Snapshots

Alpha: Alone

            He was never afraid of being alone. Maybe it was because he had been surrounded by loneliness all of his life, so much that it ceased to frighten him as it had frightened the other children of the islands. Even when he had been alerted to its horror when he found Sora in tears after a failed game of 'Hide And Go Seek', he had felt more concern for his friend than fear.   

            Loneliness had never been his enemy. Rather, it was his friend, his comfort. He wanted to feel its presence more than ever, after he met Ansem, after he met the awesome but malevolent one-winged angel bound to twin pillars by chains and god-magic. Instead, he felt more keenly the despair of belonging to this group of cursed, silver-haired people.

            He craved loneliness.

            But lately, it had begun to hurt.

Blitzball: Broken

            "Heads up!"

            The large ball had caught him off-guard, smacking heavily into his small body and causing him to skid across the rough sand. He bit his lip at the fire that raced up his arm and leg, but he refused to cry out. Not with his father within earshot.

            A bulky shadow fell over him. It was Wakka, one of the children living on the same island as he did, a big-sized boy with a sweet and brotherly nature. He held out his hand, palm outstretched in an offer of help, while the other hand sheepishly scratched the back of his head.

            "Hey, I'm sorry ya. I thought you saw the ball…"

            He would have smiled, would have extended his own hand out to be lifted up, if he hadn't heard the crunch of black leather shoes on sun-warmed sand, and his father's voice, full of disdain.

            "Get up."

            Immediately, his expression hardened.

            "Thanks, but no thanks, Wakka. Let's continue."

            The other boy sputtered. "But, but ya hurt, Riku!"

            "This?" He gestured to his arm, fair skin broken and bleeding. Shaking his head, he forced out a laugh. "This is nothing, Wakka. Come on!" Gamely, he retrieved the blue ball, tossing it back to the older boy. And he ran forward, ignoring the pain, ignoring his father's words.

            And he flinched when he saw the hard gaze of his father's approval.

Comfort: Confession

            "Riku?"

            He just curled himself up tighter, trying to shrink away, trying to melt into the wall behind him. Sand bit into his hands as he tightened them, and quietly, he muttered, "Go away, Sora."

            The dark blue child's suit stifled him, the long sleeves probably looking the worst for the wear after being wiped on wet, sand-covered rocks, but he didn't care. All he knew was that his mother was dead, dead, dead and they sent her floating across the ocean, on a simple raft made of wood and adorned with the flowers she so loved, and set the entire thing on fire.

            He ran. He ignored the calls of other more well-meaning adults, tearing himself away from the false, mocking embrace of his father, and ran. How far, he didn't really know, but the island they lived on was small, and all he knew was that he got back home, tracking in sand on the polished wooden floor, and locking himself in his room.

            How did Sora get in anyway?

            Oh, right, through the window. He forgot about that. But it could be easily remedied.

            "Sora, just go away."

            The bed dipped in the direction where Sora crawled on, and then arms suddenly wrapped themselves clumsily around him, pulling him into a half-hug. Sora's body pressed itself against his back, and he slowly started rocking, slowly dragging their bodies together in a slow sway.

            "Momma always does this whenever I feel sad," he heard Sora whisper. "I miss Aunt Mia already…do you miss her too?"

            Riku slowly nodded, and then he began to cry, heaving sobs that racked his small, eleven-year-old frame.

Desertion: Darkness

            His hands were trembling, he realized. Quickly, he clenched them into tight, painful fists, nails biting into the thick, warm leather. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't. It was happening all over again. Abandonment.

            "Sora," he breathed. "Why? Why this?"

            He wanted pain. Any pain, just pain, pain physical enough to block out the feelings of hurt and hate and rejection and jealousy that started to resurface.

            For so long, he had struggled to accept Kairi as an equal and as another close friend of Sora's. For so long, he could only work around his choices, which were few and close together: That to reject Kairi was to lose Sora. So he fought against wave after wave of jealousy and hurt, until he began to grudgingly tolerate Kairi to an extent that it didn't hurt so much anymore.

            Until he even began to care, just a little, for her the way he cared for Sora.

