[FIC] [KH2] This Weather
Title: This Weather
Series: Kingdom Hearts 2
Word Count: 3,524
Characters: Riku. Organization XIII.
Summary: The events leading up to Deep Dive...
"I asked him to find a young man named Roxas from Organization XIII, and bring him to me. When I told him it would help Sora awaken from his slumber, Riku left without a word. He fought Roxas. And I can only surmise Riku lost that fight." --DiZ
Riku’s done a lot of risky things in his life. A lot of risky, stupid things. Sneaking into the wrong side of the confessional in the school chapel? Risky. Stealing his dad’s pocket watch? Stupid. Throwing his heart into darkness in a crazy attempt to say shove it to everyone and destroying the whole world and causing a friend to lose her heart and signing himself over to all kinds of roiling festering beings of woe and destruction? Risky and stupid and stupid.
…still, this may be the riskiest thing he’s ever done.
“I have but one task for you,” he whispers, deeply…trying not to roll his eyes despite himself.
“Waaait a second…” says the stray Nobody, doing a slow circle in the hollow where he’s led it. “Something’s not right about this…”
The Organization member taps his foot thoughtfully, clearly lost in contemplation, and Riku takes the moment to draw away, slither back into the shadows, so that his voice comes at more of a distance. It has a good effect, he thinks.
Could’ve given Peter Pan a run for his money, he thinks.
“Stay there,” he intones, “In Darkness. Forever in Darkness. As all things are…”
“AHA!” bursts the Nobody. It points accusingly. “I know! You’re not the Superior! You’re the Seeker--”
It runs straight into the barrier.
“-of the Dark,” says Riku to the trapped nobody, who can’t hear him anymore and who flinches back with a slight yelp when it tries to tap on the confines of one of those domes that have always been so useful when someone’s had a big nasty beast to fight. “Darkness of Dark-darkity dark dark everlasting dark. Yeah,” he says this in his own voice, “ You got that part right.”
Then he pulls his own hood over his young, very human features. He smirks. He slides away. He doesn’t let himself gloat over the ease of it--- it’s probably the easiest it’s going to get.
IX reports dutifully, of course. Maybe a little to dutifully, but IX is only one of thirteen and one of eight remaining and a less important one besides. IX appears on his throne and sits and slouches with his hood on. No one greets him. No one says anything, actually. No one even looks at him, except maybe the one in the clown make-up: who lifts its head slightly and almost slides its eyes his way, but doesn’t actually decide to bother with it.
If Riku had any lucky stars to thank, he’d thank him for apparently picking the guy no one wanted to talk to as the one to pretend to be. The stars aren’t so fond of Riku right now though, so instead he thanks King Mickey and his research… and hopes he won’t take him up on that ‘I’ll save you no matter what!’ offer should things go awry.
He looks around does a quiet count. One, two, three… four, no five. Six, including himself. Two are missing. Well, okay, technically eight are missing-but that’s not important. The important thing is the important ones are missing, and Riku needs to keep an eye out. IX needs to lie low and not say anything.
Naturally, all of this goes right out of his head when the Superior arrives.
It’s like a kick to the stomach. It’s like the first lurch of a fall backwards off a battlement. It’s not really like dark though, because dark is something Riku likes to think he kind of knows by now. And this isn’t it. This is something else. Something else and Riku is suddenly all too aware of the pulse racing in his ears, the way it beats fast and hard and damn can they hear it…?
Sneaking into the very core of the enemy stronghold? Risky and stupid and stupid and amazingly stupid…
“Get a grip,” he mutters to himself, clasping his own shoulder a second, then dropping that hand back onto the arm of the throne.
The Organization all look to the superior, so Riku does too. They’re still short one, but no one’s expecting an appearance. The Superior settles with a grace and a poise that’s uncomfortable familiar, having been subject to the pull of those mannerisms like a puppet on the string. He looks around, he raises his hand, and he with a slow, plodding voice speaks to a room which holds no echo at all.
“My associates,” says their leader, softly, “My trust forever is in our knowledge of our purpose. The knowledge of why we are all here…”
He holds his hand, like a conductor to his orchestra.
“We are here to discuss matters of the heart… and also, the matter of our Chilled Academic’s last model of towel dispenser. They have acted very unruly since his departure,” the Superior’s gaze sweeps over the whole circle with a bone-chilling emptiness, “And I know one of you has the remote.”
“...Xemnas,” says one of them-VII, looks like-“VIII’s report of the Castle Oblivion incident was very thorough. I believe the answer may lie with him.”
