in our end is our beginning
I have been sitting like a dork at my desk all day, reading three million articles on the inaugeration. Much as I did on election day, where I obsessively reloaded the maps for hours, just to see which color each state went, and by what percentage.
Where politics are concerned cynicism is necessary to preserve one's self. But I'm glad, glad beyond telling that the president of my country is now a man I can respect. That I can say "my president" again, and think that maybe this time it's actually true.
Aside from that . . .
. . . sorry about the delay, majochan, but I figured you wouldn't mind. Since, um, the answer to your request ended up being more than 3,000 words. ::coughs:: Yeah. And it was going to be all angsty, that's how the original idea was, but then it ended up being on the silly side after all. KH is surprisingly angsty, but also has hidden forces of anti-angst.
Gah. And I hate it when OCs created for the convenience of the fic end up taking on incredibly strong life of their own, because they then threaten to hijack the whole operation. I join Riku in feeling great fear.
Home Sweet Home, for majochan
It was strange to be walking up the same road, strange and familiar at the same time. That stand of trees, the shape of the neighbor's house-- those Sora remembered. But that flowerbed was new, and that blue scooter parked by the side of the house, and that yard across the street littered with a young child's toys.
The walkway up to his house was familiar, with the gritty dirt in the cracks between each stone. He paused on the stoop, his hand raised to knock, and wondered if this was the best way to go through with this. But neither Kairi nor Riku had had any better ideas, and so they had parted to face their parents alone.
He steeled himself-- how bad could it be? He had fought monsters and demons and gods, he had faced beasts and ghosts and abominations and darkness. This was just parents. He knocked.
The door opened, and he looked up into his mother's faded blue eyes, and swallowed hard. "Hi, Mom."
She blinked at him, looking confused. "Oh!" she said brightly. "Hello!"
That was all. It took effort to make himself smile. "I'm . . . home?"
The confusion hadn't gone away. "I'm sorry," she said, "what did you say your name was?"
"Mom, it's me, it's Sora!" that sounded too desperate, but it was impossible to keep in. He bit down on the rest of the words, rooted where he stood because she only seemed more perplexed, not less.
"I'm sorry, dear, I don't . . ." she trailed off, still staring at him blankly.
He stared back, not knowing what to say. Standing there felt remarkably like losing his heart all over again.
"Honey! Can you come help me with this?" that was his father's voice, from further in the house.
Sora's mother shook her head as if she were coming out of a daze. "Of course, dear, I'm coming!" she called back, turned, and hurried off after the call.
Sora stood on the doorstep, his hands tight fists at his sides, trying to get some kind of grasp on the emotions roiling inside him. Slowly his jaw eased, slowly the warning prickle faded from the corners of his eyes.
His mother had left the door open. He stepped inside, and closed it behind him.
* * * * * * *
"--but my room was still there. I mean, everything was just where I left it. Covered with dust, but still there."
"Mm," Kairi said, concentrating as she put the last few stitches in the expanded shoulders of Riku's jacket. "Mine, too."
Riku didn't say anything, but they had figured out on the journey back that that was more normal than not. All of them had changed, after all.
"Nobody told me to leave or anything-- it's more like nobody noticed I was there. It was eerie, you know? I kinda felt like I was dead. And not in that Halloween Town-kinda way. Nobody talked to me."
"Did they notice you?" Kairi said, and handed the finished jacket to Riku who nodded stiffly as a thank you. "That should be better. Did they react to you at all?"
"Well, kind of. When I talked to them directly, or did something . . . but then they would forget that they were talking to me, or start doing something else and not pay attention anymore."
"It was about the same for me." Kairi nodded. "Maybe a bit better . . . but then, I haven't been gone as long. What about for you, Riku?"
"Like Sora, I guess," he said.
"I don't get it," Sora said, rubbing his hair into further disarray. "Even the pictures of me are still there, in the house, but they're all . . . shoved to the back of the shelf, or moved, or covered with dust . . ."
