![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
Kingdom Hearts, "Thirteen and One" (Roxas+Riku)
Warnings: Um, character death. Tense slashiness in the future. AU AU AU and continuity destruction. No spoilers. You wouldn't know that I like Riku, after all that I keep doing to him.
.thirteen and one.
an end and a beginning
Roxas landed lightly on his feet, spun, heavy boots splashing the puddle beneath his feet-- and then the blur of battle calmed. The World That Never Was seemed empty of all life, all sound: only the empty, harsh breathing of a Nobody and the light patter of rain on undisturbed pavement breaking the silence of middling night. When there was no further movement, the blond eased his tense posture, lowering the bright gleam of Oathkeeper, and peered through the dark and the motionless boy across from him.
He was not getting up.
The position he's landed in looks painful and would be difficult to move out of quickly... The silver-haired boy had hit his head, Roxas had heard the crack with sickening clarity. The odds were good that the boy was unconscious.
Roxas took careful, slow steps forward, and measured no reaction at all from the crumpled form in an Organization cloak. He is Somebody, though. Where did he get that coat? He nudged the limp young man with his keyblade, and met no resistance as the tall figure was rolled onto his back.
"Riku," he said, trying out the name. He called Oblivion to his hand, since his opponent would no longer be needing it.
The silver-haired youth had been a worthy opponent, but no match for him. Although they may have been nearly matched in pure physical ability, and Roxas had even given him a keyblade with which to fight, Roxas had all the advantages: turf, belonging, greater command of darkness than the feeble abilities Riku had shown, and although his servants had only watched, he could have summoned them at any time.
(There were rules to these sorts of things, rules that Roxas respected, rules that the Samurai respected. A duel is not the same as a battle, and so Roxas had not expected them to interfere, and they had not wished to.)
Riku was definitely unconscious now, the puddle beneath his head slowly staining with a thin trickle of blood. He would die if the blond left him here: from exposure, from the returning Heartless, perhaps some Nobody would have pity on him and kill him quickly.
Die then. There was something unsettling about the young man -- deep within Roxas's gut his words twisted. Why do you have the keyblade? Stop pretending to be Sora! If it weren't for you... Roxas rubbed his ribs where Oblivion had hit with near-crushing force, sending him flying. He had recovered, and the duel had continued, but the sting remained.
Roxas paced to the tower, intending to leave the young man to his fate, and then found himself slowing, circling about slowly at the foot of the stairs to look back at the fallen youth.
He felt no connection to this Riku, but he felt, oddly, as though there should have been one... The hollow place where his heart should have been twinged with it, making him feel emptier, incomplete.
This was the moment when he should have let the shadow of his heart decide for him. Perhaps it was loneliness instead that made him think, I could create a connection. A connection to me, and not to -- Sora.
Roxas sat on one of the stairs at the foot of the tower, keyblades crossed over his legs, and waited.
"What kind of Nobody will you make?" he mused. "A Sorcerer, perhaps," as the Dark Shield he had erected seemed familiar. But Roxas didn't like that idea, shook it off like errant water, and drew his dripping hood tighter over his face. "What does it look like, when a Nobody is created?" He had never seen it happen before, except for when Vexen had created the first Samurai: altering the molecular state of a Dusk, molding it into the image of Roxas's soul.
The Neo-Shadows eased out of the darkness, compelled by lust into acting despite the fate of their brethren earlier; they ignored Roxas. He didn't have what they craved.
It would seem I'm about to find out.
Blue eyes widened as the Heartless seized their prey, gangly limbs passing straight through flesh in search of the hidden heart. The unconscious youth made a horrifying cry as they slowly pulled the shimmering shape from his chest, struggling weakly, and despite his interest Roxas found his fingers curl against the stone steps in primal recognition of that pain. But even as he sympathized, he knew what would happen.
Yes-- Struggle. Don't give in. Get back up. You don't need a heart. Something ached deep inside him. We don't need hearts.
And it seemed to be working. The heart was fully removed but Riku's body continued to thrash wildly, less purposeful -- he seemed to be entering some sort of seizure, limbs jerking about helplessly. Roxas snapped his fingers and two Samurai slid out of the darkness to scatter the hovering Heartless, and then waited, hovering over the twitching form.
He forced himself to watch, to think, Is this what I looked like when I was created? He hoped not. The jerking limbs were beginning to look like the flailing of an inept puppeteer's doll, lifeless and directed; bones almost seemed to be rearranging themselves in the "dead" boy's face, nauseating Roxas deep in his core. He wouldn't look away, but he was glad when the spasms tossed the silver head in a diferent direction.
