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It was like being fifteen again.

He was trapped on a cluster of islands surrounded by a vast and empty sea. The sky above stretched beyond sight; a beautiful, terrible void that offered nothing save the faintest glimmer of stars. He could not turn back though, could only stumble on into the night. The warmth of home was too far behind him, fading further as the distance grew between it and his heart.

A distance created by bars. A life ruined by bars.

But then, if he'd just accepted those bars in the first place, would so many terrible things have happened? Would so many people have suffered?

I didn't appreciate what I had when I had it. It's my own fault I'm stuck like this now.

The darkness he'd drowned this world in had abated, save the bars that still surrounded him.

I deserve this.

But that didn't mean he wanted people to see him in this state. He didn't even want to see himself in this state.

The doors of his wardrobe had been covered, a loose sheet draped over the mirror so he wouldn't catch sight of himself. Clothes lay strewn across the floor, all useless. He was too big for them; far, far too big. He looked down at his gloved hands and shuddered. They were too broad, his fingers too long. Everything about him was wrong.

Yet he had to live with it, had to hope he could hold out until he received word from the King. Mickey had promised to look into the matter, guaranteed that if there was a solution, he'd find it. He'd sent a letter a week after their return with an update, although Riku couldn't say if the news it had brought was good or bad.

Riku, Sora, Kairi,

Life back home is a lot more hectic than I thought it'd be, but the search for answers has already begun! There may be some delays, but we're working hard. I'll be in contact every two months to let you know how things are going. Of course, if I find a way to turn you back immediately, Riku, I'll just fly right on over there and do it! But it's more likely we'll find a solution, then have to build or seek something out to facilitate it.

With that in mind, I'd like the three of you to rest up. We don't know what's going to happen; if Riku can turn back, how long it'll take if he can, if you'll have a normal life in the meantime, or if another being bent on doing the worlds harm will pop up, so take it easy, okay? Down time can be dull, but it can also be the most precious thing. You've all worked hard and deserve a break!

Take care, and Riku, I'll do my best for you!

-Mickey

Riku had clenched his fist while reading the letter. He wasn't angry at Mickey—I couldn't be, especially when this isn't his fault—but the news had shaken him. Still, he'd accepted it. He had to. What choice did he have?

Unfortunately, that news had also meant Sora and Kairi were no longer willing to let him hide out on the island. He'd had every intention of remaining there until Mickey returned, but they'd pleaded and pestered him so much that he'd ended up rowing them over to the mainland before the day was done. Almost, he'd been tempted to row back once they'd disembarked. Physical labor was easy, after all, and what awaited him at home was not. But then they'd turned to look at him, and he'd found himself climbing out of the boat and following them down Destiny Islands' streets.

He'd wanted to run, but he hadn't. He'd wished he could hide, but he couldn't. All he'd been able to do was think.

World order has to be preserved. No one here remembers being consumed by darkness. They can't recall the destruction of their homes, the Heartless, or the fact I lured them here. I can't tell them how I opened the door to the heart of this world. And if...if someone's been missing since that night, I can't tell them why. I can't tell them anything.

It had been a small mercy, then, to discover that no one appeared to have gone missing. That didn't change the fact he had no explanation to give his mother upon returning home.

Riku glanced up again at the sheet covering his mirror, then turned his gaze toward the door. The house was silent, achingly so. It had never been a loud place, but he remembered a time when there'd been more than whispers. He'd been small and reckless, nearly breaking his neck falling out of a tree, and his mother had rushed over in the aftermath only to scold him within an inch of his life. She'd been merciless. It had taken all his power not to blush and cry in front of the other kids. Yet for all her anger, she'd been there. She'd checked his body for bruises before she'd started shouting, and her heart had beat like a frightened bird's when she'd gathered him up in her arms.

There'd always been a space between them—an empty chair at a table neither sought to fill. She'd never made him hot milk after a nightmare, never rubbed his back when he'd been sad, never smiled when she'd dressed him up for a party. She'd never been particularly tender, and he'd realized that at a young enough age that he'd never asked it of her either.

Still, she'd made sure he'd had what he'd needed. When he'd been ill, she'd gotten him well again, and when he'd been hungry, he'd gotten fed. When he'd needed to know something, she'd told him. Even when he'd been grounded, or when he'd sulked in his room, she'd made enough noise around the house to ensure he'd never felt lonely. She'd never really known when he'd been sad or distressed, but when she'd thought he was, she'd tried.

Her current silence spoke volumes.

Riku couldn't say he blamed her for it.

The bed squeaked as he rose, floorboards creaking under his weight. His booted feet were loud, even with the rug to dampen their impact. Still, the sounds did not stop him as he crossed the room to his wardrobe; every inhale deep, every exhale shaking. A gloved hand reached out and splayed against the sheet, the black of its leather a sharp contrast to the cloth's stark white. So sharp, in fact, he couldn't hide his shaking, not even from himself.