“You’re not accusing me of mischief now, are you?” says the one with the clown-make up. Its-no, his only motion is the slight quirk of his brow.
“On the contrary I believe I am complimenting your extensive knowledge of the subject.”
“So. You know I’m all business, Saix.”
“…it is of no matter,” the Superior’s hollow voice silenced them both, “Who is up to mischief, and who is not. What is of importance is that whoever is in possession of the device shall come forward. This meeting shall not be adjourned until this is settled. It is a most terrible waste of our resources. Paper is very expensive to import after all…”
It’s the one sitting in the ‘X’ spot that waggles his fingers. “With the proper bows and curtsies to my betters,” he interrupts. His hood is off as well. Riku can see the wink of the guy’s kind of impressive piercings, from his vantage point at the next throne over. “I believe the better question is: who, exactly, makes a remote for their toiletries in the first place?”
“Man, get with the times,” waves …II? Except that can’t be it, he’s not really acting like a second at all--
--whatever the case, and for whatever reason, he earns a particular nasty look from X.
II doesn’t really seem to notice, sitting sideways in his seat, one ankle crossed over the other one. “Vexen makes a remote for everything. … or made, now, huh.”
“Sounds about right,” murmured VIII.
“Smug,” comments VII, “Are we?”
“Is that rhetorical or what?”
It goes like this. It goes for like, an hour. The room carries no echo, but there are enough voices to make up for it. Of course it could only be minutes. Of course it could only be days. Of course it could really be years. It could really be a thousand years. Riku could be stuck in a castle that never was for a thousand years with a bunch of bad guys whose idea of bad guy talk is starting it involve sock drawers and holy hell--
… and then the thirteenth comes.
He doesn’t sit. He appears in a black whorl, drops down a foot, and simply stands on his chair. He doesn’t have a stiff stance so much as it is a ready one. The change in the atmosphere is palpable upon his entrance. III shifts on his perch like a restless bird. II puts his feet down.
IX, for his part, just stares. Riku knows him, he thinks. He knows him. His first instinct is a familiar jerk of his head, like it’s something he’s done every day. But XIII’s hood is back and his eyes are clear and hard, and if Riku remembers anyone with eyes like that, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him.
“Oh. Shall we ask him?” suggests X, with a near yawn.
A black object hits the council room floor.
“XII’s laundry,” XIII reports dutifully. “Can we not talk about that now? I unlocked the Enchanted Forest. Someone might want to get on that before I lock it again.”
The Superior inclines his hooded head like he hadn’t been threatening to revoke II’s ‘god given rights’ to a lunch break not a moment ago. He’s dangerous again. So is XIII. With their focus on each other, it’s magnified by…
DiZ taught Riku something about unknown variables. He was very thorough about it. Like he’d been a teacher once.
Riku hated teachers.
“Elaborate,” says the most unknown of them all.
XIII rolls his eyes. He does so. Very thoroughly. With a voice that echoes faintly through the throne room. He does so for longer than the others argued, but it seems to go much faster. Like time’s touched him, but more like the room’s changed. All the Organization members sitting more still than living things could and Riku mostly frozen stiff as he tries to catalogue every movement. Every turn of his head and twist of his mouth and transference of weight from one leg to the other. It’s a bit of an optical shakedown: Who are you. Who are you. What was your…
XIII looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d been doing a bored scan of the room.
IX shrugs rather helplessly-seems like a thing he’d do. XIII’s eyes move on to VIII, who closes his eyes once, and crooks two fingers to tap his brow.
There’s a group of high level nobodies waiting in the hall. They’re a kind that Riku’s never seen before: all smooth and austere in their coverings, with swords strapped to their backs. It’s easy to forget how misshapen most are by nature, these one’s are almost sleek. Almost beautiful. The way they bow when XIII emerges. It’s a more elegant greeting than the Dusks, who press their fingers upwards as he passes like they’d die for just a touch of his cloak. Like a moment’s validation. A moment’s acknowledgement from their better. Just a moment to feel like something in his eyes-
Riku shakes himself. The hell is he thinking, now? He’s not the one to be putting words to it.
The long white fingers tug at his cloak, too.
Nobodies drift in groups, much in the way that seaweed clumps together in the tide. This goes for Dusks, who have limbs like seaweed, and it goes for the highest orders as well, as no one seems to think anything about how IX might glide along in XIII’s wake. XIII doesn’t seem to notice, even.
He spends a moment on the sword-carrying Nobodies.
“…for a cycle or two,” he says to them.
