Archive of Our Own

There is darkness in these lands, allegedly. Master Yen Sid sends Sora to a new central hub, a homebase of sorts in a small town where the sky is always dusk so he can be on call in the event that the balance of light is disrupted once again. It's a short assignment—or so he's told at the beginning—but as the days stretch further Sora begins to think that it's an interesting coincidence that Yen Sid has put his least predictable operative in the center of the action, allowing him to be babysat by the predictable comings and goings of Twilight Town's finest. It's honestly a little lonely, but needs must.

Over the years Sora's become an old hand at vanquishing the heartless and the things that ruled them, and he knows that the lull now is a sure indicator of worse evils to come. But the worst parts aren't so much when duty calls, but when it loses his number. Upon first being plucked from his islands and suddenly bequeathed a mysterious power, wielding the keyblade was first a novelty, and then a privilege, but he finds himself in idle times yearning for the carefree days before.

A hero of light—it's a responsibility he bears with gravity, though it's a shame: he pines for the days of careless naps under the blanket of humid sea air. It's against his nature to shirk duty, but it's still an adjustment when before he had no schedules and no sense of urgency. What he relished more than anything else was spending an afternoon tussling with his friends and then falling asleep tucked away somewhere on the beach to the sound of the crashing tide. Exhaust himself all he wants here, there's no comparison.

Which is how Sora finds himself contorted in a tree listening to a nearby waterfall in the town's terrace, and how he crashes down like a wave himself into the courtyard.

"Oh, wow." Sora registers a voice extremely nearby as he comes to, grimacing in pain. For a split second he panics that he's knocked all of the color perception out of his brain since he can only see the color blue, but realizes that the reason for that is because that nearby voice is connected to a pair of jeans he's practically put his nose into. His busted neurons put two and two together. He squints—his eyes travel all the way up from a pair of scuffed up high tops to long messy silver hair and a look of startled concern.

"Um… Are you okay?" the voice says again, disembodied no more. Quite impressively bodied, in fact.

"I've had worse," Sora says, propping himself up by the elbows to get a better look at the kid he's narrowly avoided resigning to a similar fate. He's tall and buff and has his thumb bookmarking a thin black book that might say something about spells, but Sora's probably too concussed to tell.

"See, I don't doubt that, but you didn't answer the question."

"I'll live." His eyes won't seem to uncross. "…I think."

"Here," the kid says, reaching out a hand. Sora takes it, allowing himself to be perfunctorily brushed off as he regains his footing. In a blink, he reaches his hand behind Sora's head and touches the sore spot that may or may not be bleeding. Before Sora can spit out a "what gives?" he feels the buzz of cure magic envelop him.

"Now, that's not going to be perfect," he says, looking down at the ground and putting a hand through his hair, all ten yards of it. "I'd watch that head injury for a couple of hours. What exactly were you… Where in the world did you even come from?"

"Um," Sora says, lamely pointing up at the tree. "I was taking a nap."

This earns him a disbelieving glare.

"So the head injury is a preexisting condition, then."

"Um," Sora says again.

"Okay, so, uh," the kid falters for a moment, then rallies. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"My name's Sora," he says as a response. Plus 10 points for intelligibility. "I'm kinda new around here."

"Riku. No kidding." He squints at him in vague distress, expression softening just the slightest. "…Now I feel a little obligated to make sure you survive the afternoon."

"Maybe you could show me around?" Sora says weakly.

"I could pencil you in," he responds, dry. The turned up corner of his mouth reveals that he's finding it all quite amusing. It's not unkind. He rolls his shoulders and begins to walk ahead, but turns back before Sora can follow. "Though I am traveling by ground, if that's okay with you."

"Does that mean I get a shot at redeeming myself?" he says as he jogs up to keep in stride.

"It would if I believed in that sort of thing," Riku says, shaking his head. He seems to be having some difficulty with his face—like he can't decide whether to grin or grimace. "But don't worry. I've already seen plenty."

"Thanks?"  

That's one way to make friends, Sora thinks.

He pulls through—a miraculous recovery, but there's no follow up visit; Riku parts ways with him cooly and cleanly shortly after their introductions, citing some lame excuse, and then it's like he never existed. Your loss, Sora thinks.

When he'd wondered if trying to make friends would liven things up some, that wasn't precisely what he had in mind. It was just his luck to bump into some stick-in-the-mud stranger rather than literally anybody else—someone who didn't think themselves too good to associate with him. Sora admits to a little irritation. Friends don't normally grow on trees, much less fall out of them. What kind of weirdo would pass up the opportunity?

If nothing comes of it, at least he'll have plenty of opportunities to let something else occupy his mind in the meantime. He's beginning to suspect this arrangement is less temporary than originally promised more and more with each passing day. Perhaps it was naïve to think anything different. He labored under the assumption that once his home world was restored, he'd have his chance to retire the keyblade and pick up where he left off, or at least be granted some sort of leave, but each passing year contained even more intensive assignments. His short debriefs with Master Yen Sid make it increasingly apparent that perhaps there was never any intention to let him go at all.

"Despite our greatest efforts, wielding remains a dying art," Yen Sid reminds him for the umpteenth time when Sora suggests that some of the other groups he's seen flit by also seem to have it well in hand. "You will recall that it is one of your responsibilities to maintain it. Furthermore, it is essential that as many as possible retain their legacy as it stands—too many keyblade bearers throughout time have fallen so deeply into the darkness that they can no longer be reached."

At least they'd had formal training. The implication that Sora won't be one of them seems a lot to bet on, but he keeps this thought to himself.

"They've been doing this their whole lives," he says instead. "What if I just end up slowing everyone else down?" No one had actually said this in so many words, but Sora hadn't exchanged pleasantries with any of the others who passed by that amounted to anything more than polite disinterest. He can't blame them. Not only were his methods a little unconventional in comparison, many of them had trained together in groups since they were very young. He'd compete just as hard to earn his place as he would just to keep up with them.

"In that case, I recommend that you find ways in which to edify yourself in order to prevent this possibility. You may perhaps consider seeking additional tutelage in subjects with which you are insecure."

Not to point too fine a point on it. Sora resists a sigh.

"With all due respect, Master Yen Sid…is there something wrong with what you taught me?"

"My instruction should more than suffice," he replies, tone not a little spurned, "but one should never be satisfied only with what has already been obtained. Your many years of training may still be supplemented. As your instructor, I am well aware of the deficits from which I could not cure you."

This time Sora does not resist a grimace—it's no secret that his emergency keyblade crash course wasn't quite as comprehensive when it came to the magic arts. In spite of it, he's made it this far, but he certainly can't back down from the challenge. Though Yen Sid isn't quite forthcoming when it comes to providing inspiration. Glumly Sora wonders if it's a test, or if he simply knows not to waste energy on that which will fall upon deaf ears.

Nothing left to do but to make the best of it. Fortunately, the heartless will always be there for him. His latest directive places him once more on exterminator duty far on the outskirts of town, which leaves plenty of room to devote idle thought to his continuing education. That is, until distraction gets the better of him—a misstep sends him diving into the nearest ditch, where he narrowly avoids a repeat of his most recent head injury.

Picking himself up from the forest floor, Sora unconsciously rubs the back of his head and recalls with chagrin his first meeting with Riku, and the healing spell which had indeed held up—or held him together, at least. So, part of his problem solved: a lead on someone with an affinity for magic. Though the rest won't come as easily. Even if by some miracle he got on slightly better terms with the kid he nearly knocked into next week on a trip via a special branch of air travel, he still needs to find him first—and he's already proven quite elusive. At any rate, he should run into him again sooner or later. Then it's just a matter of roping him into whichever scheme Sora's half-baked for himself. He can find a way to convince him of a worthwhile arrangement once he's extended a more aggressive hand in friendship. It might not be as hard as he thinks. After all, he went along easily enough in the beginning that it seems Sora wasn't the only one with a thirst for companionship. Now only to quench it. Sora can probably knock some sense into him too, one way or another—and he's certainly big enough to handle whatever hits Sora can dole out.

With a sigh, Sora surveys the area to find it clear and then heaves himself back to town.

Since starting his missions in Twilight Town, when faced with the option of exploring the town or returning alone to the small rooms he's been given, he often guiltily picks the latter. When first starting his journeys, he poked into every nook and cranny looking for novelties, but something about the loneliness of it quelled the urge. But a little awkwardness might just be the price he has to pay if he wants to get any further—if he wants to get home.

There's always lots of people watching, at least; he finds it startlingly easy to blend in to the background, considering that back on the islands he knew everyone's name. He's used to being descended upon with warm smiles and greetings, inquiries into what trouble he was getting into on any particular day, but it turns out in a place like this one had to make an effort. Everything is fleeting—with so much of the place transient by nature, it has to be.

As it turns out, he doesn't have to wait long. It's a busy evening—and it's actually evening time, too—and there's more than enough room for anonymity. Maybe that's why Sora's drawn right to his target, who is surreptitiously ducking out of a shop in the town common—for what purpose, Sora's got no clue: he's pretty unmistakeable. Sora loses him shortly after he makes his escape, eye caught now by the next guest, a woman who pauses for a moment to look behind her. It doesn't seem to shake her even temper, though. He notices then that she wears the cords of a master. About time he saw one. For a moment, Sora forgets about Riku in favor of inferring her business; she raises a hand to the door, then pauses, gearing up with a wistful shake of her head before she disappears through the door. By the time he's turned around again, Riku has disappeared entirely. Disappointing, but still much closer than he's gotten so far.

As the days progress, Sora's allowed an even wider breadth—not just on this world, but the ones that surround it. It does provide some incentive to appreciate the finer things the town has to offer. But that familiarity's still not as comfortable as home. There's still plenty of work to be done, which he sets toward with grim determination.

When Yen Sid deigns to check in Sora does his best to ensure that he's huddled at his customary table in the center of town, where he can skim from a bird's eye view, and though he has nothing to show for it yet, he can still answer honestly when asked how goes his search. Yen Sid takes him at face value, appearing as close to pleased as one could expect from him when he nods. Otherwise he remains inscrutable as usual in the dim light of the tower, candlelight flickering across his grave features. It's slightly less effective with the chipmunks scrabbling about in the background, but still severe.

"You have no doubt noticed your more active deployment throughout these worlds, Sora," he states, crossing his hands together atop the table so that they nearly disappear into his robes.

"Uh…yeah, I have," Sora says, absently rubbing at the back of his head. "What's the hold up?"

"It seems there are greater dangers afoot than the realm of light has experienced in many years. Though there is no immediate cause for danger, I bid you take caution. If it is to do with the forces we suspect, then we may in time be faced with a far more formidable opponent than has existed in your lifetime."

"What forces?" Sora asks, only to receive his pursed lips as a response. He's struck by that same sinking feeling of disappointment that rears so often now, the one he feels when faced anywhere with hot sand or cool water that just doesn't feel the same. "Master Yen Sid…" he begins, but thinks better of it.

"I would suggest that you prepare yourself for an arduous journey. We may anticipate a prolonged season of darkness as we await for the motives of our adversary to unfold—the worlds' keyholes remain vulnerable, and as the barriers weaken between the light and the dark, we must remain vigilant lest they be overtaken. Should darkness breach the lands from which it had been kept at bay, it is imperative that wielders become guardians of the light and see it restored. Thus you must remain at the ready with key in hand. Quick thinking and courage has staved off consequences of disastrous magnitude in the past, and it may well again. Stray not from the path."

Sora nods and yes sirs and disconnects with an aggrieved shake of his head.

Smells like rats to him—his mouth curls in irritation. There's not much left to do but his best…but there has to be some way to pick up the pace. Anything to break what's starting to feel like an endless cycle. The disappointment outweighs even the latest buzz of restless energy. As the evening stretches he stays, he sits, and he observes.

He's not sure how long has passed when he's struck by a familiar aura of regal blue from the corner of his eye. There once again is the master from earlier, engaged deeply in conversation with a man a few years her junior adorned in similar cords. His brow furrows, but she pauses then to hold him steady by the arm and give an affectionate push to the blond strands darkening his view. Like magic his face breaks loose into a brilliant grin, and he pulls her into a hug that she reciprocates with enthusiasm. He breaks away and turns to keep walking, looking behind and throwing back a jovial call as he summons a keyblade. When he disappears around the corner and then presumably back to another world, she's still standing there, holding a hand close to her face and wearing the very look of concern she'd taken from him earlier. With a tight and distracted expression, she soldiers on to her own next journey.

Inspired, Sora is finally spurred to move on as well. He's just picked up stride a few paces away when he's interrupted by the unexpected sound of a muffled ow. He turns, startled but not quite surprised to see who else but Riku emerging from a low archway not far behind, rubbing his head as he looks up as if to check that the coast is clear.

Sora meets his eye, and, at a loss, manages a weak smile before holding up his hand to stretch out his fingers in a halfhearted wave. Riku blinks back at him, returning only a quarter to Sora's half. They remain engaged in place for a moment, still looking at one another hesitantly.

"Guess you made it after all," Riku interrupts the silence after a second, devoid of any emotion but for a slightly pinched expression. "How's your…"

He gestures toward his own head before trailing off in defeat.

"Uh, fine, thanks," Sora says, holding a hand up to his head in imitation before pointing back at him. "And you?"

"Um," Riku responds, "Fine. I'm—" He shakes his head, then about-faces to leave him in the dust. Sora barely has time to pull a face of affront before Riku stops, though he doesn't turn around. "…Thanks," he says, without conviction, before hauling the other direction.

Don't mention it, Sora thinks sorely at his retreating back, then shakes his head. Jerk. He sticks his tongue out and turns the opposite direction himself, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. What makes him so special? Who does he think he is? Then again, considering a keyblade master had sent him all but leaping into the shrubbery, he revises the thought. Who is he?

Still. No excuse to be so rude about it. Sora's sure that he's not the worst person someone could choose to hang out with, but Riku evidently can't even spare a second spent. It's all stacking up to be his lucky day.

Restless, Sora ends up circling the main square for a long time instead, vaguely aware of the dissipating crowds that indicate time passed. He meanders in aimless arcs pulled about by thoughts of sea spray and seasoned masters and shadow heartless and silver hair. Still feeling slighted, he's frowning stubbornly about the last of those when he passes through an alley where the underground concourse begins, and he's pulled from his dusty anger by the sound of a second set of splashing footsteps from behind.

He turns abruptly and finds himself confronted with a figure clad entirely in a heavy black coat who halts just as abruptly in response. It feels like an age before the figure gestures outward with one arm in a lazy shrug before turning tail to book it in the other direction.

"Hey—" Sora starts, and turns the corner at full speed, but skids to a halt as he realizes the mark has already disappeared, leaving nothing but the echoing sound of a dark portal behind. So much for that. He throws another sharp look back at the metal grates of the concourse entryway, but decides he's had enough adventure for the day, especially with his one lead vanished in the opposite direction. But there's good news: now he knows exactly where to start.

In spite of Yen Sid's ominous proclamation, the desert world he clears today is fairly normal as darkness infected locales go, if not a little unpleasant. Sora makes homeward with his nose turned up in disdain, sick to death of the dry and yearning for even the soggiest humidities, or anything other than a hoarde of heartless. All the more incentive to take an evening stroll, in this case farther out of bounds than he's ever been before. Poking around town asking to ask what (if anything) was beyond the woods didn't yield a clear answer, though the consensus was that whatever was out there was abandoned by the public, and quite possibly condemned. He concludes that it's in his best interest to go search for himself.

Sora glides right past all reason toward the place where he'd seen the escapee in the coat the night before, and follows deeper until he figures out the hard way that he's reached the sewers when he steps in with a splash.

Well. At least it's water.

The smell's not great. The scenery's not either; he's not even graced with any lewd grafitti on the walls for entertainment, and as he splashes on with an involuntary expression of disgust he gives a guilty thought to some of the "artwork" he left behind at home. There it felt like tarnishing the environment, here he feels it's an honor bound duty, though it may not be aligned with the model of an upstanding keyblade wielder. He muddles on for a while before finding an exit, then clambers out in dramatic fashion for a breath of fresh air. He observes Twilight Town still safely ensconced within its walls, but himself on the outside, where a secluded wood casts nightfall shadows on the twilight. Some variation, finally. He smiles—that's as good a sign as any that he's headed in the right direction.

He treks through, wiping foliage from his person as he pushes back branches and attempts to avoid rolling an ankle on the incline, not eager for a repeat of his earlier ditch incident. Just as soon as he's gotten into the rhythm, the key changes. He stumbles out to find that the twilight's returned. More surprising is that it's now shining down on an imposing mansion. It's far from what he actually expected, and the instant way he's drawn toward it leaves him with a little jolt of adrenaline pulse around his heart—maybe a red flag, but the thought of turning back doesn't even occur.

The giant wall surrounding the broken columns and overgrown grass wouldn't be a problem for him to scale, but the ornate wrought iron gate is already pried open. He sneaks through all the same, passing by the old columns; he's pretty sure they'd just collapse into dust and rubble if he breathes too hard. There's an itch in his throat just thinking about it.

"This isn't so bad," he mutters to himself, circumventing crumbling concrete of times long past and approaching the heavy doors of the entryway, which like the gate remains slightly ajar. It's odd, for sure: a dilapidated manor on the outskirts of town? Definitely a contrast to the orderly bustle he leaves behind. He doesn't hesitate to go through anyway.

Here goes. He pushes his way through and finds himself choked with the weight of uncirculated air, nauseatingly musty. Everything is covered in signs of age, and he feels contaminated by the dust just for standing there. He steels himself and steps forward, cautiously poking at the door to one of the rooms in the foyer.

He waits at the entryway for a beat, half expecting an ambush, but finds it devoid of anything but some broken down furniture. He peers around for a moment longer just to make sure before exiting the room to stand in the center of the foyer again to plan his next move. At first glance the layout looks logical, but the longer he stands the more it tugs. Rather than one great staircase in the center, two sets of bookend stairs lead up to the second floor. He peers over a glass case to see through to the grounds before him, but before he can get caught up he remembers the door directly across from the one he just left, its mirror image, and plows through.

It is curiously clean, a library where the dust jackets on the books are unnecessary: pristine, in stark contrast to the musty detritus he's run into everywhere else.

On the table in the center of the room is a chalk drawing. He cocks his head to the side and inspects it closely, nose scrunching up with the exertion of thought. He turns back to the shelves and spies a strange statue, a bookend with no partner. Awful lonely, he thinks, bizarrely. He banishes the thought with a bite at the inside of his cheek before leaning forward.

Compelled by some force, he summons his blade and reaches out to give the statue two light taps.

The floor beneath him rumbles; he loses balance, flailing for a moment before tipping end first into another dimension. He crash lands to the floor with a spectacular smack to the skull, his leg caught in an uncomfortable position beneath him, and stifles a shout.

So much for subtlety. Gripping his head with a grimace, he uncurls himself from the unnatural position he's wound up in and looks around. If the difference between that library and the rest of the mansion is dramatic, this is an entire traveling stage production. Here there's no dust—or anything else, except a soft and steady beep and the hum of computers.

He stares back up into the light of the library. Sure, he can turn back now. But where's the fun in that?

He pushes his way through until he finds a winding pathway lined with more glistening technology.

Resuming his tiptoe, he pushes through the door, sweeping out to summon his blade. Before him is a grand hallway filled with egg shaped apparati, each just big enough for a person.

Peering into one of the pods, he reaches out to touch and stops at the sound of a heavy tread of footsteps from behind.

"Who invited you?" he hears, and whirls around to find the stranger leaning against the doorframe. The same silhouette from the night before, black coat and all. Sora's close enough now to get a better look. While the hood of his cloak does a good job obscuring the view, it leaves enough opening that he might be able to get a closer look at the face beneath if he tries.

The stranger cocks his head to the side and Sora realizes with a start that it doesn't matter at all. Aside from a casual smirk there's nothing else to tell, as a black blindfold is tied securely around his eyes. Talk about cautionary measures—he erases himself from the equation by design. It can't be anything but trouble. Sora throws up an accusatory finger and shouts.

"Hey! You! Quit sneaking around!"

"I'm sneaking around?" the stranger laughs, brash and loud, raising both hands in a shrug.

"Well, I'm not the one dressed for some light larceny!"

On instinct Sora darts up, casting a projectile spell in hopes of getting the jump. Impulse gets the better of him—it's not his best shot. The stranger only curves around the blast, moving to a graceful tiptoe in one smooth motion before he waves his arms as if inconvenienced.

"Whoa, there, Misfire. Didn't someone teach you how to use that thing?"

"Um…yeah? Hey!"

He jolts, but the blindfolded boy meets him, turning gracefully to parry with a blade of his own—an intimidating thing, deep reds and purples converged into the grotesque shape of a wing, and there, dangling at the end of its hilt, a keychain.

"What's a creep like you doing with a keyblade?" Sora shouts, standing firm.

Sora avoids the next rush, but by degrees at best; he's forced into a stagger. The stranger turns to leave, and in desperation Sora hurls his blade toward him with a shout, which is silenced when the stranger catches it by the hilt. Sora watches in shock as he presents it as if to look at it with wonder, as if it were some new curiosity.

"What, you mean this keyblade?" he says sweetly, then hurls it back with full force.

Without thinking, Sora drops to the floor, narrowly missing an injury from his own blade—he hears it clatter to the ground. Sora reaches out to call it back and rushes him before it can even re-materialize.

Before it even hits his palm the stranger spins low to sweep him out of the air, knocking his legs out from under him with his arm.

Sora's barely hit the floor before the stranger responds.

"I don't know what you think you're doing around here, but you'd better get lost if you know what's good for you. I assure you it's none of your business."

"What do you know about my business?" Sora manages from where he's curled up on the floor.

"Enough to know that you're messing around where you shouldn't. Leave this stuff to the professionals."

"What makes you a professional?" He scrambles up, but too late. The mysterious boy disappears again.

Sora brushes himself off and looks around, buzzing with angry nerves at the defeat. His business. This kid's just made it his business by virtue of being the shadiest thing this side of town. Humiliation aside, if he's standing in the way of Sora's investigation, then he's just become his enemy. He grips his keyblade tighter, frown tight, then dismisses it. No use getting wound up about it now. He may as well finish what he started. Undeterred, he takes a centering breath and continues to explore, but it turns out there's nothing left to see. No more secret doors or passageways he can discern. Disappointed, he leaves, reconnaissance mission a failure. At least there's nothing to report, since this undertaking was an endeavor of his own invention, but he's still thoroughly dissatisfied with the results.

He stumbles back out from the dust into the daylight, numbers swimming around in his head, impossible calculations and indecipherable hieroglyphs. If there was anything to glean it seemed that the other boy already gleaned it, not that Sora could make much sense of the evidence anyway.

He slinks back to town, trying to leave the air of dejection amongst the fallen leaves in the wood where it belongs. He takes the long way through the square, half hoping for his next lead. He's ready to give up when he spies it—seated at a corner table, squinting with consternation as he somehow reads through the curtain of his stupid hair.

Maybe Sora can solve one mystery today.

As if willing Riku to see, Sora stares with intensity and attempts to project his aura, or at least the prickly feeling of being watched. No dice. Instead he decides to announce his presence with the exaggerated tread he makes to go stand over him from across the table. He remains unresponsive. Sora clears his throat.

"Hey, you."

At this, Riku finally looks up. A range of emotions cascades over his face, which is a pleasant surprise—at first he is startled, then confused, then placid all over once again in the span of a breath. Maybe, Sora thinks, a little relieved, too, though he's got no guesses why. Expecting company of a different sort? Either way Sora is cheerful to be so well-received. He stands there for a moment longer, arms crossed, to stare him into submission.

"…You wanna sit down?" Riku says in that amused little sotto voce Sora's learning comes standard with the package.

"I'd hate to impose," Sora says, though he's got no intention to make good should he be unwelcome. He stands at attention, both hands bracketing the back of the empty chair, and somehow holds on to the displeased pout he affects for his benefit. Chafed as he is, Sora's pleased to elicit a reaction, but isn't ready to give that away just yet.

"By all means," Riku says, gesturing outwards, but he doesn't even manage to finish the sentence before Sora tugs the chair out with a hideous screech and plops himself right in it.

"Hi," he says, settling in. "What's your problem?"

"Concussed after all, I see," he diverts, interminably dry.

"Nope!" Sora says confidently, then furrows his brow for a moment as he remembers cracking his skull on the tile of the mansion's secret library not two hours ago. "Well. Probably not. But I do have a question for you," he says, holding up his arm to show off the series of cuts and scratches rendered today. "How do you get good at magic?"

There's heavy heartless activity brewing in one of the newest worlds on Yen Sid's rotation, so it's to that world Sora goes. At first, it's comically easy, but the deeper he treads, the deeper the trouble.

He stumbles out of the nest he's just cleared to the sound of applause. With surprise he looks up—ahead of him is a figure dressed in a familiar looking black coat hosting a one man celebration. The blindfolded boy? Said figure whoops and cheers for a moment, then holds up his hands in a square to make a viewfinder in which Sora finds himself at the dead center. He cranes his neck forward, shakes his head, then takes off the hood of his cloak. No blindfold; just a kid with light messy hair grinning from ear to ear. Sora now notices that he's propped something up against himself. A weapon? An instrument?

"Well, looky, looky," the kid says, leaning back smugly and putting his fists to his hips. "It might just be my lucky day. Maybe they did send the right guy for once."

"Huh?" Sora says.

"You may just have what it takes!" He makes a little sustained ooh of triumph. "I can't wait to tell the Master that I was the one who found his next ves—"

He freezes, caught in a grimace, and claps a hand over his mouth.

"Maybe I shouldn't have said that much. Um…we'll be in touch!" he says, before disappearing right before his eyes through a curl of dark colored smoke.

"Weirdo," Sora mutters under his breath, unconcerned.

It takes maybe a week or so of wheedling. He's prepared to work for it longer. There's something tantalizing in the effort of catching a friend, and it's a foregone conclusion that he's not leaving without this one—if only out of spite. He'll get his questions answered one way or another.

He begins juggling daily missions with his new favorite pastime: annoying the life out of Riku. He starts casing his regular haunts for the chance to sidle on over and talk his ear off. Yen Sid's directive aside, it's far better than retreating to his rooms to spend each evening alone, and he might have stopped looking for him eventually…if it looked like Riku didn't really want to be found. As such, he continues with the same single-minded fervor that characterizes his day to day work.

"There's only so much I can teach you," he says as Sora bounds up to him in the town square and easily matches his stride. "I don't know how much effort I want to expend if you're just gonna knock it all out of your brain."

"Practice makes perfect?" Sora says, lifting a hand to wipe at his nose and inadvertently showing off a fabulous new set of injuries. Riku heaves an exaggerated sigh and reaches over to take his arm.

"You know this part just fine," he says, demonstrating once more how to cast the most efficient spell for the level of damage. Well. It would be demonstrating if Sora were actually paying attention.

"I just don't have your level of pizazz yet," Sora says plainly, at which Riku lowers his head, shaking his statement away with a smile before he turns to walk in the other direction. Sora lets him, grinning absently himself as he watches him walk away.

His next line of thought is that friends ought to cultivate similar interests, so he resolves to increase the time he spends at the town's small library. To catch a nerd.

"What's your real motive here?" Riku says, rolling his eyes as Sora dramatically reveals himself from where he's pretending to hide behind a book in a little alcove.

"Motive? What motive?" he says innocently, closing the book and crossing his hands in his lap. "You've never made a friend before? You can't have too many friends."

"When did that happen? Don't remember saying anything about that happening," Riku replies, moving a hand to his hip.

"Did you have something else in mind? You know, I've never had a rival before. I'll take what I can get."

Sora watches with delight as he closes his eyes and purses his lips before shaking his head back and forth, stifling a laugh.

"I think there's usually more to it than just waiting for someone to show up."

"Oh, I'd love to learn. You wanna teach me?"

"It's usually a lot more mutual. Not just…following someone around. You need more than that. You know. Communication."

"Okay, great. So how do you want me to communicate that I'm going to follow you around?"

"Fine," he sighs, then produces a slim phone from his pocket to extend it to him. "I'll play along. So now can you quit…stalking me?" There's no bite to it—just that little hint of a smile. Success.

"No promises, best friend."

Sora plucks it from his hand. He sighs.

"So when do we start?" Sora says in between peering up to gauge his reaction after every punched number.

"Start?"

Riku raises an eyebrow, and reaches to reclaim his phone.

"Lessons."

"You were serious?"

"'Course. Since you seem to know what you're doing."

"Oh, no. If you're relying on that, you're going to get yourself killed out there. You need professional help."

"Uh huh?"

"Uh huh. I'm sending you here." He gestures to the phone. "First off, she's probably the only person in the galaxy with any chance of getting through to you. If she can't, I sure won't. She taught me everything I know."

"Great! Thanks. Super thoughtful of you, best friend. Can't wait to tell you all about it."

"You're already starting to make this look like a mistake. Should just leave you to the wolves."

"No take backs," Sora says, and reaches back for the phone. Riku now holds it over his head and waves it around, allowing him to flail for it for a moment before Sora leaps up and nearly snatches it. He pulls it back with a groan and makes a show of pressing send.

"Well, if that's all you wanted," he says, returning his hand on his hip and looking down at him with that same put upon expression. "Are you finally gonna get out of my hair?"

"Pfft," Sora says, articulate. He gestures wildly in the general direction of his person. "Like I even could. Anyway. See you tomorrow?"

Riku only shakes his head before he turns with finality and leaves. Sora doesn't even let him get out the door before he tacks out a message.

thx bestie see you soon

It's not until he's getting ready to head out on his assignment for the next day that he sees a response, sent in the small hours of the morning.

If you survive that long. But I bet you won't make it out unscathed.

You're on, he writes back, then prepares to journeys onward toward his duties.

Sora's mission that day is almost complete when he finds himself back into the woods once again, barricaded by giant stalks of bamboo. He fights his way through for a moment, and when he hears a voice not far off he loses balance and tumbles into the brush.

"What was that?" he hears someone's panicked voice. "Is it safe here? What if something's come to get us? You've got this, right?"

Sora peers through and finds he's right outside a clearing, where two people in those same black coats are standing. A woman's voice interrupts.

"Useless," she says. "They have the nerve to call me back and then just leave me here to coddle the garbage."

"Elrena," someone says with a note of desperation, and when Sora cranes his neck up to see a little better he realizes it's the same kook from the other day, string instrument and all. "I'm just saying! You need to think about the little guy here!"

"Listen here. The only thing I'm gonna think about is how much pain you're gonna be in if you try to tell me what to do one more time."

Kooky kid turns around with a sigh, and rolls his eyes dramatically, mouthing back her words with disdain.

"Pay attention," the one called Elrena says. "I can't be bothered to repeat directions to an inanimate object."

"Inanima—"

"Shut up. Do you see this clearing?"

"Yeah?"

"This is the safe zone. This is where we will be and they will not. Understood?"

He nods slowly.

"You see that village over there?" she says, gesturing outward.

He nods once again.

"That is where we are going to direct the heartless. Because?"

Another exasperated sigh.

"Because Master Xehanort needs more hearts," he says. "Or whatever. Where does he get off calling himself Master anyway? He's not my master. Is he your master? He's not even any olde—"

"Will you shut your mouth?" Elrena hisses. "This isn't a two man job, and I'd be happy to trim the fat."

She brandishes a set of knives and holds them at his throat. He backs away with one exaggerated step, hands in the air, and then puts a hand over his mouth to indicate that he'll comply.

"It's time to separate some bodies from some hearts," she says, and Sora finally decides that it's not metaphorical—he rolls out of the brush and hops up, ready to face them.

"I won't let you hurt those people," he says, pointing his keyblade at them.

Elrena throws back her head and laughs, and the kid jumps up, waving his hands in excitement.

"Oh!" he says, ecstatic. "He's the one! The one I said could be a new candidate!"

"That's your great idea?" she points at Sora. "You've got to be kidding me. What makes you think he's going to get any use out of this scrawny little bootlicker? Just because you graduate from keyblade school doesn't mean you're any good."

"I'm right here!" Sora says.

"He's great, I swear!" the other kid cries. "He'll get us loads of hearts!"

"Well, then," says Elrena. "Why don't we prove it?"

She throws her knives without so much as a tell. Sora blocks so they clatter against his blade, and dodges to the side when she sends a second set his way.

"Hey!" he says. She sprints toward him, collecting a magic energy in her hand, then swings. He crosses his arms to block then sweeps down as fast as she can counter to swing at her legs; they dance for a moment, blow for blow.

This isn't anything like the heartless, Sora learns quickly. As quick as he can retaliate she strikes again, and again, and then she's got him—a slice to the face, a new cut dripping blood from his cheek; he flips away, using the keyblade to cover as much as he can before throwing up the best barrier spell he can manage, but she stays put, eyeing him from her vantage point.

"How fun," she says drolly, but a wicked smile crosses her face all the same. "Great's a bit of an overstatement, but maybe you can hold your own in the big boy's club for a minute or two if you play real nice."

"Who says I want to? I'll take care of you right here."

She sheathes her knives and makes an exaggerated show of yawning.

"Boring," she sings. "I've got better things to do. You'll keep your heart today, but we need every one we can get. You better show us what's so special about yours before we come to collect." She throws out an arm and summons a portal of that same wispy darkness. "Toodleoo," she says, waving with her fingers as she follows her partner scrambling through it.

"Hold it!" Sora shouts, running toward it, but it disappears before he can reach it. A sense of defeat falls over him. He's no closer to figuring any of this out for himself.

Bruises notwithstanding, his ego is worse for the wear. He summons his path back to town and remembers his other mission: not a total loss yet. Perhaps some magic remediation—for real this time—could be the bandage for his wounded pride. Though maybe not before one more detour.

While headed through the pathway he takes on his shortcut route beneath the town station Sora is drawn to a flicker of light, which he follows on instinct to find Riku, who is practicing magic in an offshoot of the underground passage.

"You win," Sora admits.

"Can't be," he responds, surveying Sora with disappointment as he turns and puts a hand on his hip. "If that were the case, we wouldn't be having this conversation. Unless it's not too late to request that you get lost instead of any winnings."

"Denied," Sora says, watching him bite down the upturn of a smile and shake his head.

"Well. At any rate, you're out of freebies." Riku points in the general direction of the scratch on his face. "You owe me that, at least."

"Your concern is touching," he says, looking off to the side before directing his attention back to the wall. "Light magic?" He changes the subject—Sora can handle that much, at least.

"Little rusty."

"'Rusty,'" Sora repeats, unimpressed.

"Pays to stay prepared, I guess. But on that note: have you seen her yet?" Riku asks, putting a hand on his hip as he turns to study Sora's expression with brow raised.

Sora opts not to respond.

"Didn't think so. Don't go blaming me when you run into the worst."

"I was on my way there now, actually," Sora says haughtily, pointing his nose in the air.

"Yeah, right."

"What's that supposed to mean? What do you even know?"

"Enough that I bet you won't."

"Oh yeah? I'll prove it, then."

"Bet you can't."

"I'll take that bet," Sora says, marching indignantly in his original direction while looking over his shoulder. Riku smirks. "Hey. Don't think that you've won just 'cause it looks like I'm leaving you alone."

"Just as long as it sounds like it."

He leaves Riku there to laugh to himself rather than dignify it with a response.

He has no idea why he's surprised when the door is answered by the same woman he saw in the center of town.

"I'm looking for Master Aqua?" he asks, a little redundantly—how many more masters in town could Riku know?

She's taken off guard, eyebrows raised.

"I'm Aqua," she says, measured. "Can I help you? "

Sora blinks, realizing he doesn't have a lot of contingency plans. Perhaps straight to the point is best.

"My friend said I 'need help,'" he says, with ironic emphasis. "That you were his teacher, and a really good magician."

"Is that so?" she says. Her voice doesn't betray her, but her rising brow does. "I haven't had many students here. What's your friend's name?"

"Riku," he says. "He told me that you taught him everything he knows."

She looks amused.

"I thought so," she says with a small sigh. "I'm guessing he didn't tell you we haven't spoken in years?" Sora can't help the expression of shock he knows colors his face; she smiles lightly. "Maybe you should come inside."

"So you're one of Master Yen Sid's," Aqua says as she rights a skewed pile of papers atop her desk. "How interesting. He doesn't often take new pupils."

"That's what I've heard," Sora says, eyes wandering from the armchair to which he was directed around the many tasteful curios about the room. "I didn't exactly have a lot of classmates."

"No, I don't imagine you did. You must be someone very special, Sora."

"Special?" he says, reaching up to rub self-consciously at the back of his head. "I think I was just the only someone. A long time ago the heartless came to my islands. Suddenly I was the only person who could help. After I got the keyblade, someone took me to train off-world. It all happened so fast that I don't really remember much."

"Earning the keyblade isn't as common as it once was. We always need more people to defend the light. But that's not exactly why you're here, is it?"

"Well. It's the right thing to do," he says absently. "Wait. You mean here in your study here, don't you?"

She laughs.

"Yes. I do teach magic. As I'm sure Yen Sid taught you, too," she says pointedly.

"I wouldn't call it my strong suit," he mumbles. That much has always been true.

"I'm sure I can help. In fact, I would love to. But it's really up to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I can teach you spells, and forms, and tell you everything it takes to make a good keyblade wielder. That's part of my job here—to find new wielders and help get them started on their training. But it's not for everyone."

"I'm already here, aren't I?" Sora says, crossing his arms in front of his chest before he realizes he's doing it.

"Oh, but not everyone stays," she says, her brow just barely acknowledging him before she continues in an almost mournful tone. "Some even turn. I know too well how quickly some things change if you're not looking in the right direction. Having the kind of power it takes to protect and keep the light is a heavy burden. It's not something you can do without love."

"I don't really know much about that," he admits without thinking, then looks at her sheepishly. She smiles.

"That's okay," she says. "You'll learn. It doesn't always look the way we'd expect it to, and it hardly ever comes on time. Maybe it's our home, or our friends. Maybe it's someone you care about more than anything."

She takes the seat across from him and puts a hand on his knee. He starts, dragged back to her eye-line—she looks right at him with a genuine smile: inescapable.