            And now Sora left him again. Left him and Kairi, this time, in favour of newer and stranger companions, whose prejudice would not even accept a silver-haired anomaly such as him. He had no choice.

            No choice!

            "But you have one, child. What is your decision?"

            The witch, bony fingers grazing his cheek, making his skin crawl. Her voice soft and sibilant, warned him of a snake, whose appearance seemed harmless enough, but was ready to strike. He allowed himself to smirk. He would play her game, his way. And this time…Sora won't affect him this time.

            Riku turned to her, eyes hard as jewels.

            "I will join you."

            Maleficent smiled.

Element: Exhaustion

            "Control the Heartless my friggin' arse..."

            He stumbled into his room, muscles aching, a sprained left wrist still protesting by shooting jolts of pain up his arm. The door would have been slammed to emphasize his mood, but he was far too tired to even expel that small bit of satisfying energy.

            "Crazy witch," he muttered, turning the tap on full blast to run ice-cold water on his wrist. Drops of sweat hung off the tips of his hair, before dropping to join the swirling waters in the sink. Feeling his wrist becoming numb, he drew it out, switching off the flow of water as well.

            Closing his eyes, he envisioned the day's training: The witch, showing off her oh-so-nifty summoning skills by calling up a minor Heartless, then challenging him to control it. It hadn't been easy: for some reason it was extremely eager to attack him, and it took all of the skills he had learnt off Destiny Islands to fend the Heartless off. And the witch! All her commands, "Make it obey you! Crush it under your will!" irritated him more than helping him.

            Still, he managed to wrest it down, ignoring the diminuitive,high-pitched squeaks and sharp claws. He felt something poking at the edge of his mind, and he latched on it, pressing it down. The creature squealed, not in pain and surprise, but just a soulless response, and it ceased to fight.

            By then, however, he was so tired and bruised that all he could do was release it to melt back into the shadows.

            Now, he curled one hand into a fist, relishing that one moment of power he had over that creature. That one instant of control.

            "Take that, Sora," he whispered.

Fruit: Forgotten

            He watched helplessly as Sora tossed the fruit into the sea.

            You don't want me. You don't want my friendship.

            You'll forget me.

            He continued to run, still keeping the smile on his face, still keeping his eyes clear and dry.

            You're not the only one who can keep smiling throughout any pain, you know. There's Selphie…and me.

            "Hey slowpoke!" He slowed, turning around to see a huffing and puffing friend. "You're getting fat and lazy, I see," he teased.

            You will forget me, but I won't forget you.

            Sora panted. "Riku, about the Paopu…"

            I won't.

            "You didn't eat it?"

            That's my part of the promise, which I will keep, which you threw away.

            Sora avoided his eyes. "It didn't mean anything, right?"

            Yes! It meant something, damn it!

            Why else would I give it to you?

            "No…what, would you eat it if it meant something to me?" He puts his hands on his hips.

            Sora smiled, a slow one, rare as spotting the first star of the night. "Yeah, I would."

            Liar.

            "That's good to know."

             You've forgotten what I said already.

Graves: Grief

            I promised myself that I wouldn't cry again.

            I've stopped crying since the day my mother died.

            "Tears shed over graves are useless." That was what Father said, before…

            Since then…

            I've not found any reason to cry again.

            I don't have any reasons to cry.

            No more.

            No more.

            Why, then, are there tears?

Heroes: Honour

            Riku was fascinated when he saw the blonde man fight. The swiftness of the man, the lean agile body dodging his opponent's rather clumsy attempts to attack, the strong, focused look on Cloud's face. He looked like one of those heroes, battling for something in the arena, defending some belief that he held true.

            Hades, on the other hand, was chortling softly under his breath, scooping up a handful of wriggling worms to pop into his mouth. He smacked his thin lips, turning to look at Riku. Seeing the boy's faraway look, he laughed out loud.

            "You like how he fights? That's nothing. It's more fun to see him react."

            There was a clash of weapons, and then the thick sound of a body hitting the ground. Cloud had pinned his struggling opponent down, the buster sword held threateningly to the man's neck. Blue eyes turned to look at Hades, as if waiting for some signal.