No one’s said anything.
“Yes. But quietly,” he instructs. “I’ll do it.”
No one says anything.
The nobodies bow again. Riku can see this time that they’re not completely perfect in their motion. The very tips of their scabbards shake in answer to the command. It seems a little like love and in an instant Riku knows that it’s because they are his. All nobodies are subject to Superior, but these elite few are also XIII’s and if they had the being for it they’d love him like a king.
There’s a ruined fairgrounds in the Dark City. It’s where XIII decides to go.
Playing games again? thinks Riku sickly. Has no idea why it makes him want to laugh. In the neon light, the outline of the place seems darker. Rising lines meet jagged angles like the bones of long dead prehistoric animals.
“Demyx,” says XIII, turning at the swinging gate.
Riku stops.
“You like places like this, right?”
Riku raises a shoulder.
The next thing that hits him is the wrought iron against his back.
“Spy,” states XIII, his hand still spread from the process of hurling Riku into the fence. How did he get behind him? How did he…
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“…” says Riku, picking himself off the gate-
--before he’s struck again, in the ribs, with a red hot precision and holyshitfast. His hood falls loose. Something bone cold hits his cheeks. He looks up. It’s started to rain, and whether or not it’s that or the first look at his face that delays the nobody for half a second; it’s enough time for Riku to call Soul Eater to his side. Its eye opens: slow and groggy on the first blink, wide awake and starving on the second. The blade’s presence is a warm, black comfort in the pit of his stomach. (hungry it whispers hungry-)
“You’re asking me?”
“What do you want,” the Organization member bites back.
--fuck and didn’t it just kind of figure. That Riku’d find himself staring at the point of a keyblade again. The weapons cross. The metal grinds hard into Soul Eater’s scales. There’s a surprising amount of force bearing down on him. He’s sure the nobody’s shorter, and X times lighter. But the nobody has cold, strange eyes that show no effort at all, and the ground’s not on Riku’s sword. The point comes closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Riku does the simple thing. He kicks him in the chest and he runs.
XIII makes a disgusted noise. He’s fast on his heels, and Riku doesn’t have much time to think: just dives for the ruined carousel and spins it so a fake horse catches the bastard in gut. Higher. He needs to be higher. The jagged coaster frame seems as good a bet as any. He runs up it, hacking off bits as he goes. The nobody follows, swiping the falling pieces out of his way. Riku reaches the first rise and turns with ready sword. This, he can manage.
XIII stands behind him. “You’re kind of an idiot.”
Riku gets in one block. One block that rattles his forearm. XIII, returning a favor, jams an elbow into his diaphragm. Riku reels; amazed that even in the Dark he still has the breath to lose. He sways and, before the keyblade can plunge at him again, he throws himself sideways and off the tracks.
Falling backwards, he twists in midair, grabs a girder, and grits his teeth against the jolt in his shoulders. He swings himself under and up and into a crouch. Everything vibrates as the car passes overhead.
“Who’d be riding that thing?” wonders Riku aloud.
The support is sliced out from under him. He makes a grab for the next bar down, dangles, and switches hands quickly. Any slower and his fingers would’ve been forfeit. The keyblade comes down at him in a stabbing staccato. one-and-two-and-three-and
He’s is being played with. And none too nice or clean. It’s no longer a blade aimed for the wrists but a heel shoved down over the knuckles. Riku grunts. He drives Soul Eater into the bar himself, rends the metal far less cleanly than the member did, preparing for another fall-
“No,” says the nobody, and wrenches his weapon away with little more than a squeeze. One that presses bones together. The support gives way about two seconds too late to save him a fracture at best. Riku hits another beam on the way down. He’s spilled onto his back, sore but alive, with a warm tang in his mouth. Soul Eater hasn’t fallen far. He rolls over and lunges for it.
The black point of the keyblade comes down.
It sinks into the other weapon with a crack Riku feels down to his very core. Soul Eater’s startled groan echoes between his ears and he’s staring up over his outstretched arm at the Nobody called XIII. Green eyes meet blue, as land meets sky.
As XIII kicks him in the face.
“You’re easy,” he says.
…everything’s ringing. Everything aches. It’s the first time Riku’s ever heard that…
“You’re stupid.”
…not the first time he’s heard that though. It’s gotten hard to breathe, though. Really really hard…
“A waste,” concludes the nobody. He puts some absent weight into the keyblade, twists, and Soul Eater shatters into exactly one hundred and fifty two pieces. Riku can count because he’s aware of every single one of them. It feels like something’s exploded in his chest and it’s just pain and pain and pain and on the bright side now his nose feels just fine and pain. He almost misses the fact the keyblade’s been repositioned over his neck.
