The five of them made their way back to the stairs that bordered the edge of the Third District, and Sarah found herself wondering just how many districts there actually were in Traverse Town. When she'd had the time to look, she hadn't seen the huge door that would have lead them back to the First District, but the reason that it had existed in the first place had probably been for game mechanics reasons. After all, none of the worlds that one visited in any of the KH-games she'd actually played had been particularly big, either.
As their group continued on their way through Second District, Sarah noticed that all of them – Squall in particular, naturally – were still on fairly high alert. That fit, since Heartless had been known to spawn in both the Third and Second Districts fairly regularly. It made them a fairly good place for level-grinding in the early parts of the game; but she kind of doubted that such would be the case here and now. Hell, she didn't even know if it was possible to level-grind, now that the place she stood in was flesh-and-blood real instead of ruled by game mechanics.
They passed through the Second District without a challenge, though she could feel Kuromaru shifting around on "her" back and reached over to scruff its antennae a bit, which seemed to calm it down. Really, the Shadow seemed to be acting like a combination of her dog and her younger older brother's cat.
It was kind of funny when she stopped to think about it; not really the kind of funny to make anyone but the most easily-amused dissolve into laughter, but it brought a wry sort of smile to "her" face all the same.
When the five of them stopped just in front of the entrance/exit to the First District, Sarah's attention was drawn to the argument – subdued as it seemed to be – that was being held between Squall and Yuffie.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, drawing the attention of the pair of them when she noticed that the argument they were having – which had actually seemed more like wa particularly pointed discussion before that – was starting to escalate in a rather unpleasant fashion.
"Well-"
"Yeah, actually there is," Squall interjected, cutting Yuffie off before she could say more than the one word. "The Heartless have never been able to get more than a handful of their forces into the First District. If you go walking in there with that Shadow hanging off your back, Chosen of the Keyblade or not, you're probably going to cause at least some unrest, if not an outright panic."
"Good point," she said, folding "her" arms and tilting "her" head slightly; even if people didn't react all that dramatically to her and Kuromaru walking merrily around in the District, there was still the chance that it would set a dangerous precedent. "I don't want anyone else trying to befriend one of these guys when even I don't know how I did it," she muttered, reaching back to hold Kuromaru's right hand in Sora's own.
"That's a good point, too," Squall said, sounding surprised but approving at the same time.
She smiled briefly at the man, acknowledging the compliment that he had just paid her, before she tugged Kuromaru down from "her" back. Facing the Shadow squarely, even as Kuromaru tilted its head in what seemed to be an expression of both curiosity and confusion; she wondered again just how much of what she was seeing from Kuromaru was mimicry and how much of it was the lingering intelligence of whoever this particular Heartless Shadow had been before.
"Stay, Kuromaru," she said, "her" right hand pressing lightly down atop the Shadow's head until it had fully settled itself down into a crouching position outside the swing of the doors leading into the First District. "I want you to wait for me here, all right?" she prompted, using the same soft-but-firm tone she used to command her dog; she was starting to miss Sub-Zero, honestly, but for the moment Kuromaru's company would have to suffice. "You can come and meet up with me when we leave the District," she said, pressing down on Kuromaru's head again, after the Shadow had tried to hop up and follow her when she'd turned to head for the First District to get some food. "Stay, Kuromaru," she paused for a long moment, turning to look back at Kuromaru as the Shadow tilted its head again. "Good boy," she said, in spite of the fact that she didn't know if the Shadow actually understood her words or her tone.
Hearing a sigh from just up ahead, Sarah turned to see Squall palming his face again, just as Yuffie burst quietly into laughter.
"Heartless aren't pets, Sora," Squall said, once he noticed the fact that he was being watched.
She raised an eyebrow. "When did I ever say they were?"
Yuffie laughed louder, that time. "He's got you there, Squall."
"It's Leon," Squall said pointedly, not looking particularly happy about having to repeat himself. "And that's not the point. You're the Chosen of the Keyblade." Sarah could almost hear the capital letters in that title. "Seeing you so chummy with that Heartless – how do any of us know you'll be up to handling the others when the time comes?"
"Aw, shucks, Leon; you're worryin' too much!" Goofy interjected, clapping his hands on "her" left shoulder and Squall's right. "I'm sure Sora knows what he's doin'. Besides," Goofy laughed in that way she'd heard from him so many times, both in-game and in the Disney cartoons she'd sometimes watched. "Kuromaru there's a friendly Heartless."
Said Heartless tilted its head slightly, as Goofy waved enthusiastically at it, and Sarah chuckled softly.