"Will he be in Twilight Town?" he said. His voice sounded hesitant, which was unlike him. Roxas strangled the hesitance in his throat. "I remember--"
This one will remain here, said the nearest Samurai, and the one beyond agreed, Twilight Town is for those whose loss is in the World of Light. In the darkness, our kind are already home.
With a last shudder, the movements ceased all at once. Roxas got to his feet immediately, thinking that perhaps he had overestimated Riku and those had merely been death throes, but in another moment breathing resumed. One arm slowly lifted, pressing to his forehead as if to forestall a headache. An entirely human gesture -- just fake enough to be a Nobody.
His skin was still healthy, if sallow from the cold and rain. He was of the highest ranks, then; human, to all outward appearances. But as Roxas drew closer he saw the differences between the boy he had been and the boy he was now. Silvered hair had grown slightly longer, drained of even that shine and more blue than silver now. The structure of his face was similar, slightly more drawn, and the build of his body, from what Roxas could make out, was more wiry than his Somebody's had been... He looked, in fact, rather more like Riku than Roxas had expected.
Roxas stood over the new Nobody as he pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He looked up -- green-blue eyes unpained and alert -- and Roxas mused that it was handy, really, that he already had a cloak in his size.
Riku. "What is your name?" the blond asked.
Pale lips twisted -- paused -- and then twisted further, upwards into a semblance of a smile. "Kurix," said the Nobody.
Kurix. "Do you remember me?"
Those eyes searched his face, and then Kurix nodded. "He was fighting you when he lost consciousness. I remember."
That was kind of disappointing. Roxas shoved that thought away, along with his unease watching the transformation from Somebody to Nobody. "You remember everything?"
"More or less." Kurix pushed himself upright, one hand rising to his face as if the world spun around him. Roxas did not help him -- he watched, expression closed. In a moment the pale Nobody had righted himself and watched Roxas expectantly.
Something inside recognized that the shorter boy was like him. And Roxas felt it too: the sense of sameness, bound together by what they shared in common, and lacked in common.
The connection that he hadn't had with Riku.
Roxas smiled slightly. "Follow me," he said. "I will show you the place where you belong now." And when he turned, Kurix fell in a half-step behind him, without questions or arguments.
Their boots rang out together, splashing in puddles as they headed through the everdark to the Castle That Never Was.
.thirteen and one.
an end and a beginning
Roxas landed lightly on his feet, spun, heavy boots splashing the puddle beneath his feet-- and then the blur of battle calmed. The World That Never Was seemed empty of all life, all sound: only the empty, harsh breathing of a Nobody and the light patter of rain on undisturbed pavement breaking the silence of middling night. When there was no further movement, the blond eased his tense posture, lowering the bright gleam of Oathkeeper, and peered through the dark and the motionless boy across from him.
He was not getting up.
The position he's landed in looks painful and would be difficult to move out of quickly... The silver-haired boy had hit his head, Roxas had heard the crack with sickening clarity. The odds were good that the boy was unconscious.
Roxas took careful, slow steps forward, and measured no reaction at all from the crumpled form in an Organization cloak. He is Somebody, though. Where did he get that coat? He nudged the limp young man with his keyblade, and met no resistance as the tall figure was rolled onto his back.
"Riku," he said, trying out the name. He called Oblivion to his hand, since his opponent would no longer be needing it.
The silver-haired youth had been a worthy opponent, but no match for him. Although they may have been nearly matched in pure physical ability, and Roxas had even given him a keyblade with which to fight, Roxas had all the advantages: turf, belonging, greater command of darkness than the feeble abilities Riku had shown, and although his servants had only watched, he could have summoned them at any time.
(There were rules to these sorts of things, rules that Roxas respected, rules that the Samurai respected. A duel is not the same as a battle, and so Roxas had not expected them to interfere, and they had not wished to.)
Riku was definitely unconscious now, the puddle beneath his head slowly staining with a thin trickle of blood. He would die if the blond left him here: from exposure, from the returning Heartless, perhaps some Nobody would have pity on him and kill him quickly.
Die then. There was something unsettling about the young man -- deep within Roxas's gut his words twisted. Why do you have the keyblade? Stop pretending to be Sora! If it weren't for you... Roxas rubbed his ribs where Oblivion had hit with near-crushing force, sending him flying. He had recovered, and the duel had continued, but the sting remained.
Roxas paced to the tower, intending to leave the young man to his fate, and then found himself slowing, circling about slowly at the foot of the stairs to look back at the fallen youth.