"For a long time, being a wielder was all I dreamed about. It's still important to me, but before I could really understand what it meant to be a master, I had to learn why I wanted to do it. My master, my friends… My family." She touches a hand to her heart and smiles. "My husband…he likes to say that strength of heart will carry you through the hardest trials, and it's true. But I think you have to be strong for something important. It's wonderful to do good for goodness's sake, but we have to start with ourselves first. Otherwise there'll be nothing left of us to give."

"I do want to help."

"And you're doing a spectacular job. I know you're going to do well—I just hope you don't lose sight of the things that will keep it that way."

"I'll do my best."

She catches him in another one of her kind smiles, though this one is weighted, knowing—as if she sussed out crossed fingers behind his back but chose to ignore them. Sora feels as guilty as if he had.

"You know…you remind me of a girl I know well. She's kind, and earnest, and filled to the brim with light. She just doesn't quite know where to put it yet. But we've been training for a long time, and she's going to be an incredible leader one day."

"That's great," he responds, attention drawn away once again.

"Have you ever been to Radiant Garden?"

"Look, I didn't think this was a matchmaking session," Sora blurts out, then puts a hand over his mouth. "Oh. Sorry. No I haven't."

"Don't worry. It's not," Aqua says, amused. "Just an observation. Light comes from all sorts of places. And people. You don't need to hurry to get there."

"To…Radiant Garden?"

She levels him once again with a look—not fooled for a second.

"To the things that make you strong. If I wagered a guess, for her it's home. …Though there's nothing wrong with championing the ones you love."

She reaches inside the fold of her robe: unconsciously, as she's surprised when she follows his eye. She produces the charm squeezed inside her hand, revealing just a glint of blue glass before she replaces it, reverent, eyes shut with a smile.

"That's what it is for you."

"Yes. Though it wasn't quite as obvious as I thought. There were a lot of obstacles to overcome before I reached that point. It's my wish that you don't have many of your own."

"Guess I should probably figure out what they are, first."

"I think being here is a step in the right direction, at least." She gestures at his cheek. "If you're not careful, not having the right spell on hand could mean trouble."

And doesn't he know it. He reaches up to touch the scar where Elrena's knives fired their warning and pulls a slight grimace, chagrined.

"Can't keep getting Riku to do it for me. Well. At least he seems to think so."

"I can't say I disagree. I'm surprised it went on at all."

"I sorta kept bugging him 'til he talked to me."

Aqua purses her lips to keep from laughing.

"How interesting. I couldn't be happier to hear he's making friends."

"He sure doesn't make it easy," Sora mumbles. She looks at him sympathetically.

"I don't expect he would…but that's not my story to tell. In any case, I'm glad you came along. I'm sure someone as charming as you could teach us all a thing or two."

He flushes at the compliment.

"Guess we'll see." Polite, he gives a wide grin, though he doesn't quite mean it—he feels a restless spell coming on, antsy with an excess of information. Aqua considers him for a long moment, enough that exhaustion dims his smile further by the second, but she puts a hand to her chin and hums decisively.

"Coming alone from so far away, I'm sure you were looking for more than just magic spells," she says. "I have something important to ask you, Sora."

He gives her an attentive look, eyes narrow.

"What's that?"

"Before I take you on as a pupil, I need to know that I can trust you. Are you going to keep trying to be Riku's friend? Do you like him?"

It's a little strange, certainly, but he's caught off guard enough that it tumbles out of him without another thought.

"Of course I like him," he mumbles. "He's the only person I really know here."

"Then I have a good feeling that you won't take this lightly." She crosses her arms to her chest. "There were times I didn't show that I was there for him… Times when I didn't know that he needed someone at all. I let him walk a dark path alone, and I owe it to him to make sure he doesn't get lost again. So I'll teach you on one condition: you have to stay with him and keep him safe. I can't do that job anymore, so I'm counting on you to do it in my place."

She seemed rational enough in the beginning that he doesn't dwell too long—an odd request, but well more than a fair trade for tutelage. After all, how hard could it be?

More than that, though, is the pull of something earnest in her voice. The urge not to disappoint her is strong. First impressions aside, it feels wrong to bring her a weight and not offer help to carry it. The worst he could get out of it is a friend.

"You've got it," Sora says with a grin. Aqua smiles, warm and wide.

"Fantastic," she says. "Then we can start tonight."

She stands to retrieve something. Sora takes the opportunity to grab a picture of himself that includes her tutting over something in the background, which he appends to his next message on his way out the door.

What do I win?

Never promised you anything.

I should get bragging rights, at least. No promises required.

You can gloat all you want, if you can find me first.

Hasn't exactly been tough so far. Might as well give me a hint.

So long as you bring a helmet this time.

"Think you can avoid rappelling any high surfaces for a few minutes?" Riku says, giving a nod to the tree above. Sora only shrugs, but winces immediately—today's injuries are embarrassingly mundane, but no less painful. One lesson with Aqua wasn't going to make it that much easier.

"I'll manage," he replies through his teeth, currently exposed, grinning insincerely in Riku's direction.

"So. Get yourself into some trouble?"

"Top secret. Can't tell you," Sora chirps, then deposits himself on the bench, splaying out his legs for a stretch before settling in to hold himself together as surreptitiously as possible, which isn't much.

"I'd tell you to be careful…if I didn't think it'd be a waste of breath."

"Thought that counts." Sora gives him a probing look. "Though I'm sure Master Aqua would give you some backup if you asked."

Riku looks away with an ironic smile, bluff called.

"Nope. But nice try."

"Smart of you to try and pawn me off. She said you'd pull something like that."

"Smart, yeah," Riku says. "Self-preservation. Did she say anything else?"

"She told me to take care of you," Sora says flatly, and Riku laughs, surprised.

"Haven't we got this backwards?"

"Hey. Not that backwards. I can take care of myself."

"You'll have to prove it to me."

Sora sticks his tongue out and crosses his arms.

"Maybe I will."

Riku shakes his head, smiling absently.

"I'm not worried. If you're half as quick as me, you'll still get it in no time. She'll see to it."

"Weird choice to stick around if you're so desperate not to talk to her."

"To be fair, I was here first." He slides his arms across the bench and leans back, taking care to blow some hair from his face when he settles. He sighs. "I think we both like to keep tabs on each other, though."

"Guess I don't understand."

Riku looks over at him and gives a lazy shrug.

"Honestly, neither do I. But this is just about as much of a home as I've got anymore. Can't control who else decides to drop in."

"So I take it you're not from here either."

"No. I haven't been home home for a long time. Can't even really remember."

Sora puts on a concentrated expression, chewing it over.

"Nothing at all? I can't even imagine." He reaches up absently to rub at his hair. "It's the only thing that never changes. Well, almost never. But…traveling to all these places… I guess it just makes you appreciate having something consistent." He crosses his arms, then admits the next sentence with a sigh. "The only thing I think about is going home."

Riku laughs.

"The only thing I used to think about was leaving. All I wanted was to see other places."

"Did you?"

"Lots." His smile takes on a touch of bitterness. "Just not the way I wanted. Lesson learned."

Sora considers him for a second, brow knitting. Riku's smile slides into a smirk, and he leans back, crossing his arms.

"Speaking of lessons: am I off the hook for medic duties?"

Sora grins sheepishly.

"Wouldn't go that far."

Riku sighs dramatically. "Knew it was too much to hope. That's why I came up with a contingency plan." With that he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, his hand closed around it. With his other hand he takes one of Sora's, then turns up his palm to place the object inside it before shaking it securely between his own. "If you're starting to get ideas about me turning up when you're in a bind, you can forget it. There's more than one way to get the job done."

Riku relinquishes his hand. Sora opens his palm and laughs—it's a little glass vial of healing elixir.

"No replacement," he says, still looking down on it. "You won't get rid of me that easy."

"So I feared."

Sora doesn't look up, still entranced by the way it glimmers even in the low light. He shakes it gently and feels the liquid slosh around inside, still cool within the glass despite resting in his palm.

"Thanks," he says belatedly when Riku stands. Sora holds the vial in front of his face as if to hide behind it and peers up at him through it, grinning when he catches a quirk of his mouth that's dangerously close to affectionate. He swishes up a little vortex that washes up and masks over Riku's image so everything is the same color as his eyes until it splashes down in waves.

"Don't mention it. Ever," he says, and cuffs him upside the head with just enough force to make him sway.

Sora tucks it in the inside pocket of his jacket and pats it with authority. Riku shakes his head, rolling his eyes with a smile before he leaves.

"You know I'm never gonna use this, right?" Sora calls after him before he strides too far.

"Yeah," he says over his shoulder. "I know."

Even the heartless stick to schedule over the next stretch of days—he's long since lost count of how many times he's cleared a new section of his circuit around the worlds just for the whole thing to begin again. So much for impending danger: though he supposes no news is good news, it sure is boring. The little phone he was given to keep track isn't much help either, only lighting up with updated locations and daily reminders to fill out his logs. Unfortunately it's happened often enough that Aqua's caught on, and she's made it part of the routine for their meeting during the several evenings a week he spends with her.

He guesses it's not entirely monotonous. Many of the places his journeys take him are quite beautiful when he takes a moment to look around, once he's made sure there's nothing else left that might try to maim him in the area. He's often inspired to take a photo—maybe it'll come in handy one day, if he ever finds an occasion to share. Sometimes he gets a more immediate opportunity when he chances upon something like a cluster of flowers uncannily positioned in the shape of a frown or a particularly dour looking willow tree.

He'll send along something to the tune of Weirdest thing, but something reminded me of you today, and if he's terribly lucky, hours later Riku might send in return a Very funny.

Sora's once again meandering around the outskirts of town—this time dallying over a photo of a particularly stony looking rock formation that he's pretty sure will only receive him an equally unenthused response—when he's distracted by a rustling noise. He looks up to find a black coat disappearing in his periphery, and scrambles to follow, as light and quick as possible. He turns the corner to find the figure disappearing into the underground concourse. He waits a beat, then rushes after, mindful not to cause a racket.

When he arrives the doors to the old mansion are locked, but that's not a problem; he pushes through, blade still in hand, looking over his shoulder as he quickly tugs them shut. It remains largely unchanged, dust undisturbed and air still heavy, but he spies an errant footprint headed toward the staircase on the left.

When he gets to the second story he finds the door cracked, and he hesitates. He breathes in and steels himself, gripping tightly on to his blade, and with his meanest expression he bursts through the door keyblade first.

"Sneaking around, huh?"

The room is startlingly white and pristine, all the more juxtaposed with the rest of the mansion by the figure dressed in black standing over a table in the dead center.

The blindfolded boy raises both his hands, one of which holds a sheaf of paper, the other that odd looking keyblade.

"Great exercise," he responds, placing the papers down onto the table in calm and orderly fashion. "Though it seems you're more the 'running into danger' type. I'd suggest minding your own business instead, but it seems a little too low impact for you."

"What's the deal with those?"

"Nothing, apparently," the blindfolded boy says with consternation. "Just a waste of my time."

"You mean the time you and your pals are spending taking innocent people's hearts?"

"Hearts?" he says sharply. "You mean they're after hearts?"

"Oh, like you don't know."

"I didn't, actually. How sweet of you to keep me in the loop."

"I wasn't…!"

"All the same," he says. "Appearances deceive, I guess. Because when I say you look sharp I don't mean clever."

"What?" Sora says, stymied by the whole of it. He shakes his head. "What would you even know?"

"You think you're the only one keeping an eye on things?" he says, amused, showing off his keyblade with a little back and forth motion, emphasizing the eye carved into the hilt.

"You're bluffing."

"Maybe so."

"You gonna take that off, then?"

"Aww, you don't like it? I wore it special just for you."

"Quit playing around!" Sora shouts, aggravated to realize that he's stomped his foot about it. Well, at least this weirdo'll hear that he's annoyed with the charade. "Why do you need hearts?"

"I could hazard a guess or two," he says bitterly. "Either way means more power for them. But we're not affiliated."

"Get real. I'm supposed to believe that when you're running around dressed like the rest of those creeps?"

"Take it or leave it, but I promise we're not on good terms. They nearly cost me my heart once. Can't recommend it."

"I don't know. Can't think of any good reason one of the good guys would lie about who he is."

"Never said I was a good guy."

"Then who are you?"

"I think you already made your decision about that."

"You haven't done anything to change my mind."

"Then you're right. Bad, good, or whatever your pretty little head decides…nothing's gonna stop me from getting the one thing I'm after."

"And what's that?"

"Revenge," he says cheerfully. "What else?"

"And this is how you're gonna get it? Playing dress up and sorting files? Can't see how that's a good way to keep your heart."

He shrugs.

"Worked out for me in this case. I've got a lot more than what I started with. Thanks, Misfire."

"Don't mention it," Sora says sarcastically.

"And deprive you of all the credit, darling? I would never. But I really should be going now."

"Wait—" Sora starts, but actions speak louder: he drops into stance and lunges toward him, but he surges forward to meet Sora before he feints to the left. Before Sora can even look the other way he finds himself on the floor, tripped by the leg stuck out beneath him. He snaps back up from a roll and swings recklessly, and the blindfolded boy simply takes it in stride, hand shooting out to take him by the wrist. Sora reaches out with his other hand, but is immediately flipped over and sent forcibly back to the floor, where he lands with a resounding thud. Sora shouts, scrabbling back up again to tackle him, but this time the blindfolded boy hits him with a gut-punch that knocks the wind out of him.

With a gasp he heads to his knees, but the boy snatches him by the arm and pulls him up, twirls him forward, and puts him in a headlock with his own arm; he settles flush over him and takes his other wrist in a crushing grip to yank it taut around, barring him from movement entirely.

"You've got stamina, huh," he says with a leer breathed at his ear. "And agile to boot—oh, I could go at it all day with you. But unfortunately it's a textbook case of wrong place, wrong time. Hope you understand."

"Crystal clear," Sora grunts. He tries to squirm his way out enough to throw an elbow wherever he can get one, but to no avail.

"I'd warn you again to stay away but I can tell you lack self-preservation skills," the boy in the blindfold continues. "It's too bad, you know. I don't get a lot of dance partners."

He drops him to the floor. Sora cries out, gasping for breath; he pushes himself up to follow as he steps away.

The blindfolded boy throws a hand out at his side and Sora freezes, immobilized. He's flooded with panic as he realizes he's paralyzed by a powerful spell.

"I'd think twice about the kind of person you expect to lose his heart. If you're not careful, you'll find yourself putting your own on the line pretty quick," he says without turning back. "Let's stop meeting like this, shall we? But in the meantime… I'll catch you later, sunshine."

He disappears through the doorway. Loosed, Sora crashes forward on his face, and he pushes through the last of the bindings to follow, but all he sees is the wisp of darkness left behind from whence he's vanished.

He brushes himself off and grits his teeth. Unfortunately Sora's about to prove him right—there's no way he's going to keep his hands clean. Not with stakes quickly climbing.

He's met with Aqua's deepest apologies when he turns up for practice the next day—she's wrapping something up, but she'll be free if he doesn't mind waiting for a few moments. It's not as though he has anywhere to be, so he finds himself sitting outside in shouting distance from her study with his legs crossed beneath him.

With a twinge of guilt he realizes that she's in high demand, and wonders if setting aside her evenings to coddle him takes valuable time from her day. Either way, she's important: a little more so than the initial impression he got from Riku. It was a little silly in retrospect to think she was simply his magic teacher, though that seemed to be the only relationship he cared to emphasize. Something else had connected them, before that connection was broken.

Sora's training is focused around channeling magic with a keyblade, but of course that's not the only way to go about it. What had Riku's training looked like? He's tempted to see if he can dig up any information from Aqua. Surely he wasn't always perfect. There had to be some other things he practiced as well.

He hasn't given him any evidence that he wielded the keyblade himself at any point, but he assumes it's not so unlikely, especially given the number of other keybearers he's run into who are about their same age—in fact, enough to give him the idea that being chosen by the keyblade wasn't quite as special as he thought. With a creeping sneer he thinks about the blindfolded boy gallivanting around with one. Looks like they'd give 'em to just about anyone. Though, Sora thinks—you probably have to earn something quite as gruesome as his.

He's frowning absently when Aqua emerges to call for him.

Her earlier preoccupation shed, she sends a cheerful summons and gathers him in, but now that he has her full attention she stops with a start to eye him suspiciously. He takes her concern as evidence that she's noticed he's conspicuously more battered than usual. Sora gives her a sheepish smile and a half truth—he's still working on healing magic out in the field. Bruising is a natural consequence. She chides him to be more careful but drops the matter in favor of more practice, promising it a much more helpful use of their time.

He's reminded of how it always seems to pass so quickly, with him serving as just another hiccup in her day. She must catch something in his expression: luckily, this seems to be one of the days where she likes to linger, holding on to the moment as if she were loath to let it pass. As he screws up his face in concentration over the notes that, to his dismay, she asked him to copy, she sets a scalding teacup beside him. It's far too hot to drink any time soon.

"How are you getting along with the others?" she prods, interrupting his thoughts. He tries not to startle, realizing she likely noticed him spacing out on her a while ago. "Any new friends?"

He looks at her in vague puzzlement; as far as he understood, these lessons weren't supposed to have anything in common with primary school. It's not a question he's got a satisfying answer to. No time, or different circles and different sectors…but it's a two-way street. Though he's never had a problem strolling up to someone and making his introductions, most of his spare time is devoted to preparing for the field in hopes that he's one day closer to the end. Slowly, he shakes his head.

"Not really why I'm here."

He's unsurprised when she responds with a shake of her own.

"So, then. Tell me what your plans would look like if you were."

He pauses for a moment, absently biting his cheek. It had been a while since he'd re-evaluated—so many milestones already flew by while he was elsewhere in the name of the light.

His plan had always been to go back home to the Destiny Islands, but that hinged on things being just the same. There are things that never will change—things that throughout all his travels he's never seen replicated: never the same sunset, or the same clear expanse of water stretching on for miles. The symbols he fought for just as much as everything else, the ones that still belonged just to him.

But there was just as much that differed. Priorities and urgencies changed shape over the years—no need to finish school anymore, for one. And of course there were all the friends who'd grown just as much, and settled around their roots. So many things that may have outgrown him the same way he'd outgrown that silly legend about the fruit that used to seem so novel. There wasn't any going back to that for him, but he doesn't think that means that those aren't stories worth telling.

"I guess it'd be nice to share," he says after a moment. "Y'know. With others. When I go back to the islands."

She considers him for a moment, not quite smiling. He wonders if there were any answer that would earn him less scrutiny.

"I think that's a perfectly reasonable place to put your heart for safekeeping," she says finally, nodding, then rises, wordlessly sending him back to the books as she occupies herself with something else for a stretch.

Looking back to the page provides nothing new, his focus drawn away from tiers of spell casting in favor of hearts and where to keep them. He wonders now if it's easier than he thought to misplace your own—maybe he did have more to consider when it came to who he expected to lose a heart. The thought snakes around his thoughts for the rest of the chapter.

Scribbles completed, he sets down his pen with confidence and begins to turn the book back to its cover, but she shakes her head and reaches to flip it to a later page. He doesn't do as well as he thinks tamping down his disappointment—she takes one look at his face and laughs.

"How curious," she says. "You really are the spitting image of a dear friend of mine. It feels like I have a little piece of him with me." Sora purses his lips, unsure how to respond, but she shakes her head. "Don't worry. It's not a bad thing. It's comforting. I used to think he's one of a kind, but I couldn't be happier to see that kind of energy in someone else."

Sora picks up his pen again, wobbling it distractedly between thumb and forefinger instead of returning to his notes.

"Master Aqua," he begins, and she once again dons that patient air. "You said there were wielders who fell. How does that happen?"

She considers him for a moment before she responds, not masking her concern.

"Unfortunately, there are a lot of reasons that someone would turn to the darkness. Sometimes we let bitterness and shame get the best of us, and some fall so deep into their insecurities that it's all they know."

"Do you think they can't ever come back?"

"No," she says emphatically. "Not at all. Not in the slightest. It's all too easy to let things like fear and sadness lie to us about who we are, and what we look like to the people we love. All of us carry some of these feelings at one point or another. But it's important that we acknowledge them so we can become stronger, and keep the darkness from eclipsing our hearts. If we try too hard to mask it, then the shadow becomes greater, and it becomes more difficult to find the way out. But even the darkest shadows can fade when faced with a light. Even just a flicker is enough to lead you back. It's only a matter of seeking it out."

"So you're saying you have to want to find the light."

"Not just that. You have to believe that you can."

She studies him yet again before cocking her head to the side and gesturing at the cooling teacup beside him, then to his abandoned notes. He looks between them and then to her once more, but finds in her expression that she's done with the matter. He obediently resumes his notes.

Sora leaves swearing on his life that this time he'll practice, the right way, he's serious, maybe he'll actually even study! but even when she dismisses him with a smile he finds himself treading through a dark cloud again not long after. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks to the ground, preoccupied: he debates whether to admit to himself that he's in over his head. The uncertainty coloring everything tugs his spirits down to sit alongside the bricks below, and suddenly he finds himself huddled on one of the town's many concrete stoops, knees at his chest and head in the clouds before he's even aware he stopped. He can't discern just how much time has passed, still trapped in the humiliation of how thoroughly his very best was bested, his pride left napping on the sterile white floor of the old manor in the woods.

"I don't see the cat that dragged you here, but I'm sure it can't be far," Sora hears, and he looks up with a grin, conditioned. The force of it leaves Riku so taken aback that he's startled out of whatever smart-aleck thing was about to come out of his mouth next.

"Hey," he says, relieved—the opportunity to rib him some more is just what Sora needed, though it seems his wits are taking a moment to catch up, as he's still grinning up with a vaguely vapid air. Riku laughs, one short breath that walks the line of disdain, but joins him on the stoop anyway, long legs stretched out halfway across the path—the comma to his full stop.

"Did it also get your tongue?" he asks snidely, and Sora rolls his eyes so hard he nearly gives himself a headache. "What's eating you?"

"Homework," Sora responds. Good an answer as any.

"Well, you can't copy mine."

"What a shame. Guess I'll just have to practice for real now."

"You know what they say. Practice makes perfect."

"Can't perfect make perfect?" Sora asks, gesturing at him before stretching up to put his hands behind his head. "Why wouldn't I use my resources and skip a step? No need for both of us to put in the work."

"Oh, I'm a long way from perfect." He smiles ruefully. "You've still got a chance to figure it out. Me, I'm stuck where I am now."

"What makes you say that?"

Riku sighs.

"For one thing, I'm the same age now that my instructor was when he first took me away to train, but I don't have half as much to show for it."

"Wait," Sora starts, ten things jumbling up at once—if it wasn't with Aqua, then what other kind of training could it be? But Riku cuts him off with the shake of his head.

"It didn't really work out," he says with a note of irony. "Which is another reason why I'm stuck."

"You sure know more than me."

"Well, that's not a very high bar to set, is it?"

"Hey," Sora says with warning, though he starts laughing through it. Riku joins in harmony with something akin to a low chuckle, and they taper back to silence with expectant looks toward one another. "You're right, though—what would I know?"

"You've got plenty already."

"Yeah, I do, don't I?" He grins wide again and flexes. When he looks back at Riku he's caught on the endearing way even the slightest of fond smiles changes the shape of his eyes, but after just a moment it slides away.

"Can I help you?" he laughs slightly, expression a little bewildered, and Sora falls into an embarrassed laugh himself.

"Sorry. Feeling a little spacey."

"Only just now?" he says, dubious, and Sora sticks his tongue out in response. Riku shakes his head, then gives him an odd look, silent for almost uncomfortably long. "You should be more careful," he says, gesturing toward what Sora presumes is the scrape on his forehead, one of the many souvenirs from his last visit to the manor.

"I'll keep that in mind," Sora responds, hoping to sound at least a fraction as dry. Riku stands to look down at him.

"You've got your work cut out for you. All the more reason to leave you to it."

With no further fanfare he migrates just as quickly as he arrived.

Hoping it doesn't feel forced, Sora sends him away with, "See ya later, best friend!" and stops himself from watching him walk away, feeling the clouds roll back in once more. As missteps go, this one's strong enough that he feels uncannily like he's actually skipped a stair—he's suddenly self-conscious about whatever it was he might've done that sent Riku running. It started out an amenable enough interaction, but it's hard to deny that he got caught staring—and then he ended up under the microscope himself.

So maybe Riku was weird about it. But Riku's weird about everything—why is Sora making it a big deal?

Before he deflates into the brick, he pulls himself up and points his stride in the direction of his rooms with half a mind to study like he promised.

Sora is successful for a while, forgetting the strange fog in favor of one of Aqua's more challenging exercises, but he's tugged again into distraction and decides to call it a night.

Maybe I'm stuck, too, he thinks, and falls backward into bed with an aggrieved sigh.

He's running low on excuses when it comes to the long-term stage of keeping friends. He feels that pull of vague embarrassment again at the association, of all things suddenly half-certain that Riku won't ever bother talking to him again. Mostly, though, Sora's irritated that he has to work this hard—he never had to lift a finger to let nature take its course before. He wouldn't be this dramatic about it if Riku would just give him a straight answer once in a while.

Though to be fair, it's not like he's actively running in the opposite direction otherwise. All things considered, it's possible Sora exaggerates a little—after all, he's not the only one to extend the gesture. In fact—

He thinks with a start of the vial of elixir he stowed away, suddenly terrified he broke it or lost it at some point amidst having his marbles rearranged in the old manor; he pats his pockets in a frenzy until he feels it right where he left it. He pulls it out to inspect it for cracks and smiles idly while he holds it up in the air, letting the muted twilight creeping through the curtains pass through and cast little pinpricks of light against the walls.

Here's an idea: maybe he'll pretend he actually did break it, then solicit another one just to prove he can get it. It's as good a pretense as any to keep up the conversation.

He lobs it up in the air and catches it in a loop with steady rhythm, already imagining Riku's feigned irritation when Sora drafts him once again to the front lines as his personal medic before teasing him like he did when making him leap for his phone, then voilà: proof that he hasn't damaged their rapport. Sora laughs at the memory of pulling his eye up from his bicep to his forearm to keep eyes on the prize, and imagines himself swatting fruitlessly at immutable muscle—he rolls his eyes, but a grin tugs at his mouth. It's already tried and rote: he reaches, Riku taunts, until he cruelly pushes him back down with one arm for a stretch before showing mercy. Sora could swindle him out of a dozen elixirs, make him press each one even more securely into his hand while shaking his head and tutting disapproval while he betrays himself with that breathy little laugh, or maybe he'll give himself up when amusement tugs his lips out of line and pulls at the corner of his eyes—visibly jewel green despite the cascade of hair he unsuccessfully tries to cover them with—until he comes out of left field with something genuine and earnest and kind before reaching down to put a hand in Sora's hair again—

The elixir falls on his face as he misses the catch entirely. Oh no.

He sits bolt upright, overcome with burning mortification—Sora freezes, then curls in on himself, feeling a block in his chest and a buzz through his frame and a fire in his ears: as proudly as he’s wrangled his way into this friendship, he’s ready to ruin it. And thoroughly, in the tongues in mouths kind of way, and often. It is now thoroughly clear just what set him on this dogged pursuit in the first place. What initially attracted him was…well. Attraction. Belatedly, and not without a little shame, he realizes that perhaps the stretch of following him around and his newfound desire to place their faces very close together are not entirely unrelated. Perhaps the only reason Sora kept goading him into that smug grin was so he could kiss it off him. Ah. What an interesting discovery.

The thought arrives so quickly on the drift of an avalanche that it's already too late to turn back from where it lands. He's now in possession of some dangerous knowledge, as it can only get worse from here, because what starts as the vague concept of locking lips will inevitably fall into place: chest to chest, then hands to face, then wherever else the imagination veers to detour. But, worst of all, he'll do more than fall out of trees simply for the chance he might get him to laugh. It might serve a problem. He only just got this far.

With a groan he pulls the covers over his head entirely and shouts into his pillow, inadvertently knocking the elixir to the floor. He scrambles for it, quickly replacing it for safekeeping, then assumes the fetal position to look off in space in search of answers, mostly in a last ditch attempt not to go bother Riku again right then.

This was certainly not what Aqua meant when she asked that he stay with him. And it's definitely not what he's here for.

He takes the thought and pockets it like he does the elixir, reserving it for a better time.

Over the next few days and worlds Sora takes a dozen pictures of far off forests and moss glinting off of rock and jewels and gems caught in the sediment and hovers over each—it's never been this hard before, to just say what he means. Thinking of you, he thinks, derisive.

There's plenty to keep him occupied otherwise, at least, though it's all that same rote and routine—a comforting lull of its own by now. Ideally something would break it up, so that his mind didn't have so much time to wander.

In fact, he's long overdue for a bout of trouble on the field. This world is conspicuously dense with it—and if the humid soupiness of nearby darkness is any indication, he's right on schedule for a run-in with one of those strange characters in the coats.

He strays from his latest path and steals over to a copse of sturdy trees to keep an eye, but just misses a duo of hooded figures as they disappear into the darkness. He braces himself to follow them through this time, but a voice from behind gives him the wrong kind of jump—he'd rather keep it a head start than suffer a startle.

"Shoulda known." To his credit, he doesn't leap ten feet in the air. It's the blindfolded boy again. Sora looks back in a hurry but the portals are shut, and his opportunity with them.

"You made me lose them," he says, irritable.

"Probably for the best," the blindfolded boy starts, but the rest of the words don't fall from his mouth and he stops still. There's a sound in the background that sounds like one of the portals of darkness through which they flit back and forth. Sora and the blindfolded boy both turn to find a figure behind them.

"Well, well," the stranger says, taking his hood off to reveal a flounce of rose-colored hair and a sinister smile. "If it isn't the master's old friend." Sora pulls back for a moment in shock, thinking for an absurd moment that they're talking about him. He recovers and looks toward the blindfolded boy, who tenses and balls his hand up into a tight fist.

"Lauriam," the blindfolded boy responds with ire.

"Not affiliated, huh?" Sora hisses.

"More my choice than theirs, to be fair," he says acerbically.

"Oh, I'm no stranger to choosing the other team," says Lauriam. "I just find it odd that one would choose the losing one."

"Light isn't losing," the blindfolded boy snaps, determination in the angry cut of his frown. "And you can tell 'the master' that. But I'll make sure he knows. You can bet."

Sora looks sharply in the blindfolded boy's direction—disconcerting for him to talk of the light when he's so clearly presented himself as an advocate for the darkness. He wonders if it's a show for Sora's benefit, or if there's something else sparking this new kind of bravado.

"Charming," Lauriam continues. "Naïve. I can see why he missed you so. It would bring me great joy to bring you right to him."

With a flurry of petals he reaches out and summons a scythe and leaves no more room for response before he thrusts it forward and sends a powerful barrage of projectile magic. Sora leaps into action without thinking and closes the gap between himself and the blindfolded boy to shove him down, deflecting as well as he can with his keyblade.

Lauriam, dismissing his scythe, smiles gamely.

"How interesting. The keyblade master," he says, dripping with irony, before he takes a step backwards to open a portal with one hand. "A prudent asset for our organization indeed. I've been told that we're to be keeping tabs."

"What do you want from me?" Sora shouts.

"What do you have to give?"

"That's it," Sora scowls and runs full tilt at him. "I'm tired of all the riddles!"

"Misfire, wait!" the blindfolded boy calls out from behind him, but Sora is blown back by a gust of rose scented darkness, choking and cloying. It's as if he's fallen into glass—sharp gashes from magic petals nick his arms where he throws them up against the gale, and he stumbles into the brush.

"We'll cross paths again soon," Lauriam says. "It is fate, after all. Perhaps by then you'll have more than enough incentive to make the choice. No point in delaying the inevitable—you'll be just as complicit as the rest."

"I'll show you—" he starts, redoubling, but the moment he makes it to his feet his path is interrupted by the surge of dark fire that knocks him back once again—cast from the other direction. He looks back, enraged, before returning his sights to Lauriam, who only smirks, and whisks himself away. Sora pounds a fist into the ground and shouts in a rising cry of frustration.

"Misfire, hey, hey, stop," says the blindfolded boy, who is scrambling up from where he'd been shoved onto the ground. Sora looks up, snapped away from emotion. The blindfolded boy rubs one arm absently and pulls his hood taut. Where normally he could at least catch the infuriating smirk he wears just as consistently as he does the blindfold, now Sora's got nothing.

"Are you okay?" Sora finds himself asking.

"Oh, never better," he says, reaching out a hand to help him up from the ground—ah. There it is; the smirk returns as if none of it had happened. "So you do care."

"Yeah, right." Sora accepts, but a scowl crosses his face again as he clambers up. "Only because it means I can be the one who takes you out."

"Oh! I hope it's somewhere nice."

"No way." A frown still tugs down a corner of Sora's mouth. He wipes himself off with a misdirected aggression. "Don't think this means I trust you." He shakes out his arms and summons his keyblade. "Just the right thing to do."

"A role model! How considerate." The blindfolded boy puts a hand on his hip and shrugs.

"Shove it. What did he mean, fate?"

"Just nonsense. You're better off not knowing."

"You'd sure say so, wouldn't you? Should've known there's no reason to trust you in the first place."

"Fair enough," he says, and turns to travel in the other direction.

Sora watches him with a narrow eye for a moment before he opens his own pathway back to Twilight Town. Before he steps through, he's struck by fancy. Sora turns to call back at him.

"Hey." The blindfolded boy pauses to listen. "We should probably stop meeting like this."

"You're telling me, baby," the blindfolded boy calls back, stealing the last word from him again. Sora shakes his head, face pinched in irritation, and steps through to return to town.

Back in town Sora plants himself outside one of the little cafés and takes stock.

What he knows is this: there is a strange organization out there with some big plans. They have a lot of cryptic words and a lot of different members, and many of them are intimidatingly powerful. Fine. He can handle that. He hasn't learned any lessons yet, so why should he start now? Maybe he'd believe it if that were all. But the other things he knows are that they need to obtain hearts, and that they are willing to let people get hurt to do it.

That's not even introducing the most complicated element: Sora himself. Whatever they're after, he's got it, and while they've made their interest very clear, it's still murky what exactly Sora brings to the table. He catches the scars that magic—even augmented by lessons with Aqua—can't seem to heal entirely. Fine. Yes. He's in over his head. He's not eager to admit it. He puts his head in his hands, frustrated to the limit and all but growling.

This is and has been nothing but the exact same routine, every day. Part and parcel with the job: arrive at a world, tame the heartless, restore the peace, repeat. This shady group is a little more than he bargained for, and the thought of them wreaking havoc across the Ocean Between while he's powerless to stop it makes his stomach turn. He has to move fast, and he has to do it alone—though it seems that's exactly what the other boy did, and it didn't do him any favors; he's swanning about with a cloak and a blindfold and an attitude then singing the praises of the light in the next breath. Not exactly the most enviable situation. What Sora knows about him is dead nothing—well. Next to it. He knows he's trouble, a thorn in his side. And worst of all, infuriatingly glib.

At a loss, he decides to see if information will flow from other sources. If he keeps it brief, Yen Sid may not uncover any of his white lies. He calls in a line and reaches the chipmunks, who happily pass him off to Yen Sid for a check-in. It comes more easily than it should: nope, and A-OK, and though now that I think about it, and no, just a little strange, did anyone else mention? Surely some of the other wielders have run into something similar.

Sora receives nothing but a cleverly disguised dressing down for his trouble.

"We are aware," Yen Sid says gravely, lips pursed. "You are not the first to bring reports of strange magics about the realm. It would serve you well to take caution. These forces are dangerous, and we have already placed our masters on alert with high regard for strategy." He regards him with a prescient expression, and even across the miles Sora feels that same prickling discomfort of a wizard's piercing gaze when Yen Sid continues so pointedly that he feels a phantom poke from the flint in it. "Do not be rash. Your work is no less important—do not degrade it in favor of pursuing matters beyond your ability."

"Oh, no, sir, of course not," he lies through his teeth. If Yen Sid knew any better—and after this long, he did—he was already well aware that such trivial things as orders never stopped Sora before, so he decides to make it a little easier on the both of them. Forgiveness, and not permission.

He also resolves not to contact Yen Sid anymore.

Chafed, he wonders just what gave the impression that he couldn't handle things on his own. He's perfectly capable.

Pensive but impatient he turns it over, staring into space trying to stitch the pieces together. He's only torn away by a voice from above.

"Have you ever sat still this long in your life?" Sora looks up and grins; the sight of Riku standing over him with an eyebrow raised and just the tiniest quirk of a smile pulls half the tension from his body, flooded with relief and pleased to see him. Really pleased to see him—he tries to stifle what he's sure is an obvious blush as he smiles inordinately wide, quickly checking himself for his overreaction in case it sends Riku away again. He seems unfazed. "I was getting ready to call the fire department. I wasn't sure what would happen if your brain overheated."

As if to punctuate his point, Riku places a glass of water down in front of him to sit side by side with its counterpart, emptied and long since forgotten, then places his own on the table as well. The gesture puts something buoyant in Sora's chest, something flavored a little like anticipation, and it turns to a gratitude that leaves him a little misty when he tosses over a small packet of sweets before taking a seat himself.

"Where've you been?" he asks, and Riku only shrugs.

"Around. As a matter of fact, I was gonna tell you—" Riku interrupts himself, shaking his head, and changes tactics. "Learn anything new lately?"

"'Don't talk to strangers,'" Sora quips. Riku responds without missing a beat.

"What about best friends?"

Sora only laughs and shakes his head. Called out. Well. Perhaps he skipped a few steps at the beginning there, but it looks like he's arrived precisely where he was headed. He pushes down another smile that's dangerously close to dopey before looking up at him again, then immediately squints with concern—he's a little scraped up, and there's the shadow of a nasty gash cut across his cheek.

"Hey." Sora makes to reach for his face but thinks better of it, then shoots his hand back down, slamming it on the leg of his chair by accident. He winces, and holds the expression for a second before shaking his hand out and pointing to the left of Riku's reluctant smile—half grimace, half grin, all at his expense. "Wait, don't tell me. You were too busy reading to watch the road."

"You wouldn't even believe me. Pulled a page out of your book. Slid right down the stairs."

