So after almost three months of hiatus - of college, and psychological issues, and realizing I've basically become Falcon - I've got a special treat for you all. A double update.
You're welcome.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer- I only own the characters that are obviously not in the game. And the Shadowed Desert world, too, but that was obvious.
Sora was beginning to regret having agreed to this.
Coming out here, to these sandy ruins at the far reaches of the desert, did not bother him; in fact, the reason behind said ruins' appearance at all – Jafar's release from the lamp – enforced the need to go.
They had arrived at the oasis just outside the marketplace, where Genie had cleared the thick vortex surrounding the ruins with one mighty sweep of his hand. As his objections to Aladdin's lack of more extravagant requests had rung out with his disappearance, the street boy had turned to Sora, Donald, and Goofy and pointed out that one question.
How they would cross the desert to the miniscule towers, which seemed toy-like in the distance, in enough time to stop Jafar.
At that moment, the magic carpet had poked one tassel out from behind one seemingly-misplaced palm tree. Donald had caught sight of it and, of course, had mistaken it for a Heartless; before the others could intervene, a thin tongue of flame had shot forth from his staff and effectively coaxed the magic carpet out of its hiding spot. Once the group's initial amusement at Donald's expense had subsided, Sora had realized they could hardly all fit on the magic carpet.
Naturally, he had volunteered to head out to the ruins and take down Jafar. "Are you sure?" Aladdin had asked, dark eyes wide with anxiety for his friend. "You remember what he was capable of as a genie."
But Sora had shaken his head. "Someone has to go out there," he argued.
His friends only spent a couple of moments trying to dissuade him, but those moments felt almost obligatory to him then. So they did now, a couple of hours or so after he had left them at the oasis. Between the heat, fighting the Heartless that wove in and out of his path, and keeping a trained eye out for Jafar, Sora's grip on the Decisive Pumpkin had grown slippery with sand and sweat.
That grasp trembled slightly, as did the defiant cry that escaped him as he swiped at a gypsy Heartless. The ice-blasting foe went careening away with the force of his attack, and he took it upon himself to leap up again as soon as gravity pulled him down to finish it off.
Of course, almost immediately after defeating it, his mind chose to reflect on how at least the pain of an ice crystal shattering against his shoulder would have been tempered by a bit of cool air. He sighed to himself at the thought.
Turning upon landing, he drew in a few desperate breaths and assessed the pillar. According to Iago, Jafar was inside.
"You'd better be right," he muttered aloud. A moment's scrutiny told him that somehow, none of the healing items in his pocket had fallen out during his frequent transitions into the air and back again.
Uncapping the vial of a Hi-Potion, he gulped it down, gave it a few moments to work its healing tendrils into his wounds, both fresh and old.
The carpet sensed his desire to touch down and promptly heeded the unspoken command, floating forward slightly and aligning itself into a stair-like formation. Despite the Hi-Potion having taken effect, Sora found himself stumbling a little on the way to solid ground.
Immediately the magic carpet swooped forward to try and support him, but he shook his head at it. "Just wait out here, okay, carpet?" he said, smiling at it as best he could.
Maybe his imagination – and the heat – was playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he saw it twist its tassels in a way that mirrored a human folding its arms. Skepticism had etched itself across the carpet's stance, but when Sora hardened his stare at it and reaffirmed his words with a look, it coiled back up into the air and settled.
He turned away, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he did so. In the back of his mind, he could almost hear Char remarking you're being awfully friendly toward an inanimate object.
Fast on the heels of that thought came the mental image of himself scooting forward a couple of inches, accommodating another human in the space remaining. In the week or so since Sora and his companions had left Agrabah, Aladdin had finally managed to whisk Jasmine away on a magic carpet ride.
Every word he had used to describe the experience echoed in Sora's mind as, like with Jack and Sally dancing, the thought of Aladdin and Jasmine looping gently through the sky was replaced with Sora and Char. Exhilarating. Thrilling. Amazing.
Like a whole new world.
Warm as the idea made him feel, Sora's growing grin faded at once and his blood froze in his veins when he stepped further inside.
And saw a dark-coated figure standing with its back to him.
The light created by the Decisive Pumpkin appearing in his grasp made the Nobody in front of him turn. Disappointment twitched through his belligerence at the presence of darkness from its hood, but that too vanished when the Nobody's spine went rigid with horror.
As much horror as its false not-heart could muster, anyway.
"All right, out with it, Nobody," Sora growled, trying to stave off the Roxas-shaped doubt in his chest. He swung up his Keyblade and pointed it at the black-cloaked being. "I know Jafar's here."
Where is Kairi, where is Char, where is Riku, the questions shoved insistently against each other at the back of his mind, but somehow he knew he wouldn't get any straight answers to those right away. The thought made his grip on his Keyblade tighten.
Confusion filled him when the Nobody straightened. The half-light filtering in from outside caught something in the slat of darkness its hood created, as though the figure were widening its eyes. For a moment, Sora thought he detected those gloved fingers flexing, before that settled.
Almost as if it were considering summoning its weapon, then decided against it.
Then the Nobody shook its head.
"No?" Sora asked aloud. He blinked, arms growing slack and forcing him to lower his weapon. "You mean Jafar isn't here?"
Then that means Iago lied.
Why wasn't he the least bit surprised?
The Nobody lifted its palms in a shrug, which only stirred Sora's frustration even more. "You Nobodies used to be a lot more talkative," he spat out. "Not that I mind it, but… what's with the sudden silent treatment?"
It froze, shoulders tensing visibly. A smirk spread on Sora's countenance; he had it there.
But it suddenly seemed an odd word to use to refer to the still-hidden being. After all, the Organization members Sora had met along the way had all been decidedly male; Anxclof aside, he didn't know if they even had any female members.
Besides, the figure's build seemed a bit too broad in the shoulders and back.
