fool—that would leave us empty-handed. We do need some support. We've gotten rid of too many men now to think of wasting more."
He nodded into the dense silence, scolding himself for even raising the question.
"But that girl…" she started threateningly. "That girl has it coming, too, and I expect you to cooperate."
Her serene composure kept him frightfully on edge. He settled for a nod before he could spit out his affirmation, "Y-yes, of course."
"I mean it, Sai," she repeated, delivering a light rap to his face to ensure he was paying attention. "Don't let those foolish feelings of yours get in the way. I won't stand for it."
"They won't," he defended, much to his mistress's amusement. He worked hard to suppress the blush that threatened to form across his face at his accidental confirmation.
"Very well," she dismissed. "Now, about the heartless you've been mobilizing every night…"
His heart stopped and his blood ran cold. He could swear she was about to kill him.
"They aren't strong enough. I'd have expected more from you—I must say I'm disappointed," she chastised. Her tone was unusually laid-back due to her new surging confidence. Despite the mutiny that was ready to boil over, she did not succumb to yelling and fretting. However, there was undeniably a lust for vengeance scorching within her, biding the time until its inevitable fulfillment. It made it difficult for him to judge her mood and the perils it could bring.
He stood dumb in shock for several drawn out moments. "Y-you're not angry?"
"Take some of mine: I give you permission. Report to me with news of their success tomorrow. Go—don't delay me further."
"Yes," he breathed excitedly. "Definitely. I'll go right now."
She smirked as he sprinted carelessly from the room, still winding her vibrant magic into curious shapes and colors. Her other hand clutched her staff menacingly, forcing all the anger out of her body. She resolved to be patient. Revenge was underway.
~…~
Keiya languidly proceeded through the darkness to a faint light, barely visible, burning an indiscernible distance before her. Nothing obstructed her path, no walls could be detected on any side, and yet it was taking hours to reach her destination.
She knew, somehow, exactly what lay ahead and where she would end up. And she didn't walk alone. Sai accompanied her for brief intervals, but nothing passed between them. He kept his distance, and his form disappeared altogether when her gaze wandered too close. Sometimes she thought she only imagined his presence, but the hint of a smirk was evident on his face from the corner of her eyes, and that was enough to make his companionship concrete in her dazed state.
She walked with a heavy heart, becoming steadily fuller of dread with each footstep as the light increased in brightness and size in her vision. When she neared the source of illumination, her vague suspicion was fortified and her heart as dense as lead.
She tremulously dropped to her knees beside the figure, a sob escaping her lips upon impact, and couldn't help a stream of tears from spilling as she stared into his face.
"R-Riku?" she called timidly, one hand firmly grasping the ground for support, the other raised in a longing to touch him.
The light in the space was him: his body, his soul—whatever was left.
His eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted as if he were asleep. His skin, however, was a ghastly hue, and his expression was twisted in pain. More sobs were elicited from her throat until she finally mustered the courage to take him by the shoulders. His formerly strong and lively build was crippled to a limp, cold corpse. He wouldn't budge no matter how roughly she shook him or how desperately she cried.
"Ri…Riku?" Her voice hiccupped as she struggled to speak. She was met with no response, no hint of awareness. Frustrated and terrified, she hit his chest to try to rouse him. Her hair fell into her face as she wretchedly pounded on him with her weak fists. She could hardly stop herself.
"Get up! Riku!" she shrieked helplessly. "Please get up! Please be alright…!"
He failed to stir; his body remained pale and lifeless.
Her nails practically clawed at his shirt when her efforts amounted to nothing. She exhaled in shaky, uneven breaths as her tears continued to rain onto his face, and she grievously began to shift his body and pull him into her arms. She cradled him despairingly, holding his head in her lap. When she gently touched his cheek with her trembling hands, she felt none of his warmth. He was colder than she was—so cold that her tears began to form droplets of ice on his face. She could do nothing but cry harder and wipe the tiny glass beads from his stone complexion.
A stabbing pain in her heart eventually replaced the sobs, which had died down to silent tears. She clung to him possessively, unwilling to let him rest peacefully, for her obscure instincts dictated that the second her touch left his body, he would be consumed—he would disappear from the physical state, this last state.