"Friendly Heartless," Donald echoed, sounding like he was still dubious about the whole thing, but willing to be convinced under the right circumstances. "You're right, I think it seems really strange," Donald paused, looking back at Kuromaru where the Shadow crouched by the side of a building that had seemed to be selling shoes at one point during its existence; Sarah rather doubted that it was turning that much of a profit now. "But, Kuromaru really doesn't seem to mean anyone any harm."
Squall sighed briefly, then seemed to force his composure back into place. "All right, but just remember that you're dealing with a Heartless. And Sora-"
"I know," she said, before Squall could say anything else. "As long as he's under my protection, Kuromaru's actions are my responsibility."
"I'm glad you understand, Sora," Squall said, looking rather less displeased than he had previously.
He pushed open the doors to the First District – which looked newer than the rest of the construction in the area, which really made perfect sense when one thought of Traverse Town less in terms of a town and more as an armed refugee camp – and the five of them made their way back down into the main plaza of the First District.
Breaking off from the group, Sarah took the shortcut she had always used in-game, then made her way to the base of the stairs to wait for the rest of them.
"So, what kept you guys?" she asked, an innocent smile on "her" face that she suspected that not one of them bought for a second.
"Very funny," Squall deadpanned, while Goofy and Yuffie both laughed, and Donald folded his arms and tapped his right foot with enough stern disapproval to set the two of them into another fit of laughter.
"All right, that's enough you two," Squall said, in a tone that suggested he was used to this kind of thing. "If we want to get a good meal before we sleep, we don't want to spend all our time fooling around out here."
There was a general consensus that they wanted to eat – one which she enthusiastically joined – and so the five of them made their way in the direction of the equipment shop that the three ducklings whose names she couldn't quite recall at the moment worked. Passing the place by, though she did turn to look in the direction of the glass-and-wood doors to said shop, the five of them made their way under the awning of the shop. The candles at all of the outdoor tables made rather a nice touch, and were also one of the things that she could remember from the game.
"Those candles were made by the Moogles," she heard Yuffie say, and so turned her attention to the self-proclaimed Ninja. "They were specially crafted, so only magic can put them out."
She smiled back at the pleased expression on Yuffie's face. "Really? And here I was just thinking about how nice they looked on the tables," she adopted a confused expression. "What the heck's a Moogle, anyway?"
"You'll see," Yuffie said, now looking rather mischievous.
Sarah would have really loved to know just what kind of fucked-up evolutionary path could produce Moogles. Or, in the more likely event that they were an entirely magically created species, she could really only think of two kinds of people who could have been ultimately responsible: someone who really liked cute things, or else someone who wanted to please a younger member of their family.
"Are we going to be eating inside or outside?" she asked, while at the same time wondering just how crowded the interior of the restaurant was ultimately going to end up being.
"Inside," Squall said curtly, as he made his way to the door and opened it so that the five of them could make their way inside.
The restaurant itself actually had a comfortable amount of people inside, most of them talking at a low enough volume that the typical "wall of sound" that one tended to encounter when one entered a bustling restaurant from the street was rather muted. Of course, since nearly the only type of people who came to Traverse Town were the refugees of dead worlds, and that kind of thing was bound to dry up conversation, even if only through the unspoken implications of such an event hanging over every word spoken.
The five of them seated themselves at a table next to the shuttered front windows, thus answering Sarah's unspoken query about whether they would need to wait for anyone.
"There's a table of Moogles right over there, Sora."
Looking at the place where Yuffie was pointing, Sarah found herself wondering – though not for the first time – just how in the hell a real Moogle would look. Their respective tables were a bit too far apart for her to make out anything that wasn't already obvious to anyone who'd played a game with Moogles in it, but it was a nice gesture on Yuffie's part to point them out, all the same.
"Moogles are living plush toys?"
The remaining four occupants of the table laughed, but before anyone could say anything else, Sarah heard light, clattering footfalls approaching the table. Waiting for everyone else to order their own food, still settling for those last few moments on her own choice, Sarah turned at last to face the waiter. And was then forced to swallow a burst of sheepishly-amused laughter, because their waiter was a pig.
"You know, I was just about to order some honey-glazed ham, but that would have been terribly insensitive of me."
"Nonsense," the waiter-pig – she wondered for a moment if there was a particular word for that – said, the expression on his face rather cordial as he reached out to ruffle Sora's hair. "Honey-glazed ham is delicious! I'll get you a full order," the pig said cheerfully, as he finished writing down that part of her order. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"
Putting aside her surprise at what she'd just heard – she could examine it in more detail later – Sarah considered the question that had just been posed to her. "Do you guys serve those oil-fried potato strips? The ones that you cook by submerging them in the oil?"