His eyes widened as his heartbeat spiked in sudden realization. That feeling only enforced itself when a stray, hot breeze from outside coiled into the pillar's interior and stirred a piece of gray hair from outside the confines of the stranger's hood.
Hastily, the Nobody pulled his hair back into its hiding spot, but Sora had seen all he needed to.
"Xemnas!" he barked, lunging forward. In his periphery, dark blue flashed in a blur, and he dimly attached the color to the carpet darting inside to see what was going on, but an instant later his attention refocused on the muscles in his arm lifting up his Keyblade and driving its end as hard as he could toward the face hidden by that hood.
He swung the Decisive Pumpkin's coiled-up shaft, intending to at least inflict a couple of bruises on this jerk before he fled into the realm of darkness. Gods willing, he could maybe keep a firm hold on Xemnas' attention long enough to follow him.
At the very least, I can find Kairi, and try to keep her safe. Succeed where I couldn't with Char.
He expected the candy cane-like weapon to crunch against bone, or, more predictably, for Xemnas to draw his own blades. The very few memories that Roxas had of the Organization leader brushed up against his thoughts and told him if his target chose the latter option, this chamber's half-darkness would become bathed in a crimson glow of light blades. Ironic, considering what they both symbolized.
Before Sora could make a move to suppress that odd train of thought, though, the other's choice vanquished it much more thoroughly.
For a few moments, the clang created by his Keyblade colliding with his adversary's own sword resonated, sound ricocheting off the mud-bricked walls and finally reaching an impasse with Sora's senses. It vaguely echoed to his ears, but it reached him with a sense of numb horror and shock.
Because the figure's visceral reaction had been to block his attack, just as he had expected.
But the chamber remained lit only by the blaze of the early afternoon sun outside, and the bat wing-shaped weapon was angled in a belated attempt to parry Sora's attack.
It brought back so many memories: tussling with his best friend under a different sun and on different sand entirely; a voice that was not his best friend's own cackling and taunting with every roll and dodged strike with that deadly blade.
Sora strained forward to see turquoise eyes under that cover of shadows, but Riku – if it was Riku at all – lowered his head so he couldn't get a glimpse.
"Riku?" he whispered, his own dark blue eyes wide.
Immediately Riku pulled the Soul Eater back. His severing the connection that held them together happened so abruptly that Sora almost fell forward, but thankfully he straightened.
The tails of his Organization coat trailed over the ground, which suddenly seemed so unsteady beneath Sora's feet, as Riku backed up. "Wait!" Sora cried, reaching out a hand. "It… is you. Right?"
His heartbeat roared in his ears, all but drowning out his desperate question, all but muffling his desire to just glean a bit of truth from at least one person in that treacherous black coat. Like why Riku was wearing it, for one; and for another, why he had shown up here.
And although the thump thump thump in his ears would have forced that particular cadence to have to work its way past the obscuring noise, Sora at the very least wanted to just hear Riku speak and confirm it was indeed him.
But that just loosened the gates for more questions to flood forth – like why he had taken Char away, not even twelve hours after he had finally untangled his feelings toward her – so Sora focused on maybe-Riku instead of his budding headache.
He didn't receive a verbal response, predictably enough. In lieu of yielding to his normal bluntness, Riku simply placed his free hand against the wall behind him. No sooner had the Char voice in the back of Sora's mind shaken his shoulders and screamed at him what Riku was about to do did his suspicions come to light.
"Come back!" he shouted. Just as much shock and fear marked his voice as before, but now, rather than a begging edge, anger sharpened the words and made them echo throughout the chamber.
He gripped his Keyblade tighter and charged forward, eyes training in on the black and purple, dark tendrils winding together between Riku's form and the stone slab. Somehow, the portal of darkness had coalesced in a way that pulled its brand of shadow apart from Riku's, and so gave his glare purchase as he lunged forward…
…only to pull up short as Riku stepped back into the darkness.
It took a few seconds' effort to backpedal and avoid sacrificing the top of his skull to the wall, but, contrary to likely expectation, Sora had enough balance to manage it. He stared at where Riku had stood not moments before, the part of him that still marveled at beings who existed without a heart blinking in disbelief at how quickly Riku had disappeared.
It was Riku. I know it was. But if it was… how did he do what the Nobodies can?
Somehow, he couldn't believe Riku had lost his heart: not because he lacked the supposed strength required to produce a Nobody – so completely the opposite of the truth that Sora breathed out a shaky chuckle – but because he could never surrender to Heartless.
Questions. So many questions.
And no answers in sight.
He sighed to himself, only to jolt in surprise. A rumbling shook from the pillar's sandy foundations and eventually worked its way under his feet.
An instant later, the ground beneath his feet shifted from beneath him, startling a grunt out of him before the surface under him became a bit more solid. He glanced down, saw the magic carpet's now dust-mottled fabric, and realized it had swooped forward to give him a better surface to stand on.
"Thanks, carpet," he told it, to which it lifted one tassel to its top in an imitation of a salute.
Sora only spared a couple of seconds of looking around before another quake wracked the pillar and told him he had to leave. Now.
"But if Jafar's not here, then where…?" The last part of the question stretched into a bewildered cry when the carpet suddenly lurched forward. He spent the next few moments rebalancing himself into a kneeling position, during which they managed to clear the crumbling pillar to the sandy waterfalls beyond. Those, too, were forced to change course as the ruins rippled and heaved with the force of some nauseating stimulant.
He considered glaring down at the carpet, which continued to dart around every bit of falling debris; the buildings that had once stood so quietly in the desert were now violently ejecting their burdens, scattering bits of brick and sand everywhere. As the carpet performed a particularly complicated maneuver to dodge a larger piece of rock, Sora clung on for dear life and began to remember why he hated heights in the first place.