He felt no connection to this Riku, but he felt, oddly, as though there should have been one... The hollow place where his heart should have been twinged with it, making him feel emptier, incomplete.
This was the moment when he should have let the shadow of his heart decide for him. Perhaps it was loneliness instead that made him think, I could create a connection. A connection to me, and not to -- Sora.
Roxas sat on one of the stairs at the foot of the tower, keyblades crossed over his legs, and waited.
"What kind of Nobody will you make?" he mused. "A Sorcerer, perhaps," as the Dark Shield he had erected seemed familiar. But Roxas didn't like that idea, shook it off like errant water, and drew his dripping hood tighter over his face. "What does it look like, when a Nobody is created?" He had never seen it happen before, except for when Vexen had created the first Samurai: altering the molecular state of a Dusk, molding it into the image of Roxas's soul.
The Neo-Shadows eased out of the darkness, compelled by lust into acting despite the fate of their brethren earlier; they ignored Roxas. He didn't have what they craved.
It would seem I'm about to find out.
Blue eyes widened as the Heartless seized their prey, gangly limbs passing straight through flesh in search of the hidden heart. The unconscious youth made a horrifying cry as they slowly pulled the shimmering shape from his chest, struggling weakly, and despite his interest Roxas found his fingers curl against the stone steps in primal recognition of that pain. But even as he sympathized, he knew what would happen.
Yes-- Struggle. Don't give in. Get back up. You don't need a heart. Something ached deep inside him. We don't need hearts.
And it seemed to be working. The heart was fully removed but Riku's body continued to thrash wildly, less purposeful -- he seemed to be entering some sort of seizure, limbs jerking about helplessly. Roxas snapped his fingers and two Samurai slid out of the darkness to scatter the hovering Heartless, and then waited, hovering over the twitching form.
He forced himself to watch, to think, Is this what I looked like when I was created? He hoped not. The jerking limbs were beginning to look like the flailing of an inept puppeteer's doll, lifeless and directed; bones almost seemed to be rearranging themselves in the "dead" boy's face, nauseating Roxas deep in his core. He wouldn't look away, but he was glad when the spasms tossed the silver head in a diferent direction.
"Will he be in Twilight Town?" he said. His voice sounded hesitant, which was unlike him. Roxas strangled the hesitance in his throat. "I remember--"
This one will remain here, said the nearest Samurai, and the one beyond agreed, Twilight Town is for those whose loss is in the World of Light. In the darkness, our kind are already home.
With a last shudder, the movements ceased all at once. Roxas got to his feet immediately, thinking that perhaps he had overestimated Riku and those had merely been death throes, but in another moment breathing resumed. One arm slowly lifted, pressing to his forehead as if to forestall a headache. An entirely human gesture -- just fake enough to be a Nobody.
His skin was still healthy, if sallow from the cold and rain. He was of the highest ranks, then; human, to all outward appearances. But as Roxas drew closer he saw the differences between the boy he had been and the boy he was now. Silvered hair had grown slightly longer, drained of even that shine and more blue than silver now. The structure of his face was similar, slightly more drawn, and the build of his body, from what Roxas could make out, was more wiry than his Somebody's had been... He looked, in fact, rather more like Riku than Roxas had expected.
Roxas stood over the new Nobody as he pulled the blindfold from his eyes. He looked up -- green-blue eyes unpained and alert -- and Roxas mused that it was handy, really, that he already had a cloak in his size.
Riku. "What is your name?" the blond asked.
Pale lips twisted -- paused -- and then twisted further, upwards into a semblance of a smile. "Kurix," said the Nobody.
Kurix. "Do you remember me?"
Those eyes searched his face, and then Kurix nodded. "He was fighting you when he lost consciousness. I remember."
That was kind of disappointing. Roxas shoved that thought away, along with his unease watching the transformation from Somebody to Nobody. "You remember everything?"
"More or less." Kurix pushed himself upright, one hand rising to his face as if the world spun around him. Roxas did not help him -- he watched, expression closed. In a moment the pale Nobody had righted himself and watched Roxas expectantly.
Something inside recognized that the shorter boy was like him. And Roxas felt it too: the sense of sameness, bound together by what they shared in common, and lacked in common.
The connection that he hadn't had with Riku.
Roxas smiled slightly. "Follow me," he said. "I will show you the place where you belong now." And when he turned, Kurix fell in a half-step behind him, without questions or arguments.
Their boots rang out together, splashing in puddles as they headed through the everdark to the Castle That Never Was.
no subject
no subject
Sora has a familiar unexpected ally if he wants to return Riku's heart to Kurix, though. XD