"Memory is tricky stuff," Kairi said, measuring out a new length of thread for re-hemming the pants of Sora's uniform. "It doesn't always work in predictable ways. And sometimes it protects itself, and sometimes it protects you . . ."
"You think that everyone forgets to keep themselves safe?" Riku's arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers drumming softly on his arm.
"To protect their hearts." She gave him a considering look. "You understand, don't you?"
He looked away. "I don't forget anything."
Kairi nodded. "See, you understand."
"Seems like the teachers have forgotten me, too," Sora said optimistically. "Haven't been called on once. Which is good, because I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING."
"That's okay," Kairi said, sewing. "Riku grabbed us copies of last year's textbooks from the storeroom. We'll catch up."
"From the storeroom? How did you--" Sora abruptly realized that it was a stupid question. "Oh, right. Thanks."
"You won't be thanking me for long," Riku predicted.
* * * * * * *
Sora groaned and let his forehead thump down on his textbook. He had been staring at the third problem on his homework for a good fifteen minutes, and despite a page-worth of crossed out scribbles was no closer to understanding it than he'd been when he started.
Asking his parents for help was a bit useless at the moment. He could get his mom and dad to sit down with him now, which was a definite improvement, and even get them to start on an explanation, but they still tended to forget what they were doing somewhere in the middle and would get up again to do something else.
He glanced at the telephone on the table by his bed (a new addition to his room) and considered it. They had all agreed (well, Kairi had proposed the idea, and Riku had nodded) that they should try to spend as much time as possible at home to get their parents to remember them again. He could call, though . . . and then suddenly realized that he didn't remember either of their phone numbers, it had been so long since he'd used them.
Well, surely it was okay to go out for a little while. It wasn't like being up in his room working reminded his parents of his existence the way sitting at the table asking for the pasta at dinner did. Riku's place was closer, and Riku had always been good at math. He would go there, they would do the homework together, and then he'd come back and convince his dad to watch TV with him. Watching TV was a pretty good method for reminding his parents of his existence, he'd found, especially if he asked questions about what they were watching. They had something to focus on that had nothing to do with him, so they wouldn't wander off. Decision made, he tossed textbooks and notebook into his book bag, extracted an acknowledgement from his mother of where he was going, and banged the door on his way out to help her remember it.
He knew where Riku's place was, but it occurred to him as he was going up the walk that he'd never actually been inside, or even met Riku's parents. They'd always parted on the street, and had hung out on the island rather than at anyone's house. Well, not having to make Riku's parents remember his existence all the time would surely make this easier.
Sora knocked on the perfectly maintained door, and stared distractedly at the odd collection of garden gnomes sitting on the porch. Not exactly what he'd expected from Riku's house . . .
A small, birdlike woman opened the door, and Sora knew instantly that she had to be Riku's mother. Aside from the smallness, she looked almost exactly like him. He drew himself upright, not entirely sure why he was doing so, but feeling as if he should. Maybe it was because Riku's mom held herself so very straight and proud, her pale hair drawn up, her clothing scrupulously neat and clean. He wondered why he felt like he should bow. "Hello, ma'am."
"Good evening," she said, and "may I help you?"
Maybe this would be harder than he expected. "Hello. Um, I'm here to see Riku? Is he there?"
The woman blinked. "Riku?"
"Um, yeah. Riku. Uh . . . your son?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid there's no one here by that name."
Sora took a step back, startled. After a few days, his parents at least had a basic awareness of his existence, faint though it might be. "He's not here? Are you sure?"
"Perhaps you have the wrong house," she suggested. A kettle whistled demandingly from the kitchen Sora could see beyond her. "I'm sorry, I have to go-- try checking your directions again. Maybe you missed a turn-off. Try the road that heads down towards the beach."
And then he was alone on the porch with the garden gnomes again. He sat down numbly on the step. Riku wasn't there. Not exactly forgotten-- just not there.