"Carpet!" he finally shouted, glaring down at it. His knuckles strained beneath his gloves' confines with his vice grip on the carpet's edge. "What's going on?"
At that moment, a flash of light caught his eye, and he looked up, out at the bulbous silhouette of Agrabah's palace in the distance. Horror sank its fangs into his very core as he spotted the dark cloud of smoke wreathing about the towers.
"Jafar," he whispered, eyes widening. He must be attacking the palace!
Seeing that its burden understood everything now, the carpet tore off in the direction of the shadowy lightning in the distance.
Sora had experienced smoke – honest, powerful, lung-choking smoke – exactly twice in his life.
The first time, he was three, and his mother was chastising his father for daring to exercise his bad habit and spread the poisonous cloud of cigarette smoke in the house; his father had stubbed out his last cigarette exactly two days after that.
The second time, he was twelve, and Riku had suggested starting a bonfire on the beach; that had proved a mistake, as Sora gagged on the fumes and Kairi chided Riku for thinking that had ever been a good idea. Her expression – red with fury and indignation on Sora's part – had struck a chord of warmth within him, even as Riku ducked in sheepishness that was half-feigned.
Now, though, he could count now as the third: fifteen, much less ordinary circumstances, riding on a magic carpet and watching in revulsion as a bright red, humanoid shape towered up into the sky. Dual fireballs hovered at the massive genie's fingertips, the heat that flowed off Jafar's hands in waves even more palpable after the time Sora had spent in the desert.
All he could think was Char would hate what's going on right now, both because of the greedy vizier's return to Agrabah and the flames' effect on her.
Jafar's shoulders twitched. Sora tensed – his knuckles howled in protest at the increased emphasis on his Keyblade – but the genie hadn't noticed his approach, much to his relief. The sounds of terrified cries from far below drew his attention downward; relief tempered his initial dread when he saw an aqua-clad shape herding a group of people farther away from the palace gates. Jasmine, he realized.
Fast on the heels of that thought came desperate curiosity, the need to know Donald, Goofy, and Aladdin also stood far below. Seeming to detect his concern, the magic carpet angled itself into a sharp dive, being careful not to dislodge its precious burden in the descent.
But then Sora's stomach was lurching for a different reason entirely, as a bright yellow light suddenly bathed the carpet's fabric beneath his feet in a sickly green.
"You!" Jafar bellowed. The yellow of his solid-colored glare fixed on the Keybearer intensified, as did the desert heat's remnants, and Sora's eyes widened. The fireball began to coalesce in his periphery; he pressed himself further down into the carpet, hoping to both avoid the all-incinerating attack and hasten his vehicle's descent –
Suddenly Jafar reared back, snarling in pain. The fireball sizzled away to nothingness on his fingertips, which dipped low to grip his belly. Sora looked down, a process eased by the carpet's continuous descent, out of confusion.
Relief pulsed throughout his entire body as he glimpsed his savior: Donald, lowering his broom-headed staff with a glare that came into full view as the carpet halted right next to him. "Don't even think about it!" he spat.
Sora jumped down off the magic carpet, which promptly slumped down on the ground, as if exhausted from the panic of its flight here. He swept his gaze around the area and saw Goofy trotting up from further back, something bright red cradled in his hold.
"Iago!" he gasped as he recognized the prostrate bird in Goofy's arms, just as Aladdin shouted, "Sora!"
The brunette turned to see the street boy running up to him, scimitar in his grasp. "Good timing," Aladdin panted, free hand falling to his knee to support himself. "It was all –"
"A trap?" Sora finished. "Yeah, I know." He glanced up worriedly to see if Jafar was readying another attack, but his fears stiffening his spine left him and made him sigh in relief when he saw the genie mutely clutching his abdomen.
Probably a weak spot, Char whispered in the back of his mind, keep that in mind.
And then Sora blinked, because the memory of Char serving as his mentor lay far in the past – far enough that an injury had hindered her from continuing further in their training session. In fact, those rare days lingered so faintly in his mind that even in Port Royal, when the Heartless reaper's ruthless assault had forced him to transform into his golden-clad form and wield dual Keyblades, he hadn't thought about her advice even once.
He had a split second to push momentarily into his reserves of memory to try and remember the bits of advice she had given him before a tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality. A glance back gave him all he needed to know about the horror of the situation: Jasmine was still trying to get the Agrabah citizens to safety; the palace was still lying open behind Jafar; Jafar was still swaying in midair from Donald's blow to his stomach; and Goofy was standing in front of him, eyes huge with anxiety, offering the unconscious red burden in his arms toward Sora.
"Iago got hurt," was all the knight said.
Sora couldn't help noticing the gentle way in which the white-clad fingers supported Iago's limp spine, as if he held a wounded dove and not the traitor who had distracted them all while his master swooped in to attack Agrabah. Maybe Goofy should have been the one with healing magic.
"Doing what?" he asked, and could not restrain a derisive jab of, "Saving his own feathers again?"
"Actually, no," Aladdin said. Turning to him, Sora picked up the gleam of frustrated confusion on the world native's face. "He saved Jasmine's life."
Sora's eyes widened. "What?"
"He pushed her out of the way, Jafar blasted him, got mad, and now we're here," Donald growled testily. His glower hadn't wavered from the still-prone Jafar in the slightest. "Now let's do something about this big stupid genie trying to kill us!"
A frown stole across Aladdin's face and he opened his mouth to speak; Sora registered his mild indignation through a film of surprise. Disgust and anger toward Iago permeated that surprise, but even now the two former emotions were fading, eclipsed by the latter. The entire trip from the crumbling desert ruins to the palace courtyard had been spent stewing in fury toward Iago, who had led them all to believe that Jafar would defy his slippery nature and lie in wait in one spot. In spite of the red bird's insistence on having changed, every bit of doubt had come rushing back and formed a poisonous cloud in Sora's mind not unlike the one Jafar himself had formed overhead.