She sat hunched over and stroked his face tenderly, completely fixated on the suffering in his expression, the closed eyelids concealing those bright blue orbs she so longed to meet one more time. In a surge of despondent longing, she leaned over and pressed her cheek against his cold one; and, when that was not enough, let her lips fall to his in a soft, short, remorseful kiss.
When she reluctantly pulled away, she was met with the sound of a set of footsteps circling around her. Sai was the one who appeared, his hands tucked in his pockets, an indifferent look on his face. He watched her for a moment as if she were a spectacle before kneeling down next to her. She observed him with careful eyes and kept her lover in her protective hold.
When Sai reached out and lifted Riku's arm, smirking at the feel of lifeless flesh, Keiya gasped and shoved him away violently. He now wore a look of satisfaction and stood up, away from her, without a fight. She only glared at him from her pitiful position on the ground.
"You did this to him, you know," he informed her contentedly. "You killed him yourself."
"…W-what?" she whispered.
"You murdered him. It's your fault."
He was met with nothing but dense silence this time. Keiya gazed down at her dead lover's face, a hand still deftly caressing back his silver hair.
Sai continued his conviction, seeking from her a more animate response, "If it weren't for you, he'd probably be fine right now."
She choked back a sob before managing a reply. "Liar!" she spat in a hoarse voice, a fresh stream of tears dripping down her face. "I could never hurt him—!"
"Look at your hands," he cut off harshly.
And when she did, she screamed at what she saw: a thorough coat of crimson covering each hand. Her reflexes acted to lurch away from the grotesque, distressing sight, but she couldn't escape what was spread all over her hands, her arms, her dress.
Sai laughed at her hatefully from above, repressed jealousy of the corpse burning deeply throughout his being. He disappeared from the chaos, and in his place was born a monstrous energy. An invisible force suddenly began fighting to free her lover from her grasp, but she fought it hysterically. She held him to her with such a captive embrace that had he been alive, she'd have deprived him of breath.
As he was pulled stronger, she had to struggle to keep her hold. But her hands, slippery with blood, could not outweigh the fate forcing him to his final state of death. She cried and pleaded with the unseen enemy, but with an easy tug, his body slipped through her fingers and was thrown to the floor, several yards before her.
She hurriedly scrambled to get up and retake him, but suddenly racing alongside her, in the ground, was a lone shadow heartless. It cruelly outran her desperate sprint, ignored her frenzied entreaties, and reached him first. Before she could catch up, the heartless slithered above ground and ruthlessly pounced on the boy. In a seconds' time and with one swift stroke, the shadow ripped out his heart, and the now empty body disintegrated before her eyes. At the same time, the crystal dangling from round her neck shattered into a powder that coated the ground and caught the reflection of the heartless's yellow eyes and the pure vivacity of the heart it carried. She made no move to try to save it, however; she was frozen in horror, her eyes fixed on the spot where he had lain. Not a trace was left of him.
"Keiya? What's wrong?"
She felt someone shake her arm.
"Can you hear me? Wake up."
The heartless seemed to parade as it ran its escape, taunting her with a clear display of the bright, honest, loyal heart that he had trusted her to safeguard. She yearned with all her being to retrieve his heart, but she lacked the potency. Her feet involuntarily gave out and she collapsed onto the floor. All her strength had abandoned her, and all she could do was whisper faintly, "Take mine, too."
"Keiya, wake up!"
"Wait, take mine …"
"Take… what? What are you talking about?"
The heartless sank into the ground without heeding her request. Seeing the beady yellow eyes forsake her to the solitude, she was overcome with a dizzy, melancholy distress. Nothing was left to reflect off the shattered necklace, and the pieces became invisible. She was left sitting on the cold ground in the desolate dark space, now without his light to guide the way. False lights still teased her eyes as she adjusted to the total darkness, the clusters disappearing each time she hopefully turned to face one.
Unable to see, hear, or think in the black void, she let out a frustrated cry. All her loneliness and guilt came out in a piercing wail of mourning, and she began crawling and feeling the groves in the floor, longing to relocate the vicious heartless that had stolen her lover from her.
