The Final Hurt | KH gen
title. The Final Hurt
fandom. Kingdom Hearts
characters. Xehanort, Sora, etc
wordcount. 1,929
notes. post-re:coded, no spoilers but definitely makes reference. bbs spoilers.
We're all here.
All accounted for.
So why does it feel
why does it feel
Like it still
still
Hurts?
It was a coping mechanism, at first. He was a child in a house of pain, and to deal with that pain, he had learned to put himself outside of it. He would hold his knees under the bed and count the grains of sand in the cracks between floorboards, and think about nothing at all.
His world was small. His lot in life - to fish, to work, to get married and have a house by the sea. They could not understand why this was so difficult for him to accept. But didn't they see it? The fires at sunset, the sharp bright points of the stars, the horizon that never got any closer. They didn't understand that what they saw as simple curiosity was a burning need, a fire to get out and away and somewhere else - to be somewhere where there was no pain, where there was friendship, where there was love. There was no love here. There were blank faces and small minds and people that looked different than he did.
He wanted more.
He stood on the shore in his black clothes and his white hair, both looked upon with suspicion and doubt by everyone he knew. But he knew that somewhere, somewhere they wouldn't. Somewhere out there, there was freedom - freedom from the house, the island, the world of pain.
+
He gets frustrated with his new pupil easily.
"No, you don't understand. You look but you don't see. What are those baby blues doing you? Here," and he swings with his Keyblade, but even given the warning, the boy only barely brings his own up in a shaky and unstable block, wincing all the while.
Worthless, he thinks, and can't see that this time, his pupil winced a little less, blocked a little sooner, and braced his feet properly.
+
When his Keyblade chose him, it was the first time anything had ever been given to him. It was the first time that anything was truly his. The feeling was wonderful, it was a rich pure rush of fulfilment, and he knew immediately what it was. This was his key to the future. This was his key to freedom, this was the key that would open the door, that would unlock the house of pain and bring him everything he yearned for.
But his heart, his beautiful small heart, had built itself far too many walls. The brighter the light is, the longer your shadow becomes, and the reverse of that is true - he had shut out the darkness, and with it, his capacity to see the light.
+
There was one girl - one. He would carry her memory with him, for she was the only one who had ever seen him for something more than what he appeared to be.
She was four when he left the island for good.
"Nort," she said, for that was her nickname for him. "Are you sure you have to go?" Her eyes - he would remember her eyes. Big and blue, round like a health ball. Eyes that saw into souls, and a smile that melted hearts. But she wasn't smiling now.
"Yes." He picked her up, his own solemn and bright in a dark face. "I must. Are you sure you won't come with me?"
She made a face. He had asked her with sincerity; he would have found a way to keep her safe. But her parents were small and cold like the rest of the small cold town. They wouldn't hear of it.
"No, you're going to get space cooties." But she had the spirit, he could see it in her. A thirst for something more.
"Be well, Serena," he murmured. "Remember me."
He never saw her again.
+
Eraqus, Eraqus. It is always Eraqus, and the letters pile up and his moogle gets frustrated and he finally tells it to throw them all away. He knows what's in the letters. It's always the same thing.
don't give in to the darkness don't reject the light
How does he not understand that they are one and the same? A Keyblade warrior chooses a side; gains power, uses it, people die. There is no difference between light and darkness, and freedom can only be found from following neither.
His Keyblade looks at him sometimes. He can feel its eyes on the back of his neck. Judging him. For what, he does not know.
+
It could have been a fresh start. It could have been all that he ever dreamed. The memories were gone, but the hurt was still there - and yet, this could have been his chance to let it heal.
And in the beginning, it was beautiful.
+
He said that all he could remember was his name, which was not quite true. He knew two; but he was fairly certain one was a girl's name, so it couldn't possibly be Terra.
They study him. The man with the blond beard and the orange eyes sends a chill down his spine; he recoils, but something inside him gives way and suddenly he's thinking of nothing at all. He cannot be hurt, now. He cannot be broken.
They study him, and for the most part, he doesn't mind. The man with the red hair is very kind, and the one with the eyepatch is so friendly. It feels -
It feels like two things, it feels familiar and yet he thirsts for more, hungry for warmth and acceptance and approval. It never feels like enough.