“Tell me what you know.”
Smiling with a split lip is a bitch. Also warm. Also strange. He’s bleeding. He’s never bled before in a fight. Never. There was some kind of cosmic rule about it. People didn’t curse or bleed or…
“Nothing,” coughs Riku. “Why I’m here, isn’t it?”
The blade above him turns. “I can make this last a very long time.”
“…that’s dedicated.” He’s sinking, he realizes. He’s sinking. Also, dead. So very. “Doesn’t sound a thing like you.”
Dead. Dead. Dead. There was a time when he didn’t think he’d ever lose, and now he was going to die. He’d cry, if it weren’t deeper than stupid and just…
“What,” growls the nobody, like he’s thrown one of those sugar heart candies in his face. “What.”
Riku shakes. Riku laughs. It’s funny, so he’s laughing. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
“What’s so funny. Stop that.” XIII might’ve kicked him again, Riku wasn’t paying attention anymore. “Stop that!”
As far as ways to go went this was… pretty crappy, actually. Lying on his back. Wet. Bloody. ‘Heavens above’ were dark and cloudy. Nobody above him glaring furiously. For the first time, Riku can see some real heat there. The guy’s nearly shouting. He doesn’t like being laughed at. Of course he doesn’t. Being a nobody’s bad enough. And for a hardass bastard his eye’s are amazingly blue, blue like…blue like…
Oh.
“Fine. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just kill you for this.”
“Sora,” breathes Riku.
Roxas jerks to a halt.
“What?”
“Sora,” Riku says again, not dead and confused by this fact, but more confused at the way the nobody’s begun to shake. It’s not the unlike the way the other’s had, in greeting him.
“You…you know him?”
“Yeah?” lies Riku. He’s only just remembered the guy’s name. He pushes himself up a little. If he’s not dead he may as well not sleep on his continued existence. “ ‘Course I do.”
“And you’ve seen him?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know him?”
“Yeah…”
And it’s a shot in the dark, but Riku thinks: him of all people should be used to used to it by now.
“What,” he grins and tips his head. “Wanna meet him?”
It shouldn’t work so well, but somehow it does. Roxas looks dizzied, his face suddenly a thousand different sort of lights. He takes a step back. He opens his mouth, shuts it again. His eyes narrow and widen again.
“You could do that?”
“One reason,” recalls Riku.
Roxas doesn’t seem to hear. “I get to meet Sora?”
And all at once this, this of all things, is easier than Riku ever imagined. And he feels sick for it. He looks off, pressing his tongue against the loose molar in the back of his mouth. He’ll call it. At some point, logic’ll come back to him and he’ll call it. He has to--
“Three days.”
“In this world?”
“Three days my time.”
“…too long!”
“Better than never.”
“Fine,” the nobody looks pained. “Okay.”
-he doesn’t.
“What’s the name of that building? The big one.”
“Memory’s Skyscraper.”
“Right. Memory’s Skyscraper. In three days, he’ll be waiting for you there.”
XIII watched the intruder pick himself up and limp from the carnival grounds. He didn’t look back. In this, at least, he was smart.
“I’ve located our sodden lost sheep!” called a voice that curled like smoke behind him. Axel. He clapped his hands together, lacing spidery fingers and stretching them out with a crick. “The Melodious Nocturne was a little tetchy about it though. He got himself a bit stuck. It required some extraction. He was surrounded by some very mean trees.”
“Mm,” said Roxas.
“You missed a spot,” noted Axel, watching the bloodied grey spy vanish into the shadows of the city. “So. Leaving him for the heartless, are we!”
“How long were you watching, Axel.”
…the other nobody gave a full bodied heave. It vaguely resembled a miserable sigh. “Oh be still my aching heart! I could almost envy him, you know. Having enough of life to do such silly things to save it.”
“…he’s…Riku, right?”
“That’s the one,” murmured Axel.
“He’s more useful alive right now, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes. But…”
“So,” said Roxas, turning away from the dead carnival lights. “Make use of him.”
“Oh, good.” Axel shivered in something vaguely resembling relief. “Trust the Key of Destiny to cut to the h--”
“That’s a bad one, Axel.”
“-quick,” finished the other nobody, with a clean grin. “Cut to the quick. Still. For a second there, I nearly thought you’d take him up on that…”
Roxas said nothing and moved on.