"Take mine, too!" she begged, frantic in her search.
"Keiya!"
Another rough shake forced her eyes open and her mind out of the terrible hallucination. She gave a petrified yelp and her body shot up in an instant.
A pair of strong arms encircled her protectively before she could get a firm grip on reality. There was warmth all around her, the moonlight was bright through the window, she was no longer alone…
"Calm down, Keiya. Everything's fine, everything's fine…"
Her heart leapt with sweet surprise and hope; his familiar scent, his soothing voice—it all rushed back to her and began to melt her grief.
"Riku?" she cried disbelievingly, struggling with choked back laments. She pulled away from him with an urgent desire to see his face and rebelled against his arms which strived to bury her in his chest. Riku watched her warily as she reached to trace his cheek. Her breath was still heavy and her tears coming in streams, but her hands were feverish in their labor, and her eyes were delighted. After a moment he settled her hands down and took her loosely into his arms again.
"Keiya, what—"
"Are you alright?" she inquired worriedly.
"What? Of course I am," was his simple, clueless reply.
"Oh God," she wept, trying in vain to dry her eyes. "I thought you were… I thought you had…"
The words couldn't make it past her lips; just forming them in her throat brought on renewed waves of pain.
"Just relax," he coaxed, taking to wiping the tears himself. "It's okay now."
She couldn't stop crying no matter how much he reassured her. A terrible, sadistic trick had been played on her. She'd been so ready to give up and beg for her own demise; sitting with him once again, feeling him tenderly brush back her hair—it felt like this should be the dream, and that the harsh reality.
"You were just lying there… and you wouldn't answer…" she described, tense and strained. He tried to shush her, but her mind still burned with the images she'd witnessed.
"A-and I tried not to let go, but I couldn't hold on—"
He drew her into his chest, a position she took gratefully. He felt pathetically useless, unable to comprehend the extent of her fears or fully distract her from them. He'd heard her shift and murmur in her sleep, until the murmurs turned to cries and the cries to screams. All he could do now was let her feel warm and safe until she escaped the nightmare's effects completely.
"It's alright, love. Don't think about it—it wasn't real."
"I thought I could hold on…!" she continued ashamedly. Her fingers clenched his shirt, the fabric now wet with her teardrops. He tightened his embrace and rested his head in her shoulder. "I thought I'd never see you again!"
"I'm right here, Keiya. I'm not going anywhere."
"But you were dead!" she blurted out, falling into a series of sharp, uncontrollable sobs and inhalations.
Riku's heart jumped in guilt. Her suffering was all for his sake. Gently, he upturned her face to achieve eye contact. Her lip trembled slightly and her skin was sheet white.
"Keiya, you know that won't happen." He gave her a weak smirk. "I can't be defeated that easily."
His attempt to make her smile failed, and she sank back into his chest, still holding herself under a heavy burden. He cradled her, as it was all he could think to do. The whole day together had done nothing to ease her nerves or lighten her mood; rather, somehow, it had invoked in her more sadness, and he couldn't understand why. Never had he felt so useless: his abstract had caused her grief, but he himself could not erase it.
"Sai said… He said it was my fault," she whispered.
Riku felt a rush of anger grip his heart and his eyes narrowed. "Don't listen to him—Keiya, it was just a dream! He wasn't even real!" he exclaimed in disgust.
She answered with an incomprehensible mutter into his shirt. Her hands were fisted in the material, as if it were all that was tying her to existence.
Slowly, she began to return to normal. Her crying dwindled, her breathing relaxed, and her body loosened until he was sure she had fallen asleep again. He'd carefully shifted to lay her back onto the mattress when he caught her drowsy gaze. With a soft smile, he continued to lay her down and fixed the sheets over their bodies before wrapping his arms around her in preparation for sleep. She stayed still rather than curling up to him. The gap bothered him immediately, and he took the initiative to close it.
It seemed her next set of tears came with no prompt. Little was he aware of the guilt she was still feeling, even after she'd awoken. She brought her hands around his neck to entwine in his hair, but her usually lazy caress quickly turned desperate. Her fingers clutched strands of his hair, not physically painfully, but with their own tone of despair.