And yet in light of Donald's hasty explanation of events, that cloud was dispersing.
Suddenly the dark shadows overhead writhed, making all of them look up and cutting off whatever Aladdin had to say. Even the screams of the townspeople ebbed, if only briefly… until the crimson shape drew itself up and bared his teeth. "Insolent street rats!" Jafar screeched.
"Guess he's better," Donald said obviously, tightening his grip on his staff.
"Oh geez," Aladdin hissed under his breath.
As if on some sort of signal, panicked howls and wails lifted up from the crowd all over again. "Aladdin!" Jasmine cried, desperation etched into the name.
"Just get everyone to safety, Jasmine," the street boy shouted over his shoulder. Though the princess eyed him with more than a hint of reluctance, she squared her own shoulders and gave a determined nod. Sora had a split second to follow the end of her ponytail as it carved a shadowy whip in the air; then a screech zigzagged through the air behind him and he spun around to see Jafar glaring down at them.
"You have no hope of defeating me, little rats," the genie taunted.
"We'll beat you down as many times as you keep getting up!" With that determined claim, Donald raised his staff, only for his eyes to widen in surprise when only sparks crackled in its bristles. "The heck is wrong with this thing?" he barked, shaking it furiously.
"Calm down, Donald," Goofy whispered, leaning down to the duck's eye level while still cradling Iago's unconscious form. "You probably just used all your magic."
"Well, we don't exactly have time to wait to get it all back!" Donald shouted, rounding on his friend. Goofy flinched back only momentarily.
As much as the fact rankled him, Sora knew they were both right. He cast his eyes about frantically – for what, he realized abruptly, he had no idea what he was looking for – but predictably enough, nothing useful came to mind. Just the terrified people, and Donald looking furious, and Jasmine pulling a couple of wailing children along, and Goofy still holding Iago's body, and the magic carpet gesturing urgently at him.
Sora's eyes widened. Of course!
He tossed a shout of "guys, cover me!" over his shoulder as he dashed toward the blue shape. Although the carpet hovered only a few feet away, with Jafar's solid amber glare fixed on them, Sora might as well have been running a few hundred. Sure enough, the genie roared and flame rippled on his fingertips as he formed another fireball in his hands.
Fortunately, though, the magic carpet dove forward as well, just as Sora leaped forward. Gravity tugging him down almost made him trip over the Decisive Pumpkin's curved blade, but he quickly righted himself before he could tumble off the carpet's edge.
Crimson enveloped his vision as the carpet lifted high into the air. The momentary embarrassment at his almost-fall vanished in favor of determination then. Yeah, that would've killed your cool moment, a very Riku-like voice remarked in the back of his mind, and that bit of imaginary taunting tightened his jaw out of both reinforced resolve and reborn bemusement.
He focused on the slitted gold of Jafar's eyes instead of the questions beginning to form anew in the back of his mind. Like why Riku had shown up here and now; why he had taken Char; and, most importantly, why he could vanish in the same darkness that the Nobodies swathed themselves in. "I'd say we've got a chance of beating you now," he spat, channeling every ounce of frustration toward the incident at the ruins into the narrow beams of sickly yellow light.
Jafar snarled, fingers curling close to his palms in angry fists. "How very touching," he hissed. "Do you truly believe a little key like that can hope to combat the most powerful force in the universe?"
A smirk tugged the corners of Sora's lips. "Yeah, actually. I do."
The vizier's roar rang out in the air, rendering the encouraging cries from below little more than a dull buzz, as the Keybearer leaped up and aimed the coiled shaft of the Decisive Pumpkin right for one of those solid yellow eyes.
He twisted in midair when Jafar lashed out; shadow blurred into the clouds before his eyes as those deadly nails raked the air inches before his face. The carpet quickly lunged forward to accommodate its rider's ties to gravity, and Sora landed safely again.
Staccato bursts of fear had wracked his heart at his foe's counterstrike, but now that he had escaped relatively uninjured, he allowed that smirk to take over his face again. "C'mon, Jafar!" he shouted. "I thought you were stronger than this!"
C'mon, Sora. I thought you were stronger than that.
Just thinking of the friend he sought injected fresh determination into his veins. That, and frustration, propelled him forward to land another series of blows along Jafar's head; because while it seemed Riku was all right, he still had so many questions shrouding his appearance in a thick, dark cloud.
Not unlike the one that suddenly bloomed in front of his face and obscured his vision.
Quickly Sora brought himself up short, before the fall that would have likely resulted could finish him off. The surface beneath his feet twitched, as if even the carpet felt the wreathing shadows' effect. He would have spared it a pat of reassurance, but now the darkness had swirled up around his feet and given him the illusion of standing on solid cloud.
Just don't look down, he told himself, told the nausea beginning to build up in his stomach. Just don't look down. Just don't –
Suddenly a blur of beige assailed his vision. His eyes widened. Oh, geez.
Neither he nor the carpet could act quickly enough to dodge; the object splintered against his torso, little knives of broken brick and stucco slicing into his ribs, and the part of him in which Char had drilled a greater sense of rationale dimly realized Jafar must have flung a palace tower at him. We're gonna have to fix that somehow when I finish this.
Then the pain of the lacerations those shards had scored across his body hit him, and he dropped to his knees, barely keeping a firm grip on the Decisive Pumpkin. Beneath him, the carpet brought its tassels up to where its face would be in fear; then it lurched and whirled toward Jafar, who still floated in midair, shark teeth bared in a smug grin.