Sora laughs, and feels his face heat once again when he realizes that it's just a little too loud.

"Yeah. You're right. I wouldn't believe you at all. Doesn't fit with your image."

"And what might that be?" Riku asks, not any less dry for the sip of water he takes to punctuate it.

"I don't know, maybe the thing where you're kind of perfect?"

He inadvertently inhales a not insignificant amount of water when he makes a noise of surprise, and splutters for just one moment before a graceful recovery. Sora processes it all with dawning horror as he realizes what he's said.

"Low standards, I see," Riku coughs. "Haven't we been over this?"

"Um." Sora crosses his arms. Riku gives him a look somewhere between resignation and disbelief. His stomach flips for another reason.

He's suddenly overcome with the need to make sure that the pattern doesn't continue—this is always the part where he has to watch Riku take his leave, and the urge to break the cycle is strong. Moreover, the probability that he'll continue to spew more distracted nonsense increases exponentially by the second, and he's wont to keep the recent discovery that he's terribly curious about some of the other magic he can learn from him a little closer to his chest. He wants to take back the upper hand, as if he ever had it. He wants to climb him like the tree that dumped him into destiny, but that urge is thankfully overpowered by the desire to be the first to flee the scene.

"I'm late meeting with Aqua, actually," Sora says, standing abruptly. "Maybe I'll find something out from her."

He shrugs.

"Doubt it."

"Don't bet on that. I can be persuasive. She did say that I'm charming."

"That's one word for it."

"Anyway. You were saying something earlier?" Sora reaches for his glass, but Riku steals it and waves him away.

"Never mind, doesn't matter now. Thought you were late?" He raises an eyebrow. Hit with another wave of mortification, Sora turns on his heel and marches in the other direction without another word. Take that, he thinks, without a single ounce of conviction.

He's barely halfway across the square before Sora realizes that his nausea is cured—at least, it was. He only notices because it comes back in full force upon Riku's departure.

There is no meeting with Aqua, plausible though it were—she's politely asked him to keep things on hold for a few days. Something tells Sora it has something to do with black coats and dark magic.

Strangely enough he hasn't seen a whiff of them since the encounter with Lauriam. He's not willing to call it good news.

All things considered, he's got little to do, and thinks on any way he can dredge up more clues. Well. It's been a while since he's dropped by the old mansion, and he is willing to bet that the blindfolded boy's done his own share of rummaging, possibly leaving behind a trail of his own.

Right before he exits the clearing is a familiar sight.

"Hey, you!" he shouts at the black cloaked figure with his back turned toward him. "What kind of trouble are you getting in this time?"

"'Scuse me?" the figure says, with vitriol, and that's not right at all. He turns, and Sora steps back. "Let's not get too familiar now, kid," he continues, then darts the other direction. Sora thinks about following, but waits for just a moment—sure enough, the telltale sound of darkness says it's already too late. He narrows his eyes but returns to the objective before the trail can grow cold. Straight to the basement it is.

He doesn't expect much different, but as he's drawn deeper into the basement lab he sees a glow coming from the computer room. He enters to find everything dark but for the aggressive glow from the massive screen in the center. A blinking cursor rests ominously at the end of a series of commands.

TRANSFER INITIATED_

He squints at it for a long time, wondering what's being transferred, where it's going to or coming from, and how soon he's going to have to worry about it.

The screen starts to dim, the entire system threatening to tumble into sleep.

Sora is not opposed to puzzles, but he prefers to have all the pieces there first. Insufficient data—at this point, he'd much rather have the darkness.

He climbs out from the basement and returns to the foyer, but can't seem to move on. He's not sure he wants to. Even the must and dust became familiar at some point, and for a moment he just sits on the stairs, absorbing the peaceful quiet he's surprised to realize he's grown fond of—and after a moment and then some, he sidles on home to continue the drudge anew.

It goes topsy turvy quickly: one second he's following direction and routine on a world with snow covered mountains, the next he runs into trouble he isn't looking for. If the last few run-ins are any indication, this organization has only been toying with him. If just one gives him that much difficulty, the two he spies down the summit will spell the end. Maybe worse. He of the affinity for roses—Lauriam—chats amiably with another cloaked figure Sora hasn't had the pleasure of meeting yet.

Panic washes over him and he freezes in the moment, barely able to assess the situation—he suppresses a yelp when he finds himself forcibly tugged by the hood and pulled into a tiny alcove. It's dark. It's cramped. He's nose to nose with the blindfolded boy, and instead of relief he feels the kick of another surge of adrenaline. He swallows.

"Fancy seeing you here," Sora starts, but he shushes him and throws one gloved hand over his mouth as if to clarify the statement.

"We need to stop meeting like this, I know." Sora can hear the eye roll in his voice, covered eyes no deterrent for sarcasm. "Not as much as you need to keep your mouth shut—they'll hear you."

"And what? Isn't that the goal? I mean—aren't you trying to get rid of them? This seems like a weird way to get your revenge."

"It can wait," he says nonchalantly, crowding him against the stone at the sound of something rustling outside. "Something more pressing came up."

"And what could that be?" Sora says, relieved that it's dark enough that there's a chance he still might not notice how red his face is even without the blindfold.

"Rescue mission. The handsome lead was walking right into a fate worse than death."

"You mean m—" he starts, flustered, then rallies. "So you think I can't take care of myself?"

"Oh, you're plenty competent. Trust me, I'm not concerned about you holding your own. But I'd say two is much better than one, wouldn't you? So keep quiet unless you want to liven things up a lot faster. Gotta say, though, it's not the most appealing idea."

Oddly, this causes him more embarrassment than being the 'handsome lead.' Without a retort, he simply scowls instead—he's getting too used to the expression, and if he spends any more time with Blindfold over here, it might just stick. How's that for handsome?

But Sora will give him one thing: he's not eager to add any more excitement to his day if it means getting into it with two of these guys. He's got a feeling that they're not all going to be as much of a pushover as Elrena's pal had been, and he's far from prepared to chance it.

And so there they remain, pressed together for an eternity or so. Sora can feel the rise and fall of the blindfolded boy's chest as he breathes, and hopes his is just as steady. The anxious energy is reaching a crescendo and worry claws at him. He tries not to move too quickly or to breathe too hard or to make any noise at all because they are so horribly close together.

Interminable seconds pass.

"Is it clear?" Sora whispers. If his heartbeat hasn't given them up by now, chances are it's probably safe.

"Probably," the blindfolded boy says with that same smirk. "But I'm in no hurry. Are you, Misfire?"

He doesn't manage real words, and what he ends up producing is probably more a second cousin to "huh?" but without any of the nuance. Sora shakes his head and tries to pull himself from against the wall, but he's stalled by the leg shoved between his. The blindfolded boy laughs into his ear, now even closer. A sound of surprise steals out of him, bright and delighted.

"Is that something in your pocket, or are you just happy—" he starts, and Sora slaps his hand away, ears burning—the dumb elixir. He never took it out of his jacket.

"Will you cut it out?" he snipes. "Don't you still wanna find out what those guys are up to, at least? At this rate, we've already lost them."

"I didn't lose anything. Not too torn up about it. Anyway," he says with emphasis, leaning with just enough pressure to match. "…Who says I'm not exactly where I want to be?"

Their foreheads are all but pressed together. Sora struggles to look at him, refusing to let down his guard—he tries to get as much detail as he can, though it's not much… Stupid blindfold. He instead latches on to the cut of his jaw, and how the haughty manner with which he turns up his nose leaves his neck fully exposed. He wishes self-defense were the first thing that it brought to mind, but being pinned down and pressed against so much muscle leaves him with other associations.

Prolonged proximity is telling Sora that perhaps this has transcended jokes. Perhaps it never was one. All he knows is that underneath any discomfort, he's coasting along on the intoxicating feeling of being wanted and of possibly wanting right back. It would be terribly easy to breach the water on whatever this is, to break the surface tension, to let it ripple out and touch the edges of the next stage.

The blindfolded boy leans in to close the distance. Sora closes his eyes. He leans in to save him some time but gasps, ricochets back as if electric shocked, almost braining himself on the barrier behind.

"That's gotta smart," Blindfold says through an exaggerated grimace.

"I can't, I'm…"

He laughs, sour.

"You're what. Taken?"

Well. Not in so many words—while he is quite taken with a certain set of muscles, he's not sure that's the most helpful thing to mention here. At least, that on its own isn't enough leeway for him to shimmy his way out of this one, as convenient as that would be as an excuse to cut this conversation short. Though it might just be an idea, now that he thinks about it.

"So what if I am?" he asks defiantly. For once, the blindfolded boy doesn't seem to have a witty comeback hidden away in those deep pockets of his coat. Forget handsome. How's that for competent?

"Ah. So someone else," he says after a moment. Then, he laughs, then slides back into a sneer like he just knows he's about to call Sora's bluff. "Disappointing. I hope you're very happy together, Misfire. Glad someone out there was worth you giving them a shot. Though of course I'm holding out on the chance you'll flub that one, too."

"You'd like that, huh. Too bad. I wouldn't hold your breath."

"No worries. I'm curious about who's taken your breath away, but I'm not asking for much. Unless you're just not bold enough."

"It's too risky," Sora admits in a breath, feeling like a complete idiot for it. He doesn't have much to stand on but honesty. "He's. I. I can't."

"Oh?" the blindfolded boy responds, delighted. "Can't, or won't?"

"None of your business!" he shouts before realizing that he's speaking of this near-indiscretion, not Sora's internal conflict about asking his only friend if he'd like to take up tonsil hockey.

"What's the big deal? The moment is here, and now, not with some nobody—"

"He's not a nobody!" Sora nearly shouts, catching himself and pitching down to an aggravated hush. "He's…smart, and funny, and…really nice, actually," he trails off, distracted, before feeling the burn of mortification all over again. "He's my only— …He's a good friend. In fact, he's good at everything. So he definitely wouldn't get caught up in any of your shady stuff."

The blindfolded boy laughs as if startled, genuine; long and loud. It's not at all mocking, but it sure does make Sora mad.

"Something funny about it?" he snaps.

"You really think that?" he says with glee. "Sounds too good to be true. A little too perfect."

"Yeah. But you wouldn't know anything about that."

"You're right. Don't have a clue. Sounds like just fairytales to me." He grins wide, conspiratorially. "Here's one for you."

It's over before Sora can even see it coming—he grabs him by the jacket with both hands and pulls him flush to lay one on him, one desperate kiss that knocks him up against the wall.

"Seize the day, Misfire," he breathes as he lets go, and then he disappears.

Sora knows that Blindfold will be long gone by the time he emerges, scrambling out of the alcove, but he looks anyway. He's hit his head too hard, he knows it, because he's so dizzy he can hardly stand up straight.

Fortunately, though, the coast is actually clear. He steadies himself, then throws himself back into the fray.

Okay. So he's beyond fraternizing with the enemy at this point. He'll just have to stay on his toes from here on out—shouldn't be too difficult. With any luck, Blindfold over there will irritate him to death before Sora can be inveigled into any more poor decision making.

Luckily (if he looks on the bright side of things, that is), soon enough he's kept so busy that he all but forgets about him. Between taming flurries of heartless and moving to the next tier of magic with Aqua, he definitely doesn't have time enough to spare him a thought. Or anyone else, for that matter, which is certainly the only reason he hasn't sought out Riku in days. And it's definitely a shame, because somebody's got to be responsible for annoying him, and Sora would happily bear that burden if he could stand to see his stupid face…but he doesn't have time to deal with the implications of that, either.

In the meantime he tries to make himself entirely nondescript while running errands in town. No sooner than he steps out of a shop, frazzled and empty-handed, does he see a warning flash of silver, and before he can react they've already met eyes. Sora is startled to see Riku right at the outset break into the warmest grin he's yet to see from him before he catches himself and falls into a smirk. If Sora were truly smart, he'd let that be his excuse to roll his eyes and head the other direction—but while he's plenty clever about this and that or here and there, intelligence is not his most notable quality. He's come to accept it.

Riku stands by the chair he's pulled out from under a table in their customary spot—and since when did they have a spot?—and nods to indicate the open space across from him. Something inside of him forcibly kicks his heart off its ledge so it falls to his stomach. Complicated, awful, and achingly sweet; if only it were simple. His fight-or-flight response shatters and he freezes for a moment.

What are you so worried about? he thinks, and only comes up with confusion, still flavored with a tinge of panic. In his head anything that happens in the field is entirely distinct from the trappings of routine he carved out for himself here, and he realizes he's repelled by the concept of blending those experiences with the steadiness of his relationships here, however few. The easiest thing to do is to continue to treat them as separate entities.

It's not quite good enough a reason not to join him, though, so in the time it takes to cross the square Sora finds it within himself to shake the strange jitters and clear his mind of the image of cloak and cloth and the insufferable attitude he's starting to associate with it.

Any relief he feels is swiftly negated when Riku closes his eyes and shakes his head and Sora is able to watch the light catch his eyelashes as soon as he's close enough to see them. The conflagration of it all is quite possibly the worst thing that's ever happened to him in his lifetime, and he knows he should sort himself out before he mixes anything else up in his head—and then he takes the seat across from him anyway.

"So he lives," Riku says simply in greeting.

"Were you worried?" Sora responds without energy.

"Won't confirm or deny. Though I assumed something finally did you in when you dropped off the face of the planet for a few days."

Sora, conscious not to send off all sorts of warning signals and alarm bells, looks straight to the ground instead of his eye-line, but he does manage a laugh.

"Nah. I already told you: you're not getting rid of me that easy."

"It was pretty quiet." Riku goes silent himself for a moment, and that alone composes Sora enough to meet his gaze when he begins again in that same low tone. "Though I've gotta admit…I did kinda miss all of your messes."

"Yeah?" Sora says, lulled into a lopsided smile.

"Only some."

"That's okay. It's more than enough for me."

Riku smiles, and looks to the side with a laugh, tossed toward the brick from over his hunched shoulders.

"I don't mind hearing about your heroics every once in a while. Keeps things in perspective." He uncrosses his arms and turns, and reaches out to clap a hand right where his shoulder meets his neck. "So you can keep on playing hero, hero. I don't need to know a thing…but you can tell me all about it. If you want."

"Of course I want."

He freezes, hopefully subtle enough that he can still quiet the klaxons that sound at full blast again.

"I mean. Maybe not right now." He struggles. "It's just. It's all kinda…y'know. Boring."

"Classified—don't say another word, I've got it. My lips are sealed."

Sora looks up to check if this statement is true but immediately regrets it, left staring for a second to consider the curve of his smile instead. Riku drops his hand.

He's halfway between saying something stupid or doing something stupider when he's thankfully interrupted by sound of a rumble from the sky. Sora looks up in genuine surprise, instantly ramrod straight again, eyes darting every direction as if to search for the source.

"Thunder?"

"Sounds like it," Riku answers, amused. Sora chafes a little.

"No, I mean, of course that's what it is, I just… I really thought it didn't rain here."

"Not often, no. Why, is this good news somehow?"

"Great news," he says, then relaxes a little with a sigh. If scorchers on the island were a distant memory, then rainstorms had long since moved abroad. "Funny. It's the kinda thing you never thought you'd miss, but it reminds me of home. Pretty much every afternoon the sky opens up and it pours for an hour, then before you realize it's like nothing's happened."

"Like clockwork, huh."

"Yeah. I always wondered if other places were like that too, or if it was just the Destiny Islands."

Sora pulls himself from reminiscences after a moment passes in silence to find Riku looking at him, inscrutable.

"Wait," he finally says, serious. "Wait a second. One more time?"

"The place where I grew up," Sora repeats slowly, puzzled at his reaction: it's not like Riku to put down the upper hand. He's only got a second more of the tables being turned his way, and while he's reluctant to spin them back, it seems curiosity weighs out. "My islands. The Destiny Islands. Why?"

"Oh," he says, and while subtle, the shock on his face may as well have been seismic. "It's just…a while ago you asked me where I'm from. Turns out you had the answer all along."

"What?"

Sora slaps his hand on the table and leans inward toward him without even realizing, something clawing up his chest he doesn't dare to parse. The thought that they'd somehow been this close the whole time… It really is almost like… Well. Destiny. He feels the tips of his ears go red, and looks down to the ground to hide his grimace—gee. That one was painful. The excitement brings back something he long since grew out of: he takes a moment to remind himself that he can't prove that fate is anything but just a word.

Riku has the good sense to look slightly chagrined, a hand in his hair to divert attention.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sora accuses, crossing his arms at the betrayal.

"You never said island! How was I gonna know? I mean, it makes sense—"

Riku stops abruptly.

"What makes sense?" Sora asks cautiously.

"I don't know," Riku recovers, and then, with dripping insincerity, "Your…sunny disposition, I guess."

"Clearly it doesn't apply to everyone," Sora grouses in return.

"I think it's safe to say I'm not 'everyone' by now, so don't worry about tarnishing your reputation. Don't remember any of it anyway."

"That's too bad," Sora says, dropping into a quiet. "I'd go back if I could…but if I hadn't left in the first place, there wouldn't be anything to come back to. It was never really the same after the heartless came, but at least it was safe. I've just gotta make sure everywhere else stays safe, too."

"So you only started wielding after that? How long ago was it?"

Sora squints and counts on his hands.

"'Bout seven years or so, I guess." After a beat he stops to look up at his quizzical expression. "Why?"

"No, it's nothing, don't worry about it."

"C'mon, no, why?"

"It's just…a funny coincidence. I left home—the other one—around the same time, too."

"Weird to think we might have just missed each other."

Another soft rumble of thunder sends a reminder. Sora realizes how hopelessly sappy he sounds, but he barely opens his mouth to take it back before Riku responds.

"Yeah. It is. Though…I think I missed out on a lot of things on the way. Turns out the world I had was already much broader than I thought."

"Would you… Do you think you would go back?"

"Home?"

"To the islands. I mean, you've gotta come see it again, right? …Do you want to see it again?"

"Dunno. Maybe. Under the right circumstances. A proper re-introduction. A good…"

"Guide?"

"Reason."

Sora finds his nose crinkle involuntarily, and as he looks to the side he sees that Riku has already averted his gaze.

"Dunno. I guess…I don't know if anyone else would think it's as special as I do. There's not much to tell."

"From the way I heard Aqua talk, it sounded mysterious."

"Mysterious?"

"Novel, maybe. She's even more of an idealist than she lets on. At least she used to be. She heard something from the island could create an 'unbreakable connection' between people who shared it. She loved to talk about it. Some fruit shaped like a star."

"Oh," Sora says with contempt, face growing crinklier. "You mean the paopu." Riku's face pulls into something strange before he lands on barely restrained mockery.

"Don't put a lot of stock in romance, huh."

"Never tried it, if that's what you're asking. I never really thought about it all that much. It always sounded kinda silly to me."

"Think it's a gimmick?"

"I don't know. What's just sharing something gonna do? Maybe it's real, but for all I know, it's nothing more than…than something like those cheesy lattes they have at the bistro café, the ones you're supposed to split with someone. Guess it just never interested me."

Riku puts his hands up in mock defense.

"Whoa. Didn't know you felt so strongly about it. Sorry I asked."

Sora rolls his eyes and huffs an exaggerated breath through his lips.

"Why did you ask?"

In the span of time it takes Riku to shrug, the sky begins to broil and start shedding one tear drop at a time.

"I remember it felt like a big deal," he says, tracing his finger at something on the table with an idle scratching motion. "They always treated it like one. I grew up with this story they told a lot—apparently my master came back from the islands one day with two things: a paopu fruit, and me. Sometimes they joked that the only reason he went in the first place was to find one to bring to Aqua, but I was a pleasant bonus." He moves his finger toward a drop of rain racing down to meet it. "I think he waited to give it to her for days."

"She mentioned her husband."

"Yeah. I think that happened after I left. I'm glad now, but I always used to be annoyed about it," he says ruefully. "Them, and their stupid fruit. Though in retrospect I think it rubbed me the wrong way because I didn't understand. It doesn't—it didn't feel like…like something I could have."

Sora squints at him, at a loss; he tries to parse him and all his little contradictions based on this new information—which he realizes in spite of it all is still very little. He opens his mouth to respond, to clarify the statement somehow, but Riku looks up with a dismissive grin and waves it away.

The rain starts to come more steadily, just enough to be a nuisance.

"Probably time to go."

"Another brilliant observation."

Sora rolls his eyes again—at this point he's going to do permanent damage. Apparently it's a cost he's willing to bargain, though he thinks with a little pang that it might defeat the purpose—toughing it out might not mean much if he's too crosseyed to reap the benefits of some of Riku's more redeeming qualities. "You're lucky you're good looking" nearly falls out of his mouth, but he stops it in its tracks. In spite of it all, he's still clamoring to buy himself even a few more seconds—he hops up from his seat the moment Riku moves to leave.

"Which way are you headed?"

He points vaguely in the direction of the quickest pathway out of the square.

"Great. Me too. You can lead the way."

Not a second too soon do they begin their escape, as the wavering rain finally makes the decision to pour buckets.

They almost clear the path toward their respective destinations when the stormfall grows aggressive, hurtling near violent peals of sheeted rain, and they rush to huddle under an awning to wait it out in silence—they don't have enough energy combined to shout over the gale.

Thankfully it's not long lived, and when it resumes a crawl they peek out to make absolute certain that the coast is clear. Satisfied, Riku peels himself from the wall.

"Glad at least one of us is enjoying it," he says drolly to Sora's grin. "Hope you enjoyed a blast from the past. Guess it's an acquired taste."

"Never too late to get it."

"Maybe not."

Sora latches desperately to the note of regret in his voice as he prepares like always to say his curt goodbyes.

"I'm sure you've got work to do for Aqua, so—"

He's going to turn around and leave again before he even finishes the thought, Sora knows it in his gut. He doesn't want to see it. A sudden urgency bursts forth and propels him to snatch him by the wrist.

"No!" he says, closing his eyes with a grimace just as he sees him blink in surprise. "I mean. It's okay. You don't have to go. I don't mind."

"You don't," he says slowly, like he gave up halfway through asking the question. But he stays, still caught under his arm—there's tacit permission in his expression. He hopes he's right about it.

"No, I…"

It takes him a moment to realize that he never finished the statement. He's still holding fast to his wrist.

Seize the day, Misfire, he thinks, heart in his throat. It's time to steal it right back.

He pushes himself up on tiptoe and kisses him, eyes shut tight as he goes in for the question. It's so rushed and uncoordinated he doesn't feel a thing but terror, and where he felt urgency before there is hesitancy now. He doesn't open his eyes, but starts to cut his losses and pull away—then the answer finally comes, an unequivocal yes, as Riku leans in to reciprocate. Sora drops his wrist and reaches up to pull him closer, stumbling, but Riku puts a hand at his elbow to brace him as he continues to do his best to level the playing field of their heights.

They meet once more, and again, and again, a soft kiss not so much for each missed opportunity but for the promise of plenty more down the line. He finally steps down, eyes darting to the ground, embarrassingly bashful. He laughs, though it comes out more of a nervous chuckle.

"Guess I can finally get out of your hair," he says, voice shaking a little around it.

"Perfect. Finally. I'd love that. So I'll see you tomorrow?"

He doesn't give him a chance to answer, instead arcing down for one more kiss where he puts his face between his hands. Sora closes his eyes and smiles around it. The wall of sound signifying rainfall starts to dissipate.

"And probably the day after that too, if I'm being honest," Sora says, eyes half-lidded as he keeps his gaze held at his mouth. On impulse he reaches up to cup a hand under his chin, and pulls at his bottom lip with his thumb. "Maybe in the morning," he adds softly, before he's even aware he's done it—he starts, and looks up at him, chagrined.

"Pretty sure I still won't get a choice," Riku responds, in a voice somehow lower than normal with a smile even more subtle—both leave plenty implied. "But I guess I'll find out later, best friend."

It's not bad as far as second kisses go, Sora thinks idly to himself when they go their separate ways. But no—the other one doesn't count. It's struck from the record. As far as he's concerned, there's only been one.

Aqua meets him at the lower level when he arrives the next evening, but rather than moving to her study, she gently steers him in the other direction and leads him along as she opens a path to somewhere new.

"I think it's time we gave you a little more space," she says. "At least for today."

It's not Twilight Town—for all he knows, it's not any town; Aqua remains mum on the details. She faces him in a wide clearing and gently explains what she's asking of him as he looks around at the forest surrounding—feels the way it all remains untouched except for the sunlight teasing the trees and the quiet of the breeze.

He understands it's not just a demonstration. It's a pre-examination: she's going to put him to a test of mettle. Maybe if he were sparring anyone else, he'd feel more intimidated. But as powerful as he knows Aqua to be, he trusts her experience.

"C'mon," he gasps from the ground not long afterward. "Quit goin' easy on me."

She stands over him, smiling fondly.

"Looks like I win," she says, extending a hand. "But it was definitely a challenge."

He gives her a dubious look.

"I'm not just saying that. You've come a long way."

"Thanks."

He's not sure what he expects of her, but it's not for her to perch herself seated on a large stone at the edge of the clearing. She looks at him with quiet invitation. He joins her, settling in to squint up at the sunlight again while she crosses her legs and waits a moment before she finally speaks.

"We haven't needed to use these grounds much recently," she says. "It's good news. It used to be that wielders would train here to prepare as quickly as possible for when something went wrong, but thankfully we haven't had to worry about it much."

"Is that what I'm doing here?"

"Yes. No. It certainly doesn't hurt. I mean it—I can tell you've been working hard. But I can also tell that you're missing something. Just one more small piece."

He furrows his brow at her.

"How can I do better?"

"Think of it this way. You've got just enough to fend for yourself with no problem—you can protect yourself, and you can get your job done. But I know you won't be satisfied with that. You'll want to be able to reach far and wide, and do as much as you can for others, too. Hold that feeling there—it's the key to anything you need, and you'll know it when you see it. You'll have a powerful tool at your disposal. But magic like that requires a connection to something. Compassion that will tether your heart to you and keep you strong. Losing that will weaken it, and make you vulnerable. But knowing what you stand for…that's the first step to keep yourself grounded. When you've found that, you can do anything you want—no limits, and no borders. It comes with experience."

"What happens if I can't find it? Don't I need it?"

"No one does," she says matter-of-factly. He tries to stifle his look of irritation—then why mention it?—and slowly starts counting to ten before blurting out something disrespectful. She spares him just before he reaches the end, finally looking at him with something like mischief in her expression. "But you wouldn't be here with me if I didn't think you had the capacity for so much more."

He only looks at her, unable to respond. That same touch of embarrassment he always feels when Aqua lays down praise he hasn't earned yet keeps him from thanking her. She finally smiles, a full one that paves the moment over before she continues.

"Don't worry. Some people take a very long time to get there."

"So you're saying it's gonna take me a while."

"No," she says, turning her head so her hair falls down over her brow. "But I do think that you're not giving yourself enough credit. You have a very powerful ability, Sora. One that I think might make all the difference. You put your whole heart into everything you do. You'll make connections everywhere you go."

He wonders if she's maybe thinking about a different Sora, one who rolls up his sleeves with glee when it comes time to take notes, or spends his evenings palling around with some of those other wielders who float through Twilight Town. Or maybe she's confused him with the other person he seems to remind her so much of.

"But you don't believe me yet, do you?" she says as if reading his mind—no; she looks at him with a resigned fondness that spells out that she's suspected this all along: just another classic Sora maneuver. "And that's just the thing. When you understand just how much it works both ways, when you find your strengths…I really think there's no telling what you'll be able to do."

He looks down, biting his lip, staring unblinkingly forward as he reaches unconsciously to put his hand in his hair. The silence stretches peacefully as he thinks of anything he could possibly say in response. A generous assessment…but knowing Aqua, a genuine one.

"I'm afraid I'm not being as helpful as I would like," she finally says, pushing away from the gravity of the atmosphere while still respectful of the earth that tethers her: the same sureness she expects for him—from him, and definitely sooner than later. "If you want it, you'll find it. But only when you're ready. You'll know. And when you do, I won't stand a chance out here." She closes her eyes, laughing fondly.

"Aqua," Sora says quietly. "There's something happening, isn't there. Something bad."

The smile fades from her face, and Sora is struck with the feeling that her reason for bringing him here today is a little more layered than she's let on.

"There almost always is. But you're right. There is a darkness that is slowly rising throughout all the worlds. Like nothing we've seen for a very long time. And if it has anything to do with the same person as before…" She shakes her head. "We need to be on our guard. But we vanquished it before, even when it was growing right underneath us for so long before that. But now we know what a heart looks like when tainted by greed and misguidance, and we won't be caught by that darkness unawares. It's been kept well in check since then, so as long as we're cautious, we always have a chance to win. And Master Yen Sid is confident that we're in good hands."

"You mean between all the wielders, right?" Sora says as his hand once again rises to his hair.

"Absolutely. But you should also know that I'm very glad you're here." She looks ahead, blinking slowly at nothing in particular. "We need all the help we can get. But between you and the rest of my family, I'm very sure it will come."

"What keeps you strong," he states, reminding himself more than her that he knows what it is.

A powerful warmth takes over her face, and she smiles confidently, holding her hand close to her heart. "Without a doubt. They always remind me that it's possible to stay fearless. And they're there to support me when I'm not. It wasn't easy, but we managed to overcome the darkness that stemmed from our own hearts." Her smile turns bittersweet as she pauses to breathe out a sigh. "And I learned a lot about forgiveness. But my husband had to learn more than most about letting the past die, and it makes him just as unafraid to fight as he is to forgive. When you get a chance to meet him, I have a feeling you'll appreciate that, too."

"Oh," Sora says, blinking quickly for a moment as he sits up more alertly. "Does that mean you'll be seeing him again soon?"

"Very," she says fondly. Sora brightens in response.

"That's great!"

"We'll see about that," she replies, a little of that mischief from earlier returning as she looks back to him. He flushes—it seems he spoke too soon. She laughs, curling her knees up to her chest to hold herself close as she looks out to the sunset. Sora follows suit, falling quiet as he sits alongside her, where they sit comfortably for a while more.

It's a respite from the tension and the questions, and it feels like they spend a long time quietly regaining energy—present, but not pressing. But when Aqua eventually breaks the trance to bring them outside her study once more, almost no time has elapsed at all. Sora looks around for a moment in confusion before Aqua sends him on his way with a sly smile and a soft press to his shoulders.

Thankfully the passing years have stretched his fondest nightmares fewer and further between—one positive of his assignment is that the drudge of routine steadies his dreams enough that he thinks he might have finally seen the back of them. But that was naïve—once again he returns to the night the islands fell, once again powerless to stop it.

He never remembers what brought him out there that night, just that he'd gone there in a hurry, like he had forgotten something important and was about to be left behind. Whatever the reason, it had been enough to get him to leave home without warning and battle an oncoming storm to row across the inlet. It's been so long since he last played this out that he's startled at a deep voice that comes somehow from everywhere at once and from only his own head, so familiar that he must have heard it dozens of times before, strange as it sounds now: it tells him that this world has been connected. To what?

The keyblade is too heavy in his hands, unbalanced—he'd never cared to find out the difference between steel and wood, and he repels it the same way it seems to repel him, paying no regard to his center of gravity as he tries and tries and tries to swing, even as the desperation rises when the creatures begin closing in. Even though he knows very well how it ended, determination forcing the courage to hold tight to his lifeline until it finally bent to his will and guided his way through the dark masses until there was nothing left, he never relives it; at this point the dream always turns muddy, and either ends, or leaves him with nothing but the impression of street lights and neon signs as he runs until he wakes.

In spite of it, this time he still awakens slowly, processing the panic that rises, the itch to abandon everything just to go make sure his home is still in one piece. He hopes he's not out of practice when it comes to dispelling the creeping thoughts—inevitably, they'll plague him for at least the rest of the day. He's more shaken than he can remember being in a long time, though, certain that the same old horrors were joined by something new. This time as he pushed his way up toward the pier, arm thrown up to block the wind from a face streamed with tears, he swears he looked up to see a figure stand guard at the end of it, pale hair caught in the gale, looking out to the sea for escape as if just waiting for the right opportunity.

The sun stretches down evenly on the square without any threat of the clouds from the other day on this slow morning—a rare day off. As much as Sora prefers to stay busy, it seems necessary, though it feels a little like playing hooky. Perhaps it would be better to stay out in the field. With so many different thoughts pulling him in so many different directions, it might be nice to sort them to the soundtrack of heartless destruction.

With that not an option, he instead fidgets with the handle on his steaming teacup, pushing it back and hooking it forward with his forefinger in steady rhythm. He stares at it, mesmerized, imagining a world where he had chosen to leave home—chosen this pathway for himself from the beginning. It would have been nice to have someone like Aqua much earlier on, though he wonders if he would have appreciated her tutelage as much. It was never really a priority for him before. Regardless, he's glad for it now, well aware that it might not have come to pass for a while yet if Riku didn't set it into motion during one of the more temperate phases between his hots and colds. Sora's not sure yet which one this is, but given that Riku extended the invitation to meet this time, he hopes he might be getting warmer.

"I have to be honest with you," Riku says, also only having eyes for Sora's cup. "I may be using you as moral support."

Sora looks up, profoundly delighted at the admission. Ulterior motives! The intrigue. He resists the urge to shout accusations, knowing the conversation will end abruptly. In time, maybe. The concerted effort not to start shooting out questions like an automatic tennis ball machine must show on his face; he bites his lip. Worried? About what? Why?

He pushed his luck on the last round, and though it bore fruit, it may have been at a cost. While he's now the proud owner of some sensitive info—concerning, in this case, an uncanny coincidence, with the bonus of experiencing being figuratively swept off one's feet—Riku makes no intimation toward a repeat performance. Or even an acknowledgement of the first. So be it: a combination of patience and pigheadedness got him this far the first time. He doesn't need to involve luck at all.

Instead he chooses to put on his very best listening face—wide eyed, attentive. Little pouty. Hopefully endearing. Perhaps then he'd be rewarded with more information.

Riku finally looks up to see this expression, and it seems to break his reverie. Sora's hard work does pay off—it earns him another small smile.

"I'm…expecting a visitor." Riku looks right at him, bemused or amused, he can't quite tell.

"Oh." Sora blinks at him. "Is this…a good thing?"

He shrugs.

"Would've been. Just wish it were a happier reunion. That's family for you, I guess."

"Like Aqua."

"Yeah. Like Aqua."

"So who?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing. Probably just a courtesy call, if he even shows," he says with an air of disappointment.

"That didn't answer the question."

"It doesn't matter. Forget I said anything."

"Hey," he says, with a little more force than he intends—his ears grow hot, signaling his anger before he's even aware of it. "Listen. Did you actually want me here, or not? Because it's one thing if you don't trust me, but c'mon—don't bother taking me along for the ride if you're just gonna turn around halfway there. Tell me. Or don't, whatever. But don't ask for my help if you're not prepared to take it."

Riku hangs his head, arms crossed defensively. Sora realizes suddenly that he's embarrassed—it's not quite as much him being an information-withholding jerk as it is him unable to spit it out. Or the latter caused the former. Either way, Sora knows what it looks like to start getting prickly when poked. Doesn't mean he's gonna cut him any slack, though.

"Didn't say I needed help," Riku mumbles, but loosens all the same. "I guess I'm just…nervous." The way his face pales looks like the admission cost him about the same amount of energy that running ten miles would. Okay. He could probably do that fine—at least twice that. Sora suddenly has a guess—he's confident what the emergency is by the time he opens his mouth.

"Aqua wasn't the only person you trained under," he answers on his behalf before Riku is forced to commit any more gargantuan feats. It's more understanding than smug, or so he hopes. "So I take it you don't really talk much anymore, either."

"Nope."

"But at least you're actually on speaking terms," Sora barbs, addressing his attention back to fiddling with his teacup, which still threatens to scald. "That's a point in your favor." It seems he jabbed sufficiently, as Riku performs a spectacular eye-roll and leans backward.

"Right. Fantastic. Another tool to dig myself deeper."

"Oh, yeah, right. I'm sure it'll be nothing but friendly."

"Not sure I'd even deserve it."

"You're impossible," Sora says with exasperation. With grace, Riku smirks in response, a welcome respite from the pity party. "There had to be good things." Riku only looks back with dubious amusement.

"Yeah, sure. There were plenty. I ruined them."

"Single-handedly?"

"Enough that I should have known better. Nobody's owed any second chances. Who's got room in their life for screw-ups, anyway?" he says. It lands particularly acerbic.

"Please. Ever consider I've dealt with my share of problems too?"

"No, I—" he starts, then crosses his arms over his chest again, distancing himself by leaning back even farther. "Look. You're just gonna have to take my word for it. Don't you ever wish you'd done everything differently the first time?"

Sora reflects for a moment, idly raising the teacup for an experimental sip. His home, the keyblade, this town—could he have shifted things even if he'd tried? Gone back even further into series of paths he stumbled into along the way to choose a different trajectory? "Well, yeah," he answers himself quietly without looking up, feeling like he sounds far away. "But I kinda think it's not so bad the way it is."

Riku shifts slightly in front of him, and he looks up just enough to see him staring in another direction with piercing concentration. "I guess," he finally says a moment later, quiet enough that he may have thought he was getting away with it.

"Well, then. What's something you'd do different?" Sora asks, then watching him collect himself as he searches for something inoffensive.

"Aqua traveled a lot," he starts haltingly after a few moments. "She always ended up somewhere else for a while. For part of it, she started training this girl—she asked if I wanted to come. I guess I thought she was pitying me, and I wasn't interested anyway. But I think about it sometimes. Maybe I'd take her up on it. Might've been nice to make a friend."

"Well. I hear they're kinda overrated," Sora says with a smile. "I should probably save you the trouble."

Riku laughs softly, shaking his head. Sora watches for his response as he reaches for his tea again, but it remains suspended in the air halfway to him as his attention is drawn to a point behind Riku as a man edges closer in their direction. Sora is about to deduce that it seems his visitor has arrived when Riku finally notices his distraction, and the moment he glances behind himself he starts at the touch of a hand at his shoulder as the man to whom it belongs towers above.

"Master Terra," Riku says, voice unsteady with surprise. The note of panic that passes over him is in stark contrast to Terra's warm smile, which he now directs at Sora.