            The god snickered, grinning madly. "Here comes the fun part." Striding over to the parapet, he loudly extolled the virtues of both the men's fighting skills, and then his smile widened as he stretched out his hand, the extended thumb pointing downwards.

            Almost on cue, the defeated man began to scream. To thrash, begging for mercy. He stared upwards at Cloud, screaming, "Mercenary! Mercenary! Have you no honour?!?!?!"

            Riku imagined he saw emotion flashing in Cloud's ice blue eyes for the moment before the blonde's gaze left the god's, and the sword moved, the awful screams cutting off in one loud gurgle.

            "My mercenaries have no honour." Hades called back to the dead man. He smiled back at Riku, sharp yellow teeth showing.

            "Doesn't Cloud look prettier now?"

            Riku thought that, with the blood splattered on Cloud's expressionless face, he looked beautiful.

Island: Irony

             Because we think that all we're surrounded by is just water, we think that we're eternally safe.

            And we yearn to get out of this little paradise, this little snow-globe of safety and boredom, and strike outside this place to find a place for ourselves.

            How ironic.

            That, in the end, the one who wanted to go couldn't find his place, couldn't survive, and the one who didn't, reluctantly accepted a position that molded him into what he could be, what he had been once he left the island.

            Illusions.

            The beautiful dream, carefully crafted bit by bit over the years, worked on and polished like some precious diamond, only to find out that it shattered into pieces when dropped, just like mere glass.

            Just like a piece of useless glass that only tried to imitate the purity of a diamond, but when put to the true test, it failed.

            A beautiful illusion, but an illusion all the same.

            He was an illusion, only.

            After all.

Jungle: Jigsaw

            It's difficult putting a jigsaw together when you don't even know what the original picture is.

            It's even more difficult to put a jigsaw together when you aren't even sure how many pieces there are.

            Or how many you have with you right now.

            Or even if those pieces were the correct ones that belonged to the picture that you're trying to put back.

            It's frustrating.

            And you're not even sure if the picture that might eventually come out would be the one you wanted.

            You may despise it.

            You may even hate it.

            But it's your life.

            And you can't change it.

            Because it's finished.

Keyhole: Kismet

            The king's keyblade flashed and disappeared, and he clapped his hands together, dusting the grey gloves he wore. His tail was flicking rather distractedly from side to side while he cast a sidelong glance at Riku, silently appraising him.

            "What?" Riku asked uneasily. Facing the duck and the dog was an entirely different matter, that time, Sora was with them, and given their ridiculous outfits, they weren't scary at all.

            But the king was an entirely different matter.

            There was something vaguely strange about seeing a giant mouse, even stranger than seeing talking ducks and upright dogs. Perhaps it was the aura that emanated from the figure, a kind of inner power and strength that made the mouse a king.

            But his voice was gentle and not at all snooty, as Riku expected, when he spoke again.

            "Are you okay?"

            "I'm alright."

            The mouse nodded absently. "That's good." He gazed calmly at him, black eyes showing nothing else but a smooth mirror. And he smiled.

            "You're a good friend to Sora."

            Riku turned away, hurt. "I'm…I'm not." His lips thinned, and he refused to look at the king. A gloved hand touched his arm, and he flinched.

            "I won't press. But we need to leave quickly. Now that this keyhole's locked, the Heartless will be looking for hearts in their own city. Quick, follow me."

            Inanely, Riku wondered if he was following Destiny.

Liberi: Laughter

            He enjoyed laughing.

            It reminded him of some kind of release private only to himself, something no one else could take from him.

            The easy release of breath from lungs, the hard push of air against upturned lips, a light clear sound that defied description…he liked laughing.

            "I like your laughter." Selphie told him once, when they were alone and she was being contemplative. For once. She was facing the ocean, and he was sitting beside her on the jetty, back dirty with sand from lying down on the dock.

            "Why?" The setting sun reflected off the waters and hurt his eyes, and he turned to look at her. She, however, seemed unaffected by the light, and continued to look straight ahead.

