[Dark Month] - FIVE
Title: FIVE
Author: Xanthos Samurai
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1,188 Words
Warnings: Spoilers for KH2, but do I really need to warn for that anymore?
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own anything but the arrangement of the words on the page.
Notes: I love thinking about older Sora, but I couldn't quite get the tone of this right. Sadness.
Prompt:
"Everyone's here, Lucas. Everyone's waiting to spit on you, throw rocks at you, and make your life Hell."
"Who's "Everyone"?"
...
"Everyone you love" - Kingdom Hearts - keyblade277 .
~
The warm salt waves lapped at Sora’s bare feet. Thousands of stars glittered down on him from the darkened sky. These things provoked a strong feeling of nostalgia in Sora, a memory of being young and hopeful again. He lay himself back on the sand, wincing as he felt his joints creak. He wasn’t young anymore.
Not young. Not old, but not young. There were threads of grey in his hair now and lines around his eyes. He looked older than he was. Whenever he looked in the mirror, he reminded himself of someone he’d known a long time ago with grey in his hair and lines around his eyes… and scars….
What had been his name?
Sora couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much of anything these days. Did everything that he remembered really happen? Sometimes he thought yes, others no. Scattered dreams that were like far-off memories… far-off memories that were like scattered dreams. What was the difference?
There was no difference.
Sora’s memories had been taken apart and put back together so many times by now that he was only just aware enough of his past to know that there were huge holes in it. He used to sit with a pen and paper and try to write down everything he remembered and the order they happened in, but even when he remembered everything he could, but there still enormous gaps in his memory. Entire years that he couldn’t account for. People whom he remembered only because he couldn’t remember anything about them. Worlds that were nothing but fuzzy recollections of sound and color.
But among these memories, there were always the eyes. Yellow eyes - hundreds, thousands of them - and black bodies. Or was it black coats?
He squinted up at the stars. Black coats… Who had worn black coats?
Sora threw his arm over his eyes as another wave of heartache rose in him. He could feel the scars on his palms from the keyblade he had wielded for so many years. The scars were white, and hard to see, but they ran deeply. Down to the bone.
The warm ocean breeze blew through his hair and the sea lapped at his feet. It was the only thing that calmed his aching heart.
Sora woke again with a start. When had he fallen asleep? He had been on the beach, staring up at the stars, but now he was in darkness so black that he had to feel his face to make sure his eyes were actually open. The sand and the water and the smell of the salt were gone. All that was left was… nothing.
“What’s going on?” Sora spoke out loud, to calm his nerves as much as anything else. He kept turning constantly, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no unblinking yellow eyes in the dark.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Sora.”
Sora whipped around again and his heart nearly stopped.
People, dozens of them, were gathered behind him. Men, women, and creatures of all shapes and sizes, all standing still as statues and staring at him.
With wide eyes and a slack jaw, Sora stared back at them. Tremors of recollection shuddered through his brain as his eyes roved over the faces. Seven beautiful young women wreathed in light. A duck in blue. A tall dog-like creature in green. A blonde man with one black wing. A short mouse wielding a keyblade. In the back were twelve figures cloaked in black. Standing in front of the rest was a tall boy with silver hair, a red-haired girl and a blonde girl in white. Standing in front of them, however, was a man about Sora’s age with spiky blonde hair and serious blue eyes. He wore a black cloak and held a keyblade that was shockingly similar to Sora’s own.
It was on this man that Sora’s gaze rested the longest. His body moved without him realizing it and he moved forward, as if in a dream.
“Roxas…” He heard himself speak the name and stopped dead in his tracks. He remembered. He remembered it all.
“ROXAS!” A shout escaped his throat and he threw his arms around his other half, the half he had always felt but had forgotten was there. Despite the fact that he was now a grown man, Sora felt tears well up in his eyes. How long had he been trying to remember this? How long ago had he forgotten?
“Hello Sora.”
Roxas’ voice was deep, almost gravely. Roxas the man was so different from Roxas the boy that Sora marveled at it. But then again, he reminded himself, who would look at him now and think that he was the same fresh-faced kid he had once been?