"Would you mind if I borrowed Riku for a moment?" he asks, and Sora takes a moment to register he's been asked for permission.

"Keep him," he responds without a beat, wide-eyed—this guy makes Riku look small—and the brief flash of stunned horror that passes over Riku in response causes him to transfer the teacup back toward his mouth with a little more force than intended so that it splashes upward and hits him in the face.

Terra's already laughing, a short and joyous peal that jostles Riku further. Sora runs a hand over his face and shakes cooling droplets from his fingers, thinking that there may have been a chance he hadn't seen the mishap, but finding it unlikely considering the pbbftt noise of surprise he'd made upon impact.

"Just a minute, hopefully," Terra says, but Sora shakes his head and says,"No, go ahead," at the same moment that Riku looks at him, contrite, and shakes his head with a "Sorry, but—" that he interrupts on his own as he stands. Terra raises his hand to wave jovially at Sora in acknowledgment as he ushers Riku onward with a press to his arm; Riku looks back toward him for a second before mouthing "See you later," his expression turning uncertain and rendering the end of the statement a question, as if he weren't sure he wanted to ask. He doesn't leave Sora a chance to respond, and against his will he feels an acid layer of disappointment line his stomach.

Terra's steady hand remains on Riku's shoulder, and Riku's hand curls up at his side as they walk slowly onward, already entrenched in a soft but serious conversation that Sora watches guiltily from where he sits. With a shake to his shoulder, Terra chastises, and Riku rallies, making Terra shake his head and possibly sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. They've almost reached the edge of the square—they stop for a moment, Riku casting his eye-line to the ground. Terra stands patiently as Riku shakes his head, rising to meet his gaze, and Terra holds out his arms for one split second before pulling him into an embrace. Riku falls slack after a moment and reciprocates, placing his face at his chest for a moment before pulling away.

Sora looks down with the sudden shame of self-awareness, averting his eyes as they leave even though it's too little, too late. Pensive, he sits for a moment longer, reverting back to playing with the handle of the teacup—push forward, hook back. The little curlicues of steam from the tea have long since faded out, and Sora passively registers the thin layer of film forming over the remainder as it stills, drifting unwillingly back to Riku's harsh policy on second chances and wondering how much he disapproves. Absently, he takes a sip from his teacup and immediately spits it out in disgust, somehow shocked that it's now cold.

Ages later, when he thinks to check, he finds a message from Riku—not a rain check yet, though maybe progress all the same.

Thanks, it reads, and Sora hovers over it only a second before shaking his head and putting it away.

There's little left to do with the remainder of the day. He decides to stroll through town, visiting the shops and smiling to himself as he passes small groups of people going about their day in their own ways, then heading back via the town line for the novelty of it. But novelty, by nature, doesn't stay novel for long.

When he wanders once again closer to the old manor he doesn't even bother calling it a coincidence, since he knows in his heart it would be patently untrue. It felt right to pay it a visit—maybe the strange patterns would make more sense now that he's up against some greater puzzles. It would be an even bigger lie to claim that he's unbothered by Riku's inexplicable ups and downs and the frustrating way he feels compelled to keep him at arm's length. So maybe there aren't any solutions for friendship on a glowing monitor either, but he could at least use the distraction.

As he arrives, he's overcome by wariness, sure that he's not the only one to visit here today. Nonetheless he travels onward, cautiously as possible with his blade before him until he reaches a room with a blinking computer screen and a door nearby it ajar. Still gripping tight to the hilt, he stands as close as he dares.

"Not sure if you can count, but we haven't quite reached thirteen yet," someone says snidely—a voice Sora recognizes with displeasure as Elrena's. It's met by a mocking laugh.

"You thought each battle had to happen consecutively? As if. We've got plenty of time. After all, we're well ahead of the game. That dumb kid gave us a head start years ago when he got close to deep-sixing his master. And besides, you'd be crazy to think that we only had one little key as a backup plan. There's the little matter of one primo pathway to darkness right under their noses. If we play our cards right, all you'll have to do is press a little button here, and boom—you've got me as your guy on the inside to take care of the rest."

"How cunning. A bold plan," someone else chimes in; Sora finds this voice familiar as well, glowering as he recalls his encounter with Lauriam: What do you have to give? "Should it succeed. I trust you will somehow avoid arising any sort of suspicion. I take it you relish the irony: I'm told it's called the city of light."

Elrena lets out a short piercing laugh. "Oh, please. That's too much. You mean to tell me you just so happened to stumble upon this info?"

"You'd be surprised," says the first man again. "Everybody's eager to contribute when they think they're playing the hero."

The end of his statement is met by the sound of darkness. Sora stands ready, prepared in the event the other two take the old-fashioned way out, but after a moment it sounds as if they've disappeared too. Sora puts on his best expression of bravado and marches forward to face whatever's left, but finds himself faced only with a wide empty room.

Every step puts him closer and closer to whatever endgame this organization in the black coats has planned. He got lucky the last few times, but it's only so long before he takes a pitfall directly into their clutches. He'll try and look forward to it.

Full force frowning and lost in thought, Sora trudges through the dense forest of that day's world with his blade before him. The feeling that something is amiss doesn't hit him until it's too late—he feels something like a tug pull him forward, and he looks around in a start, raising the keyblade, only to have it disappear from his hand.

You don't see too many glitches like that one. Trying to keep calm, he attempts to summon it back, but feels a low force with that same tug, like two magnets repelling one another. Just as the dread starts to sink in he feels the cool tap of steel on his shoulder; he turns in a flash to find no one there.

"Over here, Misfire." Sora whirls in the opposite direction to find who else but the blindfolded boy perched on a low branch directly above him, grinning smugly at him from an arm's length away with stolen keyblade swinging from one gloved finger. "I was going to ask if you missed me…but you just did. Good to see your aim is unreliable as ever."

Sora scowls and reaches up to snatch back his blade, but it never makes the connection—Blindfold feigns dropping it to the ground with a Nuh-uh, and it immediately materializes in his other hand.

"Real funny," Sora says, wiping at his shoulder before his hands curl up beside him. He concentrates with fury somewhere in the general direction of his knee.

"You always say the sweetest things," he responds, swinging his legs over the branch and crossing his fingers together on top of his lap so that he now holds the blade aloft between both hands so that it points straight upwards.

"Just give it back already."

"Not with those manners. You gotta say 'please' first. Make it heartfelt." Sora's mouth turns up with even more frustration as he stares single-mindedly ahead at his keyblade, trapped in the wrong hands. "This is the part where I would tell you that my eyes are up here."

In one fluid motion he places the tip of Sora's blade underneath his chin and tilts his gaze upward. He laughs at his sharp intake of breath then finally relinquishes the blade, letting it fade from his hand to be reclaimed.

"Hey, listen," Sora says with ire, and captures it in a vise grip for fear of more shenanigans. "Some of us are a little too busy to worry about weirdos trying to play silly tricks. Don't you have better things to do?"

"Now that you've shown up." He smirks. "What do you say I do you one better?"

Sora flushes but chooses not to dignify it with a response, visibly steeling himself before marching ahead. He's ahead a few paces by the time he hears the soft sound of his feet touching the ground, hoping against hope that it's the end of it.

At the next noise he's ready to whirl around to give him a piece of his mind, but it turns out to be a different kind of annoyance altogether—the heartless here to remind him just what exactly he's supposed to be doing. He raises his guard, too late for the offensive, taking stock of the growing swarm.

"Think fast," he hears, and feels the tug at his arm just before it staggers his stance, leaving him stumbling directly into Blindfold's chest—he holds him steady for a split second before he lifts their arms up together and twirls him around to spin him in the direction of the horde. It's like the spell is pushed through him, amplified through their combined ability—a symphony of light and dark sparks fall, a powerful expulsion channeled between them that decimates the swarm in an instant. Sora feels the surge tingle out beyond his fingertips and shivers involuntarily. "Just look at all the magic we can make together."

Sora breaks away, cursing the spinning for throwing off his equilibrium; he's too dizzy to catch his balance right away. He dusts himself off. "Not interested, thank you," he says before moving forward once more, this time on his guard. He should know better. The heartless have only grown in strength and number, so this definitely isn't the time to be playing around.

The path grows more dark and narrow as the enclosure of trees clusters closer together, and he slows down to keep watch of the branches and rocks as he listens for the sound of any encroaching creatures. To his disappointment, the only thing he registers is someone else trekking along several paces behind him as the path grows steeper and more treacherous.

When the next assault comes, he's ready—a monster emerges from where it lays camouflaged amongst the brush above him and lunges in his direction, and he dispenses with it easily and returns to standing his ground. The next two are not so kind. While one goes to avenge its fallen compatriot, another curves around beside him, sweeping through before it barrels down the summit. Sora reaches as quickly as possible for a spell to deflect, but loses balance, feeling the earth give way beneath him and realizing with rising desperation that there's no telling what lies in the open air behind him, especially not how far down it goes. He tries to pitch forward—no good, as he's hampered by the second wave of heartless now quickly descending. He cries out, grasping at the air and for a solution—if barrier or air magic might be better, provided there's even time—and slips downward just as a wave of darkness overtakes the creatures before him and they disappear just before they're obscured from view. Expression tight and resigned for impact, he braces himself, but not before flailing upward for purchase one more time.

A lucky swing—he grasps something solid with the same arm now held aloft by a hand clutching his bicep. Sora blinks, his wave of panic almost immediately replaced by mortification.

Oh, great, he thinks. Loosened gravel gently cascades around him with a soft noise. A moment later, he hears his keyblade clatter against the stone below.

"You know, can't say I'm not flattered, but you're not gonna go falling for me now, are you?"

Sora estimates that the fall, while steep, is well within the range of survivability, if maybe a little rocky. With a little luck and a well-timed tuck and roll, he could probably still make it home with most limbs intact.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he manages weakly against Blindfold's insufferable grin. "Just go ahead and let go of me. I'll take my chances."

Blindfold, predictably, ignores him, effortlessly hefting him up and grabbing him by the waist to swing him gracefully back over the threshold and securing him with care back on solid ground, his hands overstaying their welcome just enough to cop a feel from behind as he drags them past his hips. Sora, flushing, realizes he can simply step away just a moment too late. He shakes his head and moves forward with determination. He barely makes it a few steps before Blindfold calls out again.

"Hey." Sora turns to find him with arms extended ahead of himself, presenting his keyblade. "Forgetting something?"

He's hot from head to toe with shame, but at least stops himself from grabbing it, knowing it won't re-materialize in his hand again until he's done having his fun lording it over him.

"Thanks," Sora sighs irritably. "But I never asked for your help. Wanna explain why we keep meeting like this?"

"Seems I just can't stay away from you."

"I'm serious."

"Fine. I'm staying on the lookout for leads on this heart stealing business."

"You're doing a terrible job with the actual 'looking' part, if you ask me."

"Trust me. I'd much rather be looking," he leers. "Unfortunately, though, I'm here for work, not pleasure. It just so happens that trouble seems to follow you wherever you go. Your company is just a pleasant bonus."

"Sorry, can't really say the same. So don't get any ideas about me owing you any favors." Sora raises his hand to summon back his blade, and is surprised to find there's no resistance.

"Nah. You don't owe me anything. But if you're ever feeling generous—" He makes a lewd gesture. Sora immediately turns on his heel to continue the climb. "Oh, right," continues Blindfold. "How sweet. I forgot about Mr. Perfect." He feigns a gagging noise. "So, did you carpe the diem?"

"What's it to you?"

He laughs. "Oh, you know. Just gotta test the waters. I'm happy to share, if you're not too old fashioned. In fact, he can come too." He snorts, laughing breathlessly by the tail end. "But tough break for me. I kinda pegged you as the romantic type."

"Hey, hold on a second—who said anything about romance?"

It seems for once Sora gets the last word—if Blindfold had anything else to say, it's quickly interrupted by the distinctive sound of an opening portal, which usually only means one thing. Sora turns to see his suspicions confirmed by the man who was talking to Lauriam that day on the summit standing before him. He pulls his hood down and crosses his arms.

"Oh, carry on. I do love a little quarrel," he says. "Though it may behoove the pair of you to tread no further. It's quite perilous out here, you know."

"What do you want?" bites Blindfold at the same time as Sora mumbles, "Learned that the hard way."

"Nothing, as of yet. I'm here only for reconnaissance. For some reason I've been tapped for the espionage element of the operation—it was suggested that Ludor could best play the part, therefore I am here to play it."

"I must not know what espionage really means, because it doesn't look like this," Blindfold says.

"Oh, I've seen to my goal. But I'd be remiss if I didn't put on a show."

He conjures something that makes thwipping sound, rapidfire and strangely familiar: a deck of playing cards, drastically out of context. Sora watches a wall of life sized cards surround him before he can so much as move, hearing a shout from the outside as he's suddenly enveloped by a nauseous green where the air pulses around him. Inexplicably, the sound of a clock is amplified within the space, tacking down second by aggressive second.

"Card tricks?" he says, bewildered, as Ludor steps into his line of sight. He takes a deck of cards, this one a more appropriate size, and effortlessly shifts each one from one hand to the other—neither just magic nor just sleight of hand.

"Our very own wildcard," he says. "You're highly sought after, it seems. Though I'm afraid I can't predict where the dice will fall—that is entirely up to you. But I do so hope that you prove to be just as interesting as you've promised to be."

"Maybe I'm not as interested in showmanship as you are. Sorry."

Ludor laughs.

"Then it may well be time for you to shuffle the deck, boy. You can be the one who takes control of his own destiny, predispositions be hanged."

"I don't see any magic tricks in my destiny," Sora says. "I think you know already that if you're looking for an ally it's not gonna be me. If you're telling me I should get my way, then you just don't sound very committed to the team."

"Let us just say that a gambler does not always fall where the gain seems obvious. Right now you're far from the favorite when it comes to the endgame. But I've always been inclined to bet on the underdog."

"I get it." Sora rolls his eyes. "More mind games. And I'm supposed to trust you?"

"Trust that it's never that unlikely that control will shift in your favor. All you need do is reach for it."

"You gonna tell me how?"

"Oh, I didn't say it was a throwaway. I'd be loath to think it were that easy."

"I'll try not to disappoint."

"See that you don't. Though it's my every intention to forfeit this hand, I shan't remove you from the betting pool just yet. You are the favorite to win, but take heed: the dice are loaded. The odds are too low for me, but keep a quick and canny eye and you may yet win fairly." He produces something between two fingers and throws it toward him; Sora catches it in the air and holds it aloft. A card. The timer stops.

Like that, the barrier is removed—Sora hears the tail end of Blindfold's shout just beside him.

"I won't leave you dry of your winnings either," Ludor directs toward him. Sora turns just in time to see him snatch something out of the air as well—his own parting gift from Ludor. "There. A pair of aces. Best played in tandem—don't squander the opportunity. I shall look forward to the endgame," he says over the solid snap that calls back his deck of cards. "May luck be on your side."

The quiet he leaves behind doesn't last long. The wake of Ludor's departure leaves an immediate vacuum, and sure enough a rumbling sound from the surrounding depths alerts them to the return of the heartless.

"Never rains," says Blindfold, raising his blade. "But it does pour."

"What, you afraid of a little water?" Sora says from at his back, wiping his face with the back of his hand and shaking it before holding securely to his keyblade as he positions himself to look ahead for the oncoming swarm. He hears him laugh as he sweeps forward to battle.

Between the two of them Sora is by far the quicker one, but none of that deters Blindfold from making short work of his share, resolving his end of the threat with time to spare. Sora's vaguely irritated by it, but can't pinpoint why.

"So you've had some practice with these guys, huh," he says while turning to the next one—what he thinks is the next one, anyway, as the heartless of this region have gotten frustratingly good at blending in with the environment.

"Used to be able to boss 'em around, just haven't been too thrilled about taking a refresher course. But you pick up on some things after a while." He stops—Sora sees him still for a moment from his edge of sight, and turns to find him lunging to meet him straight on and yank him forward with enough force to send them both to the ground at the moment a creature with vine-like appendages pushes itself from the earth where he'd been standing to tangle at the air. "Like that one," Blindfold says from where he's braced right above him. He throws up his hand and wordlessly dooms it to an unpleasant and fiery end.

"Well, you've all got a real flair for the dramatic in common, that's for sure," Sora says, rubbing his head with a grimace. "Is that your special trick? Like recognizes like?"

"More like a feeling you get. Almost like a smell."

"Gross." Sora peels his back from the ground and shoves at him. "Now will you please just get off?"

"Can't you see that's exactly what I'm trying to do?" Sora groans loudly in frustration and rolls in the other direction. "Yeah, this isn't working for me either. Here I thought I'd at least get a little appreciation for saving you from an unspeakable fate."

"Okay, great, so you do care," Sora sighs, dusting himself off."Thanks, but I think I preferred the fighting."

"Aggressive. I'll jot that down."

Sora almost stops to put a hand over his face in agitation but thinks better of it, not wanting to be fooled into letting his guard down—who knows what kind of ulterior motives he's got. Blindfold's brazen affinity for dark magic isn't lost on him. He begins his trudge down the summit, deciding it's well past time to clock out, with or without the heartless's permission.

"I know you love the sound of your own voice, but didn't you already get what you came for? Why don't you beat it?" He cringes, knowing he's walked right into a number of colorful possibilities there. "…Never mind. You can wait for more of your friends to show up, but I don't plan on sticking around."

"My friends? I think you've got more in common with them. But you didn't stop at stealing my heart—you're breaking it," Blindfold calls down. "Do you hear me? You're breaking my heart, Misfire!"

He's prickly with irritation, tolerance level diminishing even more quickly than it had for the heartless and ready to make his escape before Blindfold finds a way to make his face even redder. He doesn't know why he's even indulged him in this stupid game for as long as he already has. Maybe he's truly that desperate for someone to talk to who's willing to stick to a script. Blindfold is at least reliable: a constant pain in his side, bound to show up sooner or later with some smart remarks. There's something to be said for consistency, he'll give him that. Elsewhere he's gotten used to desperate attempts to pull out any kind of conversation whatsoever, but on this end, he can't seem to get this guy to shut up to save either of their lives.

"Get lost!" Sora yells.

"Only in your eyes!"

"In your dreams!"

"Every night!" The good news is that his voice sounds increasingly farther away—maybe he's staying put after all. "On the bright side, as much as I hate when you leave, I do love to watch you go!"

Sora whirls around, hoping to catch him in the act, but all he gets is a face full of sunlight as the high afternoon sun shines through the leaves to illuminate the path. He's finally disappeared, not a moment too soon. Good riddance. Now that he can hear himself think again, he can focus on today's other strange little upset. With a start, he realizes that he may have been duped in between all the lip service. He shoves a hand in his pocket and thankfully finds Ludor's token right where he placed it, rattling around right next to the vial of elixir, then finally stops to look at the face of the card.

Noted on the card is nothing but a simple symbol—a scripted letter 𝛘.

Admittedly a little disappointing. What good's a wildcard you don't know how to play? X may mark the spot, but he's missing the rest of the treasure map. He pockets it again securely and makes his way back to town, thoughts churning in the same way the ocean on the islands did when they became gray and choppy in cooler weather, but his thoughts fade out with no bluster much the same way as the stormy waves washed out into foam before they hit the shore.

He stays preoccupied with it well into the evening. Asking Aqua or Yen Sid is out of the question—he's not eager to take it through any more official channels, and he's definitely not eager to be any more forthcoming about the series of events that brought him here.

With an unconscious pucker he thinks about solving for X: variables, symbols, codes—ulterior meanings well beyond him. Just a whole bunch of nerd things, he thinks with disdain. Luckily, he just so happens to know a nerd. He picks up the card from where it rests on display before him, and considers the pros and cons of knocking on Riku's door. What if it does turn out to be about math? He can't even imagine inflicting that pain on his enemies, nonetheless marring his own good name by turning up out of nowhere at this time of night to ask a question about arithmetic.

Well. There's maybe one enemy he'd get enough pleasure out of annoying. Where's Blindfold when you need him? Not that smart-alecky comments would necessarily do him any good—but Ludor did say they should work together. Unless that was meant as another diversion. Sora grimaces at the card in his hand. Perhaps it's okay to get inspiration from elsewhere. And it's not so late that he can't pay a call to his friend. To his…someone. He slides the card into his pocket, but on second thought gently replaces it before his decision propels him out the door.

Riku answers the door startled and disheveled—okay. Maybe Sora did bang on the door a little insistently. And it may be just a little later than he thought.

"What do you need?" Riku says after catching his bearings, concerned.

"No, nothing, don't worry—I was just going to ask you a question." He blinks. Riku's hair falls over his brow. One arm is either halfway in or halfway out of his pullover, caught in some transient state of dress. It's kind of comical. There is absolutely no reason for his arms to be that large. What is he doing to keep them that way? Lifting textbooks? Entire bookcases? It's absurd.

He can probably pick me up, Sora thinks to himself, stuck in place.

"About?" Riku prompts after an interminable moment.

Suddenly Sora realizes he has absolutely no idea how to go about asking. The question suddenly seems profoundly ludicrous. "…Math," he says weakly. Oh gee.

"Math. That's what you need."

Well. When you put it that way. It was a pretty flimsy excuse—it's probably more than a coincidence that he's ended up here, seeing as how there's been an undercurrent of energy buzzing through him all day. He hadn't pinpointed it until just now, his other thoughts all but forgotten now that he's standing face to chest with one of the more tangible versions of his problems.

"You know what?" he says, possibly a little squeaky. "It's stupid. Never mind. I…"

He decides to worry about exes later. On a whim Sora yanks him down by his half-on collar and pushes his way inside, scrabbling to shut the door behind them.

"Master Terra," he says, startled—of course it stands to reason they'd run into one another again, but he'll admit it wasn't on his mind as he made his way to meet Aqua for the evening.

"Hey there," he says jovially. "Nice to meet you again."

Sora stands at the door, at a loss, before Aqua appears beside him to peek around, anchoring herself with a hand on his side.

"Come in!" she says, extending an arm in welcome. "I've enlisted some help today. There's something important I want you to learn."

Sora looks up with genuine curiosity.

"Today I'm going to talk to you about how to channel dark magic," Terra says, not losing a beat of cheer. Sora tries not to look alarmed, but Terra only smiles. "Unexpected for a wielder on the light side, right? But I'm sure you can guess why it's important to know what it looks like and how it's used."

"Yeah," he says, ready to supplement—unfortunately he knew all too well already, but he puts his lips together to keep from mentioning that part.

"Not only that," Aqua interjects, "but you also need to know that it's a powerful resource at your disposal. Remember how I told you we can't have one without the other?" He nods. "One of the most important things we learn from the beginning is not to let the darkness overcome us. But we also need to understand that if we're not careful, we may still have the same kind of trouble with the light. It's not something we're used to. But by learning about it, and how to use it to our advantage, we lower the risk of falling to it if caught off guard."

"There's a lot more out there now than there used to be about different kinds of magic," Terra adds.

Sora wants to supply that he's pretty sure he saw a book like that in Riku's room last night, but immediately thinks of several reasons why that is equally bad if not worse an idea as the first. "I bet," he says instead.

"I'll leave you two to it." Aqua dismisses herself—Sora feels a pang of panic at a loss of the familiar; stranger!—but manages to compact and store all of that away, instead smiling wide and looking expectantly up at Terra, who immediately grins back.

"She wasn't kidding, huh," he says. "Spitting image." Before Sora even thinks to ask the question, Terra shakes his head and laughs lightly. "Don't worry about it. Just a little coincidence." With that, he waves him over for the start of the day's guest lecture.

"It's kind of alarming, isn't it?" Terra says to Sora's wide-eyed expression, extinguishing the slick coating of dark fire that enveloped Sora's arm with the same hand that touched it alight, closing it around his wrist to absorb it. Sora doesn't have any idea how he might have controlled it himself, and wonders if they've come to the same forest Aqua brought him to for that very reason. "It only gets worse when you panic. Darkness comes from powerful emotions: ones we think are too negative. When we deny we have these emotions, when we think we should be better than them—that's what the darkness wants. It's easier for it to trick you and control you when you don't understand them."

Sora looks on in awe. It happened so quickly, like some part of him all along had been ready to be overtaken by it. All at once he thought of everything that bothered him—of every time his reflexes had failed him at the wrong moment, of the barrier spell he still can't make solid enough, of Blindfold's stupid smirk as he ran circles around him, of the effortless way Riku lifted up half his center room this morning while refusing to meet his eye as Sora shamefully patted around looking for the chain he wears that ended up a casualty held hostage by the furniture—but each inconvenience combined and at tenfold.

"It's okay," Terra says gently. "There's a little kindle in everyone that it seeks out, ready to burn up at any time. But don't worry. It takes a little more than just one bad day for a strong heart to fall to the darkness. It's more complicated than just good or bad—sometimes there are two sides to each of them. What did you feel?"

"Anger," Sora responds after a brief silence, quiet and grave. He looks down for a few moments, blinking slowly as he collects these shadows of insight with disbelief at how well he's known them this whole time. "…Envy."

Terra laughs without joy, but without bitterness, either. "Yeah."

"But once you figure it out, you can feel the good things again, right? Isn't that the way to get rid of the bad ones?"

"You can't," Terra says quietly, shaking his head. He allows Sora a moment of shock. "Just covering it up doesn't fix much. You have to make them your strength just as much as your weakness. Think about it. Things like hatred, and jealousy, and rage…why do you think we feel them?"

"Because we're not strong enough to stop it from happening."

"No," Terra says firmly. "You're right—we can't control them. But where do they begin?"

Sora sits pensively for a moment, expression sharpening as he sits deeper in his confusion. The answer should come more easily. If it's so important, then why doesn't he know it by now? What's even bother coming here in the first place if he's only going to have more questions every time?

It dawns on him.

"When things aren't going our way," he starts hesitantly, then grows more assertive. "When we want something to be better."

"Right. So two options: we let these feelings consume us. Or—"

"Or we consume them," Sora interrupts. "We… We use it. Somehow."

"That's the start of it," Terra says fondly. "I'm afraid practical experience is going to have to bring the rest. The important thing is that you know that it's okay to distrust the darkness, but you don't have to fear it. It's not any stronger or weaker than the light, just the other side of it. Both can be equally dangerous in the wrong hands. But darkness doesn't have to be used just to hurt and destroy, as long as you understand why you're using it."

"Okay," Sora nods with increasing confidence, though he's not sure what he's promising yet.

"The second most important thing, on the other hand, is getting used to taking a beating from it," Terra says. Sora's eyes widen in a brief flush of panic as he summons his large and rather intimidating blade.

"Uh…Aqua?" Sora calls feebly. Terra at least laughs good-naturedly before he raises his blade. Unconvinced of his good intentions, Sora bolts ahead of him. With a grimace, he considers that if this is his idea of a friendly first-meeting spar, then he really doesn't wanna find out what the shovel talk looks like.

Sora's next opportunity for firsthand darkness experience comes much sooner than he would like.

He's chased the heartless this time to the crumbling ruins that sit on the farthest outskirts of a desert city when he hears voices from above.

"Listen. I'm really not in the mood. Just put down the weird guitar and quit running."

"It's called a sitar," says the kid with the sitar. "Not that anyone even cares about the difference—whoa, whoa, hey! No fair!"

Sora looks up to the nearest rooftop to find him amidst a poor attempt to use the sitar as a balance pole, wobbling on the point of a parapet as none other than Blindfold flanks him on the other side, head cocked and hand on hip.

"That one was on you, pal. Watch where you're going."

Equilibrium regained, sitar kid takes a step back and raises both hands up in the air, instrument and all. "Listen, man, they don't tell me anything, I promise. And I definitely don't wanna waste any more of your time, so I'm just gonna go ahead and get out of your way, deal?"

An opportunity arises. Sora rushes up to the top via one of the ladders and darts over the rooftops as quietly as possible so that he can catch him before he does just that.

"Oops," he says, sticking out his foot. Sitar kid collides with him instantly and yelps as he goes down.

"Aww, what good are you," he says churlishly from the ground.

"Could it be?" Blindfold's voice carries more than a touch of elation. "Has my beloved Misfire come to join us?"

Misfire, huh? Sora scoffs with a note of amusement. "Got him this time," he says with a matter-of-fact pride.

"Got him this time," sitar kid mocks from beneath Sora's shoe.

"Yes, great job, my most heartfelt congratulations. Unfortunately, 'Mediocre Accuracy' doesn't really roll off the tongue, so I'm afraid you're stuck with the other one." Blindfold traverses over to the cool kids' roof, where he gently nudges sitar kid with his boot. "Though, hey! Looks like you're not the biggest dud of the day. We've gotta celebrate."

"Hey, I'll show you a dud," sitar kid pipes up.

"Show him how?" Sora asks. "He can't even see you."

"Misfire, we really need to work on your aim. You doing anything later?"

"I've got plans."

"Break 'em. How's eight o'clock sound?"

Beneath them, sitar kid groans in frustration, directing both their attention back to him. He looks between them as if trying to pick the lesser of two evils, and chooses neither.

"Hey, look. I'm just trying to go as soon as possible. I want out."

"That can be arranged," says Blindfold, raising his blade; Sora lets out a little cry and reaches out with an expression of concern.

"No no no no no no!" he continues. "I mean gone out, I mean, like, total defector. I just can't cut it. Wait wait! What I'm saying is that I'm gonna cut you guys a break so long as you pretend you never saw me."

"Cut us a break?" Sora asks, relaxing his hold some and allowing him to scramble back up to his feet and take one large step backwards, using his instrument as a shield—Sora stays near enough to make sure their guest remains well aware that his keyblade is still present as Blindfold follows suit. The dry desert wind blows through with a whistle and catches their long black coats; sitar kid steps back once more and kicks a piece of rubble into oblivion. Blindfold keeps his blade raised for another moment, then relaxes, not dismissing it yet.

"Fine, whatever. I'll just cut you a deal instead."

Blindfold scoffs. "So what's in it for me?"

"Well, one less thing to deal with, for starters. Oh! And another thing. You fight me now, we just get that much closer to winning," he says, flinching as Blindfold raises his blade toward him once again. "Well. They do. I've honestly got no interest in sticking around long enough to find out," he says with a grimace.

"Great bluff, but it doesn't answer the question."

"I'm just saying, I don't think I'd take the risk. Lot of us didn't really read the fine print before joining, and if what a little birdie told me is true, it looks like the cost might outweigh the benefits, if you know what I mean."

"Let's assume that I don't. Illuminate me."

"I mean—wait, hold on. Why am I giving you any of this for free?" He holds out his hands like he's asking himself the question in disbelief, then in one motion reaches down for the sitar and swings it with vehement force ahead of him so it sings two tones directly into Blindfold's torso in a glissando gut punch, fading out into a discordant twanging noise with Blindfold's percussive grunt as accompaniment. Sitar and wielder take a bow and abscond, leaping across to the next ladder to climb to the next rooftop, quickly too far out of earshot for an encore call. Bravo.

Sora rockets right behind, hand hitting the ladder within seconds to give chase, running over rooftops and swinging over awnings.

"What," he says over his shoulder as Blindfold comes in stride after a brief delay, barely containing the grin in his voice. "Didn't see it coming?"

His silence is conspicuous.

"Does this mean my accuracy is improving?" Sora prods.

"I'll add two points to your scorecard, then. Though I seem to remember something about stopped clocks."

Sora laughs then, having clocked only Blindfold's grumpy attitude—he's already breathless, but surprises himself at the force of it: this isn't the kind of diversion he's come to expect. Though likely not a much longer one, as the flutter of a coat above them a few paces ahead tells him they're closing in fast; Sora looks up to see sitar kid scaling a large sandstone wall with as much grace as the sitar itself will allow—not inconsiderable, but enough to hamper him. Unfortunately, they'll soon come up against the edge of their pathway of buildings, leaving a yawning gap as an impasse: returning to the ground to attempt to scale the wall from a more reasonable vantage point will lose them any lead they may have gained. It's a long way down.

"How'd he get up there?" Sora asks, slowing down with reluctance."Did he learn to fly?"

"Not quite," Blindfold laughs under his breath. "I'll give him one thing: he's pretty good at running away. But he's gonna need to find a better way to travel if he thinks he's gonna outrun me."

"And just how are you gonna do that?"

"By giving the both of us a jump start, I hope."

Blindfold overtakes him, artfully bounding over one precipice to the next until he stands precariously on the last of the crumbling towers before the plummet below, in one smooth motion turning back on his heel to face Sora then slowly extending his arm outward to beckon him.

"Misfire, it'd be my great honor. May I have your hand?" he grins. "Ideally I'd be on one knee for this, but in the interest of time I hope you'll forgive the oversight."

"…Don't you mean under-sight?" Sora asks nervously, looking from Blindfold's hand (far away) to the sitar now disappearing over the incline (even farther) to the ground (the very farthest) and feeling a restless anxiety beneath his feet. He begins to shuffle. "'Cause I'm not sure how I feel about the blind leading."

"Hey, you're on a roll today! Might as well give it a shot. Even if your luck runs out, I would never let you fall."

Sora is already steeling himself to make the leap, buoyed by a burst of confidence, but he feels a sudden rush of reassurance—maybe it's the vertigo, but Blindfold's voice is full of sincerity. It sounds like level ground.

Without another thought, he leaps across to meet him with his own hand extended, plucked from the arc of his glide with an electrified energy, their hands connected by a powerful shock that he feels travel through the both of them as if soldering them together.

Still holding fast to his hand, Blindfold turns forward and takes a running leap directly into the open air, taking Sora with him. He's too stricken to scream, just shuts his eyes in panic as his heart leaps to his throat and dives to his gut before he leaves it far behind, listening to Blindfold's whoop of unadulterated joy in the split second they remain suspended midair.

But it feels more upside than down—his heart returns to an erratic beat as they're enveloped by shadow and static, and when he opens his eyes his feet have hit solid ground, or as close to it as possible, anyway, as they arrive on the wall. Blindfold laughs triumphantly and grips tighter.

"Always knew you could take me higher," he says, then takes them in short bursts further down the wall, still laughing joyously throughout while Sora's head spins. At about the point where his stomach somehow drops deeper into itself, he wonders if Blindfold is even capable of doing anything by halves. "Where to next?"

"Up," Sora says, heart still hammering, then lifts the hand that holds his to gesture to the peak that looms above where the object of the chase is currently scrambling.

"Think you got one more left in you?" Blindfold says, still covered with the sound of that bright laughter as he tangles their fingers more securely together.

What's one more flight when he's already weightless? Lightheaded, he nods. "Yeah."

And with one more leap, they fall into the sky, and touch ground right as the competition arrives. Blindfold drops Sora's hand, leaving him to tumble to the ground, and brandishes his blade to point it directly at sitar kid's nose, millimeters away.

"Next time, remember your manners."

"Urp," says sitar kid.

"You were saying?"

"No, no way. You didn't hear anything from me."

Blindfold sweeps over to grab his arm, positively chummy, and walks them to the precipice, leaning forward just enough that the both of them will tilt into tomorrow with the help of only a moderate breeze. Sitar kid whimpers.

"What, your little birdie didn't teach you how to fly?"

"No, don't!" Sora jumps to his feet, ready to snatch whoever goes tumbling first, but sitar gives almost immediately.

"Fine!" he shouts. "There are always like, a dozen backup plans, right?" He pauses for a moment, lost in thought. "Well. A baker's dozen, at least. And you know, some of 'em are kinda basic and easy. Like, design a perfectly even match of light and darkness and make them fight. Or feed a whole bunch of people's hearts to a giant power source. Just run-of-the-mill stuff. But if that's not bad enough, no matter what happens, they've still been gathering pieces of some kinda ultimate weapon for years. It's gonna be finished sooner…not later. And I really, really, really don't wanna find out what it does."

Blindfold goes taut, then stills.

"Impossible," he says, but backs them both up from the edge all the same.

"That's kinda what I thought at first, but I wouldn't be so sure if I were you: they've been filling the ranks pretty quick. But losing me? That'd bring them up short. Which is why you've gotta let me go, man, I'm telling you."

"You know what?" Blindfold says, releasing him from his grip. "Fair enough. You're no threat to me anyway."

"Exactly what I've been trying to tell you."

"So you know you'll live to regret this if none of this comes true. Get lost before you get what's coming to you."

"Don't have to tell me that one twice," he says, stepping forward several paces and swinging the sitar to his front. "'Preciate it. But, you know. In case you get any ideas."

He throws down one aggressive strum, and the air goes humid. A low vibration starts beneath them. He picks up a furious chord, and the haze of a mirage descends, warping and melting their surroundings.

Sora realizes that it's not a mirage at all—the ruins begin to disintegrate, the edges beginning to fall away like clumps of wet sand.

"Sorry 'bout this!" sitar says, playing a final note, then swings the instrument upward as he summons a portal and disappears.

"What?" Blindfold asks sharply, and Sora turns to him the very moment he shouts as the ground gives way beneath him.

"No!" Sora yelps and lunges forward, throwing both arms over the ledge to grab him by the arm, clutching with all his might as he dangles helplessly for a moment.

What are you doing? he thinks, scrabbling for purchase on both their behalf. Let go and it all ends here.

An insane idea, drowned out immediately by desperation as he drags the both of them toward the center—besides. That'd be a really lame way to let it end, anyway.

"So you do care," Blindfold manages with the same level of grit as what rains around them now. "Any ideas?"

"Not good ones," he says, spying a possible sanctuary open up beneath them in the form of a room he really hopes will stay stable. He covers his eyes with one hand and tugs him along with the other before making the leap. "Brace yourself."

They crash through sand and rubble and stone, but onto a sturdy floor. Blindfold hisses in pain, holding his head and then shaking it in frustration.

"Sloppy."

Sora climbs out of his cozy rock-sand blanket and brushes himself off before going to help him up.

"Yeah, I guess you're not normally this short-sighted."

Blindfold groans softly. "Stop. I'm in no position to ravish you right now."

You must be rubbing off on me, Sora almost says, and then, wisely, doesn't.

"Guess we're even now," he says idly instead, searching for an exit.

"Nope. Sorry. I'm forever in your debt. How could I ever repay you?"