            "Well, it's rare, for one." She giggled softly, "And it's nice and kind of round and deep…I can't describe it. But I like hearing you laugh." Selphie turned to look at him, eyes wide.

            "Who do you like to hear laughing? Am I one of them?"

            "Yes, you." He ruffled her hair, hearing her protest. And he started to smile when she began to laugh. She rumbled against his body, a warm and steady sensation.

            "Who else, Riku? Who else?"

            "Kairi. Tidus. Wakka."

            "Sora? What about Sora?"

            He liked laughing. But he loved hearing laughter more.

            "And Sora. Especially Sora."

            Especially Sora's laughter.

Mouse: Memory

            Training with the king reminded him of Sora. It wasn't that he could overpower the king the way he did with Sora, rather, Mickey seemed to be doing a great job of wiping the floor with him. Each time Riku thought he had figured the king out, he wounded up falling onto his back instead, the sharp end of the quarterstaff pointing at his throat.

            Just like Sora.

            Back on Destiny Islands, he would have been standing in the king's place, easily taking on team attacks and winning without breaking a single sweat. How many times had he seen Sora on his back, eyes half-closed in pain and disappointment that he had lost again?

            "Try again, Riku. Watch your left side."

            Mickey tossed the quarterstaff to him, the training weapon sliding to his side, bumping against his hand. His fingers touched the rough wood, feeling splinters stabbing into his skin.

            "Pick up your staff. Stand up and fight."

            Like Sora.

            Except that Sora got up by himself, taking their fighting sticks and thrusting his into his hands, demanding another duel. Not caring that it would be their twentieth fight in the hot midday sun, not caring that ugly bruises were blooming on his arms and legs, but having that desperate gleam in his eyes that he can and will defeat his best friend.

            "I am strong!" Sora was shouting almost defiantly, trying to keep the tears out of his voice. "I can beat you!"

            "You wish." He was smirking while he said it, but guilt began to wash over him as he took in Sora's exhausted form. Even so, he fell back into position, ready to best Sora again.

            Children can be so cruel, he realised now.

            Determinedly, he gripped the staff, climbing to his feet. The king nodded in approval, easily taking one of his many battle stances. Without any visible signal, they rushed at each other, staves meeting noisily in the quiet night.

            I'll come back to you, he promised fiercely. I'll come back to you, Sora, and I'm going to apologise to you for all that I've done and hug you so much that it might actually erase the guilty conscience that's been haunting me all this time.

            And I'll do it all over again, until you're sick of it, and more, because...

            Because...

            I miss you.

Neverland: Nightmare

            It was every child's dream. To remain as children forever on an island paradise, where there were no parents, no worries, and the only thing to accomplish was to play and play the day away. It was just like Destiny Islands, Riku mused, minus the magical element and the eternal youth part. He wasn't sure if the children were immortal though. Perhaps they could be killed with a well-aimed cannon ball or a bullet in the right place...he chased away those thoughts, feeling slightly horrified at himself. His thoughts had never turned to killing before.

            But they do turn to envy, as he gazed at the flying quartet with an expression akin to green-eyed jealousy as they approached the huge clock tower he was perched on, hidden. Vaguely, he pondered on the incredulity of two worlds encompassed into one, where the more fantastic world can only be breached by the use of pixie dust and happy thoughts, or through the wormholes made by darkness.

            If he had it his way, he would have chosen to fly to Neverland.

            Still, in every land filled with happiness and dreams and hopes, there would always be nightmares lurking in the darker corners of the world. Nightmares, such as Captain Hook and his (rather bumbling) crew, such as him and his Heartless.

            His Sora look-a-like pressed itself again his back, hands clasped loosely at his waist, softly chirping into his ear. Riku turned to his pet, gently drawing one hand over its cheek. Emotionless yellow eyes looked past him, but ever in his direction.

            "Be patient," he whispered to it. "Soon, you can meet your light."

Oathkeeper: Obsession

            His preoccupation with Kairi could almost be labeled as an obsession. The lengths he had gone for her, the lengths he would go…it seems almost as if they were star-struck lovers and he was performing the part of the hero, trying to bring her back to him. Trying to get her heart back.