"Keiya, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," she replied quietly. The distance she seemed intent to create worried him, but her recovery from her hysteria for the most part relieved him.
He leaned back a little to better see her face. Persuading her with a smile, he stated, "I know you better than that. Tell me what's bothering you."
She remained silent for a few seconds, clearly gathering her words and strength of voice. Her fingers instinctually reached for the charm hanging around her neck: it always comforted her to feel the crystal and trace its shape. He watched eagerly, waiting for her finally to confide in him. He thought he might break through her stubborn resolve and better understand her discomposure.
She shifted uncomfortably before she spoke. "Riku… what would you do if I left?"
"Left?" he questioned in alarm, raising himself slightly off the bed. "What are you talking about?" His chest throbbed restlessly and his head spun with denial. Cautiously, Keiya placed her hands on his shoulders and guided him back down.
"What would you do?" she asked again, severity so evident in her voice that it threatened to shatter all the happiness that had thus far consumed his heart and soul.
"I'd come find you, of course," he replied anxiously, his eyes bright with fear and conviction. "I'd bring you back home."
She folded her arms to her chest and rolled onto her back, out of his hold. "Promise me you won't."
"W-what? Keiya, what are you talking about? You're coming home with me! You already said you would!" he argued, now sitting up completely. She reluctantly followed suit but kept a space between them.
"I know, and I will… But promise me that you wouldn't go looking for me if I left."
His stare was full of concern and agitation. "I can't leave you behind. If you left, I'd go find you!"
"Please, just… promise?" she repeated dolefully.
He bit his lip and turned his face from her. "Why should you need me to, if you're coming home with me?" he pointed out sourly.
She hesitated. "I just… I'd feel better knowing…"
Her voice faded into silence, not at all easing his apprehension. He watched her from the corner of his eye while he tried to twist the situation to his advantage. With three days left, he couldn't believe she wanted to back out—couldn't believe she'd ask him to be so indifferent as to leave without her if she changed her mind. The idea was ludicrous—impossible.
Keiya meekly awaited his next censure of her request, watching his body tense with her words. Her trepidation was greater than her desire to leave with him; she couldn't rest without some assurance that he wouldn't endanger himself on her account—that he wouldn't end up as he was in her dream—if it did come to that.
When Riku finally spoke up, his voice was stern but afraid. "Promise me that you won't leave."
She looked uneasy. "I said I'd go home with you—"
"I want you to promise. If you do… then I'll promise not to go after you," he decided bitterly.
When she didn't make any move to respond, he edged closer to her and took her hands in his. She was the tense one now, put on the spot. Both were unsettled, each troubled by the other's demands and the implications they carried. Beneath Riku's vexed, pleading aspect, she finally crumbled.
"O-okay," she agreed unwillingly. "It's a promise."
He let out a sigh and softened his expression. However, satisfaction was not the first feeling that filled him. It was a steady sense of dread. Countless talks about what their lives would be like after the move seemed to be cancelled out by her imposition and then her hesitation.
With a smile that was slow to surface, Riku brought her hand to his lips and sealed the accord with a kiss. However, neither was content with the agreement and the restrictions it now demanded. Each felt restlessly bound by the terms.
"It's a promise," he repeated solemnly, observing the discomfort in her posture. With a second kiss, his lips to hers, he ended the discussion, and the two reluctantly, uneasily resumed their places betwixt the sheets and into slumber.
~…~
Author's Note: I wasn't too sure about adding Leon and Aerith in here… I wanted to switch up the perspectives a bit from the three main ones. As for Sai's nightmare, it's not really necessary, but I have several flashbacks I want to incorporate, and if I keep putting it off I'll run out of space and time. So, this was one of them. I turned it into a dream since those have become kind of a theme lately… Hope they're not boring! I tried to make them interesting and somewhat surreal. Please let me know how they came out!
There's a poll relating to the side story on my profile. I can't say I'll follow the results for sure—I'm going to go with my judgment—but please spare a moment to take it so I can see other people's input!
Thank you for reading, and please review!