She really couldn't think of a more concise way to describe French Fries that didn't also risk being inaccurate, and she couldn't just go saying the name and expecting to be understood, since she rather doubted that there was a France – or even a Belgium – anywhere close by. Still, there was a London analogue in-game, so that did raise the possibility of there being a Paris, though admittedly not by much.
Sarah was sorely tempted to laugh for a few, long moments; really, if she'd known what she was going to be getting herself into, she would have watched more Disney movies; even in spite of the fact that very few of them interested her on most levels/ still, even the most jaded anti-Disneyite would, if they were forced to be honest, have to admit that Disney's animation was beautiful.
For the most part, at least; like every company, Disney had had its fair share of cheaper productions. Still, even in this place of all places, one did need special circumstances to make wishes come true; best to focus on the present, and let the future come when it would.
"All right," their waiter – Sarah wondered briefly at what kind of nails he had, considering that he walked on cloven hooves just like any Terran pig that she had seen – said, writing down the second part of her order. "Is there anything special you want to drink, or would water be all right?"
Sara smiled, but hers was a gentle sort of amusement, as it had been for most of her stay here in this place of all places. "No; thanks, but I've had quite enough water to last the night." And more of that in her supply-pack besides, she mused briefly. "What I'd really like is a root beer float. Do you guys have anything like that?"
"Well…" their waiter trailed off, tapping the small notebook he carried against his chin. "We do have root beer, and I think I could get one of the Moogles to make it float, but-"
Sarah gave into the urge for a brief, gentle chuckle. "Do please let me rephrase that," she said, smiling as she did so. "Could you get me a large glass, about so tall," she held "her" hand about six inches from the table's surface. "A bottle of root beer, a scoop of plain vanilla ice cream, preferably and a straw that will reach the bottom of the glass without falling in."
Their waiter finished writing in his little notebook, and started reading back over what he'd written in what Sarah presumed was an effort to ensure that he'd gotten everything down; it was what she would have done, anyway. "All right. I'm fairly sure I can manage all of that, but I still don't know why you'd want all of those things."
She smiled gently, though a little mischievously as well. "You'll find out quick enough, if you stay to watch."
He laughed cheerily, though somehow without snorting the way she'd almost been expecting. "I suppose you're right."
As he turned to leave their table, presumably heading for the kitchen if everything she'd learned about waiters back home held true here, Sarah found herself wondering if he was a statistical outlier, or if that all-pigs-snort-while-laughing was just one more stereotype that had been blown out of proportion.
"What're you thinking about now, Sora?" she heard Squall ask, and turned to see a rather curious expression on his face.
"First time I've ever met a cannibal pig," she said, both since it would take too long to explain all of the background behind the laughing thing, and because that had been more of a moment's idle curiosity in any case.
"What?" was pretty much the collective reaction of the table to that little revelation on her part.
She resisted the urge to raise a finger, since she was less giving a lecture and more explaining her position. "Well, think of how you guys would feel, if you came across a person who admitted to eating other people," this she directed at Squall and Yuffie, since she was starting to get the feeling that – whatever taboos those two had – the practice of eating others of their own kind wasn't nearly as unacceptable as it would have been in human society.
Personally, she thought the whole issue – and all of the implications thereof – was completely fascinating. But apparently others weren't nearly so sanguine.
"I never thought about that," Yuffie said, looking off in the direction that the waiter had gone, a rather unsettled expression on her face.
Squall, as seemed to be his wont, said nothing; but the thoughtful frown he turned on the path that their waiter had previously taken, combined with the way he slid his plate slightly back from his folded arms, let anyone who was paying attention know what he was feeling about this particular violation of a usually-unspoken human taboo.
"Aw, come on, guys," Goofy said, cheerful as he always was. "It can't be as bad as all that."
"Technically, it can," she said, after it had become clear that no one else was going to say another word on the matter. "You see, we humans have a taboo about those kinds of things; and cannibalism, the eating of one's own kind, is one of the most widely-known. And hence, the most widely enforced," she paused for a breath, then pressed on. "Some people even have legends, either about what happens to cannibals, or else what makes them cannibals in the first place: the Wendigo."
"What's a Wendigo?" Donald asked, his own plate ignored as he looked to "her" in fearful curiosity.