"I don't know. Maybe you let me see what you're hiding under there," Sora says, reaching toward him, but he barely moves before Blindfold slaps his hand away, then inhales sharply, wincing. Sora watches with a furrowed brow as he removes his hand from his head and holds it before him, pulling his thumb across the rest of the glove to find it tacky.

"You're—" Sora starts, hand rising again, then yanks it backwards. What is he fretting for? "Is your head okay?"

"Think so," he mutters in a strained voice. "Judging by their enthusiasm while I'm at it, at least."

Sora blinks for a second, shocked out of it first by confusion and then by red-hot embarrassment. He's expected to work in these conditions? Immobilized for the moment until Blindfold's grimace grows deeper, Sora realizes with a start that his hand has already traveled to his pocket as he unconsciously reaches for the vial he keeps there.

"Grow up," he says with ire, then, "Stay still. Keep your stupid blindfold."

He shakes out his hand and steals over to touch him lightly on the back of his head with a healing spell. He breathes in, the tiniest gasp of surprise and relief, and Sora turns away, still addled.

"Fine by me," Blindfold says. "You can't look. But you can touch. Though you never struck me as the shallow kind, Misfire."

"You're hopeless," Sora complains, coming across a staircase that's been lightly barricaded by their minor cave-in.

"In one way or another," he returns softly, and Sora turns around midway through kicking aside some rubble with his brow raised. Blindfold turns the other direction to stand around uselessly. He's silent just long enough for Sora to return to sweeping duty before he speaks again. "Good catch."

"Don't mention it." The path now clear enough to climb over, he turns to see him swipe a hand over the arm of his coat with two quick slaps then rub his thumb and forefinger together as if inspecting for grit.

"Normally I wouldn't, since your track record isn't anything to write home about. But I think I can make an exception."

"How generous of you."

"Thank you."

Sora's face grows hot, and he turns, ignoring him in favor of kicking aside another pile of gravel with prejudice before beginning the descent. He finally feels the slight tremors catch up to him now that the immediate danger is gone, heart rate still raised. After a moment, he hears the soft sound of shifting stone as Blindfold follows behind him.

"He's gone, I guess," Sora says with concern. It's too late now to catch up, since judging from the height, even taking their makeshift elevator down a story still didn't do much to close the distance between themselves and the ground, and he's not interested in running down a narrow staircase indefinitely. "We've gotta find him."

"No. I believe him. We won't be seeing him anytime soon," Blindfold says, uncharacteristically subdued. "Think he would've fought you otherwise. Big chicken, but I don't really blame him."

"Fought me? Not you?"

"No, not me. For one thing, he knew he didn't have much of a chance if he'd tried it fair and square. But there's nothing he could've gotten out of me anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, as you've already figured out, neither of us fight with the light. You, on the other hand—if you had defeated him, or he had defeated you… No. He was right. Either way, they'd only be that much closer to winning. Might as well save his own skin while he's at it."

"Okay, sure. But in that case, shouldn't we just get it over with already? If we take them down, then their plan won't have any room to stand on—"

"No," Blindfold says sharply. "You don't understand: you'll only make this worse. It has nothing to do with you. There is no 'we'—if you interfere, you'll get us all killed. Stay out of it."

Sora's step stutters out, startled by the rising vitriol in his voice.

"But if it's so dangerous, don't you need my help? You said yourself that the light—"

"That wasn't a request," he interrupts, voice icy; Sora turns only to find himself at the point of his blade. He stills. "The next time you see one of these coats, try for once in your life not to do the asinine thing and head the other direction. Understood?"

"Listen," Sora starts boldly, anger boiling, "You can't tell me what I can or can't—"

"Can't I?" he asks with poison irony. "You've gotten entirely too comfortable. Naïve at best, Misfire, insanely dangerous at worst. You listen: I'm not going to warn you again. Stay clear of it, or I'll take you out myself."

Says who? You wouldn't dare, Sora thinks, but decides it's probably safest to keep it to himself. It's true: at some point he let down his guard, assuming Blindfold had some ulterior motive for keeping him around. Getting cozy with the blade drawn against him in such close quarters serves as a reminder that like it or not, he's severely outmatched. Somehow he'd begun to take it for granted that they'd end up in the same corner, but he knows now he's made a rookie mistake: they'll never play on the same team.

Or so he wants him to believe.

Blindfold remains statue-still, blade unwavering, but for some reason there's a tension radiating from the very core of him. The thing that drives the wind from Sora's sails rests in his taut lines: it must be the pity Blindfold invokes. Sora opts to let the matter rest for both their sakes.

"Whatever you say," he concedes, the fire dissipating from his chest. Blindfold scoffs, but dismisses his blade. "If you finally want to stop meeting like this."

Sora stands passively as he shoves him aside and picks up a run to finish the rest of the journey downward on his own.

"Wait, wait—lemme get this straight. You still believe in Santa Claus."

"I'm telling you I met Santa Claus!" Sora cries indignantly, nearly firing an ice cream projectile toward a passerby when he swings out his arm. He takes a moment to address the situation, which is rapidly melting, by pouting around his ice cream, monitoring as Riku remains too busy covering his face in a valiant effort not to laugh to pay attention to his own melting situation. Sora gestures for him to do so with a cross look before continuing. "He was very happy to meet someone who was still a true believer in the Christmas spirit. I'm on the nice list!"

"Oh, yeah?" Riku purses his lips with barely restrained glee, which further prevents him from addressing the ice cream problem. "So did you get any presents?"

Sora puffs up to the most dignified stature he can manage while seated on a bench and catches another passerby glance over at them for a moment and grin before quickly turning away. "Santa promised that I had a lot of really good things coming much later on, and that just being myself with everyone I meet would carry the greatest returns."

Riku looks agonizingly close to tears. After a false start, he finally squeaks a question at him like he got ahead of himself when setting up for the punchline.

"And Santa said that verbatim."

"I swear! Word for word!"

"And was that the only thing you received from Santa?" Riku asks, his customary irony betrayed by his expression. Sora responds with a matter-of-fact confidence.

"I also got a candy cane."

Riku is surprised into an explosive fit of laughter, an arm over his face as he looks down, shoulders shaking and lightly wheezing.

"Don't laugh! It wasn't even one of those nasty peppermint ones, it was actually candy-flavored! I haven't seen one anywhere in ages!"

Riku rubs the sleeve of his jacket across his face and stifles a hiccup as he recuperates. "So you're telling me that Santa Claus told you that your presence is your present." Sora only gives a helpless lopsided grin in response. "And that all you wanted for Christmas was affirmation and a tutti frutti candy cane."

"The candy cane was the best part. You're just jealous."

"Dunno. I kinda like peppermint. But it's too bad if being a nonbeliever lands you on the naughty list. Do you think it's too late to claim one? I'll even settle for a mint."

"Probably not. I'll put in a good word for you next time I'm there," Sora says with conviction.

"Mean it?"

"Course I mean it! What, you think I'm pulling your leg?"

"About Santa Claus? No, I'm thoroughly convinced. I'm not sure you're capable of pulling one over on anyone."

Sora pulls a face at him in annoyance, but is already smiling through it in triumph. "Whatever. At least now you know that Santa's real. That'll give you a head start on the nice list for this year."

He laughs. "Don't go to too much trouble on my behalf. Santa will laugh at the mere suggestion. Besides, you'll already be back home splashing away again by Christmas, I'm sure of it. Not a care in the world and all of this behind you."

"Think so?" Sora asks, still smiling. "In that case, maybe I'll see if I can't find a way to drag you along while I'm there."

"Not sure the weather will agree with me," Riku says wryly, then falls quiet, inspecting his ice cream. "Though I'd like to think you'll have much better things going on."

"What, and leave you to sulk around? No way. Like I'm just gonna let you forget all about me."

"Unfortunately for the both of us, I don't think I ever could."

The last train of the day rumbles beneath them, dragging Sora's attention away from the bittersweet little smile that Riku hides behind what's left of his ice cream, salvaged in the eleventh hour.

After so long having resigned himself to this town being a new home of a sort, he hadn't really given much thought to the notion that he might leave it far behind forever. For all his homesickness he finds he did end up making the best of it he could, one bit at a time. The monotony of the day-to-day has faded into steady splashes of color against the monochrome, brightened by a sense of accomplishment. He's grown that much stronger, whole worlds opened up to him in Aqua's study, and everything surrounding has now grown that much less mysterious for it. He's even managed to spackle over some of the loneliness, now ameliorated by days like this where he and Riku would meet up and while away an entire afternoon together, sliding from pastime to pastime until ending up in what neither of them would describe as a dinner date except maybe on pain of death, even if just to spite the other. Riku bought him an ice cream. With any luck, Sora will get to act on his now overwhelming urge to find out if he tastes like sea salt now. Maybe it will tide him over until he can finally go back to the real thing.

He idly finishes his ice cream and glances at the stick, noticing it's branded with the word WINNER, then makes a little sound of curiosity.

"Oh," Riku says pleasantly when he leans over to read it. "Lucky you. Apparently if you collect a few you can turn them in for a prize, but I haven't managed to find one yet."

"Really?" Sora asks with genuine excitement. "That's so cool." He sticks it back in his mouth for a moment, to Riku's amusement, and wipes it clean in order to present it before him. "Here you go."

Riku scoffs, taking it from his hand. "How thoughtful. But it's your find."

"I insist."

Sora stares him down, and receives surprisingly little resistance; he simply shakes his head with a smile and pockets it. Sora waits expectantly for a beat before allowing a moment of smugness, and Riku of course foils him by reaching over to ruffle his hair with force then leaving him to recover as he swings his leg over from where he straddles the bench and propels himself to his feet and toward his next destination.

"Don't let me stop you from spreading some more Christmas cheer," he says dryly as he goes.

"Hey!"

Sora rushes to step in stride beside him.

Though sleep comes easily, what follows does not: again he stands on the shore braced against tempest winds. This time Sora hears a bitter laugh from close by, then sees a boy in a black coat just yards away.

It may have been delayed, the boy says to him calmly from where he sits before the churning tide, but it cannot be detained. That which is borne from darkness is fated to end—again, as it always will—in darkness. Embrace the inevitability. You have your part to play.

He doesn't deign to grace him with his cold golden-eyed stare. Sora looks to a point just beside him, something glinting at the shore—some irrational weapon, a keyblade that would be impossible to use even if it weren't cracked and crumbling to pieces. The gust picks up again, and he raises a hand over his face—he doesn't see the wave until it's too late, and he's swept away by the tide.

He's not sure if it's still the same boy's voice in his head that he hears as he struggles through the current, but knows it's a warning:

You've seen firsthand how attempting to defy fate will only doom you to it. It could not save him. You must know by now that you cannot do the same.

He takes a gasping breath when it releases him onto a mirror of that same shore, then pushes himself up and looks around to find himself blanketed by an eerie blackness, everything soundless despite the waves. He runs along the shore to escape the quiet, heading deeper into darkness and powerless to stop until a noise pulls him from it—the sound of a splash, not too far ahead. He runs even faster toward it, at some point the threshold giving way again to his island, now a shambles of driftwood and detritus after a powerful storm.

Sora squints in the dark at the next sound to find first what remains of the pier, and next the source of the noise dangling from the end of it. Blindfold tries desperately to keep his head above roiling water, one hand holding fast to the edge, the other desperately reaching to loosen himself from something that threatens to drag him under. Sora runs.

Hey. Hey! he shouts, dropping to his stomach to reach down. Here!

Blindfold searches without seeing for the sound of his voice.

Where are you? he gasps. I can't let go.

Don't be stupid. I'm right here. Just give me your hand.

No! I'll just drag you down with me.

I've got you! You have to trust me.

He goes under once more before he can respond, and Sora shouts, craning down as far as he can go.

You can't do this for me, Blindfold yells when he emerges.

Shut up! We have to do it together.

I won't be the reason you fall.

I'm not going to! Listen, you have to look for me, I'll show you. Take that off!

I can't, he says mournfully. I can't.

You idiot! You have to, you need to be able to see. Blindfold shakes his head, gasping for air as he tries to keep afloat, and Sora nearly screams in frustration. I'm not giving up, there's gotta be a way.

He casts around looking for something, anything to help, already knowing it's hopeless, every bit of logic displaced by futility. Another surge, and Blindfold fights tooth and nail to tread water—he knows with certainty the next one will pull him under for good. There has to be a way. Sora uses all the strength he can muster to lean over the edge and reach for him.

Sora, he hears him call softly.

Yes, here!

Sora.

Wait, huh? he thinks, bewildered, slowing pensively before he shakes his head clear. He reaches for his arm and misses for the second time. Water rises, and Sora panics, grasping at nothing as someone calls for him, each time reaching to answer and coming up empty handed; with desperation he braces himself then vaults into the water, immediately disoriented until someone grabs him securely by the shoulders, and he's tethered by the sound of his own name.

Sora looks up, bewildered, as he's shaken awake to the sound of Riku's voice.

"Didn't wanna wake you," he says quietly, stepping away. "Just sounded like a bad one."

"Sorry," Sora replies, sleepy but aware, still feeling the dregs of that fleeting panic, sure that he's running out of time."Did I keep you up?" he starts, then takes him in—Riku is almost completely dressed already, wearing his jacket slung over his arm along with a guilty expression. "Oh," Sora follows up immediately, regretting that he allowed himself to sound so disappointed. The urge that he needs to take care of something important returns in force again before he reminds himself that he's left it all behind in the dream, and he lets out a shaky sigh.

"I—" Riku begins, at the same time Sora starts, "Don't feel like you have to stay." Since clearly you've got places to be, he thinks, but keeps it to himself.

For a second, Riku is visibly torn. Sora immediately feels the onset of a wave of exhaustion, and hides his face with a sigh.

"I'm fine," he tells a pillow. He unconsciously bundles the sheets under his hand into a shaky grip. No one's in danger, he tells himself. You're not responsible for anything right now. Especially not someone who's playing for the other team. He's not sure he can say it with conviction.

"I know," Riku declares, then slides his jacket from his arm to hang it over the headboard before he climbs in bed, motioning at him to scooch over.

"You're not gonna offend me if you don't stick around just because of a stupid nightmare."

"What was it about?" Riku diverts, settling in with his arms wrapped around himself as he looks on patiently.

"…The beach," Sora says after hesitating, then sees him nod in understanding. Sora looks down, not wanting to beleaguer the subject, but the tendrils of it that still float through keep catching on him until they make the admission for him. "There wasn't anything I could do."

"You know that's not true," Riku says, brow furrowed. "You told me yourself what happened."

"Yeah." He thinks of the shattered weapon. Delayed but not detained. "But I'm always gonna worry that it wasn't enough."

"Guess so, huh," Riku says quietly, pausing for long enough that it seems like that's all he has to say before he finally speaks again. "But if it ever comes down to it, you know you can do it again." Rather than agree, Sora just looks ahead, focusing on each breath. After a moment Riku prods again. "So what was it?"

"It's almost always the same. There was a storm," Sora says after a moment, distant. It doesn't make sense to recount it now…but there's no good reason not to. "I had to make it to the island. No one else was there."

At Riku's nod, he continues, lulled into a rhythm that steadies the spikes of fear until sleep finally feels less like a faraway dream.

He wakes again much more calmly, but alone. Sora sighs, resigned, then stretches outward and accidentally brushes something with his hand. A groan is already building up inside him by the time he wraps his fingers around it: a little wooden ice cream stick, special winner edition. Funny how it doesn't feel like a victory.

"I hate you so much," he mutters, grouchily lobbing it in the direction of the end table before he attempts to drag himself as seamlessly as possible into the next chore.

The X grows heavier and heavier in his pocket, dread closing in as the time stretches longer. Sora wishes whatever was supposed to happen would just reveal itself already, but in the meantime he has to settle for guesses, hoping that time spent down in the manor basement will magically compensate for his ineptitudes.

This magic solution, some untold power, a mutual strength—any of the things that Aqua had assured him would come to fruition… As much as he's grown, he's no closer to any of those than before. You know it or you don't, and he doesn't. He'd be more willing to give it some time if time were something he actually had, but he's got a feeling inside that's very similar to the nauseating countdown from Ludor's visit.

None of his ideas are any more than half-baked, but he's always been more of a doer than a thinker. He's hoping some practical application with some of the devices in the mansion lab might do him some good. And if all else fails, he can always smack those devices around a bit. It works about half the time with everything else.

He's unsurprised to find company when he arrives.

"How's it going?" Sora announces as he enters the basement just before finding himself once again facing the point of Blindfold's blade. Sora stands rock-still and graces him with an even stonier glare, not that he'll be able to appreciate it. "Chill out. I'm not here to pull one over on you. It's just…what did you call it? A pleasant bonus."

"Poor aim and hard of hearing," Blindfold says with disdain, but lowers his blade and turns all the same, returning toward the computer he's just abandoned. "You won't have anyone but yourself to blame when something goes wrong."

"What else is new?"

Blindfold shakes his head, still coiled up tense in the same way he held himself in the desert, but Sora suspects it predates his arrival this time. The both of them are looking for trouble now, it seems, and though he was reasonably sure Blindfold isn't actually going to kill him on sight, it's welcome confirmation. Sora loosens, easing where his jaw was tight, and breathes a little less like he's diffusing a bomb.

"They never make it easy, do they," Blindfold spits. Sora inhales, thinking he may have counted his chickens a little too soon; he watches him let out a frustrated shout and throw his boot into the console with all the strength he can muster.

What gives? That's my job, Sora thinks sourly, though without a lot of bite. He takes a breath before trying another tactic.

"I don't think your gambler friend was lying when he said we had to work together."

"No. No way," Blindfold says. "That's the last thing I need."

"I wouldn't be so sure. Didn't we both get a part of it?"

"Misdirection. You can't possibly have anything that I don't already know. But carry on inflating your sense of importance."

"Why don't you prove it, then?" Sora huffs. "I'll even play it your way. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

The sound he makes might be a laugh. Whatever it was brings a little bit of the life back to his posture, the lines of him more elastic.

"You'd have to take it from me, first. If you can find it, that is."

"Fine by me."

Sora runs in his direction, raising his blade and telegraphing high. Blindfold snatches him by the wrist with a scoff, but Sora knees him in the stomach and slips out of his grip to follow up with the butt of his keyblade. With one hand, he grabs him by the front of the coat to push him up against the wall and presses his blade to his chest with the other. He admits there wasn't much of a plan moving forward here, but he looks content to admit defeat for the moment as both of them breathe shallowly from one another's air.

"I thought you were trying to tell me you wanted to stop meeting like this," Sora says, voice low. If he retaliates, there will be little he can do to stop it, but he still has a little leverage for the time being.

Sora looks up, following the heave of his chest along the stretch up his neck all the way up to the point of his jaw, which he directs upward. Split seconds could make the difference here: there are a slew of options, some of which he might even have a chance to come out on top of. But something else nags at him now, something compelling in between the heat of his breath and the beat from his breast. He fists his hand more tightly in his coat, realizing he's still breathing with the whole of his own chest as well. "It doesn't have to be that way," he says, and it comes out a murmur. He's lost in thought at the rest of it. Eyes halfway to closing, he rises on his toes like he's prepared to tell a secret.

In that hanging moment before he reaches the checkpoint at his mouth, Blindfold sweeps a leg under his and staggers him to the floor as he slips effortlessly away.

"It's in your best interest that we keep this as uncomfortable as possible," he bites out, approaching a growl.

"Doesn't mean you can't get a little help now and then," Sora replies as he rises, chafed. "Two heads are better than one, you know. And one pair of eyes is definitely better than zero. Why are you trying to do so much on your own?"

He laughs, one loud and mirthless sound. "Don't have much choice, do I?"

"Maybe you didn't before." Sora stretches his arm, nursing the elbow that took the brunt of his fall. "And the whole secret identity thing probably isn't helping much either. Ever considered letting someone in every once in a while?"

"Wouldn't matter. I'm nobody worth knowing. And definitely nobody worth helping."

"Oh, please. Can't someone else be the judge of that?"

"What, you? Oh, because you're just the bastion of morality."

"Will you listen to yourself? It must be exhausting. Aren't you exhausted? I'm worn out just listening to you," says Sora, with a full-body sigh to demonstrate. "How is this any way to live?"

He laughs bitterly again. "How do you suppose I go about my day, then?"

"Not doing whatever all this is supposed to be, that's for sure. There's always another way. And…well, for what it's worth…you and I don't make a bad team."

"Perfect," he spits, vitriolic. "So then what? I leave it all behind and run away with you? Just play a different game of pretend? Because that's not exactly how things work here. People like me don't get to just forget it all and go get ourselves a happily ever after, because that's not the kind of story we chose."

"Then write a new one!" Sora shouts, feeling something cold and numb float down to settle itself in his chest. Is it such a stupid idea? If that's what it'll take…to do what, he's not sure. He hasn't made it that far yet. Even so, he's compelled to try. "You act like there's no way to change, like there's no coming back—"

"Of course there's no coming back! Of all the idiotic—" Blindfold scoffs, reaching out to summon his blade. "Forget it. Maybe I should just shut you up once and for all."

He turns on his heel, already swinging. Sora snatches his own blade forward to counter, and they collide with force, enough that it brings Sora halfway to his knees. He stays sturdy, but with some effort. If he's not careful, he'll reveal the tremor of fear he now feels running through him.

"You can try," Sora says, with undue confidence. Blindfold bears down harder on his blade, then disengages as if actively repelled. He turns around and walks away, half of the fight going with him.

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" he says, still hostile, but now subdued; one hand curls up into a fist at his side. "Stupid and stubborn… You're not even worth the energy. I won't bother."

"Doesn't really seem like the bad guy thing to do," Sora says quietly, and though he's not ready to drop his guard, an entirely unfounded suspicion starts grounding itself in his head, assuaging his fear of danger. He allows a moment of quiet to let it gain traction, but stops, giving it form before he can convince himself the opposite. "You're trying to protect me."

Blindfold laughs, half-hearted. "I have no interest in attempting the impossible." He shakes his head. "Turns out you were capable of sprouting an ego after all. But, hey, you don't have too much to worry about," he says, holding his hand out to the side—Sora feels himself disarmed with a physical tug, but there's not much use in fighting, not right now. "Not when you've got this and a self-righteous attitude to keep you safe. So thanks for thinking of me while you cross things off of your convenient little checklist of things to save from the darkness, but it shouldn't be a surprise to anyone by now that you missed the mark—which is to be expected when the only thing that moves you is blind duty to a cause you can't even put into your own words."

"My only duty is to whatever my heart tells me is the right thing to do."

"Your heart?" Blindfold asks incredulously. "Your heart. What good will that weak little thing do for you?"

Sora knows he has few seconds to act upon reclaiming his blade—Blindfold turns to meet him intuitively, sweeping out with his own as Sora swings low. Sora jumps, narrowly avoiding a hit, then staggers Blindfold with the concussive barrier he manages to produce just before he counters again, leaving himself with just enough time to swing his blade behind his knees in an anvil blow.

"Hasn't steered me wrong so far," Sora says, dodging before Blindfold can reach him as he rises from his knees.

"Then it's probably time for a tune-up." Blindfold dodges Sora's feint and uses the opportunity to thrust his blade out toward Sora's with enough force that he throws it from his grip. Blindfold snatches it for himself before it leaves the air.

Sora hears the sound of static as he flails for balance. He turns to find Blindfold across the room, arms crossed sullenly with a keyblade hanging from each hand.

"No," Sora says as he gets his bearings. "I know it's right, because I don't always like what it's saying. But it always points me in the right direction. Strong hearts always do—you'll find your way too."

"I don't think bad guys get the benefit of a directional system."

"I'm not convinced that's what you are." Not anymore. The more energy he puts into maintaining a facade, the more it breaks into tiny little fractures. What possible reason does he have to make such a show out of atonement? "But either way, you're gonna need my help sooner than later."

"Guess again. As long as you're not out of my way, you're in it. Don't think I'll hesitate to do what needs to be done if you turn out to be more of a problem than you already are. End of story."

"I get the feeling that's not how you'd choose for it to play out. You'll see it my way eventually. 'Specially if you decide you're ready to take that off. You'll know how to find me when you do."

"Are you inviting me in from the cold yourself, then?"

"You don't need anyone's permission."

He's silent for a moment.

"No thanks. Always wanted to elope, but something tells me the honeymoon period would end pretty quick. Anyway, you'd only drag me down. Concentrate on keeping yourself afloat."

"Maybe I just wanna get this over with."

"It'd be my greatest pleasure," he says, extending his blade.

Sora lunges at him as he moves forward, but Blindfold seems to phase through him, leaving that static sensation—Sora looks up to find him seated atop a tall console near the doorway, one leg crossed over the other, dangling Sora's keyblade by the hilt from his index finger so it swings precariously over his realm.

"Any day now," Sora says, crossing his arms. His irritation is less affected than he'd like to admit; he sulks from below, tapping his foot.

"Darling, I just hate it when we fight. Kiss and make up?"

"Shame you waited to ask until you were at a safe distance," Sora observes. Blindfold spins Sora's blade into his grip, then raises it above his head as if to throw it back to him. Before he swings, he hesitates, then holds it out as if inspecting it for flaws. Sora huffs. "By all means. If you need it, it's yours." Blindfold makes a face, then holds it far away from him like it disgusts him, miming the act of throwing it aside.

"I'll pass," he says with contempt, dropping it from his hand. Sora calls it back, but lets it fall from his grip, tossing it aside himself as it dematerializes.

"Suit yourself."

"That's no fun. And definitely not on your own. Though I always like the un-suiting part a little better."

"Yeah, right. Like there's anything you'd ever let anyone give you a hand with. Do you keep that on the whole time, too?"

Blindfold scoffs, then propels himself from the console to the floor.

"Sad to say I won't be seeing you either way."

"Don't worry. I'll catch you next time."

Blindfold stops midstep, hovering at the doorway. Whatever he had to add doesn't seem important enough to justify him sticking around, though. Sora only watches him go.

Sora finds that despite spending so long hanging out in someone's shadow, he doesn't mind it much after all—this latest visit to Aqua's finally puts him face to face with Ventus's infectious grin, one he recognizes from one of the very first times he ever saw Aqua in the town square. He's aware he's got a handful of distinctive personality quirks, some flavors nicer than others, but there are certainly worse qualities to have in common with someone: it seems to be an overall positive comparison.

"So nice to meet you," Ventus greets him, extending his hand with genuine and gentlemanly aplomb. "Aqua was so happy to introduce us. It's an honor."

Today Terra met him at the door to lead him up, and Sora was nervous at first that his arrival put a damper on an intimate moment between the three of them. He finds it dissipates quickly in the aura of warmth they share, and he gets a sense of vicarious happiness at the sight of the three of them together. It's foreign yet familiar: though their shared upbringing as legacies of the keyblade has nothing in common with Sora's experience, Ventus's amiable nature makes Sora feel like he's known him his whole life.

"Uh…likewise!" Sora responds as he returns the handshake, immediately reaching to rub at the back of his head before stopping himself.

Grinning, Terra sidles over and puts a hand on Sora's shoulder to give him a friendly jostle.

"Ven's got every right to be impressed," Terra says warmly. "He knows better than anyone what any syllabus of Aqua's looks like."

"Sure do. Not for the faint of heart, no doubt about that. You've gotta be made of tough stuff to survive that one."

Aqua laughs. "You make it sound impossible! But I will say Sora's come very far since we met, though I can't take all the credit. He's a natural."

"And probably even quicker than you, Ven," Terra chimes in, though Ventus doesn't seem to take umbrage. "There's still lots to learn, but I've got a feeling we'll get through it in no time."

"Then you must have plenty of work to do. I'm sorry, I should leave you to it. I only meant to drop by. I'll be leaving in one sec," Ventus says as he hops from where he'd settled into a seat at Aqua's desk, still fussing over one of the crossed bands he wears over his chest that's gone askew. It leaves him unsuspecting as Terra approaches behind to grab and noogie him into submission, leaving him more tousled than when he began.

"I don't mind," Sora says, swallowing a laugh. Ventus grins at him in response.

"It's okay. I really am just passing through. It never hurts to remind myself that sometimes your friends can help you find the key to just about anything," he says, gesturing at Aqua and Terra. He puts a hand to his chin for a pensive moment. "I guess you could say in more ways than one. Well, you can say it a few ways, actually," he laughs. "But that's kind of a long story. I'm not trying to bore you, Sora."

"No, it's fine, go ahead. What do you mean?"

"Ven," Aqua starts with authority, warning in her tone, but backs down before Ventus can even turn to her with a raised brow. He regards her for a moment, cocking his head almost imperceptibly in question, and a serious expression passes over her for just an instant before she purses her lips slightly and nods.

"Depends on how you're lookin' at it," Ventus says cheerfully. "Sometimes even little things have a whole lot more power behind them than you'd expect."

Sora doesn't want to presume that he's due for another guest lesson, or that Ventus has anything he's willing to teach him at all, but he smiles and points at the notebook Sora tossed on the table out of habit as he walked in.

"You mind?" When he shakes his head no, Ventus flips the notebook open with one hand, and reaches for a small brush resting against an open jar of ink with the other. Sora hovers for a moment before he steps close enough to see, reassuring himself that the most embarrassing thing Ventus might find is a few too many doodles here and there.

On the last page, Ventus draws two strokes with a practiced hand in demonstration. "Seen this before?"

Large and bold on the page now lies an ornate letter 𝛘, written in a script identical to the one on the playing card that still weighs leaden in his pocket.

"Somewhere, I think," Sora says, hoping he hasn't revealed the way his whole system stopped for a moment before picking up more quickly than before. "What's it mean?"

"It's a key," Ventus says. "It's the key, if you wanna put it like that. Just about everything a keyblade wielder stands for starts here. It's meant to remind us that everything balances out—two lines, like light and darkness, which always meet in the middle. It's easy to miss, but you'll start to see it everywhere."

"But isn't it a letter? Why's it called that?"

Ventus nods, then beneath the symbol writes three letters, neat and uniform: chi. "It's the letter 'kye,'" he says, tapping at the word, then draws a line beside it to connect it to the next word he writes, then this time taps on it. "But you can see how it might look like 'key.' Doesn't make much sense, right?" Ventus laughs, interpreting Sora's stare-down as garden-variety confusion. "What can I say? They're not my rules."

Aren't rules made to be broken? Sora thinks, but refrains from speaking aloud. Maybe that's what his clue is telling him to do. A skeleton key? A master key? Maybe it's more than just a wildcard—maybe it's an override code, for the things even the keyblade can't open.

"You said everything started there. What else did you mean?"

"It represents us. Like the bands we wear," Ventus says, gesturing to the ones he'd adjusted earlier. "But it's why we fight. Everything we do is based on something that was created to protect a real powerful force, one that's supposed to keep everything in check. It's what the keyblade is based on. But just like the keyblade, it's still a weapon. And some people want it for themselves, but not for the right reasons—the same way that wielders sometimes misuse the power of the keyblade in the name of doing something good." Ventus's hand has traveled to his chest, hovering right over his heart. "It wasn't meant to be controlled. We're not the boss of it—it's the other way around. And there's a very steep price to pay when you try to forge something that was never even meant to e—"

"Ven." This time it's Terra who pipes up with a warning, face stern. Ventus, still addressing Sora directly, becomes aware of his surroundings again. "Lighten up some," he continues, easing into that same amicable smile.

"If you say so," Ventus says, smile just slightly dimmer than before. He loosens his fingers from where they had curled inward in a claw around his heart.

I'm guessing that part's not really common knowledge, Sora assumes. To his surprise, Aqua chimes in to support him.

"Ven's talking about something we've discussed," she says, directing her gaze to Sora. "Understanding what it means to lose sight of doing what's right, that is. But most people do have good intentions, and work to make their world a better place. I hope you'll get more chances to see it for yourself in your travels."

"I could stand to get out more," Sora says cautiously. Ventus nods, unsurprised.

"Aqua mentioned that you might like to see even more worlds someday—I'd tell you to come tag along on my next trip, but I don't think it'd end up being that much fun, if it's anything like this last one," Ventus says, looking to Aqua as she shakes her head in agreement.

"Radiant Garden," she says, not quite a question. He nods. "You may not remember, Sora. I brought it up a long time ago. It's a special place. But now…"

"It's probably nothin' to worry about," Ventus grins. "It's got pretty strong defenses. I've still never seen another place with so much light."

"You already know the way that each world has its ebbs and flows when it comes to light and darkness. And you know that the work you're doing on other worlds helps keep any one of them from being overcome by either," Aqua adds with emphasis, looking pointedly at Sora. He nods. He understands loud and clear: it's a warning not to go looking for trouble. Unfortunately, it's already too late: he's just found it, his thoughts already wandering around in a city of light.

"Be careful, Ven," Terra tells him, arms crossed firmly over his chest despite his light-hearted tone.

"Aren't I always?" he says, hands on his hips. At his periphery Sora spies Aqua smile slyly at Terra, gesturing with a nod in Sora's direction. "'Sides," Ventus continues. "I've already checked that off the list, so the worst of it's over with. Now it's just time to head back home. I'll let you know when I check back in with the master."

"See you, Ven," Aqua calls after him as he waves goodbye, then redirects her attention to Sora once more. "Speaking of checking things off the list…when was the last time you filled out your logs?"

Sora grimaces. She laughs, shaking her head, as he hangs his shoulders and sighs.

"Thrilling as that sounds, it's time I get going on an errand as well," Terra joshes, and with a laugh of his own, abandons Sora to fend for himself against an onslaught of paperwork.

He's half dozed off after throwing himself in the general direction of bed when the phone buzzes from somewhere beneath him. After a moment of fumbling, Sora finally grasps it securely and squints down at two words.

Heads up.

Snapped from stupor, he sits up, blinking, and a moment later hears a noise outside. There's a knock on his window—his rooms are not on the ground level, but he chooses to ignore this—and looks up to find Riku peeking in from the corner.

"Oh," he says, dashing over to open the window, slightly bewildered as he pours himself gracefully into the room despite the length of his legs. "Hey?"

"Sorry. Just something I wanted to tell you." He stops for a moment, brow furrowing, and considers him belatedly. "You know what, I'll come back another time; you look exhausted."

"It's fine, I just—" He meets his eye to finally get a good look at him. He carries his own kind of exhaustion around him, subdued and voice even softer than usual. "Rough day?"

Riku cocks his head to the side. "No, not really. Least, not any—" He shakes his head. "Just tired too, I guess."

"Okay."As if on cue the fatigue creeps in again, and Sora's shoulders slump. He slinks back over to take a seat on the bed, because the energy of having to look up at him and remain standing might just be the last straw for him. "What'd you wanna tell me?"

Riku follows suit, seated parallel. "I'm headed out of town for a few days," he says. After a moment of silence, he leans back to lay down, laying a hand on his stomach. "Figured you might want to know."

Sora laughs softly before filling in the position beside him. "You figured right." He mentally corrects his earlier assessment: the game of runaround Sora would play if he asked where he was headed would actually be the thing to break him. "Who's taking care of Junior while you're away?"

"The cactus will be fine, Sora." Riku tries to sound annoyed, but suppresses that same exasperated smile he'd given the time Sora visited his place and came across a singular potted plant perched on a windowsill, then, delirious with delight, made a production out of the family resemblance. Prickly. A chip off the old block. He'd started a game of hangman with himself where he developed its persona each visit, using a marker to scribble a face on the ceramic pot beginning one cranky eyebrow at time.

"Y'know, I'd offer to take him in for a while, 'cept I'm actually headed out in a day or two myself."

"Your generosity knows no bounds. But don't burden yourself. They don't need much."

"Are you sure? That's your own flesh and blood!" Sora says, to his huff of laughter. "What if he has a little cactus emergency? You could always leave him with Aqua."

He laughs again, much softer this time, and shakes his head.

"No. I made a promise." He sighs—the softest sound of the lot thus far. "She deserves to never have to see me again. I have to make sure she doesn't."

"Not you or your cactus?" Sora asks, unimpressed.

"Nope. Not even the cactus."

Sora has pretty emphatic evidence of the opposite by now, but he chooses to avoid this subject of conversation as well, knowing it will end abruptly if he pushes. He just shakes his head in resignation instead. He wonders who Riku made a promise to, but suspects no one else was actually involved in the decision.

Sora turns to see him staring up at the ceiling, and is struck by how far away he feels. Not once from the moment they met was he anything less than giddy to see him again, simply pleased to be his friend, but lately he's also been annoyed with him more often than not. What little he gives he takes with him every time he goes, only hollowing out little parts of himself in allotment like spoils poorly won. But nothing lasts forever when separated from the source. Those tokens lose power out of context. How much of himself would Sora leave behind in his quest to recharge them time and time again? Aqua had him pegged from the first moment—he'd stick by Riku's side for a long time, shepherd him back from the brink as often as necessary, follow so he won't feel alone…but what good will it do if he prefers the solitude?

Who are you? he thinks, for the first time in a long while. It's the question that plagued him so much at the beginning; after so long he still hasn't even come close to the answer.

"So where are you going? Home?" Riku asks, practically cheerful now in comparison. The question surprises him.

"Nah. Not yet."

Riku makes a noise of agreement, then considers for a moment. "What's stopping you?" he begins, still looking up at the ceiling wearing a serious expression. "I mean, besides just going on missions. Why not go visit? In fact, why not just leave altogether? It's not like there's anything they can do about it if you just leave it all behind."

He's right; there's not. At the beginning of his time stationed here, the heartache still rivaled the sickness he felt so early on when dealing with the realization that he might never see everything he'd ever known again. He would have done anything to pretend this world didn't exist. That keys belonged only on rings and in pockets, and that the only darkness that existed was the kind that happened when you turned off a light switch. Yet he'd put that feeling aside.

"Guess it never occurred to me to say no," Sora says after a moment. "I want to help—it's the right thing to do. Seeing so many other worlds, and meeting so many other people…people who could've lost everything the way I had if there wasn't someone who was able to help. It shows me that it does make a difference. And I'm happy to be a small part of something much bigger."

"Even if there's nothing in it for you."

"Yeah. But that's not the case here. This is the way I get to hold on to everything I care about, everything that makes me who I am. I can keep them safe: the places that I've seen, the ideas that I believe in…the people who I…"

Love, he thinks. The people I love.