Not here! The thought sent a thrill of panic through him, that old familiar ache that he'd carried for far too long. Where was Riku? They'd seen each other at school just that afternoon, had parted ways at that same old corner like they always had, where was he?
Sora leaped off the porch and ran as fast as he could for Kairi's house.
* * * * * * *
She answered the door herself and was grabbing for her shoes with a single look at his face. "Riku!" he said, anguished, and she understood immediately.
"He's not at his house?" she asked, running along with him as they started out in search. "Did they not remember him at all?"
"He's not there-- not like his mom's having trouble remembering him, not like my folks, like he was never there!"
Kairi frowned. "Well, that explains why he didn't say anything about it. He didn't go home at all."
That slowed Sora down from his panic. "He didn't . . . oh. Oh. Man. I get it."
She nodded. "But he's been at school every day, so that means he's around somewhere."
"But where? I mean, where would he go, if not home?"
"Somewhere he could stay," Kairi said, slowing as she thought. "He'd need a kitchen. Money. Showers."
Sora remembered Riku's feet up on his desk during lunch the day before, and having to brush the sand off when he pulled out his notebook for the next class. "The beach!"
Kairi nodded, and they started running again.
* * * * * * *
Once they reached the beach, it was easy. At such a late hour, everything was dark . . . but there was a single window lit down around back of the boathouse in the marina. Sora pounded on the door.
"I'm coming!" that was Riku's voice, with an unmistakable growl to it. "What the hell do you--" he opened the door, looming more than a little, but shrank when he saw them standing there glaring at him. "--oh."
"Oh," said Kairi, a little coldly, and they pushed inside. The room inside was spare, furnished out of a second-hand store, and devoid of personal belongings save Riku's uniform draped over a chair. Riku sighed, and shut the door.
"We were worried sick," she informed him, "why didn't you tell us?"
"Why didn't you go home?" Sora demanded.
"What have you been eating?"
"Why are you living in the boathouse?"
"What about your parents?"
"Have you done the math homework yet?"
Kairi frowned at Sora, and he looked sheepish. "Sorry."
Riku dropped heavily onto the rumpled bed. It creaked. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Looking for you, obviously," Kairi said.
Sora dumped his bag on the floor and folded his arms. "I'm kind of tired of doing it, so stop disappearing already."
"I haven't disappeared, have I? I'm right here."
"Whatever. Talk," Sora said.
"Look, there's no point in going home, is there? They'll have forgotten me anyway."
"So you make them remember," Kairi said, folding the uniform to clear the chair.
Sora nodded. "My folks are improving," he said. "Dad even passed me the pasta at dinner tonight."
Riku paused, and then said, "You guys want them to remember."
"Do not," said Kairi, "try to tell us that they're better off without you. It wasn't true when you tried it on us, and it's not true for them, either."
"I'm fine here. Surfer Dan's got me sanding boards and patching hulls. I'll give lessons in the on-season, and lifeguard."
"Surfer Dan isn't your family," Kairi said. "You never even talked to him before. He's just some guy that runs the marina."
"How are you going to lifeguard, anyway?" Sora said, trying to follow. "You'll have school."
There was a pause. Sora and Kairi stared at Riku, who was looking at his hands. They were big, capable, scarred hands, folded together and completely still. Riku didn't fidget, not anymore.
"You're going to drop out of school." Kairi said, her voice level.
The minute hand on the battered clock beside the bed moved once, decisively.
"You're not going to go home. You're going to drop out of school. You're going to live in the boathouse and work for Surfer Dan." Sora ticked items off on his fingers. "Am I missing anything?"
"No, that appears to be the current tally of Riku's stupid ideas," Kairi shook her head. "As of right now, and I really am not sure I want to know if he's managed to come up with anything stupider."
"Well, maybe we should see this as progress," Sora said brightly. "Considering some of the other times when Riku's come up with ideas on his own."