"Well, Keyblade master?" he demanded, already twining his immense fingers together. In the slats between his fingers, firelight was beginning to coil together and bathe their crimson prison in a hellish glow. "I believe it's time to finish you –"
"Okay, that's enough of that!" a voice suddenly boomed from the distance. Even though just raising his head somehow sent more jagged bursts of pain into his wounds, Sora managed to do so, just in time to see a flash of cyan blue swoop up.
Somewhere in the back of his skull, a dull throbbing began – Sora searched his mind for the likely source, but in the amount of agony that already wracked his thoughts and rendered them little more than half-blurred truths he could only scrounge up Xaldin's lance hit me there and it must have reopened somehow – and that throbbing only intensified at the sight before him.
"Genie!" The shocked cry floated up from below. To the ears of everyone below, Aladdin's speaking the newcomer's name probably boomed and resonated loudly; but to Sora, it sounded both like it came from far beneath him and like it was echoing at him from the bottom of a well.
The carpet flinched very tangibly as he angled his elbow just far enough upward to let the Keyblade's shaft find purchase in the fabric. Dimly, he registered the tiny rendition of Jack Skellington's face between the hilt and the blade becoming coated in red as blood oozed from his fingers down into the miniature skull.
Char would have laughed at the irony – and Riku probably would have, too. The king of Halloween finally looks the part.
Sora tried to stand, using the Keyblade as leverage, but dizziness promptly overtook him and he ended up on his knees again. But light-headed as he was, even with how that robbed him of the concentration necessary to heal himself, he still saw Genie in front of him, hands locked together with Jafar's larger red fingers as they clashed in midair.
"I'm not gonna… just sit here… while you hurt Al's friends!" Genie growled through clenched teeth, in as close to genuine fury as Sora had ever heard him. Although he was much smaller in size than Jafar, he was putting up an admirable fight against the vizier-turned-genie's iron grip.
Then the blue genie risked a glance at Sora over his shoulder. "His tail," he bit out.
"Huh?" Sora managed to get to his feet, swaying precariously.
"Y'know, the thing that goes into the lamp?" Genie rolled his eyes. "Geez, kid… you can't be that tired yet." In an instant, though, his brow drew down in concentration, thoroughly crushing the humor on his face. Sora looked on in growing horror at Genie wincing in pain; Jafar had renewed his efforts, and a few dark cackles escaped him as the red gaps between Genie's pale blue fingers began pulsating with a dark glow.
"All right, all right! What about his tail?" Sora demanded urgently. At the same time, his eyes landed on the tapering crimson line that ended not so far below.
"Grab it. Spin it around him." Genie's order grew more strained as the shadowy flame blazed beneath his fingers. "And hurry it up," he added in a high-pitched voice.
Quickly, Sora maneuvered the carpet into a sharp nose-dive; after a couple of moments of his blood-slippery fingers fumbling, he seized the whip-like appendage in his grasp.
Just as he lifted upward, though, he made the mistake of bringing one hand to his temple and loosening his grip. It was a gesture brought on by dizziness – I have items, he thought suddenly, why didn't I just drink a Potion or something instead? – and apparently it was also enough for Jafar to notice.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, releasing Genie. The smaller being promptly careened off into the shadowy skies; whether the twirling movement came from his sense of melodrama or the force of Jafar pushing him away, Sora wasn't sure.
Either way, he chose to ignore Jafar's query. "Step on it, carpet!" he shouted. At the bottom of his vision, he glimpsed his transportation bringing one tassel upward in a salute before beginning to spiral around the massive, crimson genie.
Jafar had just lowered his still-glowing hands when Sora bound his arms up. The carpet ascended to meet that opaque, Heartless-yellow stare; now the situation had reversed, because in spite of the persistent dark ooze in Sora's periphery and the way that tower had battered him, triumph flared throughout his entire body at the panic tightening Jafar's face.
No more fireballs.
No more tower throwing.
Infinite cosmic powers, my foot, Riku snorted in the back of Sora's mind. If you can keep him still just by tying him up, you've still got a chance.
In an imitation of how Genie had spun away, Sora released Jafar's tail, flinging himself and the carpet outward with the movement. Jafar became little more than a bloodstained blur; once the momentum stilled, he groaned, apparently too dizzy to muster the concentration needed to fight back.
"He's vulnerable!" a tinny scream came from far below. "Finish him off!" added another.
Sora could easily pick out Donald and Aladdin, and felt himself grin at their encouragement.
He dove in toward Jafar's head and delivered a flurry of blows to the vizier's skull. The assault jerked him out of his stupor, and with a roar of pain, Jafar brought a hand to his head. Those fingers crushed down furiously as a dark cloud wreathed about his body.
Somewhere far below, someone had deposited the black lamp that had once held Jafar.
"No!" Jafar screamed, writhing in midair while still clutching his skull. "How could I be bested again by a bunch of filthy street rats?"
Sora narrowed his eyes, crouching down low on the carpet to glare down at the still-convulsing vizier. "Don't mess with street rats!" he spat, and spurred his vehicle downward.
The carpet deposited him on the ground below. He spotted it initiating a series of triumphant loop-de-loops in midair and couldn't hold back a smile at just how contagious that feeling was.
Of course, his pleasure at having defeated the enemy in his way ebbed immediately when the blood loss kicked back in.
"Whoa there," Aladdin said, rushing forward when the Keybearer stumbled. He seized Sora by the shoulders to hold him up, a little too tightly in Sora's opinion. He appreciated the effort anyway, though. "Nicely done, Sora."
The brunette lifted his head and saw a mixture of smugness and concern twined awkwardly together on Aladdin's face. There goes the awesomeness of my landing, he thought with a twinge.
