Nothing Is The Same
When Sora breaks Drive in a battle, it’s like a slap in the face for whoever’s in the near vicinity. First comes the sound, like a pane of glass being dropped from high up and shattering on the ground. Next comes the shock, like a wall of hard wind hitting you dead on. Probably the last thing you notice is the light, just because it’s been blinding you the entire time. When it goes down enough for you to see again, you see Sora, back arched and arms outstretched, hanging almost angelically in his sphere of Light.
There’s nothing angelic about the way he fights with two keyblades.
He’s graceful when he fights. Each movement is calculated and precise, determination blazing fire in his ocean colored eyes, muscles rippling beneath his skin. No motion is unnecessary, and no enemy is spared. When he has two blades, one’s never sure if he’s simply a monster, about to break out of the shell of a young boy.
It’s scary.
Riku used to be able to smell the Darkness. It smelled familiar, like something that would remind you of your childhood. But it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t welcoming. It was cold, like an unforgiving lover, scornful, like the harsh sting of resentment. Darkness doesn’t like anyone. Even though he can’t smell it anymore, he’ll never forget the prickling in his stomach.
He feels almost naked without his detestable sixth sense.
Sora always acted like he was never afraid of the Darkness, like he never questioned his tasks, like he never entertained the possibility of giving up. Truth be told, Sora was scared a lot of the time, even when he was laughing or making promises. He was terrified of the heartless that swarmed him everywhere he went, lurking in the shadows, around every corner, in the nooks and crannies of his heart and mind…
He was afraid of himself too, sometimes.
When it’s all over and they’re back on Destiny Islands, Riku starts carrying a little mirror around in his pocket. It’s not so he can swoon over his own beauty, and it’s not for looking around corners or behind his back. It’s so he can check, wherever he is, that he’s still himself. It’s for comfort, those times when he’s almost sure he’s grown taller and darker and his hair is longer and…
He grew his bangs out, so they’re always hanging in his face.
Sometimes Sora calls out his keyblade or breaks Drive when he’s alone, to make sure they’re still there. The blade’s hilt is always warm and comfortable in his hand, no matter what form he calls it in. Sometimes he breaks Drive, but it’s not the form he wanted. It’s a black, no-longer-human, monstrous thing, swirling in Darkness. Like some kind of overgrown heartless.
He always retains consciousness, which scares him almost more than the transformation.
One time, Riku saw what he figures Sora never wanted him to see. He’s in the Secret Place, with a keyblade in hand. And then a light illuminates the space, and there’s nothing in the darkness but a pair of eerie yellow eyes. He knows he can’t smell Darkness anymore, but he hasn’t forgotten the scent. It hits him in unrelenting, unforgiving waves.
He’s never been afraid of Sora before.
He’ll never admit it, but he was terrified when Kairi first explained to him that the Ansem standing before them was Riku. He didn’t recognize his friend in the body of his foe, and didn’t want to, either. He felt nothing but hatred and contempt.
He’d never felt hatred towards Riku before.
Even though it’s all over, even though their world and all the others have been saved twice over, enemy after enemy defeated, hearts proven pure and Darkness expunged, they’re still afraid. They’re still hiding things from themselves and from each other, and finding comfort in little things.
They pretend not to notice, but nothing is the same.
There’s nothing angelic about the way he fights with two keyblades.
He’s graceful when he fights. Each movement is calculated and precise, determination blazing fire in his ocean colored eyes, muscles rippling beneath his skin. No motion is unnecessary, and no enemy is spared. When he has two blades, one’s never sure if he’s simply a monster, about to break out of the shell of a young boy.
It’s scary.
Riku used to be able to smell the Darkness. It smelled familiar, like something that would remind you of your childhood. But it wasn’t warm. It wasn’t welcoming. It was cold, like an unforgiving lover, scornful, like the harsh sting of resentment. Darkness doesn’t like anyone. Even though he can’t smell it anymore, he’ll never forget the prickling in his stomach.
He feels almost naked without his detestable sixth sense.
Sora always acted like he was never afraid of the Darkness, like he never questioned his tasks, like he never entertained the possibility of giving up. Truth be told, Sora was scared a lot of the time, even when he was laughing or making promises. He was terrified of the heartless that swarmed him everywhere he went, lurking in the shadows, around every corner, in the nooks and crannies of his heart and mind…
He was afraid of himself too, sometimes.
When it’s all over and they’re back on Destiny Islands, Riku starts carrying a little mirror around in his pocket. It’s not so he can swoon over his own beauty, and it’s not for looking around corners or behind his back. It’s so he can check, wherever he is, that he’s still himself. It’s for comfort, those times when he’s almost sure he’s grown taller and darker and his hair is longer and…
He grew his bangs out, so they’re always hanging in his face.
Sometimes Sora calls out his keyblade or breaks Drive when he’s alone, to make sure they’re still there. The blade’s hilt is always warm and comfortable in his hand, no matter what form he calls it in. Sometimes he breaks Drive, but it’s not the form he wanted. It’s a black, no-longer-human, monstrous thing, swirling in Darkness. Like some kind of overgrown heartless.
He always retains consciousness, which scares him almost more than the transformation.
One time, Riku saw what he figures Sora never wanted him to see. He’s in the Secret Place, with a keyblade in hand. And then a light illuminates the space, and there’s nothing in the darkness but a pair of eerie yellow eyes. He knows he can’t smell Darkness anymore, but he hasn’t forgotten the scent. It hits him in unrelenting, unforgiving waves.
He’s never been afraid of Sora before.
He’ll never admit it, but he was terrified when Kairi first explained to him that the Ansem standing before them was Riku. He didn’t recognize his friend in the body of his foe, and didn’t want to, either. He felt nothing but hatred and contempt.
He’d never felt hatred towards Riku before.
Even though it’s all over, even though their world and all the others have been saved twice over, enemy after enemy defeated, hearts proven pure and Darkness expunged, they’re still afraid. They’re still hiding things from themselves and from each other, and finding comfort in little things.
They pretend not to notice, but nothing is the same.