Series: Kingdom Hearts 2
Word Count: 3,524
Characters: Riku. Organization XIII.
Summary: The events leading up to Deep Dive...
"I asked him to find a young man named Roxas from Organization XIII, and bring him to me. When I told him it would help Sora awaken from his slumber, Riku left without a word. He fought Roxas. And I can only surmise Riku lost that fight." --DiZ
Riku’s done a lot of risky things in his life. A lot of risky, stupid things. Sneaking into the wrong side of the confessional in the school chapel? Risky. Stealing his dad’s pocket watch? Stupid. Throwing his heart into darkness in a crazy attempt to say shove it to everyone and destroying the whole world and causing a friend to lose her heart and signing himself over to all kinds of roiling festering beings of woe and destruction? Risky and stupid and stupid.
…still, this may be the riskiest thing he’s ever done.
“I have but one task for you,” he whispers, deeply…trying not to roll his eyes despite himself.
“Waaait a second…” says the stray Nobody, doing a slow circle in the hollow where he’s led it. “Something’s not right about this…”
The Organization member taps his foot thoughtfully, clearly lost in contemplation, and Riku takes the moment to draw away, slither back into the shadows, so that his voice comes at more of a distance. It has a good effect, he thinks.
Could’ve given Peter Pan a run for his money, he thinks.
“Stay there,” he intones, “In Darkness. Forever in Darkness. As all things are…”
“AHA!” bursts the Nobody. It points accusingly. “I know! You’re not the Superior! You’re the Seeker--”
It runs straight into the barrier.
“-of the Dark,” says Riku to the trapped nobody, who can’t hear him anymore and who flinches back with a slight yelp when it tries to tap on the confines of one of those domes that have always been so useful when someone’s had a big nasty beast to fight. “Darkness of Dark-darkity dark dark everlasting dark. Yeah,” he says this in his own voice, “ You got that part right.”
Then he pulls his own hood over his young, very human features. He smirks. He slides away. He doesn’t let himself gloat over the ease of it--- it’s probably the easiest it’s going to get.
IX reports dutifully, of course. Maybe a little to dutifully, but IX is only one of thirteen and one of eight remaining and a less important one besides. IX appears on his throne and sits and slouches with his hood on. No one greets him. No one says anything, actually. No one even looks at him, except maybe the one in the clown make-up: who lifts its head slightly and almost slides its eyes his way, but doesn’t actually decide to bother with it.
If Riku had any lucky stars to thank, he’d thank him for apparently picking the guy no one wanted to talk to as the one to pretend to be. The stars aren’t so fond of Riku right now though, so instead he thanks King Mickey and his research… and hopes he won’t take him up on that ‘I’ll save you no matter what!’ offer should things go awry.
He looks around does a quiet count. One, two, three… four, no five. Six, including himself. Two are missing. Well, okay, technically eight are missing-but that’s not important. The important thing is the important ones are missing, and Riku needs to keep an eye out. IX needs to lie low and not say anything.
Naturally, all of this goes right out of his head when the Superior arrives.
It’s like a kick to the stomach. It’s like the first lurch of a fall backwards off a battlement. It’s not really like dark though, because dark is something Riku likes to think he kind of knows by now. And this isn’t it. This is something else. Something else and Riku is suddenly all too aware of the pulse racing in his ears, the way it beats fast and hard and damn can they hear it…?
Sneaking into the very core of the enemy stronghold? Risky and stupid and stupid and amazingly stupid…
“Get a grip,” he mutters to himself, clasping his own shoulder a second, then dropping that hand back onto the arm of the throne.
The Organization all look to the superior, so Riku does too. They’re still short one, but no one’s expecting an appearance. The Superior settles with a grace and a poise that’s uncomfortable familiar, having been subject to the pull of those mannerisms like a puppet on the string. He looks around, he raises his hand, and he with a slow, plodding voice speaks to a room which holds no echo at all.
“My associates,” says their leader, softly, “My trust forever is in our knowledge of our purpose. The knowledge of why we are all here…”
He holds his hand, like a conductor to his orchestra.
“We are here to discuss matters of the heart… and also, the matter of our Chilled Academic’s last model of towel dispenser. They have acted very unruly since his departure,” the Superior’s gaze sweeps over the whole circle with a bone-chilling emptiness, “And I know one of you has the remote.”
“...Xemnas,” says one of them-VII, looks like-“VIII’s report of the Castle Oblivion incident was very thorough. I believe the answer may lie with him.”