“Roxas…” Sora rested his forehead against his Nobody’s for a moment and stepped. He had missed the connection… missed being whole. He looked over Roxas’ shoulder and realized that he knew all of these people now. Kairi, Riku, Namine… he knew them all.
“Where are we? What are we all doing here?” Sora looked back at Roxas, almost lightheaded with happiness.
“We’re in your head.” Roxas’ voice had a peculiar monotone quality to it. “And we’ve all been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? Why?” Sora looked around at all of them. They looked just like how he remembered them… now that he could remember. “Roxas, why does everyone else look the same and you look different?”
“Because these are your memories of all of them,” said Roxas. “All but me. I’m not a memory, Sora. I’m you. I’m real. I grew up because you did.”
Sora looked at him. “I’ve been wanting to remember you… I don’t know why I couldn’t. I wanted to remember you so badly.”
“You couldn’t remember us because I kept us locked away. I’ve been waiting for this.” Roxas grinned suddenly, revealing a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth. The sight disturbed Sora so much that he backed away.
A sudden feeling of wrongness pervaded Sora’s entire mind.
“…Waiting for what?” He clenched his hand around a keyblade that wasn’t there as he backed away.
Roxas stepped forward towards the advancing Sora.
“Do you have any idea how many hopes you destroyed when you were alive?”
“What?” The pit dropped out of Sora’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re dead, Sora.” Roxas’ knife smile widened. “You’re driftwood in the ocean now. But that isn’t the point. The point is that you’re here and you have no idea how many lives you wrecked.”
“I didn’t destroy any hopes. I was a keyblade master. I restored hope.” Sora didn’t allow himself to think. “I brought light to the darkness.”
“Just because we’re creatures of darkness, Sora, doesn’t mean we don’t have hopes and dreams. All we wanted to do was become human. And you killed us before we could get that chance.”
All the others were advancing upon Sora now. He was in a nightmare. All of the people and faces he had tried so hard for so long to remember. He put his head into his hands and screamed.
Author: Xanthos Samurai
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Rating: PG-13
Length: 1,188 Words
Warnings: Spoilers for KH2, but do I really need to warn for that anymore?
Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own anything but the arrangement of the words on the page.
Notes: I love thinking about older Sora, but I couldn't quite get the tone of this right. Sadness.
Prompt:
"Everyone's here, Lucas. Everyone's waiting to spit on you, throw rocks at you, and make your life Hell."
"Who's "Everyone"?"
...
"Everyone you love" - Kingdom Hearts - keyblade277 .
~
The warm salt waves lapped at Sora’s bare feet. Thousands of stars glittered down on him from the darkened sky. These things provoked a strong feeling of nostalgia in Sora, a memory of being young and hopeful again. He lay himself back on the sand, wincing as he felt his joints creak. He wasn’t young anymore.
Not young. Not old, but not young. There were threads of grey in his hair now and lines around his eyes. He looked older than he was. Whenever he looked in the mirror, he reminded himself of someone he’d known a long time ago with grey in his hair and lines around his eyes… and scars….
What had been his name?
Sora couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember much of anything these days. Did everything that he remembered really happen? Sometimes he thought yes, others no. Scattered dreams that were like far-off memories… far-off memories that were like scattered dreams. What was the difference?
There was no difference.
Sora’s memories had been taken apart and put back together so many times by now that he was only just aware enough of his past to know that there were huge holes in it. He used to sit with a pen and paper and try to write down everything he remembered and the order they happened in, but even when he remembered everything he could, but there still enormous gaps in his memory. Entire years that he couldn’t account for. People whom he remembered only because he couldn’t remember anything about them. Worlds that were nothing but fuzzy recollections of sound and color.
But among these memories, there were always the eyes. Yellow eyes - hundreds, thousands of them - and black bodies. Or was it black coats?
He squinted up at the stars. Black coats… Who had worn black coats?
Sora threw his arm over his eyes as another wave of heartache rose in him. He could feel the scars on his palms from the keyblade he had wielded for so many years. The scars were white, and hard to see, but they ran deeply. Down to the bone.