Behind the Agrabah native, Donald hovered anxiously, staff already swathed in the green glow patented by a Cura spell. A sigh of relief escaped Sora as the emerald tendrils lit a pathway to the back of his skull and the wounded area began radiating a different kind of warmth. "Thanks, Donald," he said. Gently, he pried Aladdin's hands off him and folded his arms. "That was…"
"Al!" Genie bellowed from midair, making them all jump. Even the formerly-terrified townspeople poked their heads out from behind the palace walls to watch curiously as the blue man swooped forward. Sora leaped back with a cry of surprise to allow Genie a proper path to float in front of Aladdin.
"You guys were gonna go mano a mano with Jafar and you didn't even invite me?" Genie asked, jabbing a finger toward Aladdin.
"Sorry, Genie," the street boy laughed sheepishly. "It kind of all happened at once."
"I'm just glad Sora got back in time," Goofy said.
Donald shrugged, turning away. "I guess we couldn't have handled it without you," he muttered.
Sora chuckled. "You're welcome, Donald." Suddenly, the fact that Goofy had torn himself away from his precious patient hit him, and he turned a wary eye toward Iago. Conveniently, the red bird was just groaning as consciousness strung webs back together in his mind.
"Iago," he greeted in a warning tone.
That seemed enough to wake him up completely; he cringed before flying forward, practically crashing into Sora's face with his fervor. As it was, the brunette had to lean back to avoid a mouthful of feathers. "It wasn't my idea, promise!" he insisted, a pleading tone etched into every syllable. "When Jafar got out of the lamp again at the ruins –"
"Yeah, how did that happen?" Aladdin interrupted. His dark eyes were suspicious as he rested them on Iago. "You never properly explained it."
"I can send this chicken back to the coop if you guys want," Genie offered, already lifting a finger to point it, gun-like, at Iago. The parrot squawked in terror and hid behind Goofy.
"Hear him out, guys," the knight protested. "He has no reason to lie to us."
A beat, then Aladdin sighed. "Okay, fine, Iago. But this is your last chance. I mean it this time," he added. Clearly, he remembered when he was saying the exact same words to the bird in the peddler's shop.
Iago deflated visibly in relief. "Thank you so much, Aladdin!" he cried, flying forward again. "I'll be honest, I promise."
"Sure," Sora muttered under his breath, but said nothing else. If Iago truly had taken a blow for Aladdin…
He at least owed it to him to hear him out.
Iago took a deep breath before speaking. "Jafar told me to keep you preoccupied by telling you he was at the desert ruins," he explained, turning to Sora. The Keybearer blinked; just like that, every ounce of frustration and confusion at seeing maybe-Riku at the ruins came flowing back.
"Was there a guy in a black cloak involved?" he couldn't help asking. "Maybe someone who was in cahoots with Jafar?" As soon as the words escaped him, he wanted to snatch them back again and cover his mouth; regardless of all they had been through, from last journey to this one, regardless of how Riku still seemed to walk in darkness, he couldn't bring himself to believe Riku was working with Jafar to distract him.
It's not something Riku – not something my best friend would do.
Was it?
"A guy in a black cloak?" Donald queried, eyes widening. "Did Organization XIII show up in the ruins?"
The fury in the duck's voice was audible, and Sora quickly hastened to prove him wrong. "No, I don't think so. I… I think it was Riku."
Silence descended on all of them; even Genie lowered his finger, eyes huge. "Isn't that who you're looking for?" Aladdin asked. At Sora's almost-guilty nod, he continued, "Then why would he look like one of the bad guys?"
"I wish I know," the brunette murmured.
Iago's head swung anxiously from one speaker to another. Somehow, that uncertainty had carried over to every wing beat. "I don't know about a guy in a black cloak," he said. "But I think that guy might." He pointed with one stubby wing to a figure in the crowd. Everyone shuffled aside to reveal the peddler.
The peddler glanced frantically around, arms dropping from where he'd apparently been twiddling his thumbs. "Who, me?" he simpered. "But I am just a humble merchant."
"I'm just repeating what Jafar said," Iago said hastily. "Maybe he didn't do it."
"Or maybe he needs something to jar his memory," Donald growled.
Tittering nervously, the peddler finally rested his eyes on Sora. Admittedly, the boy probably seemed like the least dangerous of the group; after the battle that had just transpired, though, and the various bruises littering his body, the dishonest merchant was quickly proved wrong.
Besides, while he claimed to not remember releasing Jafar, he definitely remembered the Keyblade at his throat and the fierce blue glare that was fixed on him now.
At the time, Sora hadn't been particularly proud of having to extort the man for information, but now he found himself grateful for that bout of ferocity. That ferocity flickered now as the memory of what had followed floated into his mind – Char in a dress, dancing with her, the longing in her eyes – but he managed to keep his emotions under control.
However, it became increasingly difficult to do even that at the peddler's next words.
"There was a man in black," he confessed hurriedly. "B-but he said he would give me all the riches in the Cave of Wonders if I released the genie in the black lamp."
Well, the brunette thought helplessly, that explains all the stuff in his shop.
"So your greed almost killed us all," Jasmine said incredulously, walking out from the midst of the crowd. Even in their anger toward the peddler, they bowed before the princess as she moved to stand next to Aladdin.
While Donald had his staff at the ready and even Goofy had his eyes narrowed, somehow Sora couldn't share the same rage. Confusion and disbelief tempered that rage. Riku wouldn't do that.
But he's not the only one in black running around.
"Did you get a glimpse of what the guy in black looked like?" he heard someone ask, and nearly gave a start – someone had apparently read his mind – before realizing it was him.
"Sora?" Aladdin looked at him bemusedly.
"Just tell me what he looked like," Sora pleaded. "Please."
The peddler hesitated, but when he saw the bloodstained Keyblade in the boy's hand twitch he spoke. "He kept his hood up so I could not completely see his face. But when the wind caught his hair and pulled it free, I saw he had red hair. And eyes like the palest emeralds when the light caught them."
Sora's eyes widened.
"That sounds like Axel," Goofy remarked, scratching his head.