Shameful.

Knock knock knock.

"Riku?"

He jumped, then hissed as his feet tangled in a pair of old waders he'd left lying on the rug. His mother asked a question, but her voice was indistinct. That'd be because of the door. Or am I panicking? It didn't matter. He ignored her as he righted himself, tried to kick the clothes on the floor out of sight. He wished he'd heard her coming, but that was impossible these days. She treaded too softly around him. If she were a Heartless, she'd be deadly.

But she wasn't. She was his mother.

Somehow, that frightened him more.

"Riku?"

"Yes, mom?" he called back, just to let her know he'd heard.

A pause. Of course. She's still not used to my voice. The lump in his throat thickened. If she believed this was really me, she'd hear it.

"Can I come in?" she asked, regaining herself.

"Uh..." He glanced at the floor, heard the crow of perfectionism, then silenced it with a single, self-loathing swipe. I haven't left my room in five days except to go to the toilet. She knows I'm pathetic. "Yeah, you can come in."

The door creaked. Apparently his parents hadn't stopped by his room much while he'd been away. His mother paused in the threshold, glancing at the hinges before she turned to face the rest of the room. In the year and a half he'd been gone, she hadn't changed a bit; all silver hair and tired eyes, dressed plainly if practically. His father had joked once that when Riku grew up, he'd look just like her.

Riku wondered if he remembered that comment. Riku wondered what he thought of it now.

He watched in silence as his mother took in the mess on the floor; every pair of jeans, every vest, every shoe and shirt and glove and accessory. When she finally looked up, it was with pursed lips and a lined brow. She opened her mouth once without speaking, covered her hesitation with a sigh and said, "I suppose nothing fits?"

Riku didn't know why it hurt so much to hear somebody say what he already knew.

"Yeah," he murmured, looking away—not that he'd been able to look her in the eye in the first place. He had enough trouble doing that with Sora and Kairi. How was he supposed to manage with her? How, when he couldn't stand the sight of her sea-green gaze, bordering on blue, so achingly intense. "I'm fine with this though," he added, plucking his coat. "It's the right size."

She sighed again, sounding older than she was. "You can't just wear the same thing over and over, Riku. You need more clothes. I'd give you your father's old things, but you're much...taller than I'd anticipated. I doubt he'd have anything that would fit you. Certainly nothing decent, at any rate."

"It's fine," Riku said. She ignored him.

"I'm sure I can put something together. If there's anything you'd like me to keep in mind, a color or style, just let me know. We can't have you going out dressed like that. It's bad enough you look"— she caught herself—"unfriendly, running around in that hood. I know I didn't raise you to have such bad manners."

He frowned at the floor. There was so much he could say, but didn't. There was no point in telling her he had no intention of going out. There was no point in informing her he could and always had been a little rude behind her back. There was no point in talking to her at all. Once upon a time he might have tried to, but things were too awkward between them now, and he didn't want to lose the one private space he had. The last thing he needed was to give her another reason to distrust him—to believe he wasn't her son—regardless of whether her suspicions were grounded in concern and careful scrutiny, or convenient denial of the reality of the boy she'd raised.

Then again, perhaps that was all the more reason he should speak out. Her son had been an adventurer, after all. He'd been a boy who'd learned to row a boat on his own three years before most kids his age, had planned to sail to new worlds, had dreamed passionately and spoken his mind when it felt right to.

So who's this coward standing here now? he thought. Or has he always been there, skewing reality? Feeling his envy while denying it, knowing his inferiority while denying it, indulging his selfishness while denying it. At least the boy I am now is honest about his cowardice. Whether that made him more, or less, like his mother's son, he couldn't say. But I don't resemble the boy I was anymore.

But you are him, he reminded himself, his mind's voice burning like ice, and all you need to do is look in the mirror to see the consequences of his actions.

He wished he could put his blindfold back on. Sora and Kairi had encouraged him to take it off once they'd reached the mainland. The islanders wouldn't have been able to see it, of course, but he didn't think that was why his friends had wanted him to remove it. He thought, instead, they'd wanted him to see the truth and embrace it; they'd survived, against all odds, and returned home.

Still, he missed the comfort it provided during moments like these. He was just grateful there remained some to be found whenever he stuffed his hand in his pocket and took hold of the thick, black cloth.

"I don't really care what I wear," he said, trying to ignore his mother's frown. "Just pick whatever and I'll see if it fits."

She sighed. "Riku, please. I need something to work with. You've shown no interest in any of your old clothes. I know you said you don't remember what happened during your time away, but surely you've developed a sense of style beyond just...black."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing. Any sense of style he'd developed had been intended for a different boy, a different body; one that didn't exist now, and might not ever again.