"True, that. I guess it's a little understandable. I mean, he's always had problems with authority."
"Doesn't like it when people tell him what to do," Sora nodded. "Likes to do his own thing."
"And he's been on his own for a year now," Kairi nodded. "He's gotten used to it. Well, I mean, there was the King . . ."
"The King is different," Sora noted. "It's not like he tells you what to do, it's more like you end up doing what he wants, and wanting to do what he wants. Like it was your idea all along."
"Mm. Well, that explains it. The King has good ideas, but Riku thought that the King's ideas were his, so he thought that any ideas he came up with must be good ones. But the King's not here to mitigate Riku's ideas, and since Riku didn't realize what was going on before, now when he comes up with ideas that he thinks are good they just end up being spectacularly stupid."
"Excuse me," Riku said, "I'm right here."
"You lost the right to participate in this conversation when you decided you were going to drop out of high school," Kairi said. "Which you're not, by the way."
"I've had some dumb ideas myself," Sora said, pulling the blanket off the bed and starting to toss things into it. Riku's uniform, the pile of textbooks on the shelf, anything that he found in the drawers of the leaning chest. "But none of them quite as dumb as yours."
"From now on, when you have an idea, you should talk about it with Sora and me first before you do anything," Kairi said sternly. "Or with just me, that's okay. Never with just Sora, though."
"Hey! I'm not as bad as he is!" Sora protested, slinging his book bag back over his shoulder and then gathering the corners of the blanket to make a sack.
"You're a boy," Kairi said, as if that explained everything.
"You don't understand," Riku said, plaintively.
"Oh, no, we do understand," Kairi said, taking his hand. "We really, really do."
"It's still stupid, though," Sora said, taking the other hand and helping Kairi to pull Riku to his feet. He didn't resist, much. "Come on, let's get you home."
* * * * * * *
By the time they'd reached Riku's house, he was walking with them rather than trailing behind. They all pretended he still needed his hands held, though, since it was pleasant to walk through the soft night in such a companionable silence. They stopped on the sidewalk and looked down the path at the small, carefully-maintained cottage.
Sora squinted. "Um, I could have sworn there weren't as many gnomes on the porch when I was here before."
"They move," Riku said absently, "when you're not looking at them."
"You go first," Kairi said, prodding Riku out in front.
Sora nodded. "Good strategy. We'll watch your back."
"And cut off my retreat?" Riku said, and there was a hint of a smile on his face despite it all.
"Support, that's our job," Kairi stuck out her tongue at him. "Quit stalling, 'fraidy-cat."
Riku sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made it down the walk and up the steps without dragging his feet once, ignoring his two watchful shadows. He hesitated, then with sudden resolution raised his hand and knocked.
"Coming!" the call floated out from inside, and the door opened. The small woman who was so obviously Riku's mother stood there once again, surveying the human-and-gnome crowd on her stoop.
The effect of her presence was astounding-- even the garden statues seemed to stand up straighter. Riku's slouch disappeared in an instant. Sora struggled with the bizarre urge to whip out his Keyblade and salute.
"Um. Hi, Mom," Riku said. You could tell he was trying to be cool. He was taller than his mother by some inches, it should have worked. "It's me, it's Riku. I'm back."
"I can see that," she said, and her eyes were sharp and clear as they swept him up and down. "And just where have you been for the past year, and why is it that you never once called? Or sent a letter? For heaven's sake, young man."
"Urk," Riku said, intelligently.
Sora and Kairi exchanged glances and stepped back from the extremely formidable presence of Riku's mother. "Um, we'll just--"
"No, you most certainly won't," Riku's mother said. "You will come in and explain yourselves. All of you. I didn't lay out four cups of iced tea to dump two of them down the drain. I can't abide waste."
They slunk inside, and Riku's mother closed the door after them, right in the faces of the crowd of curious gnomes. And then she smiled at Sora and Kairi, a smile that warmed them all the way down to their toes.