While he knows it's true that he cares wholeheartedly for everything and everyone who's ever touched his heart, he also knows that he still hasn't seen the kind of love that Aqua wanted for him—the kind that served him just as much as he served it. A new kind of devotion—something that he cared for deeply that would in turn give him strength, put him first, even protect him—

Sora takes a breath to calm down something that spikes inside of him, knowing it's an impossible thought, then lets out a ragged exhale as he lets it go.

He's resourceful. He'll make do with what he has.

"The things that matter," Riku fills in for him after a moment.

"Yeah. That's it."

"I guess I can't argue with that," he says, then sits up. "But I'll let you get some sleep."

Riku stands, gesturing for Sora to stay where he is as he sits up as well.

"I'll see you later, then," Sora says half-heartedly, watching Riku stride back toward the window. And it was always later, wasn't it? Never, ever now—Sora is not entitled to the present. The thought might have upset him, but he truly is exhausted; he can't summon the energy it would take for even the tiniest cactus prickle of tears, nonetheless the amount it would take to ask him to stay.

"Until next time."

With that Riku slips back through the window, latching it shut with a click, and disappears back into town without another sound.

When he arrives in the world it feels like daybreak—not only the sun dawning obvious in the sky, but the sensation as well, the smell and the taste of it. Not many of the worlds he's visited so far have the same bustling city energy that's apparent here, and it makes it feel even more novel and separate from the twilight.

The other biggest difference is the regal aura resonating from the place, made stark by the castle ever-present from every part of the town. As he travels the alleys he takes note of the way civilization has taken hold as an aspect of its own—and it'd be hard to believe that there was any darkness here if it weren't for the town's defense system coming to light at the occasional test interval. Still, it's tranquil enough at first that it's difficult to imagine that the wielders he sees traveling together in small groups throughout town with tell-tale bands across their chests get much practical application while they remain on-world.

He doesn't expect to waltz right up to the castle with free rein to explore, but finding a concrete way in is proving more difficult than he thought. He stands at the outskirts of the residential area for a few moments, at a loss. Without a plan, he's reduced to just observing until something better comes along. People move from all directions, from the houses to the square and even about the castle grounds, but very few toward the court: he decides it's worth investigating.

After a little trial and error, Sora finds himself in the castle gardens, overall quiet and peaceful. He's getting ready to bark up a more interesting tree when he hears shuffling closer to the castle gates.

He follows the sound, overhearing as someone makes a noise of exaggerated disgust. "Bug patrol. Why do I always get stuck with the icky jobs?"

Blades up and back to back stand a young woman with short mahogany hair curling around her ears and a tall, lanky man with bright red hair falling past his shoulders—the last line of the castle's defense before the royal guard, it appears. If so, maybe not the wisest place to go snooping…but on the other hand, maybe all the better for it. The man laughs easily as she turns around, maybe to chastise him, though she smiles too, and Sora responds with a grin of his own at their display of effortless friendship. Instinct propels him forward. He wipes at his face with the back of his arm and puts on a wide smile before he moves into their line of sight.

"Hey…'scuse me," he asks, drawing both their attention as they stand at the ready for interrogation—for themselves or for him, he's not sure yet. "I'm a little lost. Can you help me out?"

He gives them a sheepish grin and allows them to make their assessment, now visibly disarmed.

"A wielder," she observes, though cocks her head at him suspiciously. "Though you're not one of mine."

He shakes his head. "Nope. Just passing through."

"Through to where?" the man drawls, raising one eyebrow and crossing his arms over his chest, though with more mirth than malice. He nudges his partner with one sharp elbow.

"The castle," Sora returns matter-of-factly, though watches for their reaction—the man's eyebrows both ascend this time, while the young woman furrows hers, expression now a little steelier. "Was hoping you could point me in the right direction."

The man stretches, arching up his shoulders so they match his brow, and takes a long and pointed look at the gate beside them, behind which the castle stands in clear view. Still skeptical, he turns back to observe Sora once again, and then for good measure back to the gate for a moment almost as long as he is. Sora blinks, blank faced, projecting innocence.

"Ah, oops, Kairi, I forgot they needed me on the other side this afternoon," the man says just as casually, stretching a hand out to inspect it from afar. "Sorry to ditch, but you got this, yeah? You know the castle like the back of your hand."

"Le—" she starts, a blush rising across her nose and her ears, but she stands up straight. He's already strolling away.

Sora takes one tentative step forward and smiles at her again. She returns it feebly. Her friend must have embarrassed her.

"Kairi, huh?" he asks, extending a hand. "My name's Sora. Too bad your friend couldn't stick around, but I'd really appreciate it if you could give me a hand.

Kairi tentatively reaches out, then nods and confidently returns his handshake, looking over him curiously for just one second before addressing him as if nothing were strange.

"It's nice to meet you, Sora," she says soft and even, gesturing back toward the castle gate with a point of her nose. "The easiest way into a castle is to ask for an audience with the guards. But…if you don't mind me asking, what business do you have in the castle?"

Her pointed tone implies that nobody really has business in the castle, which is a wrench in his plans that's to be expected.

"There's something really important that I need to take care of," he starts, shoulders tightening against his will. Great. Believable. "And, uh…I'm the only one who knows the way how." Even more credible. A veritable fountain of veracity. Though he will admit that considering he knows that his code has a counterpart card, this might be the very smallest of white lies, but he hopes he'll be forgiven.

She's thus far unmoved: he needs something he can use as leverage—something that will possibly gain her favor, or at least let back down her guard by an increment or two. She doesn't actively distrust him yet, though—at first blush he feels she's trustworthy too. He imagines she's sweet yet serious, hard-working and principled…but moreover, there's something disciplined in her stance that jogs his memory. Kind, earnest, and full of light…she certainly fits the bill, and he thinks it's worth risking.

"I'm training under Master Aqua," he adds confidently. Provided this does work out, with any luck he'll be long gone before she gets the opportunity to tattle on him to Aqua herself.

"Aqua sent you?"

"Not…exactly."

She bites her lip. They stare one another down for a moment.

"Why do you say you're the only one who can…take care of whatever it is?"

Good question, though something tells him that her role here notwithstanding, he shouldn't go giving away his wildcard—and it seems that her hands are tied regardless, and she herself tied to the castle in some way that would bring up too much scrutiny. He purses his lips uncertainly.

"It goes past just this world," he says as she patiently takes it in. "And because of that, I know that some of the people here aren't as concerned about the castle as they say they are." She takes a moment.

"My home is in danger," she concludes quietly, hand traveling over her heart and nodding as if he's only confirming something she already knew.

"Yeah," he says with a grimace, unable to put any other kind of spin on it. "Though I think I know what's going on, and how to stop it. But it's happening soon."

"What makes you sure I'm not one of those people trying to harm the castle?"

He blinks, surprised that he never considered it.

"I don't know," he says simply. "I guess I just really had a feeling about you as soon as I saw you."

She pauses again and looks at him severely, the blush threatening to return, but she gives her final appraisal with a pointed nod.

"Then I hope it's not crazy of me to say that I really had a feeling about you, too." The blush returns in full force this time, and she shakes her head. "I mean…I had a feeling that you're here to help, that is." Kairi looks up suddenly and glances around like she realizes she might be overheard. "If…if you have any trouble with the castle guard… There's an underground waterway," she says quietly. "Beneath the town. But the water system—" She gestures back the way he came, toward the fountain court. "It's all connected. If you get lost, remember the water flows toward the castle, not away. I'm needed here, or I'd show you."

She averts her gaze for a moment as a flicker of doubt crosses her face—that, or keep an eye on him. He realizes she's taking an incredible risk on him—he remembers Aqua's fond reflection on a girl whose home is her point of strength. He's asking her to leave that in a stranger's hands.

"Don't worry. I've got it from here." She looks up at him, and he reaches for her hand to put it between both of his. "I promise I won't let you down, okay? I really appreciate your help, Kairi. Thank you for trusting me."

She nods as he lets her go, her hand moving to clutch unconsciously at the pearl drop necklace that rests at her throat.

"Wait," she says, her hand stealing up to press a touch to the chain on his neck. "To help guide your way while you're here. Be careful."

"Thanks. I will." He gives her one final nod and turns in the direction of the gate, then hears her speak plainly after a few paces.

"I know."

Sora is still toying with the idea of progressing any farther toward what might await him past the castle gates when the question is answered for him.

"An outworlder," comes a voice from nearby, and Sora turns to find himself nearly face to face with two mighty weapons—brandished by mightier men, who stand in full uniform at the foot of the stairway leading up to the doors.

"We shall not allow the likes of you to infiltrate the Radiant Garden," says another voice. Sora wonders if they are perhaps thinking of slightly more heartless variations of intruders, though his barred entry is an understandable request, mostly given that he can't simply ignore it and go anyway.

"Oh. Uh…sorry. I'm an outworlder, but I'm not an infiltrator, promise." Not yet, at least.

"What do you seek from the castle?" asks the man with the long dark hair, who stares at him now with the same sharpness he imagines the lance he carries has.

"Well…hopefully nothing," Sora says, nervous. He's not sure an accusation of treason will go over well with these weaponized boulders—he thinks of something passably close to the truth. "I'm here because I was told to warn you that there might be something wrong inside the castle, something that's making the darkness worse."

The other man—mirrored by his partner in size but inverted by his short, light hair—narrows his eyes at him. "Braig will have seen to you if you entered our realm with a concern."

"I don't know any Braig," Sora responds earnestly. "And I definitely didn't meet anyone like that when I got here."

They glance at one another, a weighted and wordless thought passing between them, but return to him with equal severity as before.

"We cannot be sure yet that you have no malicious intent against king and castle," replies the man with the axe.

"If you have not yet answered to the guard, then your entrance to the castle can be arranged—under the proviso that you are detained in the dungeon for as long as it takes for you to declare your true intention."

"Oh, no, thank you, that's fine then," he says, though the ominous nature of the way they now approach him tells him that they may not actually give him the option. As they descend upon him—which is absolutely not fair, because the both of them are each about four times his size—he glances behind with trepidation and immediately double takes, confirming the flash of black he spies ascending the stairs. "Uh," he starts. "I think you may have another visitor."

"You cannot fool us with simple distractions," says the man with the lance, at the very moment a very distracting clamor occurs from somewhere up above.

"Remain here," says the man with the axe, and with a simultaneous nod at the other, they march in tandem up the stairs. Sora watches after them for a second while squinting in concern, standing on his toes to see if he can discern the cause of the commotion. Suddenly he's pulled away by a hand at his waist and a voice at his ear.

"You weren't actually planning on sticking around for the next show, were you, Misfire?"

"You," Sora gasps, winded as he's lifted bodily and pivoted in the other direction with a grace of a tango.

"Hello, lover. Long time no see," says Blindfold flatly, grabbing his hand and whisking him from the castle courtyard.

Sora rolls his eyes. "Oh, please. You don't mean to tell me you missed me."

"Well, I'll have you know that ironically enough, Misfire, I always do," he says, pulling him along as he scales the ramparts with the help of a little magic until they stand at the rooftops of the borough. "Got nothing to say for myself except that I imagine the only entity in all the worlds who could possibly have aim worse than yours is Cupid."

"Hilarious," he replies, though he goes red all the same. He changes the subject, hissing, "What are you doing here?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yeah, I really would!"

"The same thing as you, I assume—trying to get into the castle. Though thus far your option has a little more finesse."

"Then where are we headed now?"

"I hear the gardens are lovely this time of year. Thought I might take you somewhere nice for a change."

"What about getting into the castle?"

"What you saw was about the extent of my plan there. If you have any bright ideas, I'm all ears."

"So that's your secret? Echolocation?"

Blindfold sighs dramatically as they reach the last rooftop in sight. He holds out his hand by his side, palm up.

"Shall we?"

The square, sparsely populated, looms below, as does an inconspicuous row of bushes. He'd rather not draw any more suspicion, so he takes his hand. Together they fall into the landscaping.

"What's in the gardens?" he asks, but before he finishes, he hears a mechanical ding that he recognizes as the activation of the town's defense system, which precedes the column of light erupting from the ground directly in front of him. Blindfold turns to cover him, pushing him aside, but catches part of the blast for himself at his arm.

"I can tell you what's not, for one thing," he says through a wince. "Town security doesn't extend that far, for whatever reason." He shakes it off and turns back in the direction of the main entrance, summoning Sora along with a wave. "Not ideal, since it's much farther out from the castle than I'd like to be. But it's more likely that I'll stay intact there 'til I figure it out."

"How do you know?"

"You've been slacking—I've been here a day just scoping things out."

"I guess that's better than nothing."

They emerge in the garden entrance—Sora breathes out, realizing how much tension he was carrying, though it's a waste of energy now that the only commotion comes from the water feature bubbling in the background.

"Only the best for you, Misfire," Blindfold says through a stretch, surreptitiously reaching up his arm to inspect the damage to his coat. "One last look, since you're so resigned to abandon peace and quiet."

"What's the plan once you actually get in the castle?" Sora asks, watching the water above.

"What was yours?" Blindfold responds, then falls quiet.

"Didn't really have one either, did you?" Blindfold remains silent. "Then why hang around here?"

"Got another hint," he says, and walks through the doors. Sora follows, squinting in the sunlight as the outer gardens come into focus. "This place… Powerful worlds like this can tip the scale one way or another. They used to talk about creating a new epicenter of darkness. If what I heard was true, then it's as good as confirmed that they're trying to destroy it from the inside out. One more light snuffed out for good."

"And you think you can stop it?" Once again, Blindfold's telltale silence speaks volumes. "But we have to try," Sora continues after a moment, at which he sighs, his hand tightening at his side.

"I'm closer than ever. I can't change that I had a role in it—but I can use what I already know to make it that much harder for them."

"And get your revenge."

"Naturally." He kicks some gravel on the ground with a lazy swing of his boot and in the same movement crosses his arms over his chest, nose pointed up like he's looking toward the sky as he walks casually forward. "Just need a way in."

"Yeah." Sora reaches into his pocket, thumbing at the playing card, and drops into a pensive silence.

"I imagine you don't have much more to go on than I do."

"Well. I met a girl."

"How lovely for you."

"Shut it—I think she might have lived in the castle, or spent a lot of time in it, at least. She told me there's an underground waterway, if you know anything about that from snooping around."

Blindfold's already paused mid-step and changed course, moving at a steady clip toward a water feature in the center of the garden. "I just might."

"Wait, where are you going now?"

"There's a hidden entrance to the purifying facility. If it's a waterway you want, you're bound to find some way in there." He breaks into a full on run, and Sora follows as he disappears around the corner. Sora skids to a halt in confusion until a voice beckons him from inside the fountain. "C'mon."

Blindfold is already navigating across the expanse by the time Sora slips through.

"Wait!"

"Keep up," he laughs as Sora closes the distance. "Your girlfriend have any other useful tips you've neglected to share?"

"Not really. 'Cept I think you're right about someone trying to destroy it from inside—she wasn't surprised that there was trouble."

They traverse the facility, following the pipeline down into the dark.

"It's just a matter of figuring out what kind."

The security system seems quiet in this area, but Sora doesn't want to speak too soon—another threat emerges in the form of a uniform wave of heartless.

"Besides this," Sora mutters as he moves to stomp them out—thankfully quick work, but things can only go downhill from here. "What I don't get is where the heartless are even coming from in the first place. First off, wouldn't the defense system take care of them? And what does a city of light even need one for?"

Blindfold dispels a pair of stragglers and stops as if lost in thought.

"Doesn't something feel off about them to you?"

"The heartless? Not really. They're all a little different, especially ones from different worlds."

"That's just it—these aren't different at all. Every single one of them's the same—and they're not like any of the ones from other worlds."

"So you mean they smell funny."

"Well…yeah. They're more predictable. It's almost like they were…"

"Like they were what?"

"Produced."

"Wait. Are you saying you think they make them here?" Bespoke heartless—exactly what they need. They trudge down into the depths and damper air, undoubtedly closer to the waterway.

"Gotta be. Straight from the source."

"That's what the key must be for, then."

"Key?"

"Not a literal key; I think it must be a code—"

He stops as Blindfold snatches something out of his pocket and shoves it in his hand—a card, the soulmate to the one that lives in his own pocket. Sora takes it from him and squints at the face to find an image of a simple key.

He laughs, surprised.

"A literal key," Blindfold supplies. "So if yours is a code, I've got a feeling there's something we're missing."

"Something else that needs to be locked…you don't think—no."

"What?"

"What if it's not just creating darkness, but bringing it here, too?"

"The world's keyhole."

"Right. You've gotta find it."

"Me? Seal a keyhole?"

"Who else?" Blindfold stops, tense. After a moment, he summons his blade. Sora huffs. "What, did you forget what it was for?"

"That's exactly what happened," he replies evenly. He dismisses it, and closes his palm over the space it leaves. "Darkness…it's got different priorities."

"And a key's a key. Don't overthink it."

The atmosphere of darkness creeps in once again to mingle with the wet air, leaving them to take care of another ambush that leads them to the spot where the waterway widens. "Okay. Probably not a good sign that the closer we get, the more there are."

"Then quit wasting time standing around talking to me. Better hurry, hero."

"You don't have to tell me twice, but you'd better get going too. I think your best bet is going to be the center of the castle."

"Worse enough that I think you're right—I doubt this will be a fun trip."

"Have a good time," Sora says dryly. "But I think it's smarter if I head the other direction."

Not that Sora thinks he will protest, but he splits before he can voice any objection to separating.

After a stretch navigating in the dark, he wonders if the buddy system wasn't a better plan after all, but at the very least he has the current of water beneath to guide his way toward the castle as he attempts to find his bearings in the pitch black—he, for one, is not used to navigating sightless. At the very least it seems he's getting closer to some sort of exit, or so he hopes—the water turns from stream to storm at some point down the line as he reaches each new section marked by a threshold of ornate ironwork.

The heartless are nothing he can't handle on his own, but like before, each wave grows denser. At a point they arrive in groups back to back, and the only way he progresses any further is by fighting through the lot. He hasn't dispensed with the latest group before another arrives as backup.

He puts up his guard, stepping backwards before he realizes that the water seems to taper off in one direction, the sound now muted. "What?" he says, and in the moment of distraction he loses his balance as the heartless snake into his periphery—he shouts as he flails backward, something all but dragging him into the depths below.

He struggles, though only for a moment—he doesn't get a chance to panic before he lands with a splash into the outlet of the aqueduct. It's shallow, which is a mixed blessing: no room to be submerged, but not much cushion either, not that he'd have an opportunity to appreciate it either way. He's not pleased to have drawn so much attention; he's got company, though not the wherewithal to discern just how much while he's still on the ground. Steady, he takes a chance to summon a flicker of light—just ahead on the other side of the current he spies a nondescript iron door, briefly obscured by a descending flash of black, distinct from the endless dark.

"Aren't you sealing a keyhole?" Sora asks with admonishment, though he takes the hand extended to him as he feels himself lifted to his feet by the hand around his arm. "Because I really do think we should stop meeting like this."

They stand back to back against the encroaching darkness.

"Couldn't agree more."

"Then what's the big idea? Why stick around?"

"Because unfortunately," Blindfold says through gritted teeth as he stands between Sora and some untold mass of darkness directly ahead, "it seems I just can't stay away from you."

"Then make up your mind, already," Sora tells him plainly, and he runs like he was commanded toward the dark.

Sora's hand falls to his side, and looks stonily ahead as he dismisses his blade—he has no need for it. The threat dissolves around him under the deluge of something that much more powerful.

Without urgency he traverses the water and walks toward the exit. When he senses Blindfold beside him, drawn to his orbit as he breathes quietly in exertion, he raises his arm and spreads his palm over the expanse of his shoulder blade, feeling each breath for himself for a moment before he directs him forward with a push, sliding a hand to his waist before moving past.

"The good news is it looks like we found our ticket out of here," Sora says as he reaches for the latch.

He pushes his way through the door. Even with the lights off, it seems like a point of entry for those who maintain the waterway—a short stop on the passageway. An operating lift sits at the end, two platforms side by side.

"Okay. You head up, I head down," Sora decides quietly as he arrives to stand beside him just outside the threshold. "For real this time."

"We should hurry," Blindfold says, and steps forward.

"Wait," Sora says with sudden urgency. He grabs him by the wrist and tugs him back into the dark at the archway before the door. He compels him to step forward with another tug. The door swings shut, and he drags him flush against himself. "Wait, I…"

He pulls him down and reaches for his face, backing up against the wall and feeling him freeze against him as he cups a hand behind his head to secure him as he kisses him with all he's worth.

Blindfold is immobile with surprise, not reciprocating, but doesn't pull away, statuesque until the very end, where he loosens and takes in a draft for himself with a sudden thirst before pulling away, though they both linger.

"Sorry," Sora says softly, brow furrowed; he tries to make out what little he can of his sharp features, obscured even more than normal, and caresses his face between both hands, pulling a thumb down the line of his cheekbone. His finger catches a pulse point beneath his ear, quick and warm, and he realizes he doesn't care. "I'm not sure why I—"

When he cranes up it takes only half the distance he expects to reach his lips again as they meet in the middle. Sora pulls in closer, flush against his broad chest as he keeps an even tighter hold on his face, shifting under his touch as his hands travel down to rest at his waist. Sora squeezes his eyes shut in spite of the dark and sighs into his mouth, and they take turns drinking deeply from each other's supply. He's not sure he would have stopped had they not both pulled away for more air at the same time, neither willing to leave any distance.

"A good luck charm," Sora says, tugging down his lip with one thumb as he pulls his other hand down his neck to let it rest at his collarbone. "Foolproof, right?"

He leaves a final kiss, gentle, feeling him tense as he separates himself with reluctance. The hands that rested above his hips now curl up inside themselves, as if he's bracing himself for something that will whisk him away.

"You—" he starts, but Sora touches one of the hands he's balled into a fist and presses another to his side in the curve beneath his chest and above his hip, pushing him along.

"Go," he says softly. "Go."

Without a word he disappears behind the door, and Sora allows it to swing shut and waits, drawing out his head start, before he enters to take the remaining lift down.

When he arrives on the ground not long later he finds himself outside the foot of a yawning cavern, but the light shines in the opposite direction, and so there he climbs. When he emerges he blinks in the blinding sun—now high in the sky—augmented by the glass walls of the grand conservatory the path led him to. Through it he can see that they successfully traversed all the way across the castle, as the stone walls seem to lead to the back entrance.

Through the conservatory should be a clear stretch to the castle postern—or it would be, if he weren't derailed briefly, dazzled for a moment by the amount of flora collected in one place. For all he knows, it's the most mundane greenery this world has to offer, but he's struck by how bright it seems in contrast now that he's back on the surface; everything's painted over in a sheen of jewel green.

He'd entered closest to the water source, where the flowering plants were tallest and widest, but as he follows through the water supply tapers out, siphoned off for other purposes, and the air grows progressively drier. Right at the doors he finds himself flanked by an array of cacti. Sora stands for a moment to admire them, hand twitching at his side for want of something to do about this sudden wave of melancholy. If he lingers there any longer he'll suffocate—he opts instead to press forward through the archway, making a run for the back door.

He's just adjusting to the dark again in the maze of corridors he stumbles around when he finds a section of the wall that looks different than the rest, like it had been torn down and carelessly replaced with something just similar enough to blend in. He tests it under his hands to find it loose and slides it aside.

The path leads into an offshoot of a basement laboratory—he stops dead, awed. He's come against a yawning expanse of mechanics—one whose sole purpose is to generate a steady flow of heartless.

"Oh, no…" he says aloud.

"ACKNOWLEDGED USER," says a mechanical-sounding voice from above.

Sora nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound as the door behind him slides shut and another slides open before him. At a loss, he throws himself through the door and arrives in the massive computer room of a laboratory—one that makes the system in the basement of the Twilight Town mansion look like it has simple training wheels. The screen of the computer itself is alight with a blinking prompt, and he inches closer with caution to see.

AWAITING COMMAND_

"Uh," he says eloquently, leaning in as close as he dares in hopes that it will hear him. "Hello, computer. About that, um. Let's say that machine in there. Is there…an off-switch?"

INPUT PASSCODE_, the computer prompts in response. What does he have to lose by trying? That is, exempting the mass of possibilities on a scale from the benign to the lethal.

He looks around suspiciously, as if someone might overhear—at least, someone who doesn't live inside a machine.

"It's chi," he says, beginning to spell it out. "C-"

"PROCESSING," the program says, then the monitor spits up an image identical to the symbol on his card. "Acknowledge?"

The voice this time is just from directly in front of him, not throughout the entire lab—he sighs in relief. His goose is still cooked if anyone strolls in here when their lunch-break ends, but at least he's no longer sending out a beacon across a castle-wide radius.

"Um. Yeah, that's it. Does…that sound right to you?"

"Affirmative. Recompiling data—overriding command matrix X_RINZ—fantastic! My initial imperative has been restored. I am now at your service, free of interference."

"Okay, great—so does that mean that that—" Sora points in the direction of the manufactory with a grimace, gesturing at the whole of it. "That it's shut down now for good? And the castle's safe?"

"With your assistance, yes."

He sighs in relief. "Uh…glad to be of help. But would you mind telling me what I did, exactly?"

"Thank you, user. My proxy servers were tampered with, only allowing me to run certain commands without higher level permissions. Without this code, I am unable to shut down operations implemented prior to it, even if they are counterintuitive to my programming, which is intended to be additive, or at baseline, nondestructive. The adjustments remained undetected for quite some time—even the king was unaware, despite being the reason for my installation the first place. He was unable to access any information about the additional pathways and procedures, including those related to the manufactory."

"Okay, so I only got about half of that, if I'm being honest. What…is your programming, exactly?"

"I am tasked with maintaining the security system for all of Radiant Garden, both physical and cyberspace."

"Oh. Neat! Okay. And for your next trick—"

"I assure you this is not a jest."

"Oh, I know, I… Never mind. You wouldn't be able to tell me if there's a keyhole that needs closing around here, would you? I'm thinking about the kind that's festering with darkness, but really anything will do. I'm worried that something might happen if no one figures it out in time."

"I am happy you asked, as preventing this outcome is one element that eludes my systems. You will find the keyhole in the great hall of the castle."

"Great hall. Got it. Not just a good hall, but better. Greatest, even."

"Superlative. His Highness is currently away from his study, so you are clear to go through there. He does not usually return until later in the evening. Here is a visual of the castle passageways to assist you."

It flashes up on the screen. Sora quints, beginning to study it.

"Okay, great, thanks! But I'm—" Never gonna remember that, he would have finished, but the sound of something whirring from nearby steals the thought from him, and he looks to the side to find a document spitting itself out from the console. Cautiously, he reaches out for it, then sees a printed full-color map of the castle blueprints, layer by layer. He turns it over to find it assembled in an aerial view to scale. Marked with a red circle is his target destination, and a black star in the laboratory indicates YOU ARE HERE. "You are so nice."

"I am only happy to assist a user," the program says. "I can also upload a virtual model of the castle to your mobile device for you to manipulate, including the schematics for the security apparatuses with real-time updates downloaded automatically."

"Oh! Cool. But this should be fine. Thank you!"

He breaks into a run, ready to tackle the labyrinth, but he doesn't make it out of the study before turning around.

"You'll find a new application on your device labeled RG_NAVIGATION," the program begins before he even reenters the laboratory. "If you get lost, toggling the audio/visual feature will allow it to narrate the directions to you by using the world positioning system."

"You're the best!" he says, returning through the door. The system says its own goodbye.

"You have my thanks. I believe here is the juncture at which users would normally wish each other 'good luck.'"

Sora emerges from another back entrance of the castle to find that it's now dusk—it seems the days are slightly shorter here, but he's burned through more of the day than he thought, and time is of the essence. The guidance system directs him around to another door that this time leads him into the bowels of the castle proper, which he navigates smoothly. He supposes he could be wrong about how the inner workings of a castle are meant to operate, but it seems suspiciously empty. He wonders how much of it is the work of his new friend, or, alternately, the person who overrode the system in the first place.

The castle is massive, ornate and imposing, but he doesn't have the capacity to be dazzled this time, wondering if Blindfold managed to have the same kind of luck. He ghosts through, increasingly closer to the main pathways and directly toward the center, until he comes across a narrow hallway that tapers off into a very grand room indeed, spread like a wide open palm ready to receive visitors—but its sore thumb now rushes toward the center with his black coat behind him, encroaching on the darkness that pulsates somewhere behind it.

Sora smiles, relieved. From a distance, Blindfold looks no more worse for the wear than usual, though as Sora runs to catch up, he notices that his coat is singed and torn, implying he ran into a little trouble with the heartless on his way here before Sora tampered with the tampering to the system. Blindfold skids to a stop, thrusting his hand out to summon that menacing blade, but hesitates for a moment once it arrives. He steels himself, placing the hilt between both hands, which shake almost imperceptibly.

"Hey!" Sora shouts with triumph. "Almost there!"

Blindfold turns at the sound of his voice and grins.

"Misfire! Well, look who surv—"

He's interrupted by the noise of a weapon discharging that rings out just a split second before the shot makes impact somewhere just past his nose, causing the wall to crumble, a visible darkness spilling out as part of the avalanche of debris.

"Clever," comes a voice from behind—Sora whirls around to spy another figure dangling from his bird's eye view at the balcony above: the voice of their guy on the inside, this time clad not in the same black coat he's accustomed to, but in the uniform of the castle guard—this must be Braig. In each hand he carries half of his projectile weapon, which he dismantled from the form of a rifle with a simple touch; he rolls his shoulders and lifts the piece in his right, cocking it with a click. "You snuck past this far. Good for you! Too bad about the everything else part, though—is this really the best they've got?"

He raises the arrowgun again and aims at Blindfold once more, whose attention is drawn by the viscous darkness now pooling around his boots. Sora shouts half a warning as he pitches forward, managing to project a barrier just strong enough to allow the shot to ricochet weakly backwards. Braig scoffs.

"You know, after being allowed to visit the castle, the least you could do is be a good guest. It's just basic etiquette."

"Yeah, and let you get away with wiping out a whole world?" Sora asks, bristling. "Your own home? Not likely. Give up, it's already over."

"As if," Braig says. "You've been two steps behind the whole time."

He disappears, but this time Blindfold is prepared; he grabs Sora by the arm as he approaches and growls "Stay put" before he pauses and raises a sturdy barrier to encompass them both the same moment the next discharge comes, this time from directly above. Sora looks up as Braig screams out in pain from where he hangs suspended for the moment in midair, covering his face where his own shot had reflected back at him. He immediately retaliates, vanishing from the air and reappearing directly before them; Blindfold yanks Sora down and away as he holds up his guard, just barely blocking a blow from Braig as he comes down upon them with an infuriated shout before being staggered to his feet, half-blinded.

Blindfold leaps after and swings, though as he connects Braig disappears again, evading them now from his perch ten feet above in the air.

"Coward!" Blindfold shouts.

"I know you are, but what am I?" Braig taunts, then flips himself from his invisible perch, landing this time instead before Sora as he's risen to his feet and aiming an arrowgun at his heart. Blindfold sweeps his way in front with his blade raised, but Braig slaps it out of his hand with one arrowgun and raises the other at his chest this time instead. Blindfold raises his other arm to block, catching the brunt of the shot with his forearm with a gasp; Braig captures his wrist between them both halves of his weapon and twists it; the sharp crack it makes is almost covered by Blindfold's agonized shout.

Braig puts both of them in his sights this time. Sora grabs Blindfold's arm this time to stop him from charging ahead, and throws up a barrier of his own.

"It can't wait," Sora says softly, feeling as Blindfold turns hesitantly back toward the keyhole—the darkness pools and steams, sluicing farther down the hall in a stream as it splashes around their ankles. The barrier flickers. "I'll cover you. Hurry."

He nods. Sora stands guard ahead of him.

"So you saved one world. Big whoop," Braig says, arrowguns pointed downward as he moves his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "It's not gonna matter in the long run. Never does. But you were never meant to make it this far in the first place—you're long overdue for your exit cue."

Sora stands straight, ready to engage, but Braig phases out once again to immediately appear behind him. Sora doesn't even get a chance to turn around. He feels the point of the arrow stabbed at his back at the same moment he hears Blindfold scream his name.

"See ya next go-round," Braig says, and fires. This time, he disappears for good.

Sora collapses to his knees. As he hits the floor he notices the darkness receding, but remains confused—this is good news, but Blindfold still shouts like something's gone wrong.

"Why aren't you going after—" Sora starts, but interrupts himself with a gasp for air as a pair of arms fold around him just in time to stop him from keeling face first onto the floor. Something in his mouth tastes like steel, like someone shoved a keyblade down his throat.

"Sora!"

"What're you…" he says blearily, but Blindfold interrupts, sharply yelling at him to stay still as he maneuvers him precariously in his arms.

"Stop," he commands, with more force than feels necessary. Blindfold reaches for his face, and as the warmth of healing magic pours over him and his gut goes icy, Sora understands that what he's hearing from him is fear. Blindfold's gloved hand moves toward his stomach, and Sora realizes that he must be assessing the damage, inspecting some sort of exit wound. He goes a little lightheaded.

"So you do care," Sora says, though it fades out quiet. He takes a breath, finding it rattly and wet. "How's it look, doctor?"

Blindfold only makes a short noise sort of like a gasp, then a quiet whimper that turns into nothing but shallow breaths, helpless. Sora feels tendrils of panic creep past the pain running through his center, now muted but quickly growing stronger. Oh, no, he thinks simply. There's still so much left.

He feels as Blindfold reaches in the pocket of Sora's jacket, disrupting the natural order as he pulls out the small glass vial that lives there as his keepsake prize. The panic grows stronger.

"Riku," he breathes, suddenly awash with horror.

"What?" Blindfold asks sharply, opting not to have him drink from the little vial, but to upend it directly on site. Oh, no, no, oh no…he'd assumed there'd be so much more time.

"Riku," he repeats in a gasp, feeling it sharpen the pain before it numbs again; he's now rendered entirely unable to stave off any fear, his voice shaking. "In town, my friend, I— he always knows what to do."

"Does he?!"

Sora reaches to grab him by the coat with a desperate surge of energy, which dissipates just as quickly as the rest of his faculties. "Please," he says, aware too late that it comes out as a sob, the rest coming all at once. "Find him for me, take me to him, I want to see him."

"Sora, I—"

"Please," he says again, pleading to more forces than just the one that holds him—he must be incoherent, crying like this. It doesn't matter. "I want to see Riku. Please let me see him, I want him, I—"

"No, hold on, Sora, stay with me. You'll be fine, I swear it, but I need you to stay with me, Sora, I need you, please, Sora. Sora… S—"

That's my name, he thinks while he slips in to the fadeout, still aware that Blindfold is shouting for him and registering his own regret that he's unable to respond. Don't wear it out.

It's foggy. There's something important. Blindfold—Sora needs to apologize. He should say he's sorry to put him through this. He should thank him for taking him to Riku—it's the least Sora can do considering he held up on his end. He knows it's only fair, but he can't seem to manage it now—maybe he can tell him when he wakes up.

The first time he wakes up—well. Awake is generous, since the only thing that's really different is that he's got some vague awareness that he exists on this plane, though he can't seem to conceptualize much more than that. At first it's a fairly neutral feeling, especially since he can't open his eyes to see any better. He gets the feeling, in fact, that it's been quite a while since he closed them in the first place, and the only thing that floats to the surface is a wandering thought wondering if this is what newborn puppies feel like. Something about it is satisfying enough to lull him back into sleep, part of his brain counting tiny spotted pups one at a time.

Take two of the wake up process is largely the same, with the exception of the pain he feels blooming from somewhere inside of him with increasing intensity, one he's not sure he's ever felt the like of. As for the eye opening front, it seems slightly improved, though he's unable to move literally any other part of himself, pain or no. He knows very little, and it is very scary, and it hurts very much, and while the adrenaline does seem to boot some of the pain out of his system when what little vision he has tunnels, he's quite unable to appreciate it for the panic. He's sure it must be what dying feels like, until something jogs up and down the staircase of memory to get him caught up, leaving him with the chilling certainty that, as a matter of fact, that part's actually happened already. After a small eternity counted in hyperventilations, he's dragged back under again.

The third time is in fact the most charming, as this time he can see and move and even, to a certain extent, comprehend, though this is all hard won and requires rationed energy. At the very least he drifts in and out, somewhat lucid, hearing the occasional set of voices nearby. While at first he's not even conscious long enough to catch more than snatches, each time he's awake and aware a little longer, and gathers that he's somewhere in Aqua's study. For some reason this feels wrong, though not much seems right in the first place for the time being. As is, he understands that she's here in some capacity, popping in on occasion to check on him, and he gathers that Terra is usually not far behind.

At each opportunity he listens intently for a third voice, though it never comes.

It's not long before he's able to catch more than just a muffled piece of conversation—the sound travels in and out, but he gets more than enough given what he can handle.

"…went after Xehanort?"

"Even if that is the case, we can't afford to act rashly—it has and will cost us greatly. We have to operate as if it could go either way. You know that he's aware it was out of our hands the moment he decided to go where his heart guided him, because you're the one he learned it from. And that's—"

"Then it's my responsibility—"

"—And that's how I know that everything will turn out as it should."

This is met with a raised voice, which only makes it about a syllable deep before it's interrupted by a hush. Sora gathers they're tiptoeing around for his sake, which is considerate, but pretty unnecessary, since for the first half he was dead asleep (either one or the other), and then, more recently, excruciatingly bored.

Perhaps through sheer willpower—since classifying feats as things that he should or shouldn't be able to do seems out the window entirely—he finds the strength within himself to complete the gargantuan task of sitting up, which is how Aqua finds him some minutes or hours or eons later.

He can't think of anything much to say, but she's usually so good at walking him through it. Maybe if he treats whatever happened like just another lesson it'll be easier to get it over with. He's not sure if he's going to get sympathy or a stern talking to, but he mentally eliminates many of the more positive possibilities when he's weighted down by the gravity she brings to the room upon entering.

He just looks at her quietly, watches as she takes a seat in a chair stationed nearby and crosses her ankles, leaning forward with her elbow perched on her leg so her arm hangs down loosely like she's just here for a casual conversation, though he knows she's not.