"But why would Axel want to release Jafar?" Donald asked.
"He said something about getting a Heartless and a Nobody. I am not sure what that means," the peddler quickly added.
A few moments of silence passed, during which Sora shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. For some reason, the blood loss had chosen now to reassert its effects on him, tainting his contemplation with nausea and anxiety rolled together. Roxas stirred within his heart then, a belated reaction at the notion of his old friend's presence, and Sora had to repress a wince at the longing that stretched, raw and painful as the injuries from the battle, across that part of his heart.
Through the current of wistfulness, the mire of nostalgia, a stronger, more powerful emotion surfaced: one that, due to Roxas' influence and his own judgment of what he knew about the brash redhead, Sora found himself agreeing with. Something did feel off about the situation. When he tried to delve into the reason as to why, though – the trait about Axel that Roxas had placed, however namelessly, into Sora's considerations – he couldn't quite grasp it.
But I guess there is something wrong about the peddler just leaving it at that. Thinking of his own experiences with the fire-wielding Nobody, Sora suddenly realized he could vouch for Roxas' unspoken theory as well. Hollow Bastion's cliffs and Char's own expression of shock steeped his support in gray and ice blue; more than that, though, the black of Axel's glove as he had pointed to the Photon Debugger in Sora's hand.
He wouldn't just tell Sora the Organization's motives and manipulation of him and then freely work for them.
Obviously, if Saïx had punished him for his insubordination in kidnapping Kairi, he hadn't kept those chains very firmly wrapped around Axel.
And then Sora's heart, weighed down by exhaustion and missing Char and wondering about Riku and resenting Roxas as it was, lightened substantially.
Because at the very least, if Axel had been here –
Maybe he could get closer to finding Kairi.
Some ounce of his revelations must have lit up his face, for he jolted back to the present, fully intending to ask if Axel had said anything else, to see his allies looking oddly at him. Donald had narrowed his eyes, Iago was eyeing him nervously, Aladdin had folded his arms, and Goofy had tilted his head to the side. "Sora?" Jasmine asked, tilting her head to the side.
The brunette shook his head – to which, predictably, she blinked, not satisfied with that dismissal – and looked at the peddler. "Did he say anything else? The guy in black, I mean."
"Ah… he did, actually." Sora's heartbeat kicked up furiously within his chest, and he unconsciously leaned forward, bloodied hands curling into eager fists. The merchant leaned back, bemused; by now most of the citizens had cleared out, thereby sparing him the humiliation of nearly colliding with a taller person's legs. "He said to meet him in the Pride Lands, and he would tell you how to get where you need to go."
In the silence that followed, Genie's jaw hitting the ground echoed that much more loudly.
Falcon had pushed aside her pride and found it in herself to trust someone else exactly twice in her life.
The first time had happened in the school courtyard, when she had glanced up and felt a thrill of horror along her spine at Copperhead's wide eyes fixed on her. The moment when she had decided to lock away every bitter memory of his childhood tormenting skills and share the burden of her Keyblade's secret with someone else.
The second time had occurred amidst a torrent of blood, when Riku had sliced the chameleon Heartless' tongue off and facilitated her victory against it. The heightened emotions toward Riku – the sense of wanting to impress him; the way her heartbeat spiked around him; the desire for him to heal the wound Copperhead had scored on her heart – had come later, but in that moment, in the heat of battle, she had trusted him.
Now, she could count today as the third time: when Char had looked at her with a mixture of defeat and desperation on her face and asked for her trust. Just like Copperhead and Riku had before.
What surprised Falcon was that she had agreed to the armistice. To controlling her previously-rampant jealousy.
Partly, her decision stemmed from the most obvious: that she wanted to help Riku any way she could, his very likely not returning her feelings notwithstanding. At the very least, she wanted to support him as his friend.
Even if she only ever meant that to him.
The other reason she had acquiesced to the truce – inwardly, she snorted; truce fit the way she had decided to lower her proverbial weapons against the redhead all too well – was because she agreed with the way Char had phrased the reason behind her need to amend Falcon's open distrust. They had a task to complete, one star to find amidst the darkness, and they very well couldn't accomplish said task and find said star if wires of tension choked the bonds between them.
Unfortunately, though, there, the logic ended: because that tension still remained between her and Copperhead, and had increased in intensity when he had looked around her room with that cursed familiarity in his eyes.
And she couldn't very well anticipate approaching him to resolve that tension anytime soon, especially when both of them knew damn well why not.
Still… Falcon knew everything she had accepted as truth about him – his violet eyes, his dead brother, his desperate dedication – had vanished like a candle's flame in the face of a gale on that horrible night; but at that moment, when her former friend had stepped into her home for the second time in as many days, she could almost hear his thoughts as his eyes swept over the table where she and he and her parents had spent meals.
Nothing's changed at all.
The irony in that statement was so palpable she could have screamed.
Under normal circumstances she would have scoffed at the look on his face, the memories that condensed there in a form she could only call wistfulness.
But after last night…
Just as she was considering relieving her frustration – maybe darting around the corner, finding something to muffle the noise with, like a pillow or a mound of leaves – the object of her thoughts spoke up. "We've already been here."
"Huh?" Falcon asked coherently, stopping in her tracks. She shifted, mildly startled, when the abrupt cease in her stride went unnoticed by Char and the redhead's foot trod briefly against the back of her heel.
Copperhead's mouth twitched in slight amusement as he glanced back over his shoulder at them, but fortunately he had enough sense to keep any snarky comments firmly at the back of his tongue. "I said, we've already been here," he repeated patiently.
"Which means we're walking in circles and still not getting anywhere," Char guessed, groaning aloud to herself. The dismayed sound resonated quietly, but Falcon had enough experience with restraining the true extent of her own emotions to recognize the true frustration just in that one guttural syllable. "Fantastic."