He follows the man with the blond beard like a dog, and it isn't until years have passed that he realizes why. Parent. Not his true parent, but the only one he can remember. His heart sends out thin, grasping hands, begging for a scrap, but the man in his white lab coat and blood-red scarf see him as nothing more than a curious anomaly. He is a child in a house of pain, but he can no longer remember what that means.
+
It wasn't always like this. Even could remember what it was was like, in the days - and years - before.
He remembered when Xehanort had first come to them; how precious he was, and Even was a worrier, caring too deeply and too fast. It was like he had two children now, one very very small, and one very very large.
They had so much in common. Even didn't know the details of Ienzo's childhood, but he did know that it was brutal - there were tells, in how he shut down in response to certain emotional stimuli, and how he seemed fascinated by objects other children would have had familiarity with. To be safe, Even made sure he was never left alone in dark rooms.
He felt that, perhaps, something similar had happened to Xehanort. Some sort of trauma, whether it had to do with his memory loss or not, though he had a suspicion it was much earlier rooted.
The difference, though, was that Ienzo could still remember. He made a great show of listening to Master Ansem, but it was Even or Aeleus he came to when he couldn't fall asleep, and it was the apprentices he trusted, not their master. Xehanort didn't know better. Xehanort wanted a parent who loved him. Master Ansem was not, and would never be, that parent.
And now, look at them. There were days that Even - or, it was Vexen now - thought that he was only one who remembered. And perhaps that was why he carried a shield, why he felt he had to hide himself away. They were losing themselves, and he had always been unable to let go of the past.
+
She's standing on the dock, waiting for her wayward young son, when she hears a strange noise.
It's unmistakable. She would recognize it anywhere. She has heard it only once before in her life, and her head snaps around, blue eyes wide as she tries to see through the dim night.
There's someone there - on the small island, across the bridge. She stumbles as she moves closer, feet splashing in the shallow water, and it's not fear that makes her heart pound in her chest.
She hears his voice. He's talking to someone; a boy? She can't quite see, it's too dark. But it's him. She knows it is. She hasn't forgotten him, never.
"Mom?" Sora runs up to her and tugs on the edge of her shorts. "Mama, what are you looking at?"
She gathers him up in her arms. "...A dream," she says, her voice all quiet and soft. "A dream I never followed."
He's sleepy and his head lolls against her shoulder. His words, when he speaks, are fuzzy and mumbly, spoken into the fabric of her shirt. "Why din't you?"
It's a good question. She doesn't know the answer, really - because life happened, and a child's dream of running off into the sunset became just that - a child's dream.
"...Because I was afraid," she murmurs, and then he's gone - disappearing into the ether, the same way he'd arrived. "Sora?"
"Yes, mama?"
She presses her face into his gravity-defying hair. "Live your dreams."
+
Everyone was here. They were all accounted for. But there was this - tugging, in Sora's heart. Like the memories unlocked... weren't quite done.
"Riku?" he whispered, tugging his friend away from the campfire, down towards the moonlit island shore.
"Mm?"
"I feel like something's missing."
He knew, somehow, that Riku would understand. And maybe, if he didn't, he would support him anyway, because Riku was his best friend and that's what best friends did.
"...Yeah. I can feel it too."
"Like there's someone - "
" - we've forgotten about."
They looked at each other; and then, wordlessly, opened a door to darkness, and summoned their Keyblade armor.
+
She hears the noise, and her first instint is always to remember that moment of her childhood, or that day on the beach. But this is the sound her son makes, now, whenever he comes home.
Whatever she was expecting to see, this isn't it.
Standing on the beach, staring up at Sora and Riku, there is a child.
He can't be more than ten, but he looks younger, perhaps seven. He has to tilt his head to even look Sora in the face, and Sora isn't exactly the tallest boy in the world. His hands are locked behind his back, his eyes, round and curious.
His skin is the color of toffee, and his hair, a bright silvery white.
Sora looks into the face of the enemy he's fought countless times, and he smiles like an angel. "We're going to be great friends," he says, warmly. "Come on- I want you to meet my mom. She's the best."
Serena pulls the child up into her arms, wraps him up in all the love in the world. "Welcome home," she whispers. "Nort."