"Thank you," she said, "thank you for bringing my son home."
Where politics are concerned cynicism is necessary to preserve one's self. But I'm glad, glad beyond telling that the president of my country is now a man I can respect. That I can say "my president" again, and think that maybe this time it's actually true.
Aside from that . . .
. . . sorry about the delay, majochan, but I figured you wouldn't mind. Since, um, the answer to your request ended up being more than 3,000 words. ::coughs:: Yeah. And it was going to be all angsty, that's how the original idea was, but then it ended up being on the silly side after all. KH is surprisingly angsty, but also has hidden forces of anti-angst.
Gah. And I hate it when OCs created for the convenience of the fic end up taking on incredibly strong life of their own, because they then threaten to hijack the whole operation. I join Riku in feeling great fear.
Home Sweet Home, for majochan
It was strange to be walking up the same road, strange and familiar at the same time. That stand of trees, the shape of the neighbor's house-- those Sora remembered. But that flowerbed was new, and that blue scooter parked by the side of the house, and that yard across the street littered with a young child's toys.
The walkway up to his house was familiar, with the gritty dirt in the cracks between each stone. He paused on the stoop, his hand raised to knock, and wondered if this was the best way to go through with this. But neither Kairi nor Riku had had any better ideas, and so they had parted to face their parents alone.
He steeled himself-- how bad could it be? He had fought monsters and demons and gods, he had faced beasts and ghosts and abominations and darkness. This was just parents. He knocked.
The door opened, and he looked up into his mother's faded blue eyes, and swallowed hard. "Hi, Mom."
She blinked at him, looking confused. "Oh!" she said brightly. "Hello!"
That was all. It took effort to make himself smile. "I'm . . . home?"
The confusion hadn't gone away. "I'm sorry," she said, "what did you say your name was?"
"Mom, it's me, it's Sora!" that sounded too desperate, but it was impossible to keep in. He bit down on the rest of the words, rooted where he stood because she only seemed more perplexed, not less.
"I'm sorry, dear, I don't . . ." she trailed off, still staring at him blankly.
He stared back, not knowing what to say. Standing there felt remarkably like losing his heart all over again.
"Honey! Can you come help me with this?" that was his father's voice, from further in the house.
Sora's mother shook her head as if she were coming out of a daze. "Of course, dear, I'm coming!" she called back, turned, and hurried off after the call.
Sora stood on the doorstep, his hands tight fists at his sides, trying to get some kind of grasp on the emotions roiling inside him. Slowly his jaw eased, slowly the warning prickle faded from the corners of his eyes.
His mother had left the door open. He stepped inside, and closed it behind him.
* * * * * * *
"--but my room was still there. I mean, everything was just where I left it. Covered with dust, but still there."
"Mm," Kairi said, concentrating as she put the last few stitches in the expanded shoulders of Riku's jacket. "Mine, too."
Riku didn't say anything, but they had figured out on the journey back that that was more normal than not. All of them had changed, after all.
"Nobody told me to leave or anything-- it's more like nobody noticed I was there. It was eerie, you know? I kinda felt like I was dead. And not in that Halloween Town-kinda way. Nobody talked to me."
"Did they notice you?" Kairi said, and handed the finished jacket to Riku who nodded stiffly as a thank you. "That should be better. Did they react to you at all?"
"Well, kind of. When I talked to them directly, or did something . . . but then they would forget that they were talking to me, or start doing something else and not pay attention anymore."
"It was about the same for me." Kairi nodded. "Maybe a bit better . . . but then, I haven't been gone as long. What about for you, Riku?"
"Like Sora, I guess," he said.
"I don't get it," Sora said, rubbing his hair into further disarray. "Even the pictures of me are still there, in the house, but they're all . . . shoved to the back of the shelf, or moved, or covered with dust . . ."
"Memory is tricky stuff," Kairi said, measuring out a new length of thread for re-hemming the pants of Sora's uniform. "It doesn't always work in predictable ways. And sometimes it protects itself, and sometimes it protects you . . ."