            But he was doing it for Sora, right? He knew how much the girl meant to him; she had been special from the other girls, since the day she was spotted falling from the sky, just a falling star on a dusky summer's evening. The way she needed to be protected (Sora never allowed her to fight), the way Sora (nearly) obeyed her every word, the way allowances were made for her and her only.

            She was special to Sora.

            And he, he would protect anything and everything precious to Sora.

            Even though he was beginning to doubt his own heart, as he stared again at the sleeping beauty on her rock-hard bed.

Puppet: Power

            "Know this."

            He was seething. Why did the keyblade reject him? Why did the keyblade choose Sora instead of him? Why Sora, when he had been the stronger one, when he had been trying to save Kairi all this time?

            Why?

            "The heart that is strong and true shall win the Keyblade."

            He whirled around, darkness singing in his blood. It hadn't overpowered him yet, it never will. His heart was strong. He wasn't afraid of the darkness.

            Was he?

            "What? You're saying my heart's weaker than his?"

            Not possible. Not possible!

            "For that instant, it was. However, you can become stronger. You showed no fear in stepping through the door to darkness. It held no terror for you. Plunge deeper into the darkness, and your heart will grow even stronger."

            Strength? He wanted strength. He was stronger than Sora.

            "What should I do?"

            Giddy. Giddy, with too much hate and power and envy and sorrow.

            "It's really quite simple. Open yourself to the darkness. That is all. Let your heart, your being, become darkness itself."

            He couldn't bring himself to care anymore. He was too tired.

            "Help me."

Questions: Quarere Quaest

            "Why did you stay?"

            "I was searching for something. Someone."

            "Have you found what you were searching for?"

            "No."

            "What are you looking for?"

            "I'm not sure if I can remember what it was, who it was."

            "Then, why are you still searching?"

            "…I don't know. I don't think I know what's happening, what's going on, anymore."

Rewind: Regrets

            He was mildly surprised when the king appeared on the roof, sitting down beside him in an outfit that was marginally more different from the dark cloak that Mickey usually wore. Not that the dark blue long-sleeved thing made any difference.

            "Been thinking?" Before, the king's squeaky voice would have irritated him to no end, especially with Mickey trying to make conversation while they wandered through Kingdom Hearts. But now, he had grown accustomed to the rather high-pitched tone, and somehow, he had begun to feel a bit comforted that someone from the outside is also with him.

            "Yeah…do you think if he, I mean, they still remember me?" He winced at the bitter tone in his question. Maybe he had stayed here too long. The loneliness, the bitterness, they hurt. He wouldn't look at the king, knowing that the calm, placid black eyes would tell him, silently, to look for answers within himself.

            "Even if they don't, I'm sure Sora does."

            Riku snorted derisively, tugging at the laces of his boots. These were far easier to hide than the blue ones he used to wear, but he missed his old shoes. At least, he didn't need to contend with laces.

            "I don't think I'll go back…if we ever found the way out."

            "Too many regrets?" There had been no surprised tone. Instead, the king suddenly sounded very, very old.

            He nodded, the slight movement lost in the darkening light. "Yeah." He couldn't go back anymore. Not after what he had done, not after hurting both Sora and Kairi so much. He couldn't face them. It would hurt too much. "I'm sorry."

            Riku wondered if life could be like a tape, where one could press the rewind button and go back in time, and forget that time ever existed.

Sora: Smile

            He wanted to trace the contours of Sora's lips, feel their texture, memorise their shape so that he could imprint Sora's smile into his mind.

            The gentle curve of flesh, upturned in a wistful smile…

            Or spread thinly into a wide one, teeth flashing in the gap like so many white, polished stones…

            Or the shy one, coming out uncertainly after a defeat…

            And the sad ones, after a nightmare, during their frequent sleepovers, in an attempt at reassurances.

            If he could collect all of Sora's smiles, he would.

            He wanted to taste them. Feel them on his own lips, as if Sora's smiles could be his too.

            And capture them, in a way, so that they'll be his to keep.