If everyone gets a happy ending
Then maybe
maybe
We can change
we change
Everything.
fandom. Kingdom Hearts
characters. Xehanort, Sora, etc
wordcount. 1,929
notes. post-re:coded, no spoilers but definitely makes reference. bbs spoilers.
We're all here.
All accounted for.
So why does it feel
why does it feel
Like it still
still
Hurts?
It was a coping mechanism, at first. He was a child in a house of pain, and to deal with that pain, he had learned to put himself outside of it. He would hold his knees under the bed and count the grains of sand in the cracks between floorboards, and think about nothing at all.
His world was small. His lot in life - to fish, to work, to get married and have a house by the sea. They could not understand why this was so difficult for him to accept. But didn't they see it? The fires at sunset, the sharp bright points of the stars, the horizon that never got any closer. They didn't understand that what they saw as simple curiosity was a burning need, a fire to get out and away and somewhere else - to be somewhere where there was no pain, where there was friendship, where there was love. There was no love here. There were blank faces and small minds and people that looked different than he did.
He wanted more.
He stood on the shore in his black clothes and his white hair, both looked upon with suspicion and doubt by everyone he knew. But he knew that somewhere, somewhere they wouldn't. Somewhere out there, there was freedom - freedom from the house, the island, the world of pain.
+
He gets frustrated with his new pupil easily.
"No, you don't understand. You look but you don't see. What are those baby blues doing you? Here," and he swings with his Keyblade, but even given the warning, the boy only barely brings his own up in a shaky and unstable block, wincing all the while.
Worthless, he thinks, and can't see that this time, his pupil winced a little less, blocked a little sooner, and braced his feet properly.
+
When his Keyblade chose him, it was the first time anything had ever been given to him. It was the first time that anything was truly his. The feeling was wonderful, it was a rich pure rush of fulfilment, and he knew immediately what it was. This was his key to the future. This was his key to freedom, this was the key that would open the door, that would unlock the house of pain and bring him everything he yearned for.
But his heart, his beautiful small heart, had built itself far too many walls. The brighter the light is, the longer your shadow becomes, and the reverse of that is true - he had shut out the darkness, and with it, his capacity to see the light.
+
There was one girl - one. He would carry her memory with him, for she was the only one who had ever seen him for something more than what he appeared to be.
She was four when he left the island for good.
"Nort," she said, for that was her nickname for him. "Are you sure you have to go?" Her eyes - he would remember her eyes. Big and blue, round like a health ball. Eyes that saw into souls, and a smile that melted hearts. But she wasn't smiling now.
"Yes." He picked her up, his own solemn and bright in a dark face. "I must. Are you sure you won't come with me?"
She made a face. He had asked her with sincerity; he would have found a way to keep her safe. But her parents were small and cold like the rest of the small cold town. They wouldn't hear of it.
"No, you're going to get space cooties." But she had the spirit, he could see it in her. A thirst for something more.
"Be well, Serena," he murmured. "Remember me."
He never saw her again.
+
Eraqus, Eraqus. It is always Eraqus, and the letters pile up and his moogle gets frustrated and he finally tells it to throw them all away. He knows what's in the letters. It's always the same thing.
don't give in to the darkness don't reject the light
How does he not understand that they are one and the same? A Keyblade warrior chooses a side; gains power, uses it, people die. There is no difference between light and darkness, and freedom can only be found from following neither.
His Keyblade looks at him sometimes. He can feel its eyes on the back of his neck. Judging him. For what, he does not know.
+
It could have been a fresh start. It could have been all that he ever dreamed. The memories were gone, but the hurt was still there - and yet, this could have been his chance to let it heal.
And in the beginning, it was beautiful.
+
He said that all he could remember was his name, which was not quite true. He knew two; but he was fairly certain one was a girl's name, so it couldn't possibly be Terra.
They study him. The man with the blond beard and the orange eyes sends a chill down his spine; he recoils, but something inside him gives way and suddenly he's thinking of nothing at all. He cannot be hurt, now. He cannot be broken.
They study him, and for the most part, he doesn't mind. The man with the red hair is very kind, and the one with the eyepatch is so friendly. It feels -
It feels like two things, it feels familiar and yet he thirsts for more, hungry for warmth and acceptance and approval. It never feels like enough.