"You think that everyone forgets to keep themselves safe?" Riku's arms were crossed over his chest, his fingers drumming softly on his arm.
"To protect their hearts." She gave him a considering look. "You understand, don't you?"
He looked away. "I don't forget anything."
Kairi nodded. "See, you understand."
"Seems like the teachers have forgotten me, too," Sora said optimistically. "Haven't been called on once. Which is good, because I DON'T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING."
"That's okay," Kairi said, sewing. "Riku grabbed us copies of last year's textbooks from the storeroom. We'll catch up."
"From the storeroom? How did you--" Sora abruptly realized that it was a stupid question. "Oh, right. Thanks."
"You won't be thanking me for long," Riku predicted.
* * * * * * *
Sora groaned and let his forehead thump down on his textbook. He had been staring at the third problem on his homework for a good fifteen minutes, and despite a page-worth of crossed out scribbles was no closer to understanding it than he'd been when he started.
Asking his parents for help was a bit useless at the moment. He could get his mom and dad to sit down with him now, which was a definite improvement, and even get them to start on an explanation, but they still tended to forget what they were doing somewhere in the middle and would get up again to do something else.
He glanced at the telephone on the table by his bed (a new addition to his room) and considered it. They had all agreed (well, Kairi had proposed the idea, and Riku had nodded) that they should try to spend as much time as possible at home to get their parents to remember them again. He could call, though . . . and then suddenly realized that he didn't remember either of their phone numbers, it had been so long since he'd used them.
Well, surely it was okay to go out for a little while. It wasn't like being up in his room working reminded his parents of his existence the way sitting at the table asking for the pasta at dinner did. Riku's place was closer, and Riku had always been good at math. He would go there, they would do the homework together, and then he'd come back and convince his dad to watch TV with him. Watching TV was a pretty good method for reminding his parents of his existence, he'd found, especially if he asked questions about what they were watching. They had something to focus on that had nothing to do with him, so they wouldn't wander off. Decision made, he tossed textbooks and notebook into his book bag, extracted an acknowledgement from his mother of where he was going, and banged the door on his way out to help her remember it.
He knew where Riku's place was, but it occurred to him as he was going up the walk that he'd never actually been inside, or even met Riku's parents. They'd always parted on the street, and had hung out on the island rather than at anyone's house. Well, not having to make Riku's parents remember his existence all the time would surely make this easier.
Sora knocked on the perfectly maintained door, and stared distractedly at the odd collection of garden gnomes sitting on the porch. Not exactly what he'd expected from Riku's house . . .
A small, birdlike woman opened the door, and Sora knew instantly that she had to be Riku's mother. Aside from the smallness, she looked almost exactly like him. He drew himself upright, not entirely sure why he was doing so, but feeling as if he should. Maybe it was because Riku's mom held herself so very straight and proud, her pale hair drawn up, her clothing scrupulously neat and clean. He wondered why he felt like he should bow. "Hello, ma'am."
"Good evening," she said, and "may I help you?"
Maybe this would be harder than he expected. "Hello. Um, I'm here to see Riku? Is he there?"
The woman blinked. "Riku?"
"Um, yeah. Riku. Uh . . . your son?"
She shook her head. "I'm afraid there's no one here by that name."
Sora took a step back, startled. After a few days, his parents at least had a basic awareness of his existence, faint though it might be. "He's not here? Are you sure?"
"Perhaps you have the wrong house," she suggested. A kettle whistled demandingly from the kitchen Sora could see beyond her. "I'm sorry, I have to go-- try checking your directions again. Maybe you missed a turn-off. Try the road that heads down towards the beach."
And then he was alone on the porch with the garden gnomes again. He sat down numbly on the step. Riku wasn't there. Not exactly forgotten-- just not there.