Before their conversation this morning, the gaze Falcon cast over her shoulder at Char might have had more than a little disdain narrowing it. She might have regarded the way Char was firmly pressing her fingers into the bridge of her nose with more than slight irritation, or what was visible of her eyes closing – as if just the sight of this familiar terrain would annoy her beyond measure – with more than just one eye-roll.
Now, though, after Falcon's promise to curb her jealousy for the time being, the once-visceral scorn twitched only momentarily inside her before the memory of that promise rose up and tamped it down.
So instead of scoffing at Char's frustration, she instead found herself stepping forward and awkwardly tapping her fingertips against the younger's hunched shoulder. "There's bound to be a place we haven't searched yet," she pointed out. Besides the citadel; no way are we going there. The last part remained unspoken, but it rattled about in her mind as strongly as if it had escaped into reality.
Char straightened at once at the contact against her shoulder, eyes immediately flicking down to the source. Falcon tried to staunch the prickles of indignation beginning to rise along her spine, though she did drop her hand. Only when she glanced over her shoulder, her now-free hand sliding to the opposite elbow in discomfort, did she notice the reason behind said prickles continuing.
Copperhead. Watching them. With his bangs having swallowed his eyebrows.
Something inside her twitched, and she quickly turned back to Char just in time to see the redhead's lips quirk halfheartedly upward. "You have a point," she said. As she spoke her strained smile faltered. Clearly, she was remembering how she had pointedly shoved Falcon and Copperhead's avoiding the citadel at them only yesterday. Falcon had to wonder, if only to distract herself from Copperhead's steady gaze on her – another damnably familiar feeling, and one that was not entirely unwelcome – why Char was reining in her obvious skepticism now.
Then again, this time yesterday, they hadn't fought and worked together. They hadn't decided to put their emotions aside, and Char's now-waning annoyance had been much stronger.
"Anyway," the redhead went on, "if I know the Organization, they've stuck the machine in a place they figure we wouldn't go." She angled her head expectantly at Falcon. "Any ideas?"
Copperhead had remained silent till now, which was a feat in and of itself. Now, though, he spoke, making them both look over. "I know a place," he announced.
Falcon's eyes narrowed. "Do you now?" she couldn't help asking.
Genuine as the derisiveness echoing in every word was, revealing that much proved a mistake. He swung his head toward her, brows drawing down over equally-slitted violet eyes; the fault line that her scorn had etched across his affable façade, the very same one she had cursed last night, revealed more than a little exasperation gleaming raw on his face. "Yeah, I do. I have done a bit of exploring of my own, you know," he added.
Recalling the year that had passed since that horrible night, Falcon sank her teeth into the inside of her cheek and said nothing.
They remained locked in that glare for a moment, during which Char cleared her throat to no avail and Falcon noticed her fingers pushing into the side of her forearm with more pressure than before.
Despite her stalwart refusal to break their eye contact, though, she found herself hoping she could stave off the tremors beginning to work their way up from within. The look on his face – jaw bulging out, eyes blazing, crack in the congenial mask spreading fissure-like all the while – reminded her of the day he had first moved in with her.
"Oh, yeah, sure. 'Fun.' Hey, Fal, remember why I have to move in with you in the first place?"
The memory clawed its way up her throat and curled itself comfortably there, baring its teeth at the breath that dared try to pass it. Falcon's chest tightened with the weight of that day's roots clutching deep down in her heart, and her teeth loosened their grip on the inside of her cheek. To Copperhead's credit, he kept his countenance fairly clear of anything but annoyance, though his eyes did widen just a fraction.
Stop, she screamed at herself, you know what he did to you, stop missing him –
"Uh, hello, guys? Where are we going to go?" Char asked, yanking Falcon out of her miserable trance.
Falcon shook herself, eyes squeezing shut in a vain attempt to clear her emotions. It took a couple of seconds, but she did manage to disperse the imaginary obstacle in her throat.
Copperhead looked away. She had an instant to feel absurdly, pathetically proud of her victory before he spoke up again. "Right," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Right. Yeah. New place to search." He pushed his hair out of his eyes, which slipped shut for a moment as a sigh escaped him.
When they opened, Falcon couldn't help noticing those pupils shifting to her.
As had Char's, she realized abruptly. Char raised one eyebrow, this time not in doubt, but in concern. You okay? her expression asked. The very small nod Falcon sent in her direction failed to wipe that worry from her face; rather, Char settled back on her feet slightly, arms folding across her chest. Her quirked brow and wryly twisted mouth spoke the volumes of skepticism she kept back.
Falcon's fist clenched, fingers digging into her arm. So much silence. She found herself wishing for Riku's presence more than ever – moreover, for someone who could change the subject and get them on their way. He had always kept the river of their friendship from becoming dammed up with just a few words.
At least until he had tossed these two boulders into the stream.
And suddenly, her whole body was thrumming with the desire to tell the truth. The secret that had lain festering deep inside her fought for purchase at the tip of her tongue, but she forced it back.
Because keeping things bottled up has worked out so well for you in the past.
In the end, because someone had to speak up and keep the demons at bay, she turned to Copperhead. "Well?" she asked him, praying to whatever gods existed, if any, that he would forego the chance to be snarky and just lead them on. "You know the way, right? Let's go."
"Huh? Oh yeah." Copperhead's ability to piece false happiness together, no matter how painful the mosaic created, annoyed Falcon as much now as it had before yesterday.
I won't lie and tell you it's okay.
I won't say I'm sorry.
"Follow me," he was saying. Try as she might she couldn't ignore the redolent stirring deep inside her heart at the sight of his jacket's tails waving as he turned away.
It would have felt like old times – the days they had wandered the forest fighting Heartless and talking about what now seemed so stupidly mundane – had she not known what she did.
Next chap should be up before long!