He follows the man with the blond beard like a dog, and it isn't until years have passed that he realizes why. Parent. Not his true parent, but the only one he can remember. His heart sends out thin, grasping hands, begging for a scrap, but the man in his white lab coat and blood-red scarf see him as nothing more than a curious anomaly. He is a child in a house of pain, but he can no longer remember what that means.
+
It wasn't always like this. Even could remember what it was was like, in the days - and years - before.
He remembered when Xehanort had first come to them; how precious he was, and Even was a worrier, caring too deeply and too fast. It was like he had two children now, one very very small, and one very very large.
They had so much in common. Even didn't know the details of Ienzo's childhood, but he did know that it was brutal - there were tells, in how he shut down in response to certain emotional stimuli, and how he seemed fascinated by objects other children would have had familiarity with. To be safe, Even made sure he was never left alone in dark rooms.
He felt that, perhaps, something similar had happened to Xehanort. Some sort of trauma, whether it had to do with his memory loss or not, though he had a suspicion it was much earlier rooted.
The difference, though, was that Ienzo could still remember. He made a great show of listening to Master Ansem, but it was Even or Aeleus he came to when he couldn't fall asleep, and it was the apprentices he trusted, not their master. Xehanort didn't know better. Xehanort wanted a parent who loved him. Master Ansem was not, and would never be, that parent.
And now, look at them. There were days that Even - or, it was Vexen now - thought that he was only one who remembered. And perhaps that was why he carried a shield, why he felt he had to hide himself away. They were losing themselves, and he had always been unable to let go of the past.
+
She's standing on the dock, waiting for her wayward young son, when she hears a strange noise.
It's unmistakable. She would recognize it anywhere. She has heard it only once before in her life, and her head snaps around, blue eyes wide as she tries to see through the dim night.
There's someone there - on the small island, across the bridge. She stumbles as she moves closer, feet splashing in the shallow water, and it's not fear that makes her heart pound in her chest.
She hears his voice. He's talking to someone; a boy? She can't quite see, it's too dark. But it's him. She knows it is. She hasn't forgotten him, never.
"Mom?" Sora runs up to her and tugs on the edge of her shorts. "Mama, what are you looking at?"
She gathers him up in her arms. "...A dream," she says, her voice all quiet and soft. "A dream I never followed."
He's sleepy and his head lolls against her shoulder. His words, when he speaks, are fuzzy and mumbly, spoken into the fabric of her shirt. "Why din't you?"
It's a good question. She doesn't know the answer, really - because life happened, and a child's dream of running off into the sunset became just that - a child's dream.
"...Because I was afraid," she murmurs, and then he's gone - disappearing into the ether, the same way he'd arrived. "Sora?"
"Yes, mama?"
She presses her face into his gravity-defying hair. "Live your dreams."
+
Everyone was here. They were all accounted for. But there was this - tugging, in Sora's heart. Like the memories unlocked... weren't quite done.
"Riku?" he whispered, tugging his friend away from the campfire, down towards the moonlit island shore.
"Mm?"
"I feel like something's missing."
He knew, somehow, that Riku would understand. And maybe, if he didn't, he would support him anyway, because Riku was his best friend and that's what best friends did.
"...Yeah. I can feel it too."
"Like there's someone - "
" - we've forgotten about."
They looked at each other; and then, wordlessly, opened a door to darkness, and summoned their Keyblade armor.
+
She hears the noise, and her first instint is always to remember that moment of her childhood, or that day on the beach. But this is the sound her son makes, now, whenever he comes home.
Whatever she was expecting to see, this isn't it.
Standing on the beach, staring up at Sora and Riku, there is a child.
He can't be more than ten, but he looks younger, perhaps seven. He has to tilt his head to even look Sora in the face, and Sora isn't exactly the tallest boy in the world. His hands are locked behind his back, his eyes, round and curious.
His skin is the color of toffee, and his hair, a bright silvery white.
Sora looks into the face of the enemy he's fought countless times, and he smiles like an angel. "We're going to be great friends," he says, warmly. "Come on- I want you to meet my mom. She's the best."
Serena pulls the child up into her arms, wraps him up in all the love in the world. "Welcome home," she whispers. "Nort."
If everyone gets a happy ending
Then maybe
maybe
We can change
we change
Everything.