Transformation: Trial

            The change had been so abrupt that he wasn't prepared for it. When he first realized what happened, he had been so horrified by the transformation that he allowed no one to look at him, turning away food and drink by resolutely refusing to unlock the door. In the end, Mickey had to break down the tough wooden barrier, pinning him to the ground, struggling with shame, with plant magic.

            "Don't look at me!" he cried, shutting his eyes tight in a bid to hide the yellow glow as well as the tears. His voice had been hoarse from the lack of drink, his hair oily and sweat-soaked. He could hear the thud of the king's shoes on the wooden flooring, and he turned his face away. "Leave me alone," he whimpered.

            "I've left you alone too long." The king replied harshly. One hand wormed its way under his head, tilting it up, and the rim of a clay bowl was touched to his lips. "Drink, you stupid child." Warm plain gruel flowed past his lips, catching him by surprise and causing him to cough. His eyes flew open involuntarily, revealing gold, pupil-less orbs.

            "No…" Riku turned his head away again. "I'm not one of you anymore."

            "You're no less human that I am a mouse," Mickey snapped. "There are tests and trials throughout our lives. I'm surprised that such a small barrier would defeat you." The squeaky voice was full of disappointment and anger.

            The bowl was set down on the floor with a clatter, and then warm cloth daubed itself at the corners of Riku's mouth, wiping away the split gruel.

            "But if it helps," the king continued, tone gentler now, "then wear this." A wide strip of black cloth floated in Riku's vision, and he understood its meaning in a moment of painful clarity. Numbly, he nodded, whether in thanks or obligation, he didn't know.

            "I need you to be strong, Riku. There are so many tougher tasks ahead to accomplish. And I will not allow you to be broken by this."

Underworld: Utopia

            It felt like being in the underworld. Except without the familiar faces you would expect to see from those who have gone before you.

            Riku shivered in the perpetual rain, knowing that Mickey would be around the area, just hidden, just watching. It just made him feel a little annoyed that he couldn't sense the Mouse's presence, but it was a test. And the examiner may not always be around.

            He could hear the Heartless, quietly chirping like a flock of birds, and he readied himself, staff held in front of him. Sight would be useless in the darkness that enveloped him, and whenever he turned his head, the shift of the blindfold reminded him of that fact.

            Inwardly, he scoffed the person who named this place Kingdom Hearts. With a name such as that, one would imagine a place far happier than this. Far safer than this. Not a world that looked like the underworld.

            Not the utopia that people have been seeking.

            Not the utopia that Ansem swore to destroy.

            What is Kingdom Hearts?

Villain: Vessel

            A dream.

            "You'll let me in, won't you?"

            He was nodding sluggishly, barely paying attention to the tiny, tearful voice in the back of his head, screaming, "No no no nonononononononono...." His face worked almost mechanically, but he didn't say anything.

            He was sagging into someone's embrace, someone who seemed devoid of a heartbeat and only a smile and a laugh.

            "You're hurting."

            He remembered hurt. He remembered pain.

            Sora Sora please no no no no don't leave me don'tleaveme pleasedon'tleavemepleaseibegofyoudon'tleaveme…

            "Don't worry," the voice was soothing, but a stranger to him. Still, the embrace was familiar. And he liked familiarity. 

            Save me savemepleasesaveme…

            "Let me in..." Soft lips touched his neck, drawing a sigh. One hand was caressing the area around his beating heart.

            Imissyouimsorryimsorryimsosorry…

            "...And it won't hurt anymore."

            Please…

            …forgive me.

            The darkness grew and grew, swallowing him, and he began to scream.

Whispers: War

            He could hear them speaking. Below the floor of his room, which the king had locked him in and spelled it, he could hear the shuffle of feet, and raised, though muffled voices. Cursing to himself, Riku pressed his ear to the chink in the wooden floors, trying to overhear the conversation. Briefly, he contemplated removing the blindfold, but now the material was against him like a second skin, and the absence of it would probably bother him more.

            There was the sound of chairs being dragged around the room, and then Mickey's voice floated up to him.

            "He's not ready! Not yet!"

            Riku frowned to himself. Not ready? Not ready…for what? There was a different voice, and he pressed himself even further to the floor, ignoring the splinters that dug into his cheek.