Not here! The thought sent a thrill of panic through him, that old familiar ache that he'd carried for far too long. Where was Riku? They'd seen each other at school just that afternoon, had parted ways at that same old corner like they always had, where was he?
Sora leaped off the porch and ran as fast as he could for Kairi's house.
* * * * * * *
She answered the door herself and was grabbing for her shoes with a single look at his face. "Riku!" he said, anguished, and she understood immediately.
"He's not at his house?" she asked, running along with him as they started out in search. "Did they not remember him at all?"
"He's not there-- not like his mom's having trouble remembering him, not like my folks, like he was never there!"
Kairi frowned. "Well, that explains why he didn't say anything about it. He didn't go home at all."
That slowed Sora down from his panic. "He didn't . . . oh. Oh. Man. I get it."
She nodded. "But he's been at school every day, so that means he's around somewhere."
"But where? I mean, where would he go, if not home?"
"Somewhere he could stay," Kairi said, slowing as she thought. "He'd need a kitchen. Money. Showers."
Sora remembered Riku's feet up on his desk during lunch the day before, and having to brush the sand off when he pulled out his notebook for the next class. "The beach!"
Kairi nodded, and they started running again.
* * * * * * *
Once they reached the beach, it was easy. At such a late hour, everything was dark . . . but there was a single window lit down around back of the boathouse in the marina. Sora pounded on the door.
"I'm coming!" that was Riku's voice, with an unmistakable growl to it. "What the hell do you--" he opened the door, looming more than a little, but shrank when he saw them standing there glaring at him. "--oh."
"Oh," said Kairi, a little coldly, and they pushed inside. The room inside was spare, furnished out of a second-hand store, and devoid of personal belongings save Riku's uniform draped over a chair. Riku sighed, and shut the door.
"We were worried sick," she informed him, "why didn't you tell us?"
"Why didn't you go home?" Sora demanded.
"What have you been eating?"
"Why are you living in the boathouse?"
"What about your parents?"
"Have you done the math homework yet?"
Kairi frowned at Sora, and he looked sheepish. "Sorry."
Riku dropped heavily onto the rumpled bed. It creaked. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Looking for you, obviously," Kairi said.
Sora dumped his bag on the floor and folded his arms. "I'm kind of tired of doing it, so stop disappearing already."
"I haven't disappeared, have I? I'm right here."
"Whatever. Talk," Sora said.
"Look, there's no point in going home, is there? They'll have forgotten me anyway."
"So you make them remember," Kairi said, folding the uniform to clear the chair.
Sora nodded. "My folks are improving," he said. "Dad even passed me the pasta at dinner tonight."
Riku paused, and then said, "You guys want them to remember."
"Do not," said Kairi, "try to tell us that they're better off without you. It wasn't true when you tried it on us, and it's not true for them, either."
"I'm fine here. Surfer Dan's got me sanding boards and patching hulls. I'll give lessons in the on-season, and lifeguard."
"Surfer Dan isn't your family," Kairi said. "You never even talked to him before. He's just some guy that runs the marina."
"How are you going to lifeguard, anyway?" Sora said, trying to follow. "You'll have school."
There was a pause. Sora and Kairi stared at Riku, who was looking at his hands. They were big, capable, scarred hands, folded together and completely still. Riku didn't fidget, not anymore.
"You're going to drop out of school." Kairi said, her voice level.
The minute hand on the battered clock beside the bed moved once, decisively.
"You're not going to go home. You're going to drop out of school. You're going to live in the boathouse and work for Surfer Dan." Sora ticked items off on his fingers. "Am I missing anything?"
"No, that appears to be the current tally of Riku's stupid ideas," Kairi shook her head. "As of right now, and I really am not sure I want to know if he's managed to come up with anything stupider."
"Well, maybe we should see this as progress," Sora said brightly. "Considering some of the other times when Riku's come up with ideas on his own."
"True, that. I guess it's a little understandable. I mean, he's always had problems with authority."