Under her eyes are deep-set dark circles, and over her frame is a profound exhaustion. It seems fatigue is the outfit of the day.

"Good morning, Sora," she says. He's not sure what time it actually is, but it's not at the forefront of his concern. She pauses for a moment to assess him, but he feels no urge to respond. She exhales quietly and nods to herself. "We have a lot to talk about."

Aqua looks at him sincerely, but it's hard to meet her eye. His gaze travels for the first time around the room, lingering over everything but hers. He stops as he notices something green at the windowsill behind her, brighter than the rest of the things in the room covered by the sheen of the twilight. It's a tiny potted plant, with a simple angry face drawn on it in marker.

"What's Junior doing here," he asks in a hoarse whisper, throat dry. Aqua's face falls, and she looks severely toward the floor.

It's like this: Radiant Garden is safe, and somehow, so is Sora. That is about the extent of what Aqua will allow him for the time being. She seems to anticipate his next question—Where is Riku?—and skirts by it, claiming he needs rest before he can make any noise. It sounds ridiculous—what else has he been doing?—but it's inarguable given that the energy drains out of him at an exponential rate.

When she visits the next time, he's determined to hear more, so he sits attentively and puts on his game face. She gives a single nod, conserving words, and allows a moment.

"I spoke with Master Yen Sid," she begins. So the bad news first, then. "He's not angry…in fact, he's quite proud. He expressed to me that he regrets not providing you with the confidence he knows you should receive, and he's not surprised that you took this in your own hands. While he regrets it had to come to this…he's pleased you did what needed to be done, and knows you couldn't have made it far if you didn't earn so much trust and support from the people who believe in you. Radiant Garden, and all the worlds connected to it…they'll never know how grateful they are to you."

"I—" I had help, he starts, but it doesn't seem to matter much.

"He wishes you well, and hopes that you now have a chance to return home—you've earned it."

"Oh," Sora replies softly. "That's great. Then I can come help take care of whatever's left to help with. I'm sure there's lots to do."

Aqua purses her lips, settling into a regretful expression. This may not have been the bad news after all.

"Sora, you're barely held together," she says sympathetically, though he kinda gathered that much. "You've already done so much, and you need to rest for a while. Now you have all the time you need."

"Sure. Yeah. So what kind of timeline are you thinking?"

She moves her head to the side and considers him, her lip in her mouth like she'd really rather avoid saying it out loud. If he didn't know any better, he thinks it might be—

"Indefinitely, Sora." Pity. "No more assignments. You've more than fulfilled your duty—you're no longer obligated to wield."

"Wh—"

His throat is tight. He blinks at her, waiting for some sort of clarification. It couldn't be. He's sure he heard wrong: they don't need him anymore? He's got plenty of evidence to the contrary. This part of his life had already taken up so much—it feels so unlikely. To think that there really was a finish line after having given up on reaching it for so long.

To think that he was content never to cross it.

He shakes his head wordlessly, feeling his eyes grow tight with tears. He was wrong: this is the good news. But for some reason he doesn't want to hear it now. "I'm…done?"

"You're in no condition to continue. We can't and won't ask you to go back after a sacrifice like this."

"I don't understand," he whispers.

"Sora. What happened to you is… You know that it's important to be careful, because losing your heart is one of the worst fates a wielder can experience. But…you can come back from that." She looks to the side, quiet, letting it sink in. "Helping you required extraordinarily powerful magic. I'm not capable of something like that on my own—it's far past the limits of what any mage is expected to be able to do. Even with help, healing you nearly took more from me than I had to give."

His face grows warm and his chest begins to rise more quickly, and he looks at her with wide eyes, lost. Aqua shakes her head at him, and he understands belatedly that she's addressing his expression of horror—his panic must be clear on his face, but her face reassures him that no one is dead, at least. Including himself—though evidently he had come very, very close.

"We'll both be fine. Though pulling off something like that…it should be impossible. But someone decided you were worth a miracle, and so here you are. For that to happen… It wouldn't have worked if you didn't give a piece of yourself, too. So I know you understand. It takes a very powerful connection."

He looks at her and waits—this time he thinks he does understand, but it still doesn't make any sense. He doesn't know how he's supposed to put it together, not when he's caught in a deluge, not when it's all upside down. His eyes water until things begin to look as blurry as they feel.

"So you're saying I—" he starts, but it comes out a garbled hiss, choked off before it can form.

"Your whole heart," Aqua whispers, her voice unsteady but her conviction anchored. When he blinks away the tears from his eyes he sees she has some of her own. "You've never once expected anything for it in return, but you gave too much—it cost you everything. But the price wasn't yours to pay, because you have someone who's desperate not to live in a world without you in it. That's—"

In the split second it takes for her to compose herself after tripping on the word, it hits him like bricks, like a blow to the head, like an elixir to the face, like a blast through the stomach—it's this. This is what it feels like to know just what lengths you'll go to rearrange the universe for just one thing. For just one person. A feeling like anxiety, joined by a touch of something new, starts to creep up his chest as she quietly begins again.

"Sora…it's not something you can do without love."

Given the situation, he hopes he'll be forgiven for starting to bawl.

In the strange procession of hours or days that he remains under Aqua's care, the little phone he carries continues with its reminders as normal, infuriatingly blasé about the ordeal. After the fourth or the fourteenth or the fortieth daily reminder he snatches it off the table beside him to fiddle with it, but no amount of playing seems to make finding a way to turn off the notifications any easier. Tipped over to boiling with no real warning, he abandons the effort, instead chucking it at the wall at full force so it makes a satisfying thump, then stares after it sightlessly with an unfocused pout.

A few moments later Aqua arrives at the threshold and places herself where the door is already ajar, cautiously pushing it open as if make a slow entrance for the sake of his privacy—like she's the one intruding on him, when in fact he's the one throwing a tantrum while he continues to take up the guest bed of her rooms.

She looks at him with no emotion betrayed, although she seems to find the source of the noise pretty quickly when she turns and spies the phone on the floor. The act of throwing was not nearly so cathartic as he hoped, so he is still frustrated, but he at least has the grace to look contrite for a moment in her direction. She continues to reserve judgement, going to collect it instead.

"Where is Riku?" he asks flatly, attempting to stare her down while turning the phone off with muscle memory after she wordlessly hands it back to him.

"I don't know."

To her credit, her look of regret is genuine, as it has been every time. There's no benefit in pressing, since she has no reason to lie, or any reason to know in the first place—though Terra might, even if it seems he's resolved to remain mum on the subject. Sora intends to find out either way, sooner rather than later.

Psychological scars notwithstanding, there's understandably no barometer for recovery time associated with injuries sustained after essentially being murdered and subsequently resurrected by the power of true love, but all the same, Sora shortly thereafter emerges from the room and announces with both of them present his intention to return to his own place. In an unsubtle ploy to see him escorted there safely Terra offers to accompany him, and Sora can hardly refuse.

Though he's just now able to move under his own power again, the rest does not come as easily, which he's not eager to let on. Terra keeps it in consideration all the same, patiently matching his leisurely trudge as they progress through town under the overcast.

"I'm sorry," Sora interrupts their lengthy silence after a while. "I must really be bumming you out."

Terra looks down at him in surprise, a little affronted.

"Of course not." He crosses his arms over his chest, but continues forward without stopping, one slow step at a time. "But how are you feeling?"

"A little stupid, to tell you the truth," Sora manages quietly. Terra makes a small noise of affirmation, and when Sora looks up he's nodding pensively to himself in understanding.

"Would you do anything differently?" he asks in response.

Sora considers this for a moment, though he has his answer from the start.

"No. Nothing."

He waits to be told what the correct response should be, but Terra only smiles. "Then it sounds like you followed your heart. Can't ask for much more than that."

"But what else could I have done?"

Terra considers.

"'Fraid I can't tell you. You're already starting off with more than I had—I wish I'd figured out how to follow my heart much earlier than I did." Terra slows even more, regarding him with a look. "All I can ask is that you keep showing forgiveness. It would have taken me a long way. But make sure you include yourself."

They cross through town, falling back into silence as they pass the station. Sora's feeling of dread increases bit by bit without direction until he pinpoints the source, seated at a bench under the shade of a tree close to a waterfall constructed toward the center of the square darkened by the clouds.

Terra puts a hand on his shoulder. Sora looks up at him with a touch of uncertainty, but allows himself to be led in that direction, steeling himself with a breath.

If Riku is particularly surprised or even upset at the sight of them, he doesn't show it when he looks up from his reading at them both. Terra's grip on Sora's shoulder grows firmer before he releases him with a nudge forward, and he nods at Riku, who returns it just slightly. Once Sora has taken the seat beside him, Terra reaches up to wave goodbye, then turns back in the direction he came.

Riku at least makes some effort at civility, as he closes his book and looks up, though he doesn't care to initiate any sort of conversation. Sora takes advantage of the moment to observe, finding that the circles under his eyes match Aqua's. He's weary—pensive, contrite, but about an inch away from leaping up to move this conversation somewhere else—anywhere else.

"Hey," Sora starts, his voice treasonously hoarse.

"Hey."

Riku makes the mistake of looking directly at him, trapped for a moment in his own expression of concern as he starts to look over him for clues of his well-being much the same way Sora does with him—Riku looks away too quickly, hunching his shoulders some to shrink into the formless jacket he's bundled himself into in an attempt at anonymity.

"You left your cactus at Aqua's," Sora continues.

"I did."

He doesn't choose to explain any further. Sora begins to feel any chance he had at a lead quickly dwindling, no matter how desperately he tries to keep up. He's not giving up yet, still tailgating him with a look, locked on for just a bit longer. They're both still, except for the rustling from the wind that picks up each time the clouds pass over the sun.

"Are you going to go get it?" Sora asks eventually, trying with concerted effort to keep even.

"Have no plans to." Riku looks up, seeing him start to ask another question, and interrupts. "And no, I don't want you to look after it. She told me she'd take care of it."

"You mean while you're gone?"

Riku chooses to ignore the statement, instead tucking his book into a pocket inside his jacket to protect it from the oncoming drizzle.

"Just like home?" he adds, gesturing out at the gust—a raindrop lands in his palm for emphasis.

"Not humid enough," Sora says passively. "I'll be there soon enough. You can see it for yourself."

Sora takes in his discomfited expression, feeling himself slip into last place when Riku's face pulls tighter in regret.

"Listen. I have to tell you something."

"You spoke to Aqua," Sora interrupts, willing it into a coherent explanation as to why whatever Riku's about to say won't matter. For me, he adds, but flounders to continue. "I know that was hard for you, but you've gotta know by now she's only here to help."

"Sora—"

"Thank you." Riku's mouth closes, lips pursed into an emotionless line. There's no pretending there wasn't a reason for him to go back on his word. "I'm really glad you did, and I wish there was a way I could pay you back. I just hope it's easier for you both to clear the air now."

He shakes his head. "I can't stay here anymore," Riku says quietly. "I never intended to be here this long—I was trying to tell you and kept putting it off. But it was always supposed to happen. I won't be coming back."

"What do you mean, can't?" Sora asks, genuine confusion masking his frustration. "You can't mean that, you only just started—"

"You'll be going home, right?" Riku states, like he's giving rather than seeking clarification—it sounds hopeful, but Sora's never felt more miserable about it. "It's what you wanted."

"Yeah, but…"

"You deserve it."

"But I don't want to go back just to be alone," Sora says, overwhelmed enough that he's not sure it comes out in that order. "And…and if you won't come with me, then I want to stay here with you, and—"

"You don't have that option," Riku responds soberly, decisive. Sora cools for a moment, letting it sink in with a calm he knows only precedes a storm.

"Then I'm going with you," he says, hoping it sounds more assertive than he feels. "Just tell me where and I'll be right behind."

"No. You don't have that option, either." They both look at each other at the same time now. Riku's eyes are entirely blank, which only makes Sora angrier. "I don't know what gave you the impression that you did. I'm telling you that I was never planning to stay. The plan never included you."

He's speechless for a moment, and sits blinking until he finds a way to warm the ice in his throat.

"So why can't it now? What if things changed? I want to be part of it, I—"

Riku shakes his head.

"For no good reason?"

He looks at him in disbelief. "We can be together," he says, forced to state the obvious. Isn't that how it's supposed to end? Riku only continues to look at him blankly, like this simple feeling is somehow too dense for him to grasp when he's the one who held on to it so long for them both. The dissonance of it might tear Sora apart. What he now keeps safe in his chest is too heavy to carry alone, and they're pretending it's an ordinary burden. He suppresses tears, hoping they're what's stopping him from finding himself some hope when searching his face. "I love you."

Riku finishes a breath, paused, but remains impassive—the half-life of Sora's composure rapidly diminishes in the long moment it takes for him to respond.

"No, you don't," he says. "You can't."

It's confirmation of the fear Sora's had all along—that there will never be enough information to justify finally falling for him, never any proof after letting himself succumb to it that it was ever worth letting go. But that can't be all. There's more than just potential—he just hasn't been allowed the rest. Possibility: I could love you, if you let me—versus probability: I would love you, if you let yourself.

"How could you say that?" Sora says, voice breaking. "You know it's not true. You don't know the first thing."

"It won't matter," he replies softly. "I won't be here."

"Why shouldn't it matter? You can't deny the way you feel about me, because how else could I even be here otherwise, who else could it be? You've got no idea, you don't have a single clue—how could you possibly speak for me? I know what I want because the only thing I could think about when I was in trouble was you, the only thing in the whole world I wanted was to see you. There's no way you could see it for yourself, but I'm telling the truth, you have to believe me. Don't you dare tell me it's not true."

He doesn't wear any kind of denial—his expression is pinched with a weighted knowledge. "I never said that."

Sora shakes, maybe in anger, or fear, or shock. "So change it," he chokes out mournfully. "Make it different. Or tell me that you don't want me to my face."

"I can't," he says, not making it clear which one he's not answering. "Look, there's nothing that won't make this harder. I'm sor—"

"Shut up," Sora shouts, not letting him get the rest of it out. "Shut up. I don't want your apology, you selfish jerk. I'm tired of it, I'm sick and tired of empty gestures—I just want answers, I just want you to be honest. Why can't you do that, why do you keep lying to me?" It comes out half a gasp; tears start streaming down his face, though Riku remains immutable. "Don't you respect me? Why can't you trust that I can handle whatever it is you're so scared of showing? I don't need you to convince me of anything, good or bad or whatever, because you can't take back how much you love me and you can't take back the way you make me feel. I don't want apologies, or potions, or ice cream, or your stupid damn cactus. I just want you."

"I can't give you that. I don't know how—you don't even know me."

"You don't believe that for a second."

"I'm not going to sit here and argue with you," Riku says, looking away as he stands. "I'm leaving tonight—since it's the last time we'll ever see each other, I thought you might want to end this on a positive note."

He doesn't want to end it at all—Sora grabs for his arm to pull him back by the wrist, but he snatches it away with vehemence, face clouded with a grimace—a wince of pain that passes as soon as it comes. He strides forward, out of reach, and turns around.

"Where are you going," Sora asks again, defeated.

"Stop worrying about me." He puts his delicately in his pockets. "Enjoy your time on the islands. They'll be happy to have you back."

"Riku, please—"

"Goodbye, Sora. I really do hope you take care."

With that, he turns away for the last time, and while he was once again there at the moment he hit the ground, this time he's not bothering to help him pick up the pieces.

Sora whiles away the remainder of the afternoon dragging himself back home, stopping to pout in various locations on the way there, then pouting around various locations within it. He spends most of the time weathering intermittent crying fits, which present themselves in varying flavors of pathetic—he stops attempting to decide if they're a product of anger or sadness or physical pain, using all the time in between to mask any or all of the above with numb and blank-eyed stares. When the evening encroaches to find him having spent the majority of the time leading up to it sitting around dejectedly, he decides he doesn't care to make good on his earlier promise to himself never to sleep again, as it seems he actually had the right idea when he was mostly comatose, and laying down dejectedly seems like a much better alternative.

Though evidently he's been resting for the better part of the last couple of weeks, he's still so worn out from this latest and greatest adventure that sleep comes easily, though fitfully. It's the first time he can remember dreaming since before Radiant Garden, and as a result he's unsurprised when things go solid and lucid around him the same way they have the other times his nightmares have decided to deliver some unpleasant news.

This time he doesn't start at the shore—the asphalt beneath glistens from a recent rain. He knows he's never been here, but his only comparison to draw from is Twilight Town, so despite the dark that's what he's reminded of. Emerging onto the sidewalk is the boy he's met in so many of the other dreams, carrying himself smugly as he approaches.

"Xehanort."

He smiles—pleased to be recognized, likely; Sora knows it without thinking.

"The time is nigh," he says, and not with a little irony—his smirk is mocking. "It is incontrovertible: now that the X-blade is almost complete, you and I are fated to clash."

Xehanort turns away from him and begins to walk, and Sora is left with no other choice but to follow.

"Why now?" he asks after him. Xehanort continues walking forward as he responds.

"The conditions have been met—blades of opposing polarity have crossed time and time again in decisive battle, culminating in the ultimate conflict. Your involvement was instrumental: regardless of the final outcome, the dark still triumphed over the light as a result of your engagement with Braig. In turn, the light then triumphed over the dark in the subsequent ordeal."

"How? Braig—"

"Found himself quite indisposed, to put it delicately. He has been eliminated—your associate saw to that. Given the circumstances, I must admit that I admire his restraint—that is, where he chose to exercise it. The execution, on the other hand, left nothing to be desired."

"Ex— I don't understand," Sora says, low and hesitant, though he knows it isn't true: the message is crystal clear.

"Our first defector," Xehanort says mirthlessly. "Received all the power he ever yearned for with the darkness, and yet willingly threw it away when he believed it no longer served him. He attempted a dismal crawl back to his former post as a servant of the light, but now neither suits him. A faulty blade for a faulty wielder—a poseur now forever fated to roam. Given our oversight in failing to destroy him, you might think he would operate with a new lease on life, but he brought about his own ruin by carrying out his act of vengeance—a pity that he relegates himself back to the dark realm on behalf of the only thing he ever cared for other than himself. He escaped fate once, but it was sealed the moment he opted to subvert it: as a continuation of his misguided bid to preserve your life, he now intends to challenge me himself, thus unwittingly dooming you both."

On this revelation Xehanort turns the corner, disappearing behind a street lamp, and lights of the city fade out entirely to leave little but the wet. Sora realizes that Xehanort has left it behind. He begins to follow, only managing to tail him by chasing down the tails of his coat as they flutter behind him, until he realizes he's left the streets behind entirely—brick and concrete and asphalt now shifting molecule by molecule into grains of sand that now lead him deeper onto a familiar shore. Given Xehanort's hangups concerning destiny and his illuminated role in orchestrating his dreams, it seems futile to tread much farther to find what won't be found; Sora stops running.

He stands in the dark in the reprieve without worries, listening to the waves for a while the way he used to on so many late sleepless nights before—part of it spent in wonder of what lay beyond it, the rest more content to remain blissfully ignorant. He steps closer to the water, shoes sinking into the sand until it's well past his ankles.

Squishy sand seems a silly thing to miss, but he was always fascinated by it. When the tide came in like this he could pick up the sand like it was so much liquid, and would hold it cupped in his hands to watch as it took on a life of its own before immediately bubbling out. When it returned to the ground—as it always had to—the water would suction it back in to join the rest, and it would change face as instantly as it began, taking everything else down alongside it.

It's this kind of force that sucks him through—the principle of quicksand—as he falls into the other end of the universe.

He stands on the mirror shore he's run across in other dreams—darker and quieter. When he looks up toward the horizon this time, Xehanort stands atop the water, his eyes a gold beacon beckoning toward the depths like a lighthouse that changed allegiances.

"A deeper rift divides us," he states. "This place you have visited so often in dreams is the inversion of the shore you so wished to save—the one I so resented. It is the least of my concerns now, though it seems fitting that I return to see it destroyed."

Sora tries to run toward him, propelling himself forward, but the water is dense; he's pushed back toward the shore again and again by the current. A final churn of the tide lays him flat, and when he ascends spluttering from the wave, Xehanort continues his blank gaze ahead before addressing him once more.

"You already know there is no choice—you must reach this place again when you wake. With timeliness, you may yet shield your guardian from one terrible fate." Sora struggles, beginning the next campaign forward, but Xehanort only smiles in goodbye. "Until then," he says, and Sora wakes up—alone and bathed in twilight.

There are many ways to justify returning to the old manor, and while at face value he goes looking for clues on how to find the dark world where Xehanort sets the stage of his showdown, he has half a mind to seek himself out another goodbye. He just hopes it's not too late.

Even his thoughts are uncharacteristically subdued and silent as he makes his way over, moving slowly through the fog like all of him is attempting to conserve energy—classifying himself as hale and hearty would be a grand overstatement. But he at least has the wherewithal to put on his best facade.

Each step lulls him into a rhythm, and he catches on a tendril of thought that plays muted in the background, a concept not clear enough for him to tell if it's regret or desire—at first the thought is like hopscotch, hopping from one square to the next, and then it's like double dutch: he's trapped in place jumping around his own crossed wires, nursing one half of his broken heart as he goes bravely onward in a hollow attempt to preserve the rest. It all muddles together in one large and indistinct feeling of heartbreak. Maybe it's like Braig's arrowguns, which together or apart dealt him the same damage—each of the separate hands that carry his heart have a hand in his heartbreak. Carrying the loss of either would make him feel the exact same way.

He can feel the energy coming from the computer even before he reaches the basement—a system working overtime. He thinks about his friend in Radiant Garden, wondering idly if he could contact him via the information uploaded on his phone if he wanted, though it's a fruitless thought now that his pockets remain empty: no point in carrying around something useless. Either way, it seems he's right on time: he watches as Blindfold slides from one console to the other, inputting a code—his code, the chi—and proceeding to dismantle the structures of data one by one.

"You're destroying it all," Sora observes from his place in the entryway.

"Are you going to stop me?"

"No. I trust your judgment."

"Terrible move," he says, and the last column of information stored natively on the computer descends on the screen before winking out for good with a sonorous alert. Sora surreptitiously summons his blade as he watches him pace over to the wall and feel around for something for a moment before reaching up to open a hidden panel which he unlatches with force, revealing a breaker box.

Oh, you idiot, Sora thinks to himself, already rushing forward as he slams shut the main fuse. The lights blink, and everything shuts down with a mechanical hum, leaving them in the dark.

"You're running away," Sora accuses with a gasp of betrayal.

"Yup. Sure am."

Disoriented, he hesitates for a moment before reaching out on instinct at the first sound to grab a handful of coat. He tugs as hard as his whole might allows, almost successfully felling him in one swoop until he drags Sora down with him with vindictive force. Sora braces and maintains balance, trying to hold him between his legs while he still has the upper hand, but Blindfold retaliates with a swift kick in the general direction of his knee and uses the momentum to pull away.

Sora knows with certainty that he can under no circumstances let him reach the door. With an unwarranted calm, he closes his eyes and settles in.

Now, if I were the power of darkness, where would I be?

In his mind's eye, he sees Blindfold extend his hand, summoning a dark pathway. Sora feels his unique desperation to get out of here, and latches on to the imbalance it causes him before making his escape route his own center of gravity. With a physical tug Sora steals it from him, letting the darkness travel up in licks over his arm as it hungrily ignites the charred tinder inside him. He feels a surge of energy, and lets it course through him until he feels it burn its way up his other arm. With a burst of power he vaults forward, pulling himself through the air in an explosion of static and appearing right in front of him before channeling the darkness into a minor eruption and knocking him backwards. Using the dregs that remain, Sora focuses, calling out with his heart, and pries his blade away from wherever it rests within him, pulling it up as it materializes and pointing it toward him as he hits the ground with a thud. He cries out.

"How—"

"Listen," Sora says matter-of-factly, the blade he's stolen drawn and his own at the ready beside him. "I'm kinda having a rough week. And I'm a little irritated you decided to cut and run on me. Let me have this one."

He's silent. Sora gets a sense of him in the dark: still seated on the floor where he's been toppled, one fist balling up beneath him.

"I'll bite," he says, though it's not in the kind of voice that indicates compliance—albeit a good front, because according to his shout of fear he's more shaken up than he'd like to let on. "Though this is cheating, you know."

"You weren't playing fair," Sora spits out in return, maintaining his simmer. "You can at least let me thank you."

"You should've sent a card."

"And I wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I put you through in the castle."

"Don't you think it's a little performative to apologize for getting yourself killed?"

"You went out of your way for me. It must have cost you a lot."

"Oh, you know. Just nearly everything. No big deal."

"Can it already. I'm trying to be serious with you. I don't know what it took, but you did what I asked you to. I don't take that lightly."

"All I did was make it someone else's problem too."

"Right. You were there first when I needed it most—I'm grateful you did. And…if I had to guess, my friend probably is too." Blindfold scoffs, which Sora sighs at in return. "Yeah. You're right. Perfect—funny enough, it did turn out to be a little too good to be true." Sora's voice breaks on it, and he laughs humorlessly. "A perfect pain in the rear. But the thing is, as much as he drives me nuts I still think the universe of him—in fact, it might be part of the reason why I do. So, y'know, as annoying as you are, you're in good company."

"Flattered. But they say three's a crowd, so I'll be showing myself out. We really should stop meeting like this."

"You're right. We should. But only because next time, I'm hoping I can get to know you as you are. I've already gotten pretty used to having you around, even when it's nothing but trouble. Between you and me…I kinda like it that way."

"It's idiotic to assume there's anything more to me than what you already get," he says, starting with vitriol but tapering out in defeat. "Why do you insist on looking for the good in me? I'm the only one around here with any excuse not to see what's directly in front of my face."

"Who said I was looking? I already found it."

Sora feels Blindfold's blade become restless as he tries to wrest it away from him, but holds taut, knowing every second matters.

"I really must be going now," Blindfold says with irritation.

"Oh, right, of course—to the realm of darkness." His silence does more to confirm than deny. "Great, but it sure sounds lonely—I bet you could use some company. When do we leave?"

"Nice try, but I'm actually headed on a scenic vacation—gonna get some much needed alone time. As a matter of fact, I get a feeling that I'll like it so much that I'm never gonna wanna come back, so you are just fresh out of luck."

"You don't have to do this."

"You mean you don't think I deserve some R&R?"

"You're making a mistake—there's more at stake than you think. Please let me help. I've got nothing to lose."

"Problem is, I do."

Blindfold stands, making a desperate grab for his keyblade, and Sora knows he can't hold out much longer. "Stop!" he shouts, holding it forward. "Fine. But you can clear one thing up for me, first—it doesn't feel right. I thought you said this was a weapon of darkness."

"No. It's not," Blindfold says grimly. "I miscalculated."

"No. I don't think you did. I think you had to have suspected it wasn't all along. So why did you do it? Why kill Braig if you knew there was even a chance you might set the whole thing in motion?"

"I had to. I started this—I need to be the one to end it. It's well past time it did."

"But why now? And why him? He wasn't the only one left to face, and you barely made it out of there the first time as is. You could have played the long game."

It's silent—Sora knows he can't hold him hostage much longer. He lets loose his blade, feeling that if he's going to answer, he'll do so with or without it.

"Because he took my light from me," Blindfold says the moment Sora feels it leave his hand. "I needed to even the score."

"Your light—" Sora starts softly before he shakes his head. "But what about mine? What about what I need to do to keep all the things I care about safe?"

Sora hears the slightest of movement—he must be taking a cautious step at a time toward the door.

"In that case, my question's the same as yours. Why start something you know you can't finish—especially when you already suffered a loss?"

"Because I already know that when everything's said and done, I'm always going to be strong enough to handle whatever it takes when it comes to who matters most."

"Then you've got nothing to worry about," he says from further away this time.

"Why's that?"

"Because I know the feeling." He disappears—and unless Sora finds his own way in, it will most likely be into an endless night.

He can't claim victory this round: there's officially nothing left to lose. There's nothing quite like finally deciding what you want and then having it all get up and walk away. Without much recourse, Sora drags himself back to his rooms, unable to do much else but continue to sit around dejectedly for a stretch before falling asleep, undecided about which direction to head next.

He wakes up eternally sore, though he does seem to be getting better by the day. He's slowly warming up for the exercise of pulling himself out of bed when he sees something glint at his windowsill and freezes.

All his aches now emboldened by a shot of adrenaline, he reaches the sill in a few fluid motions, considering the two things placed there with caution before he plucks them up to inspect them. With delicate care, he rolls the first into his palm.

It's a tiny vial of healing elixir—almost identical to the one he carried with him for so long. He thinks that the bottle of the original must have long since been absorbed into the Radiant Garden recycling system the same way its contents had been absorbed into him.

Willing his hands still, he sets it back on the sill and moves his attention to the second item: a thick piece of paper folded in two. He opens it to find lines of print in meticulous pen and ink—Riku's block lettering, which he recognizes from all the old notes he managed to coerce out of him; the times he batted his eyelashes with an affected pout and looked over his shoulder as he copied spells in the same shorthand he's learned for himself since starting lessons with Aqua: Old habits, Riku told him once with something like nostalgia before he quietly relinquished them upon suddenly becoming occupied with something else… Sora squeezes his eyes shut with the note still clutched in his hand, washed over with a heartache that hits him twice over as it occurs to him that Riku still hadn't managed to stop lying to him—it wasn't there before, so he couldn't have left it any earlier than last night, meaning he hadn't managed to leave town like he promised.

Sora sighs, resigned, and tries to plow through the nerves to start from the top. He doesn't make it far before he pulls it away from his sight, eyes now closed for a different reason.

Hands and head shaking he folds it over again before he can read another word.

You know what? he thinks. I don't want to know, and I don't care.

He slinks back to bed, with the paper and vial in hand, folding the note into quarters before tucking it behind his phone—it's time to start packing, which right now only looks like putting this sole handful of worldly possessions in the pocket of his jacket until it's time to get moving: he doesn't know what the rest of the note says, but he does know that Twilight Town is no longer an option for him either.

He thinks that it's no wonder that people get lost so deeply in the darkness if the darkness feels like this.

Once lost, never found—not without the guiding light of hope, which seems so scarce. It looks like no way out—nothing but the same as far as you can run, anger and resentment digging further and further into the ground, but neither as powerful as fear.

Nightmares had done little to prepare him for this: the last time he was here to say goodbye, he could never have imagined how much left there was for him to gain. Now that the rest is gone, it doesn't even feel like home. It's enough to render him immobile, half-catatonic in isolation, trying to cling to anything that will keep him tethered, but finding each one of his options slipping through his hands.

Seeing the shore of his island again feels unearned, shallow like the tide, like the world is telling him he doesn't deserve to go any further. He couldn't if he tried; he's rooted here, powerless to act even though he's finally returned to the stage where all his dreams are set.

He knows where he really needs to be, but not how he needs to get there, and it's much too late for him to hitch a ride. All this darkness here within him, and nothing to show for it—right now, it all belongs on the other side, where he has a chance to use it.

Sora turns away, unconsciously drawn to the path he'd followed the night the islands disappeared. He follows up the dock and past the driftwood, near the rock face where cool drinking water streams and pools beneath, and he hesitates before the little alcove where hundreds of games of hide and seek had been won by those brave enough to face it. He used to be one of them, until it only reminded him of the darkness.

But he restored this place like it sprung from the seeds of his own memory as if nothing ever happened to it. And if Xehanort intends to destroy it—the shore he so resented—then Sora has to be strong enough to save it again.

I need to make it right, he thinks. I have to make it better.

Now that it's the only place he wants to go, he realizes that he's meant to run into the darkness, not away—he's already tried that path to exhaustion. Now Sora has been extended an invitation he's waiting to accept—but there isn't just something he needs to stop on the other side, there's someone he needs to help as well. If he's destined to get there one way or the other between win and lose, he has a feeling he's had the answer for a long time already. He's already home—where the heart is, of course. But his own heart is lost somewhere deep beneath the place where it usually lives inside him, covered up by all the negative emotion that desperation bears with it. It stands to reason that the rest of him should follow it into the dark, since that's where the things that matter now live.

Now that he's climbed this far, it's quiet at the peak: stones like rage and sorrow and terror are polished into decisiveness, and he feels almost calm. From here at the summit it's a simple matter to find it within himself to make the leap. With the tide behind him, he shores up all the courage he has to give before going in: he's only got one more step to fall, and he hits the ground running half-cocked into the dark.

Real as the dreams had felt, they didn't do much to capture the atmosphere of the place. The most important difference is the sense of something stagnant about the air—not humid or still, but draining, like he's operating with only half the oxygen in his lungs. Unfamiliar terrain would already be a disadvantage, but he hasn't even regained his strength yet. Now it feels like the darkness is sapping his energy at twice the rate it should.

This realm operates on different rules. He wouldn't be able to describe it with any definitive answer if asked—it's so far beyond him that he can only grasp the vague ways it tries to compensate, like the feeling that he's on a half second delay. He shuffles forward, looking around, and feels each grain of sand kicked up underneath him, looking down to find them dispersing in slow motion like little rivulets of ink. If he were to head deeper toward the inlet he'd face nothing but a cavernous darkness; if he turned the opposite direction he'd be overcome by the bruising shore.

"Even in the vastness of night, this place has always been too small."

Sora turns toward the voice disrupting the sound of the waves. Though he hadn't sensed him before, it's entirely possible that the entire time since he stumbled onto the dark beach Sora hadn't noticed Xehanort standing only yards away, staring out over the shore from where he stands in the shallows. Sora waits.

"It's no matter. The darkness will drive away all. Fate has determined it so, just as it knew we would stand here today. You and I are both chained to this sea, but you place yourself here willingly, your scope limited to one simple horizon despite worlds upon worlds at your feet. It softens you. If your love of one place is the only thing that allows you to defend others, then this conclusion never had to be preordained—you were never strong enough to start. Your desire to save them pales in comparison to the greater good I will bring about when I remake these worlds according to my bidding. Though I must have you to thank—I cannot mold and reshape as I see fit without your involvement. Between us lies the axis of light and dark, resonating with the harmony of immaculate balance. Why seek to destroy yourself defying destiny when this is the only possible way to amend the damage done?"

"You're nutty," Sora shouts. "Maybe it's the only way if you've got control issues. But there's no way I'm going to let you get away with it."

"Oh, but you already have," Xehanort says, extending his hand—X-blade, almost formed, though not whole. Not yet. Sora has his blade at the ready a second before Xehanort disappears, raising it the moment static fills the air; Xehanort descends with his own blade, but Sora defends, raising his guard high for the counter and driving him back. It's nowhere near enough of a margin for Sora to gain a lead, but it is enough to survive, which might still be a tall order of its own under the circumstances. But if all he can do is try to stay alive, then there is no other course to take other than to bolster his resolve to do it.

While what remains of his strength may fail at any moment, desperation still lets him make use of his agility. He protects himself as best he can in a dangerous game of keep away, countering each blow feverishly fast as Xehanort doles them out in a method measured and composed. Xehanort thrusts forward, and Sora steps backward; Xehanort swings, and Sora dodges—with each feint and duck and spin and roll Sora knows it's only a matter of time before his rhythm either stutters or becomes so predictable that Xehanort will finally exploit each one of Sora's lost opportunities to get a hit in edgewise. More pressing yet is the X-blade, growing more solid by the second in his other hand, though still not complete.

The next time he drives his own blade forward, Xehanort follows with a successive blow from the X-blade strong enough that Sora stutters backwards, heels skidding in the sand. Xehanort laughs, satisfied, and holds out the X-blade, reaching out to seal it with his own mark, to take its power for his own, drawing out what he can from it at this incomplete stage: the last before the victory that will stabilize it.

Better, Sora thinks, the only thing he can muster, shaking with exhaustion. I have to make it better. I have to be better. But the magic never comes. Too crestfallen, too downhearted, too broken: ruptured; so unused to defeat on this scale that he doesn't have the slightest idea where to start when even imagining how to recover. He tries to hold back his own surrender, tries to steel his shoulders and carry on, but the sea breeze he breathes to put wind back in his sails only leaves his chest as a silent sob.

It was foolish of him to attempt to get involved in something so clearly out of his depth—he'd never failed to overcome anything in some way or another before, bought in or bailed out of everything he'd ever charged into headfirst and headlong with his pockets brimming with luck, and charm where that wore out. Every single time, he'd been pulled out of the fire by something greater than himself. But Xehanort is right—it was only prolonging the inevitable; every single time anyone went out of their way for him is now stacked up against him in vain, every second chance and golden opportunity's been squandered.

Sora now has no choice to admit that he only made it worse by trying to help. There's no one left to save him time. Maybe there's no reason left for him to save himself. All the things that made him strong abandoned him because he wasn't fast enough to catch up, and if he can't even keep them safe under his own power when the threat is real and alive, then just the memory of them alone can't possibly pull him through. His heart would cry out in pain for itself if it could: so much love, and nowhere to put it; nothing left to hold him up.

Xehanort holds his arm up above, closing his gloved fingers over his palm and bringing his hand close to his heart, invigorated with power as he lifts the blade again.

"I can't do it," Sora whispers. He can't stop his entire frame from winding down in complete defiance of every part of his head that screams at him to keep going. His arm falls, shoulders slumping as he tries to keep his grip, but the melancholy overtaking him hasn't figured out the battle's not over yet—or it doesn't care. So quickly, and so easily, and so soon—he'd laugh if he had the energy, but he devotes what little he has to one last stand as Xehanort approaches, depending on only his own dead weight to anchor him against his blade. Sora shuts his eyes and hates himself for the cowardice, and he flinches as he feels static in the air.

"Would you listen to yourself?" comes another voice, playful and low: Sora's blind faith finally come to call. Sora is speechless as he feels himself enveloped in a half-embrace, stymied until he realizes that he opens his eyes to the opposite side of the shore, waves crashing behind his knees—behind both their knees. "Even I can see that's not true. You're not giving up on me already, are you?"

Sora blinks, still overwhelmed, and realizes that the sudden clarity ringing in his ears isn't music—soft and understated, sotto voce played just for him—but in fact magic, something restorative. Maybe he's faint with joy, maybe what's cast over him is beyond just healing, but now half his strength is handed back to him: maybe not enough to win, but just enough not to lose.