            "…opportune time…we need…"

            Whispers. Mickey's voice cutting through again, high and angry.

            "You'll sacrifice him? For what? Just to keep away the Heartless? You're not even sure if it'll work!"

            The opposing voice was raised now, but even in tone. "It's a war, Mouse King. Sacrifices have to be made."

            "Bullshit." Riku heard the tremble in Mickey's voice. "I won't allow it. He's not ready. It may be a war, but I will not allow you to do this." He heard the door open. "Get out."

            "You'll regret it. We need him now. Before the war begins."

            He could see Mickey's thin, frosty smile. "Then I'll fight it my way. With him alongside me."

Xanthos: Xenophobia

            Riku only took off his blindfold once, because he wasn't used to it, and it was chafing his skin. Also, because a little girl wanted him to.

            He smiled now, remembering that he had given her a few coins, listening to the clink of money falling into her soft, small hands, and  then waiting for the patter of feet that will tell him that she was running away. When she didn't, he proceeded to stand up to walk off, but was held back by her grip on his clothes.

            "What is it?" Her hands flew over his face, touching the blindfold that ate into his skin. She tugged at it, asking mutely for it to be taken off. He couldn't tell how old she was, or whether she had any defects, but he knew by her voice that she was a girl.

            "Off." She whispered monosyllabically.

            "I'll scare you."

            Still, her little hands tugged resolutely at it. "Won't." She retorted softly.

            When he did, and when he waited for the terrified scream that will follow, and when he didn't hear, he lifted his head to look at her. Calm, emotionless yellow orbs stared back at him, startling him.

            And he grew aware of the crowd that had gathered around them, pointing and whispering, shying away in fear. She, for her part, continued to gaze at him. And she smiled, leaning forward to hug him.

            "Like me." She murmured.

            A gob of spit landed near them, and someone from the crowd sneered, "Children of the Heartless."

Yesterday: You

            There was a fortune-teller on the island where they lived on, and he had visited her once, alone. The heavy fumes of incense from her burners made him choke, but he wanted to know, even when he told himself that her stories were quack anyway, but he wanted to know something of the future.

            The lady was Chinese, and not as old as he imagined fortune-tellers were. Her black eyes looked at him with interest as he scrambled into the high seat, placing a fistful of Pretty Stones he had found. He had no money, and it was all he had. Shyly, he looked at her, wondering if she would accept that form of exchange.

            "Many thanks, young man." Her voice was softly accented, although he couldn't pick out what it was. Her hand reached out across the table, and picked up only one stone. "That will be enough. What do you want to know?"

            "If I can get off the islands." He blurted out.

            The lady's eyebrows rose a little. "Ambitious. Bored of your idyllic island life already?"

            He nodded vigorously. She laughed at his reaction, but her eyes were serious.

            "Treasure your yesterdays. It won't be long before darkness comes and take you away from here."

            Riku stared at her.

            "What?"

            She lowered her gaze. "Be careful, Riku."

Zugzwang: Zero

            Where it had been Sora, and Destiny Islands in the hold of the storm, there was only darkness. And the voice.

            Follow me. I can bring you to another world.

            Don't be afraid. Step into the darkness.

            "Who are you?"

            It doesn't matter. You wanted to get out of there, didn't you?

            Didn't you?

            "Yes."

            I can give you anything…I can give you everything. If you give me everything.

            "Sora?" he whispered faintly.

            It was pulling him away.

            I can give you anything, it breathed.

            Riku.

            Anything.

            He was falling.

~Ende~

Author's Note: Long, confusing and largely Riku-centric. I have finally vanquished the monster, and I thank you so much for reading this far. I seriously hope that you have enjoyed reading this. Who knows, I may even follow up with Sora's and Kairi's parts, although I may need to actually play Kingdom Hearts to get Sora's Snapshots down pat.

Adieu!!!

Ying-Yue (Dark_Moon)

Legend:

L: Liberi (Latin) – Children

Q: Quarere Quaest (Latin) – Seek

X: Xanthos (Greek) – Yellow

Z: Zugzwang (German) – an obligation to move in one's turn even when this must be disadvantages