“You’re not accusing me of mischief now, are you?” says the one with the clown-make up. Its-no, his only motion is the slight quirk of his brow.
“On the contrary I believe I am complimenting your extensive knowledge of the subject.”
“So. You know I’m all business, Saix.”
“…it is of no matter,” the Superior’s hollow voice silenced them both, “Who is up to mischief, and who is not. What is of importance is that whoever is in possession of the device shall come forward. This meeting shall not be adjourned until this is settled. It is a most terrible waste of our resources. Paper is very expensive to import after all…”
It’s the one sitting in the ‘X’ spot that waggles his fingers. “With the proper bows and curtsies to my betters,” he interrupts. His hood is off as well. Riku can see the wink of the guy’s kind of impressive piercings, from his vantage point at the next throne over. “I believe the better question is: who, exactly, makes a remote for their toiletries in the first place?”
“Man, get with the times,” waves …II? Except that can’t be it, he’s not really acting like a second at all--
--whatever the case, and for whatever reason, he earns a particular nasty look from X.
II doesn’t really seem to notice, sitting sideways in his seat, one ankle crossed over the other one. “Vexen makes a remote for everything. … or made, now, huh.”
“Sounds about right,” murmured VIII.
“Smug,” comments VII, “Are we?”
“Is that rhetorical or what?”
It goes like this. It goes for like, an hour. The room carries no echo, but there are enough voices to make up for it. Of course it could only be minutes. Of course it could only be days. Of course it could really be years. It could really be a thousand years. Riku could be stuck in a castle that never was for a thousand years with a bunch of bad guys whose idea of bad guy talk is starting it involve sock drawers and holy hell--
… and then the thirteenth comes.
He doesn’t sit. He appears in a black whorl, drops down a foot, and simply stands on his chair. He doesn’t have a stiff stance so much as it is a ready one. The change in the atmosphere is palpable upon his entrance. III shifts on his perch like a restless bird. II puts his feet down.
IX, for his part, just stares. Riku knows him, he thinks. He knows him. His first instinct is a familiar jerk of his head, like it’s something he’s done every day. But XIII’s hood is back and his eyes are clear and hard, and if Riku remembers anyone with eyes like that, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t him.
“Oh. Shall we ask him?” suggests X, with a near yawn.
A black object hits the council room floor.
“XII’s laundry,” XIII reports dutifully. “Can we not talk about that now? I unlocked the Enchanted Forest. Someone might want to get on that before I lock it again.”
The Superior inclines his hooded head like he hadn’t been threatening to revoke II’s ‘god given rights’ to a lunch break not a moment ago. He’s dangerous again. So is XIII. With their focus on each other, it’s magnified by…
DiZ taught Riku something about unknown variables. He was very thorough about it. Like he’d been a teacher once.
Riku hated teachers.
“Elaborate,” says the most unknown of them all.
XIII rolls his eyes. He does so. Very thoroughly. With a voice that echoes faintly through the throne room. He does so for longer than the others argued, but it seems to go much faster. Like time’s touched him, but more like the room’s changed. All the Organization members sitting more still than living things could and Riku mostly frozen stiff as he tries to catalogue every movement. Every turn of his head and twist of his mouth and transference of weight from one leg to the other. It’s a bit of an optical shakedown: Who are you. Who are you. What was your…
XIII looks at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d been doing a bored scan of the room.
IX shrugs rather helplessly-seems like a thing he’d do. XIII’s eyes move on to VIII, who closes his eyes once, and crooks two fingers to tap his brow.
There’s a group of high level nobodies waiting in the hall. They’re a kind that Riku’s never seen before: all smooth and austere in their coverings, with swords strapped to their backs. It’s easy to forget how misshapen most are by nature, these one’s are almost sleek. Almost beautiful. The way they bow when XIII emerges. It’s a more elegant greeting than the Dusks, who press their fingers upwards as he passes like they’d die for just a touch of his cloak. Like a moment’s validation. A moment’s acknowledgement from their better. Just a moment to feel like something in his eyes-
Riku shakes himself. The hell is he thinking, now? He’s not the one to be putting words to it.
The long white fingers tug at his cloak, too.
Nobodies drift in groups, much in the way that seaweed clumps together in the tide. This goes for Dusks, who have limbs like seaweed, and it goes for the highest orders as well, as no one seems to think anything about how IX might glide along in XIII’s wake. XIII doesn’t seem to notice, even.
He spends a moment on the sword-carrying Nobodies.
“…for a cycle or two,” he says to them.
No one’s said anything.
“Yes. But quietly,” he instructs. “I’ll do it.”