"The description can vary, depending on who you ask, but the general consensus seems to be that a Wendigo is half-again the height of a tall man, covered in thick hair, and has a mouthful of jagged teeth that either constantly drip blood, or are always stained with the blood of its last kill. And that that blood always seems to stay fresh between kills." Another pause for breath, while the attention of everyone at her table remained fixed on her. "It's said that the Wendigo hunts lonely travelers; anyone who becomes separated from their companions in the high, snowy mountains where it lurks will be stalked and eaten," she paused again, briefly considering and then dismissing the thought of telling them the other part of the Wendigo's legend. It was pretty much a moot point, thought; since such complete isolation as one might find in the mountains would be all but impossible to find in this kind of a society. "The legend also states that anyone who eats the flesh of one of their own kind – a cannibal – is one of those who have the greatest chance of being transformed into a Wendigo themselves," she finished, bringing them all back to the point of the legend – and her recitation – in the first place.
And not a moment too soon, as it turned out; their waiter came back to their table. But it was the figure on his right, walking just slightly ahead of him, that really drew Sarah's curiosity. She knew who he was, of course – one did not spend as much time as she did on TV Tropes and the KH Wiki as she did without learning a few things about the characters that one was going to be dealing with – but she couldn't help but wonder just what in all the worlds Scrooge MacDuck would want with the people at their particular table. However, the fact that their waiter was carrying duplicates of each of the items that she'd requested while making her drink order went a long way towards explaining his presence right there and then.
"So, you want me to make you a root beer float, too?" she asked, fairly sure of her conclusions but wanting clarification all the same.
"Indeed; I don't think anyone has thought of putting ice cream in soda before, so it's a novel concept, at least."
"That's interesting," she mused off-handedly, even as she set about making the pair of root beer floats that had been requested of her.
"Well, now I can see why you call that a root beer float," Scrooge said, his amused chuckles bringing a smile to "her" face as well. "Look at all those bubbles!"
"Cheers," she offered, raising her own glass after she'd put the straw she was going to use inside.
"Of course," Scrooge said, grinning as he raised his own glass to tap against hers. "Cheers!"
Smiling as she savored the familiar taste of her own float, Sarah found the plate of neatly-sliced honey glazed ham being set down in front of her. Thanking the waiter, though she still found the idea of a pig serving a ham dish odd and amusing by turns, Sarah picked up the fork that had already been set out on the table, and then felt a hand settle on "her" left shoulder.
"That was a very tasty treat," Scrooge said, smiling widely at "her" once she'd turned to look his way. "Thank you for sharing it with me. Would you mind staying after you finish dinner, young man?"
"I guess, if it's okay with the rest of you guys?" she asked; after all, they all had a fair amount to do, and a lot riding on their actions now and in the future.
None of them could really afford unnecessary distractions at this juncture, but none of the group gathered here raised any objections – not even those who would be ber future traveling companions – and so Sarah allowed herself to acquiesce to Scrooge's request. Enjoying her meal as thoroughly as she was able to with her curiosity a constant presence at the back of her mind, Sarah bid a brief farewell to her companions when their meal had come to an end.
"We'll meet you back at the hotel, Sora," Squall said, with that same certainty that he had always seemed to display.
"I'll be there," she said, raising "her" right hand to wave to the group as they left. "All right, Mr. Duck," she continued, having just realized that no one here would be expecting her to know Scrooge MacDuck, but it was plain to anyone with working eyes just what he was. "I'm still here, so what did you want with me?"
"I'd like to offer you a business proposition, my young Sora," the top hatted duck said, his tone just as enthusiastic as the smile on his face.
"I'm listening," she allowed.
"I'd like to start selling them in my restaurants, but since you were the first one to make such a thing, I knew it was only right that I ask your permission before I went any further with my plans. Naturally, as the originator of the idea, you would be entitled to fully half of the profits," he said, and his attitude became subtly more businesslike, while remaining as cheerful as it had ever been.
"That's a very generous offer." Particularly since she hadn't seen any evidence that Heartless were the walking piñatas full of health and Munny that they had been in pretty much every Kingdom Hearts game that she'd played. "I accept. Is there anything I need to sign?"
"I can draw up a contract later, after we've both gotten some rest for the night," Scrooge said, as the two of them shook hands. "For now, Sora, have a very good night."
"Yeah, you too," she said, rising from her seat after straightening her place at the table.
Briefly, subtly stretching as she stood up once more, Sarah looked down at the Munny on the table. It seemed to have been agreed upon, all unspoken in that way close friends sometimes do, that everyone would pay for their own meal. So, counting up each individual pile of coins placed on the table – as it appeared that each of their meals, diverse though they had been, had cost the same in the end – Sarah extracted fifty coins from the pouch that King Mickey had given her and set them atop the table with the others.