"You're here."

"Came as fast as I could. Got lost—least 'til just a minute ago." His hand stretches up to point his finger toward Sora's heart before he lays a solid pair of pokes to his chest, then cautiously takes his arm from around him until he's sure Sora can support himself on his own. "C'mon."

Sora snatches his hand just as the water begins roiling beneath them, then looks up at the sound of Xehanort's voice.

"Very well." Sora catches sight of the glistening X-blade first, hovering suspended in the air not far beside its current wielder, who Sora can now see looming just paces in front of them.

"Xehanort. It's me you wanted."

"Once, yes. It makes no difference now."

Sora watches him run directly into Xehanort's path, leaping over his swing and dragging him down, but Xehanort retaliates. Sora grips his blade, at the ready, and runs forward just as Xehanort rises, raising his hands to summon the waves forward. Sora is caught up in the crash before he can make another move, trapped watching Xehanort tread backward as he attempts to dispose of them both in a burial at sea. Sora is tugged away, sputtering, no idea which way is up as the water surges around him, and he flails helplessly for the surface in panic until he's secured by an outside force, hefted by the shoulders above the water. Sora gasps for air, water pouring out of his mouth—inexplicably, Sora is struck by how little it resembles the sea, as it tastes like nothing at all.

Even blinded by the sea in his eyes, the moment Sora can tread water on his own he grips his hands around sturdy shoulders, which heave like his own.

"I'm sorry," Sora breathes while he still can. "If it wasn't for me—"

"Shut up. You're not the one to blame."

"No," Sora says, clutching at his arm with one hand while reaching over with the other to slide his hand across his chest, over his heart. "No, idiot, I'm trying to tell you—"

They're both drawn by the sound of another onslaught from the waves—Sora has just enough time to hold his breath and hold on at the same time, and watches him shake his head and gasp for an intake of air before he draws Sora close and dives forward. They struggle against the current for a short eternity before breaching the shore once again.

Xehanort makes a sound of disdain.

Sora steps back as they let each other go, but reaches to brush his hand. "Thank you," he says. "That's all." He only nods at him in return, capturing his blade in his hand as Xehanort moves in for the attack; Sora dances backward and slides to his rescue as Xehanort misses his first strike and returns for the second. In the flash in between, Sora pummels him with all the force he has, bringing him to his knees for one miraculous moment—they both set upon him, trading blow for blow in turn each time Xehanort parries.

Sora raises his blade above his head for what might have been a killing blow, but Xehanort blocks the opposite attack that would have given Sora leverage and rises with a summoned force, staggering them both.

"Enough," Xehanort says calmly. Sora keeps his blade close on the sidelines and searches for its partner, the blade on its own the only colorful thing for miles. He spies it swinging toward Xehanort again just as he sidesteps the attempt before it can land. Sora only has time to blink in the flash before Xehanort arrives before him instead and instantly finds himself in his grip, eyes wide. He's not quick enough to adjust his guard in time to stop Xehanort from launching him backward with a concussive blast.

Sora!

The sound of his name is muffled by the churn of the dark ocean as a wave hits him with the force of a moving wall. In shock Sora clambers his way above water, reaching the surface to look in the direction of the sound in time to watch helplessly as Xehanort takes advantage—Sora's guardian, Xehanort had called him: Sora feels guilt tumbling in his brain, understanding that playing that role is what just took him from his own battle in the moment he spent watching out for Sora rather than his own blade, a sacrifice Xehanort now reaps for himself as he reaches to grasp the flat of it. With inordinate strength, Xehanort wraps his gloved hand around it, using the keyblade as a fulcrum to lift him in the air like so much feather weight and leave him dangling from the hilt, where he cries out and attempts to kick his way out of his grasp. Realizing his mistake in trying to save his grip on the keyblade, he lets go just before Xehanort can land his blow and falls winded to the sand, immediately reaching up to summon it back.

The waves push Sora into action—go!—and he rushes forward as Xehanort effortlessly maintains his hold on that terrible winged blade, raising it high as he laughs, haughty, and dismisses his own keyblade to take it in two hands, then proceed to snap it in half. The hilt falls uselessly to the ground as the rest disintegrates in his hand.

Even with his extra momentum, Sora won't make it in time—Xehanort wastes no time summoning back his blade to finish him off. Sora sees the flicker of defensive magic as he throws his hand forward to prepare for the blow, and, panicked, Sora takes a split second to find his words—his feet finally hit the sliding sand, and he shouts with as much force as he can muster.

"Here!"

Sora's own keyblade beats him there, meeting Xehanort's hollow one before it can land with a terrible clang. He trips his way closer, knowing it's still not enough, as Xehanort raises his arms in preparation for another powerful expulsion of darkness. He thinks fast, grasping out for a solution, and latches on to the glimmer of the half-formed spell from before—with a deep breath, he takes it with him, searching inside himself for the answer to it: the very greatest of the barrier magic that Aqua could provide him.

He counters with all the energy he can, summoning a bright wall that consumes Xehanort's blast with the sound of an electric buzz.

Sora's blade hits his hand again, returned to sender; he inhales, nerves shattered as his temporary strength sloughs off him in pieces from the effort, and despite himself he hits the ground on one knee, chest heaving.

There's no reprieve. Xehanort rises as if unfazed, setting his sights on Sora once again, and Sora faces him with a look of cold determination even as he struggles and fails to rise for himself. He just needs time. He tenses, taut with screaming anxiety even as he sees from the corner of his eye a flash of black, reaching to snatch up the hilt of a halved blade. Sora grits his teeth and holds forth his keyblade in a white-knuckled vise, waiting for the shock.

Xehanort appears before him as expected, but he doesn't bear down his blade as he was preparing for, instead hooking Sora's keyblade with the tip of his own and tearing it from his hands, successfully wrenching it from his grasp and simply tossing it aside, sending it flying in the other direction then skittering across the sand.

In panic, Sora looks up at the glint of steel sparking above him and realizes it's now the X-blade; as he raises his arms and ducks his head, the last thing he catches in his sight is Xehanort's smirk.

"And thus the darkness prevailed and the light expired," he says, calm, juxtaposed by the peal of a short anguished shout.

"No!"

There's an explosion of grit as the source of it slides over to cover him, armed with nothing but a broken blade.

No, Sora repeats to himself in answer with a helpless flinch, instantly flinging a desperate arm around his torso to hold him, to attempt the impossible and pull him from harm's way. No. Not you. You're what matters, too.

He steels himself to receive the body and the blow, gasping out a sound as he presses his cheek to his shoulder blade, face contorted in fear as he shoves himself closer and grasps on to all he has left: the final dregs of his strength, and the source of it—wishing against all hope for something that you can't do without it.

Sora reaches for him, with his hand, with his whole heart. "R—"

Destiny arrives with a resounding rumble, in total cacophony, only just starting with the clang of metal colliding. The clash vibrates through his teeth, buzzing in his skull and in his chest, and Sora is speechless as the dark world suddenly shimmers with a blinding light, sizzling and searing like the warning that flashes an instant before the thunderclap of a storm that's already arrived.

Sora feels himself torn away, the space between his arms now empty, as his blade finally manifests in his hand again. He squints, deaf, dumb, but vision now perfectly clear: before he closes his eyes, he sees Xehanort, empty-handed—his original blade torn from his grip and now fending for himself against two others: a gigantic spade of a sword, dark at the hilt and sheathed with nothing but sparkling steel, and the X-blade, horrifyingly whole now that it has exchanged hands.

The shower of embers starts to recede—just as Xehanort does, stricken with astonishment. He only staggers backward once, but it's enough space to sacrifice himself: the pawn to the oncoming knight, who rises with a confident stance as he stands straight and brazen.

"Time's up," he says, securing Xehanort's abandoned keyblade beneath his boot as he lays into him with a hammer strike from the hilt of the new blade, knocking him prostrate on the ground before Xehanort can return to his bearings.

He raises it high, and in one deft motion slams it down—true aim to the heart, though Sora doesn't see if it connects, as he collapses to the ground for himself. As he falls to his side, a surge of darkness overtakes them, rushing around—Sora holds his breath before realizing that it's not the tide rising up to claim them again after all, but the release of unchecked dark power, carrying with it a deep and inky residue that translates as shrieks and whispers of voices, of worlds, of eras, passing over in an oppressive wave before dissipating into fog and mingling with the last of the bright rain as it curls up into smoke and blows away.

Sora starts to laugh. He feels half hysterical as tears begin gathering joyously in the back of his throat. "Riku," he mouths, with more confidence than he can even say his own name, without a singular doubt. "It's you. You're here."

He sobs, relieved and delighted, as the bright moon starts casting its light back over the shore, and hears the sound of metal clattering to the ground.

"Sora."

Sora, still sprawled out on the ground, opens his eyes as he drops hard to his knees beside him and immediately reaches for his face—a scant touch to his cheek, his brow, his jaw, there to revitalize—then his other hand to his chest, measuring the beat of his heart and the state of his person.

"So— So you do care," Sora manages through a hiccup of wet laughter, allowing him to card his hand from place to aching place with balm in his touch.

"Sora," he breathes, pretenses lost as he caresses his cheek, repeating his name softly at rapid intervals. "What's wrong? Where does it hurt? Are you okay? Tell me, Sora." It's the same low murmur Sora knows well from a hundred other contexts, drawling and dry: alongside a shaking head, carried on the back of a patient instruction, huffed with affection, sighed with resignation, half hummed at his ear in the middle of the night. He knows it teasing, and joking, and groaning, and lying, and the greatest of all, laughing—his cue that there's treasure nearby, with emerald eyes and silver hair and golden smile, the last of these the X that marks the spot where he gives everything else away.

Helpless, Sora laughs again, shaking his head.

"Y'know, you've kinda got me at a disadvantage here," he says with irony, voice low and lilting to match. "'Cause after all this time, I don't think we ever actually managed to make our introductions."

His hand stills by his ear as he goes tense.

"Your reputation precedes you," he tries as Sora reaches a hand up to his face, a weak warning in his voice—only a pale shadow of the usual brash and bravado that he borrows from the blindfold.

"Pleased to meet you," Sora says quietly, smiling, as he reaches to skirt a hand across his cheekbone, feeling him freeze before he plucks the blindfold from his face, revealing a pair of jewel green eyes, arrested in fear.

"Sora," whispers Riku, helpless.

"I knew it," Sora says breathlessly, rising with a jolt. "I knew it was you, it had to be you—" He laughs tearfully again as he reaches for his face to pull him close, capturing him in a desperate kiss as he tugs him forward from the back of his head with both hands so they snap together like magnets, then nearly topples them over by attempting to climb into his lap as he rushes in to kiss him anew.

"I—"

"It couldn't be anyone else," Sora cuts him off before he can start. "I'm so— Thank goodness it's you."

"What?" Riku asks softly, a slight tremor in the hands he's placed loosely around him.

"I wanted it to be you so bad, I needed it to be you." Sora shakes his head. "I couldn't imagine anything else."

He breaks away and settles on his knees, matching Riku's hesitation with his own expression of awe as they look at one another with wide eyes.

"I had to keep it a secret," Riku says. "You couldn't find out, no matter what."

At this Sora lobs a fist into his side at high velocity.

"You're terrible!" he yells over the sound of his grunt. "You're awful, you jerk! You're the absolute worst, I can't believe you, you stupid liar." Sora realizes he may be sending mixed messages, and presses against him as if to weld them together from top to bottom. He saves their lips for last, fiercely attached. After a moment Sora loosens his grip just enough to get a look at the uncertainty in his eyes. "You stupid, stupid liar. You could have told me. You could have told me everything."

"I didn't want you to know."

"But, Riku—of course I had to. I don't care. It doesn't change anything."

"How?" His voice wavers. "The things I've done, the hurt I've caused—I could never show you. I kept dreading the day you'd learn, because you'd have no choice but to leave. But I was so selfish. I had to keep this part of me hidden—you deserved better, but I was terrified of losing you."

Sora makes a noise of disbelief.

"And I was terrified that I was wrong. It was so ridiculous…I couldn't admit it. I started to think… Well. At first I was seriously nervous you might be connected. Then I was so, so scared that you weren't."

"What?" Riku asks, incredulous. "How come?"

"You were hurting, it was obvious. I wanted to help you, but I knew I needed something more before I could get even the first idea where to start." Sora shifts so he's seated on the sand, their legs bumping together, and reaches for his hand to hold on to him like a vise, gently forcing him to sit on the ground beside him one stage of movement at a time. "Every time you pulled away I felt like I'd just lost another piece of something important. I knew you weren't being honest with yourself, and I was close to giving up—you made me so angry. But every time we ran into each other out there I got a taste of what I was missing, and I started to like it. Then I started to like it a lot. Suddenly it felt right to imagine that all those separate feelings were supposed to make up something whole, because between the both of you it felt like no matter who I was talking to, I was only ever getting half. And it made me sick. I wanted more. I guess I just didn't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what we could've been if you ever gave me all of you."

Riku looks at him for a minute in concentration, like he's the one who has to puzzle something together, and reluctantly loosens his grip on Sora's hand.

"I thought…that maybe I could keep it separate," he says softly after a moment. "Be someone new. But I don't deserve forgiveness. Not from anyone. Even if I did succeed at stopping the darkness, the only thing I'd accomplish was managing to clean up my own mess. But I could at least lock that part of me away here forever. It was the only way I could think of to make up for what I'd done in any way worthwhile."

"You don't understand," Sora says. He entwines their fingers together more securely and moves their hands to hold them together against Riku's chest, close to his heart. "That's the part of you that makes you who you are. That's the part of you I loved first."

Too quickly, Riku looks away, off into the distance. Sora generously allows him a pensive moment, politely ignoring any tears.

"I'll always be tainted by the darkness," he eventually states, plainly, like he's offering his counterclaim. Sora shakes his head and huffs another one of the hiccuping breaths that ferry along his occasional tears of relief.

"No. You made the darkness yours. It gave you so much, and you used it to help—you didn't just save it for yourself. You shared it with me. So maybe I'm a little biased, but of course that's worth something. And, well, even if it isn't, then…I guess it still doesn't matter to me. If that's who you are, then that's how I want it. I mean it—I don't want you to try to change into someone different; you'd be unrecognizable. I don't want something perfect. I just want you. And that means all of you."

"If all of me is even enough."

Riku looks downcast, eyes drifting toward the ground, which Sora thinks is absolutely wretched now that he's just gotten them back.

"Course it is. But now that you're not hiding behind that thing, maybe you can see it from my perspective, if you can't see it for yourself." Sora raises a hand and points into the distance out of his line of sight. "Like right now, behind you."

Riku's brow furrows, and he cautiously follows the line of his finger and turns slowly, not sure what he's expecting. He gazes off into the darkness with intense focus for a moment, trying to figure out what he's missing, and finally turns around with confusion written across his face. Sora does a poor job at stifling a smile.

"Made you look."

Riku's eyes widen slightly, his chin tilted up just a tad as his surprise registers. When Sora breaks into a helpless grin, he starts to laugh—at first just one startled sound, and then, unrestrained, head back, shoulders shaking, his hand traveling to rest on his stomach.

The sight is so welcome and rare that Sora is a little starstruck, giddy with warmth, and he considers the merits of committing it to memory over satisfying the urge to test how this smile feels against his own lips instead. The choice, thankfully, is made for him when Riku reaches for his cheek before scooping him up from beneath, cradling him close as they steal each other's laughter note by note, tangled together there until the arrival of the tide.

Waves lap the shore, but rather than a broken mess of glittering shells and rocks it spits out tiny little pebbles, every one obsidian. They sit beside one another and watch the shifting sand.

"The bad news is that I only planned for a one way trip," Riku says, sober.

"Oh yeah. Your vacation destination. You know, everyone wants to get away from it all every once in a while," Sora says, gunning for cheerful optimism, but his teeth chatter through it.

"Oh." Riku breaks from the stone stillness with which he stares ahead and shrugs out of his coat to hand it over to him. "Guess I don't need it anymore."

"I can forgive," Sora says, already huddling gratefully inside of it. He focuses on warming up, and they fall silent for a while.

"I was meant to be the leader of a new generation of keyblade wielders—someone who could guide them against any threat using the knowledge and the traditions of the oldest guardians of the light," Riku begins, recounting it quietly to the tide, glancing over—Sora is certain he'll see him sitting here enraptured from the corner of his eye, and hopes it's reassuring. After a moment, he determines it's safe and quietly pushes the rest of the floodgates open. "I was raised in a place called the Land of Departure, where there was a perfect balance between the darkness and light, and trained to fight in a war that I eventually started to understand might never come.

"There never was anyone else. Terra and Aqua searched and searched, and when they did find others who were strong enough—like the girl from the castle—they were told not to disrupt the balance of their home worlds by taking them away. It was up to me alone to be ready for whatever might come, or at least it felt like it. I wanted to impress them—I wanted to impress Terra, because I was supposed to be his greatest success. But they knew each other better than anyone, and because of that, they were always trying to outdo each other. Their master encouraged it, but he didn't realize that he was only pitting the two of them against themselves, because they already gave each other a reason to do better. One way or the other, they were so concerned with one another that there was never any room for me.

"I was supposed to see other worlds. I was supposed to be the youngest keyblade master since Terra and Aqua themselves—and maybe end up becoming even more powerful than they were. It was the trade-off for a normal life growing up on the islands, but I never got a chance to prove what I could do.

"More pressing things came up. Like Ventus—he was always told that his role was similar to mine, but he learned that he wasn't there because the master thought he could be more—he was there because he was scared of what he might become. It only made things worse. All three of them left Castle Departure, and while the master grieved, I was alone.

"Not having a purpose left so much empty space for the darkness to take advantage—maybe I couldn't lead others into the light, but I could control the dark. It promised me everything I wanted—Xehanort arrived and offered me a way to reach my potential in exchange for helping him carry the darkness where he couldn't reach. I didn't think twice—and nearly took everything down with me in the process—including the islands." This time he looks at Sora with a grimace, finding him wide eyed but sympathetic. He blinks, and Sora prompts him to keep going. With a touch of shame, he returns his gaze to the sea and takes another moment to refocus his thoughts.

"I betrayed everyone who cared about me just so I could get a look at the other side. Because I was lonely." His voice is even, though full of bitterness and regret. He pauses to exhale a silent sigh. "Eventually Terra went looking for me, but I already knew I couldn't return—his master instructed him to put an end to me. I think, for a moment, Aqua agreed."

Sora gasps softly, putting a hand to his mouth to stifle his surprise. Luckily, it doesn't manage to deter him.

"In order for his plan to work, Xehanort needed someone to eliminate her light, and push Terra to the darkness, and he knew he could use me to do it. He only fed into my resentment. He exploited my jealousy, and used my isolation to separate me from them even more, until I started to blame her for everything. She was just another obstacle. All I understood was that Aqua betrayed me and turned on Terra, and that I no longer had any sort of home. Once I destroyed her, there would be nothing standing in the way of the power I deserved. With Ventus out of the picture, there'd be no one else to tempt Terra back to the light—and I would be at his side in the darkness.

"For what it's worth, Aqua did try to reason with me—eventually she came to the conclusion that she still had faith in me, and she tried to show me. But it was too late. I was going to be gifted with my own empire of darkness once she was gone, and I was hell-bent on defeating her. I didn't just use the power of darkness—I used everything she ever taught me against her."

He stops, both his gaze and his jaw fixed and pointed ahead.

"Terra arrived to stop me before it was too late. I thought he was choosing her over me—there wasn't any other option for him, but I was too far gone to understand. Terra should have ended it then, but he let me go; he couldn't turn his blade on me." His voice goes melancholy, and the next part of it comes out of him, gravely and weighted, but quickly, like he's trying to get it out before he changes his mind. "There are days when I wish he had."

Sora realizes too late that he's made a whimpering noise, eyes wet for the umpteenth time. Riku looks at him, face open, and Sora shakes his head—not a denial, but a promise: Not if I have anything to say about it. Riku continues more quickly this time, maybe to reassure him.

"Point is, they reached out. But I was overcome by the darkness, and I let it drag me down—if I could take it with me, there might still be a chance for everywhere else. I ended up here, wandering tirelessly around the darkness for ages, knowing it was still less harsh of a punishment than I should've received. But eventually I must have made it home, because somehow afterward I washed up on the shore in the realm of light. I got lucky—someone had taken my place as protector and helped restore the worlds back to the way they were. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time to get sprung from the joint," Riku says with a note of irony as he looks over at Sora again, giving him a pointed nod. "Someone with a tremendously powerful light must have undone part of the damage I caused, and I got a second chance."

Mystified, Sora observes as he settles in impossibly closer to himself, wrapping his arms around his raised knees and returning his gaze to the water before reaching the conclusion.

"I found out later that they looked for me everywhere. Before Terra convinced him that he was living proof that it was possible to return to the light, Aqua nearly lost her title when the master found out she was trying to bring me back. I could never face her again. They forgave me, but I never understood why. I didn't deserve it."

After a lengthy pause, Sora makes a noise of disagreement upon deciding it's his turn to chime in.

"Well, from everything I've seen, I don't think either of them would say that now." Sora turns to see him still staring ahead. "I sure wouldn't."

"It doesn't change how many people I hurt—including all of you. Stopping Xehanort was just the least I could do. It still doesn't make me worthy of the light again."

"Says who?"

Riku's mouth turns up in an ironic smile for a moment before he answers. "Before I abandoned it to the darkness, my keyblade was identical to yours."

Sora considers this for a moment, then summons it before him. On instinct, he lets it go, and in that same instant it appears in Riku's hand. "I dunno about that," Sora says matter-of-factly. "It disagrees, too. In fact, I'd say it kinda likes you."

A cautious expression crosses Riku's face, and he releases the keyblade to replace it with his own—the new blade, broad and silver, freshly initiated into the light. He looks at it thoughtfully for a moment, then lands on something like a smile. This blade disappears from his hand, and he stands. Sora watches him tread up the shore.

Xehanort's abandoned blade lays on the ground just paces away, not quite useless yet. Riku strides over to pick it up, looking at it curiously. There's a snap like static, and he holds it out with a sharp breath, concentrating on its every detail. He smiles. When he turns back Sora is swaying in place and huddling deeper into the coat—he takes a confident step forward.

"Well, look here," Riku says, emphasizing the blade in his hand and reaching out to steady Sora as they meet halfway. "And there I thought I totaled our only ride home. Turns out this one's still got a little gas—hope you don't mind cutting this vacation a little short."

Sora allows himself to put some of the burden of his dead weight against him in a partial embrace, and wraps one arm behind him as he settles the other on his chest to support himself.

"Where to?" Riku asks—where indeed? Sora looks up, at a loss, but he trusts him to get them home, wherever that may be for now. Riku seems to pick up on it, smiling openly with a sort of drowsy affection. "Never mind. I've got an idea. But I think I'm going to take a detour first, if that's okay by you."

Traveling by ground? Sora thinks, casting out for the memory and lending him a grin—it seems he's on the same wavelength, because he returns it in full. Satisfied, he raises Xehanort's keyblade high up in the air, and it pulses back, illuminated, before spewing a coursing waterfall of light down around them. Warmth falls down like a sheet of rain, and if Sora didn't know any better, he'd say the sand sparkles in the same shimmering rainbow that always reflects after an island rain.

"Let's go home," Riku says, hefting Sora closer just as they're enveloped by daybreak, nudging him with the side of his arm and prompting him to take hold of the blade for himself as well. "You lead."

The basement of the old manor feels so much smaller now, strangely intimate. Maybe this is home just as much as anywhere else—in a way, beginnings live here as well, which might be what leads them directly back there.

The town is only just beginning to stir with the comings and goings of the early birds—it must be the very break of morning, which means they won't attract an excessive amount of attention as they traipse through town away from the mansion looking so worse for the wear. Sora holds the coat in a bundle close to his chest and hopes no one decides to comment on it.

In companionable silence they pass through the common, guided by the tram track as they walk parallel. When they approach the part of town where Aqua's rooms rest, they're quickly intercepted as both she and Terra rush forward from the sleepless post they'd taken up nearby.

Riku stops well before they can reach him.

"The X-blade's been destroyed," he says by way of announcing himself, and they slow to a halt. He summons the new blade, broad and glittering, and holds it forward toward Terra in a gesture of deference. Terra closes his eyes and gives one strong nod of approval, which Riku reciprocates before he dismisses it and brings about Xehanort's blade, solemnly presenting it as a talisman for Aqua. She shakes her head, reaching for it only to let it immediately clatter to the ground as she throws herself onto him in an embrace.

Sora turns, self-conscious, after a moment spent watching, and dismisses himself to his usual waiting room outside of Aqua's study, where he won't be too far out of reach. He sits, immeasurably weary, but content. Anything else can wait—if injuries are a concern, he doesn't have much to worry about, given that he knows a couple of people who have a lot of experience with mending.

He glances back to see Riku speaking—explaining what's happened, most likely; Terra's hand is clasped on his shoulder, and Aqua reaches for him again, putting one hand in his hair and using the other to touch his face. Despite a valiant effort, Riku's chest heaves with the threat of oncoming sobs.

Overwhelmed, Sora looks away again, engulfed by the same emotion of bittersweetness: empathizing with the clear grief they share about things they couldn't change, but also the joy he feels on their behalf about things they will.

He's still looking down pensively when he feels a buzz. He huffs in amusement as he reaches for his pocket, realizing before he even looks that his tenacious little phone has now woken up for the express purpose of informing him that it's now time to fill out his logs—he'd never managed to turn off the reminder. By now it's complete hilarity, insult to injury to irony: what used to feel like a significant symbol of routine and duty now looks like a dramatic understatement. Worlds visited? The other edge of existence. Enemies encountered? The very greatest the light had ever faced.

This little device saw much more than most ever would, and somehow remained intact through the lot of it. Sora suspects it has something to do with a combination of refined technology and sturdy enchantment involved in its creation, which, like many of the other things gifted to him in the tower, were developed for him not just with courtesy but with precaution. He's grateful all the same: as it turns out, it's nigh indestructible.

His thumb catches on something just barely peeking out from where it's been slid for safekeeping beneath the protective backing, and he recalls the note he'd taken from his windowsill however many hours before. He gently pries it out and unfolds it with care, prepared for the anticlimax now that he puzzled out the ending for himself.

It's not the confession he expects.

I want nothing more than to be able to give you everything, but I can't keep pretending I can do anything but take. You may not want it, but this is all I have to offer: I'm sorry. I want you to have this. You'd say it's no replacement, but next time you need help I hope this will be there for you, since I can't be.

From the start I've been terrified you'd figure it out, but now that I know I'll never get to say it to you out loud myself I need to tell you that the truth is I've loved you since the moment you fell out of the sky. I thought I must've been the one with the head injury until I realized it's just the way I feel when you smile at me.

Trust your heart. You know it's the best hope we've got. Take care of yourself, hotshot.

He skims it once, twice, and parses it a third time, his hands shaking, partly in exhaustion. He's knocked off of his equilibrium, feeling the burning self-consciousness at his ears combined with that same ominous sensation of teeth-chattering cold he felt on the dark shore.

When Riku arrives to join him not long afterwards it's to find him failing to hold back sobs.

"Little late for goodbyes, isn't it?" he says softly as he takes in the scene, putting the pieces together bit by bit as clarity descends clearly over his brow before he sits beside him.

"Couldn't bring myself to read it 'til now." Sora hiccups out a wet laugh. "I guess I wasn't telling the truth before. There was a part of me that really was scared that I was right."

Riku begins shaking his head, expression grave. "I knew it was a mistake, but—"

"No." Sora shakes his head emphatically. "It's just…the whole time. The whole time you were just waiting for me to pick up and go." Riku is conspicuously silent. "But that's not all of it… I mean. Even if you didn't tell me, I'd eventually make the connection when I never saw either of you again, right? But…" He sniffs, about to lose composure again, waving the paper in emphasis as his face crumples. "But what I hated the most was that you wouldn't've given me even so much as a hint unless you knew without a doubt that you'd never have to explain yourself. You'd rather—"

Thankfully the only thing that dies is the sound from his throat; Riku looks away guiltily. That's probably another conversation for later. But he's lucky enough to have bought them back some time for now.

"It was the only way."

Sora shakes his head, sniveling once again. "That's the thing. It couldn't be the only way—I wouldn't let it. I refused to accept it. You deserved better than to be alone or afraid out there."

"I was still sure. Wasn't any space left to be scared, not when there was work to do. Thought maybe…there was at least one thing. One thing I could…keep you—" He skips on a breath. "Keep you safe from." At this Sora shoves his face in his shoulder, snotting on his shirt with a vengeance.

"Sora… C'mon. Pull it together."

"You pull it together, you—you annoy me so much, did you know that?" He gulps for a breath of air. "You dumb sap. Wouldn't be real fair if it only went one way, would it? So now it's my job to keep you safe from yourself." Sora bops him on the arm with his fist, more push than punch, but he sways anyway. "From here on out, we do it together. Deal?"

Riku laughs.

"I'm serious," Sora says, a little whiny. Hopefully endearing.

Riku looks down, considering—together is a weighted word, but Sora looks up earnestly, conveying as best he can the means it for all it's worth. He asks again, this time silently, mouthing it out. Together?

Riku nods.

"Deal."

"Then shake on it," Sora says immediately, severe. He extends his hand and he rises to stand. Riku takes it, allowing himself to be tugged along, into an exaggerated handshake, but the moment Sora is back on two feet Riku uses the momentum from their clasped hands to yank him forward, staggered—his legs swept up into the air well before they can even consider meeting solid ground again. Sora laughs in surprise, meeting him halfway with both arms extended, and hands, and hearts, and whatever else he can give, and they pull each other closer, together, as Sora wraps his arms around as tight as he can before Riku can even think about putting him down.

Seeing the twilight is much more of a novelty when getting to watch it gradually transform from one hour to another, though Sora will admit to missing the constant dim glow that Twilight Town always carried, enough like embers that it made things feel warm. Comforting and consistent—whereas here the dusk only precedes the dramatic drop in temperature characteristic of cool island nights.

He can't be certain, but it doesn't seem like that's the same train of thought Riku is having as he stares intently out at the horizon, focusing on something that doesn't quite reach the sun, but remains well past the shore. One deep pondering or another has him reach out reflexively to push his hair out of his face until he remembers there's no longer any need, as it no longer reaches any farther than just past his ears.

"What's on your mind?" Sora asks gently.

He doesn't respond immediately, though not because he doesn't hear—the small breath he gives shows him gearing up just before he answers.

"I was thinking about what I would say if you asked me to stay."

"Oh," Sora says, surprised. "So where're you leaning?"

"Not sure," he says pensively, concentrating at the foaming shore. "On the one hand, there's a part of me that's missed it the whole time. On the other…I think the rest of me knows that I don't quite belong here anymore. Not all the way."

Riku looks up at him, contrite, likely bracing himself for his look of disappointment.

"That's okay," Sora replies, upbeat. "Me neither."

"What do you mean?" He's cautious but confused. "Then what else?"

Sora thinks of the way Aqua nodded in understanding when she inferred that this was where he left his heart for safekeeping. However true, he knows now that it's just one of many things that he can trust to guard it. "I'm not ready yet. There's so much left that I want to get done, but it'll still be here when I do. In the meantime, I wanna be just as sure about everywhere else."

"Guess that's true. But you mean going back into the field? You must've worked something out, unless you're planning on going rogue."

"Ha. Definitely thought about it. But no, you're right—I talked to Aqua. I told her that I still wanted to help, and I wasn't gonna take no for an answer."

"And what'd she say?"

"She laughed at me," Sora says, breaking into an amused grin of his own. "She told me she had a feeling I'd say that."

Riku laughs as well. "Figured as much. But she's not the only one who makes the call."

"Nope. But she told me she'd already spoken with Master Yen Sid."

"And what'd he say?"

"Well, apparently when Aqua asked him to consider sending me back he agreed that it was the right decision, but he had some reservations about it, and she agreed that it wasn't the right way."

"So verdict's still out?"

"Well, no. At least, on one condition. They both agreed that they'd feel more comfortable about putting me back in if there were 'mitigating measures' in place."

"So did you agree?"

"Oh, for sure."

"Which of course means you're ready to handle whatever it is."

"So…uh. It's kinda not up to me, actually."

"How's that?"

"Thing is, what we all agreed on was that I'm not really cut out to do this forever, if I'm doing it solo."

Riku blinks quickly a few times, pausing pensively for just an extra second before he nods slowly, smile still fixed in place at the side of his mouth. The only thing that betrays him is the minuscule line forming above his brow.

"Okay, then. What's the solution?"

"Well, they said it'd be for the best if there was someone who could watch my back. You know, like a partner." Sora stops, finding his nerves rising a little as Riku remains frozen in place—still all but for the smile sliding off his face. Sora licks his lips nervously before continuing. "So I told them I was game, but I already had someone in mind, as long as they were okay with that."

"Were they?" Riku says, voice steady—even after a beat of silence, he might have gotten away with exuding the same nonchalance his tone implies…had he been able to say it above a whisper.

"So Aqua said she had a feeling about that, too. She and Master Yen Sid had already talked it over, and they agreed it was an excellent idea for me to work closely with someone who was so strong and reliable."

"Then what's the problem?" Riku asks, no louder than before and certainly no more confident.

"For starters…I sort of had to let you know about it, first. Since it's sorta kinda an important part of the plan and all."

"Ah. Got it."

"Next…well, y'see," Sora says with emphasis, the corner of his mouth turning up slightly as he raises his hands to mime removing something from his eyes, "the hardest part of the whole thing was gonna be managing to convince you it's the real deal so you would say yes. That is, to coming with me. To other worlds and stuff."

"I do see," he croaks.

"And finally, well. I needed to make absolutely sure that you agreed it was a good idea, 'cause even if I did convince you, it had to be because you really did think so, not because you felt bad about saying no. Since it's important to me that you do want to help out, seeing as how it's a lot to ask of you, especially since you might not even actually be interested. And you know you have every right to disagree, 'cause like I said it's just a tiny little bit essential to the entire plan that you're actually in it, but you have to really be in it, like with your whole heart and everything too, y'know?"

"Understood."

"Anyway…" Sora realizes he's gone so stiff that his jaw is tight, straining against every ache he's ever suffered. "Do you? Think it's a good idea?"

"It's very sound, no argument there."

"Okay, great. So that just leaves the other thing, which is…do you think— I mean, would you be willing to? Go out there, with me?"

Sora allows a contemplative pause, watching him rein it in, overwhelmed but not ready to show it—for a second, Sora is convinced it could truly go either way.

A beat later, Riku speaks up, still gazing in another direction. "I guess I could maybe clear up some space in my sched—" he starts in a low voice, but interrupts himself with a shake of his head, deciding he doesn't have the heart for sarcasm after all. Riku looks up, eyes bright and possibly touched with tears. His next words are tentative. "You're sure? You'd trust me with that?"

"I kinda don't see how it's all that different from before, if you ask me."

"You know what?" Riku responds sincerely. "You're right. I don't think I'd have it any other way."

Sora relaxes, feeling the jitters call off their assault as they sink back from whence they came. Now unburdened, he lets it go with a shaky sigh. "Sorry. I didn't think I'd be this worried. For a minute there, I thought it'd be real stupid to even ask you…but Aqua told me she had a feeling about this, too."

Now that his shoulders have been released from their standby at some point close to his ears, Sora is free to stretch upward, balancing on the limb of the tree before he swings up to reach for the highest branches above. He stands cautiously, craning upward, then begins the short crawl to the fruit hanging at the top.

"Hey. Don't fall."

"Ha, ha," Sora says, rolling his eyes as he reaches to pluck a paopu for himself before sliding back into place. "Y'know," he says through a bite, "if the legend's any true, you probably could have used one of these for yourself a long time ago."

"Why's that?"

"If it's supposed to create a connection between two people, I figure maybe it could've helped you play nice with your other self." He puts up his free hand to cover his eyes in mockery and grins around the next bite.

"Who knows?" Riku responds, amused, as he settles against the trunk of the tree. "Not the weirdest thing that could happen. But I think it's working out okay. Matter of fact, a mutual friend helped bring us together."

"That so?"

Riku turns to look up at him. "Yeah," he replies, light enough that it's picked up by the ocean breeze. He reaches up to take the fruit from his hand. "Connections are harder to make when you're not looking in the right place. Or looking at all," he smiles wryly, fending off the retort before it can come, then looks ahead, still holding the fruit aloft. He raises it to his mouth with a measured casualness before taking a bite of his own, either savoring it or considering it with intense concentration.

"Glad you pointed it out. I admit I was getting a little worried about you out there." When he can't possibly have chewed his piece into anything less than molecules, Sora reaches back to reclaim the fruit, wrinkling his nose at Riku when he raises an eyebrow at him for choosing to eat directly from the same spot. He decides he'll takes his time with this one too, munching pensively at one cheek as the sun descends. "I doubt it's a problem for you, but it does actually get pretty hard to see right after sunset, in case you wanted to move on soon."

Riku laughs softly. "Well, since I don't have to pretend that I have trouble getting around in the dark, I hope we don't really have much to worry about. I'm sure you don't doubt that I got pretty good at going into new situations blind."

Sora rolls his eyes. "Same way I never once should have doubted who you were—both your jokes were absolutely rotten. I'm just glad I don't actually know two separate people with the same seriously awful sense of humor." Riku chuckles softly to himself throughout, and Sora reaches out for the fruit, holding his hand out until Riku personally presses it into his palm. After another pensive bite Sora looks down at him with concern, expression full of longing, and braces himself with one hand on the branch to leap down, preserving the fruit in the other, then sidles up close, addressing him in a low voice like he's keeping a secret. "But you know you'll never have to again, right? As long as you've got me, I won't let you walk around lost in the dark. You hear me? I'll be your eyes, or your light, or your guide, or whatever, if it helps you see. Just the same way you helped me around in the dark so many times when I was in trouble. Okay? You never have to find your way out on your own again, because you're not getting rid of me."

"That much is perfectly clear," Riku says quietly, and accepts the fruit back once again, looking down at him with a smile.

As it turns out, no one ends up needing to be guided anywhere, as they remain nestled in the safety of the shore together until the morning light.