No one says anything.
The nobodies bow again. Riku can see this time that they’re not completely perfect in their motion. The very tips of their scabbards shake in answer to the command. It seems a little like love and in an instant Riku knows that it’s because they are his. All nobodies are subject to Superior, but these elite few are also XIII’s and if they had the being for it they’d love him like a king.
There’s a ruined fairgrounds in the Dark City. It’s where XIII decides to go.
Playing games again? thinks Riku sickly. Has no idea why it makes him want to laugh. In the neon light, the outline of the place seems darker. Rising lines meet jagged angles like the bones of long dead prehistoric animals.
“Demyx,” says XIII, turning at the swinging gate.
Riku stops.
“You like places like this, right?”
Riku raises a shoulder.
The next thing that hits him is the wrought iron against his back.
“Spy,” states XIII, his hand still spread from the process of hurling Riku into the fence. How did he get behind him? How did he…
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“…” says Riku, picking himself off the gate-
--before he’s struck again, in the ribs, with a red hot precision and holyshitfast. His hood falls loose. Something bone cold hits his cheeks. He looks up. It’s started to rain, and whether or not it’s that or the first look at his face that delays the nobody for half a second; it’s enough time for Riku to call Soul Eater to his side. Its eye opens: slow and groggy on the first blink, wide awake and starving on the second. The blade’s presence is a warm, black comfort in the pit of his stomach. (hungry it whispers hungry-)
“You’re asking me?”
“What do you want,” the Organization member bites back.
--fuck and didn’t it just kind of figure. That Riku’d find himself staring at the point of a keyblade again. The weapons cross. The metal grinds hard into Soul Eater’s scales. There’s a surprising amount of force bearing down on him. He’s sure the nobody’s shorter, and X times lighter. But the nobody has cold, strange eyes that show no effort at all, and the ground’s not on Riku’s sword. The point comes closer.
And closer.
And closer.
Riku does the simple thing. He kicks him in the chest and he runs.
XIII makes a disgusted noise. He’s fast on his heels, and Riku doesn’t have much time to think: just dives for the ruined carousel and spins it so a fake horse catches the bastard in gut. Higher. He needs to be higher. The jagged coaster frame seems as good a bet as any. He runs up it, hacking off bits as he goes. The nobody follows, swiping the falling pieces out of his way. Riku reaches the first rise and turns with ready sword. This, he can manage.
XIII stands behind him. “You’re kind of an idiot.”
Riku gets in one block. One block that rattles his forearm. XIII, returning a favor, jams an elbow into his diaphragm. Riku reels; amazed that even in the Dark he still has the breath to lose. He sways and, before the keyblade can plunge at him again, he throws himself sideways and off the tracks.
Falling backwards, he twists in midair, grabs a girder, and grits his teeth against the jolt in his shoulders. He swings himself under and up and into a crouch. Everything vibrates as the car passes overhead.
“Who’d be riding that thing?” wonders Riku aloud.
The support is sliced out from under him. He makes a grab for the next bar down, dangles, and switches hands quickly. Any slower and his fingers would’ve been forfeit. The keyblade comes down at him in a stabbing staccato. one-and-two-and-three-and
He’s is being played with. And none too nice or clean. It’s no longer a blade aimed for the wrists but a heel shoved down over the knuckles. Riku grunts. He drives Soul Eater into the bar himself, rends the metal far less cleanly than the member did, preparing for another fall-
“No,” says the nobody, and wrenches his weapon away with little more than a squeeze. One that presses bones together. The support gives way about two seconds too late to save him a fracture at best. Riku hits another beam on the way down. He’s spilled onto his back, sore but alive, with a warm tang in his mouth. Soul Eater hasn’t fallen far. He rolls over and lunges for it.
The black point of the keyblade comes down.
It sinks into the other weapon with a crack Riku feels down to his very core. Soul Eater’s startled groan echoes between his ears and he’s staring up over his outstretched arm at the Nobody called XIII. Green eyes meet blue, as land meets sky.
As XIII kicks him in the face.
“You’re easy,” he says.
…everything’s ringing. Everything aches. It’s the first time Riku’s ever heard that…
“You’re stupid.”
…not the first time he’s heard that though. It’s gotten hard to breathe, though. Really really hard…
“A waste,” concludes the nobody. He puts some absent weight into the keyblade, twists, and Soul Eater shatters into exactly one hundred and fifty two pieces. Riku can count because he’s aware of every single one of them. It feels like something’s exploded in his chest and it’s just pain and pain and pain and on the bright side now his nose feels just fine and pain. He almost misses the fact the keyblade’s been repositioned over his neck.