"Doesn't like it when people tell him what to do," Sora nodded. "Likes to do his own thing."
"And he's been on his own for a year now," Kairi nodded. "He's gotten used to it. Well, I mean, there was the King . . ."
"The King is different," Sora noted. "It's not like he tells you what to do, it's more like you end up doing what he wants, and wanting to do what he wants. Like it was your idea all along."
"Mm. Well, that explains it. The King has good ideas, but Riku thought that the King's ideas were his, so he thought that any ideas he came up with must be good ones. But the King's not here to mitigate Riku's ideas, and since Riku didn't realize what was going on before, now when he comes up with ideas that he thinks are good they just end up being spectacularly stupid."
"Excuse me," Riku said, "I'm right here."
"You lost the right to participate in this conversation when you decided you were going to drop out of high school," Kairi said. "Which you're not, by the way."
"I've had some dumb ideas myself," Sora said, pulling the blanket off the bed and starting to toss things into it. Riku's uniform, the pile of textbooks on the shelf, anything that he found in the drawers of the leaning chest. "But none of them quite as dumb as yours."
"From now on, when you have an idea, you should talk about it with Sora and me first before you do anything," Kairi said sternly. "Or with just me, that's okay. Never with just Sora, though."
"Hey! I'm not as bad as he is!" Sora protested, slinging his book bag back over his shoulder and then gathering the corners of the blanket to make a sack.
"You're a boy," Kairi said, as if that explained everything.
"You don't understand," Riku said, plaintively.
"Oh, no, we do understand," Kairi said, taking his hand. "We really, really do."
"It's still stupid, though," Sora said, taking the other hand and helping Kairi to pull Riku to his feet. He didn't resist, much. "Come on, let's get you home."
* * * * * * *
By the time they'd reached Riku's house, he was walking with them rather than trailing behind. They all pretended he still needed his hands held, though, since it was pleasant to walk through the soft night in such a companionable silence. They stopped on the sidewalk and looked down the path at the small, carefully-maintained cottage.
Sora squinted. "Um, I could have sworn there weren't as many gnomes on the porch when I was here before."
"They move," Riku said absently, "when you're not looking at them."
"You go first," Kairi said, prodding Riku out in front.
Sora nodded. "Good strategy. We'll watch your back."
"And cut off my retreat?" Riku said, and there was a hint of a smile on his face despite it all.
"Support, that's our job," Kairi stuck out her tongue at him. "Quit stalling, 'fraidy-cat."
Riku sighed, shoved his hands in his pockets, and made it down the walk and up the steps without dragging his feet once, ignoring his two watchful shadows. He hesitated, then with sudden resolution raised his hand and knocked.
"Coming!" the call floated out from inside, and the door opened. The small woman who was so obviously Riku's mother stood there once again, surveying the human-and-gnome crowd on her stoop.
The effect of her presence was astounding-- even the garden statues seemed to stand up straighter. Riku's slouch disappeared in an instant. Sora struggled with the bizarre urge to whip out his Keyblade and salute.
"Um. Hi, Mom," Riku said. You could tell he was trying to be cool. He was taller than his mother by some inches, it should have worked. "It's me, it's Riku. I'm back."
"I can see that," she said, and her eyes were sharp and clear as they swept him up and down. "And just where have you been for the past year, and why is it that you never once called? Or sent a letter? For heaven's sake, young man."
"Urk," Riku said, intelligently.
Sora and Kairi exchanged glances and stepped back from the extremely formidable presence of Riku's mother. "Um, we'll just--"
"No, you most certainly won't," Riku's mother said. "You will come in and explain yourselves. All of you. I didn't lay out four cups of iced tea to dump two of them down the drain. I can't abide waste."
They slunk inside, and Riku's mother closed the door after them, right in the faces of the crowd of curious gnomes. And then she smiled at Sora and Kairi, a smile that warmed them all the way down to their toes.
"Thank you," she said, "thank you for bringing my son home."