The warm ocean breeze blew through his hair and the sea lapped at his feet. It was the only thing that calmed his aching heart.
Sora woke again with a start. When had he fallen asleep? He had been on the beach, staring up at the stars, but now he was in darkness so black that he had to feel his face to make sure his eyes were actually open. The sand and the water and the smell of the salt were gone. All that was left was… nothing.
“What’s going on?” Sora spoke out loud, to calm his nerves as much as anything else. He kept turning constantly, looking over his shoulder to make sure there were no unblinking yellow eyes in the dark.
“We’ve been waiting for you, Sora.”
Sora whipped around again and his heart nearly stopped.
People, dozens of them, were gathered behind him. Men, women, and creatures of all shapes and sizes, all standing still as statues and staring at him.
With wide eyes and a slack jaw, Sora stared back at them. Tremors of recollection shuddered through his brain as his eyes roved over the faces. Seven beautiful young women wreathed in light. A duck in blue. A tall dog-like creature in green. A blonde man with one black wing. A short mouse wielding a keyblade. In the back were twelve figures cloaked in black. Standing in front of the rest was a tall boy with silver hair, a red-haired girl and a blonde girl in white. Standing in front of them, however, was a man about Sora’s age with spiky blonde hair and serious blue eyes. He wore a black cloak and held a keyblade that was shockingly similar to Sora’s own.
It was on this man that Sora’s gaze rested the longest. His body moved without him realizing it and he moved forward, as if in a dream.
“Roxas…” He heard himself speak the name and stopped dead in his tracks. He remembered. He remembered it all.
“ROXAS!” A shout escaped his throat and he threw his arms around his other half, the half he had always felt but had forgotten was there. Despite the fact that he was now a grown man, Sora felt tears well up in his eyes. How long had he been trying to remember this? How long ago had he forgotten?
“Hello Sora.”
Roxas’ voice was deep, almost gravely. Roxas the man was so different from Roxas the boy that Sora marveled at it. But then again, he reminded himself, who would look at him now and think that he was the same fresh-faced kid he had once been?
“Roxas…” Sora rested his forehead against his Nobody’s for a moment and stepped. He had missed the connection… missed being whole. He looked over Roxas’ shoulder and realized that he knew all of these people now. Kairi, Riku, Namine… he knew them all.
“Where are we? What are we all doing here?” Sora looked back at Roxas, almost lightheaded with happiness.
“We’re in your head.” Roxas’ voice had a peculiar monotone quality to it. “And we’ve all been waiting for you.”
“Waiting for me? Why?” Sora looked around at all of them. They looked just like how he remembered them… now that he could remember. “Roxas, why does everyone else look the same and you look different?”
“Because these are your memories of all of them,” said Roxas. “All but me. I’m not a memory, Sora. I’m you. I’m real. I grew up because you did.”
Sora looked at him. “I’ve been wanting to remember you… I don’t know why I couldn’t. I wanted to remember you so badly.”
“You couldn’t remember us because I kept us locked away. I’ve been waiting for this.” Roxas grinned suddenly, revealing a mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth. The sight disturbed Sora so much that he backed away.
A sudden feeling of wrongness pervaded Sora’s entire mind.
“…Waiting for what?” He clenched his hand around a keyblade that wasn’t there as he backed away.
Roxas stepped forward towards the advancing Sora.
“Do you have any idea how many hopes you destroyed when you were alive?”
“What?” The pit dropped out of Sora’s stomach. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re dead, Sora.” Roxas’ knife smile widened. “You’re driftwood in the ocean now. But that isn’t the point. The point is that you’re here and you have no idea how many lives you wrecked.”
“I didn’t destroy any hopes. I was a keyblade master. I restored hope.” Sora didn’t allow himself to think. “I brought light to the darkness.”
“Just because we’re creatures of darkness, Sora, doesn’t mean we don’t have hopes and dreams. All we wanted to do was become human. And you killed us before we could get that chance.”
All the others were advancing upon Sora now. He was in a nightmare. All of the people and faces he had tried so hard for so long to remember. He put his head into his hands and screamed.