“Tell me what you know.”
Smiling with a split lip is a bitch. Also warm. Also strange. He’s bleeding. He’s never bled before in a fight. Never. There was some kind of cosmic rule about it. People didn’t curse or bleed or…
“Nothing,” coughs Riku. “Why I’m here, isn’t it?”
The blade above him turns. “I can make this last a very long time.”
“…that’s dedicated.” He’s sinking, he realizes. He’s sinking. Also, dead. So very. “Doesn’t sound a thing like you.”
Dead. Dead. Dead. There was a time when he didn’t think he’d ever lose, and now he was going to die. He’d cry, if it weren’t deeper than stupid and just…
“What,” growls the nobody, like he’s thrown one of those sugar heart candies in his face. “What.”
Riku shakes. Riku laughs. It’s funny, so he’s laughing. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs.
“What’s so funny. Stop that.” XIII might’ve kicked him again, Riku wasn’t paying attention anymore. “Stop that!”
As far as ways to go went this was… pretty crappy, actually. Lying on his back. Wet. Bloody. ‘Heavens above’ were dark and cloudy. Nobody above him glaring furiously. For the first time, Riku can see some real heat there. The guy’s nearly shouting. He doesn’t like being laughed at. Of course he doesn’t. Being a nobody’s bad enough. And for a hardass bastard his eye’s are amazingly blue, blue like…blue like…
Oh.
“Fine. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t just kill you for this.”
“Sora,” breathes Riku.
Roxas jerks to a halt.
“What?”
“Sora,” Riku says again, not dead and confused by this fact, but more confused at the way the nobody’s begun to shake. It’s not the unlike the way the other’s had, in greeting him.
“You…you know him?”
“Yeah?” lies Riku. He’s only just remembered the guy’s name. He pushes himself up a little. If he’s not dead he may as well not sleep on his continued existence. “ ‘Course I do.”
“And you’ve seen him?”
“Yeah.”
“And you know him?”
“Yeah…”
And it’s a shot in the dark, but Riku thinks: him of all people should be used to used to it by now.
“What,” he grins and tips his head. “Wanna meet him?”
It shouldn’t work so well, but somehow it does. Roxas looks dizzied, his face suddenly a thousand different sort of lights. He takes a step back. He opens his mouth, shuts it again. His eyes narrow and widen again.
“You could do that?”
“One reason,” recalls Riku.
Roxas doesn’t seem to hear. “I get to meet Sora?”
And all at once this, this of all things, is easier than Riku ever imagined. And he feels sick for it. He looks off, pressing his tongue against the loose molar in the back of his mouth. He’ll call it. At some point, logic’ll come back to him and he’ll call it. He has to--
“Three days.”
“In this world?”
“Three days my time.”
“…too long!”
“Better than never.”
“Fine,” the nobody looks pained. “Okay.”
-he doesn’t.
“What’s the name of that building? The big one.”
“Memory’s Skyscraper.”
“Right. Memory’s Skyscraper. In three days, he’ll be waiting for you there.”
XIII watched the intruder pick himself up and limp from the carnival grounds. He didn’t look back. In this, at least, he was smart.
“I’ve located our sodden lost sheep!” called a voice that curled like smoke behind him. Axel. He clapped his hands together, lacing spidery fingers and stretching them out with a crick. “The Melodious Nocturne was a little tetchy about it though. He got himself a bit stuck. It required some extraction. He was surrounded by some very mean trees.”
“Mm,” said Roxas.
“You missed a spot,” noted Axel, watching the bloodied grey spy vanish into the shadows of the city. “So. Leaving him for the heartless, are we!”
“How long were you watching, Axel.”
…the other nobody gave a full bodied heave. It vaguely resembled a miserable sigh. “Oh be still my aching heart! I could almost envy him, you know. Having enough of life to do such silly things to save it.”
“…he’s…Riku, right?”
“That’s the one,” murmured Axel.
“He’s more useful alive right now, isn’t he?”
“Well, yes. But…”
“So,” said Roxas, turning away from the dead carnival lights. “Make use of him.”
“Oh, good.” Axel shivered in something vaguely resembling relief. “Trust the Key of Destiny to cut to the h--”
“That’s a bad one, Axel.”
“-quick,” finished the other nobody, with a clean grin. “Cut to the quick. Still. For a second there, I nearly thought you’d take him up on that…”
Roxas said nothing and moved on.