Perhaps he should've answered though. It would've saved him the sight of his mother's deepening frown. "Riku, where is your head today?"

"Sorry," he said. "I just...don't care. Anything will do, if it fits."

She shook her head, but the words out of her mouth were, "Alright then. I'll try to find something that matches your complexion. Maybe something in a familiar style too, since people might have trouble recognizing you otherwise."

He clenched his fist and nodded. How someone could dance around something and yet still put it so bluntly he didn't know, but of all the people to be able to do it he wasn't surprised his mother was one of them. We're the same, he thought. Both bound by the same flaws. A denial that does not reject reality, but skews it. A refusal to look something in the eye for fear of what we'll see there. An unwillingness to acknowledge the true shape of a thing, even when we know what it is.

Almost, he wanted to tell her that he didn't want people to recognize him, because that was the truth. He didn't want them to see him, regardless of whether or not they knew how and why he'd changed. That didn't matter.

Or maybe it does. Maybe it makes it worse, that they can't see me for what I am. They can see the bars, but they can't understand why I'm behind them. I don't want to be judged, but I don't want to exist without their judgement either. Not after everything.

He didn't know what to do with these contradictory emotions. He didn't know what to do about anything. He was fifteen again, and clothes were the least of his problems.

"Well," his mother said, after an uncomfortable silence had settled over them, "I'll have your new clothes by tomorrow. You'll need them. Sora and Kairi told me they're putting on a get together with your old friends. They said it's meant to be a welcome back party for the three of you. You're invited."

Riku's heart stopped. "Wait, what?"

"A welcome back party," she repeated. "They told me to tell you about it. I think you should go."

"But I can't—"

"Riku, the only thing you can't do regarding that party is go to it dressed like that. I don't know what happened to you while you were gone, but nothing gives you the right to just show up here after a year and a half away with no explanation and hide in your room all day." Her voice shook, but only for a moment. Then she huffed, maybe even hesitated, before adding, "Please, go to the party."

She said it softly, evenly; more so than usual. He knew that meant she wasn't asking.

"I..." His stomach had gone cold, and he didn't know if the tension would ever leave his shoulders. "Alright. I'll go."

"Good. Besides, now that you're back we'll have to enroll you in school again, so it's important you reconnect with your peers. It might be awkward"—her eyes flicked over his body—"considering you've missed more than a year's worth of study, but you have to go. I don't know what you experienced out on the sea, but it's important to receive a proper education."

There were no words. There was absolutely nothing he could say to her to change her mind. He'd saved lives, fought countless foes of enormous strength, and witnessed the summoning of two different aspects of Kingdom Hearts. He'd done great evil, and maybe—just maybe—a little good to make up for that evil. He'd seen new worlds and flown amongst the stars, and he still could not find the words to tell his mother that going to school as he was now, calling himself Riku, would probably kill him.

He didn't nod. He didn't speak. He just stood there, and let the silence become unbearable. His mother sighed.

"I'll get your clothes," she said. "Sora's coming over later. Go out with him, or at least let him in. I don't care if he comes in the front door, the back door, or the window, just...talk to him."

Then she turned and left, the door squeaking shut behind her.

Riku remained where he was and tried very hard not to panic. He knew he could do it, because he'd done it before. He could take all his fear, all his pain and sorrow and shame, and lock it up deep inside. If only I'd kept my darkness so well, I'd never have gotten into this mess to begin with.

But he supposed this mess was exactly what he deserved. He'd been willing to let the Islands—the woman who'd raised him, the man who'd worked every day for him, and all the people he'd ever known—be devoured by darkness, all for the chance to leave.

To learn and see and experience. To grow. To become stronger.

To protect.

So much for that.

He swallowed, then crossed back to the mirror. He placed his hand against the sheet once more; harsh black laid upon crisp white. He watched the creases form as he gripped it, then cast it aside with a single tug.

He looked into the mirror, and Ansem looked back.

Someone was throwing rocks at his window.

Well, 'someone' was a stretch. There was only one person it could be. Kairi had a mischievous streak to be sure, but she'd always preferred to use the front door. Of his other friends likely to peg rocks at his window, only one would still feel comfortable doing so. I've been gone too long for the others.

He rose as another rock clattered against the frame, bed protesting as he shifted his weight. It hadn't used to do that, but he'd gotten so much bigger, and he supposed it also felt less comfortable with him after a year and a half apart. He couldn't really blame it for wanting to give up on him. He wanted to give up on himself.

His eyes flitted over to the mirror, concealed once more by a pale, white sheet. He didn't know if these jokes he made were easing his misery or making it worse. He knew they couldn't ease the feeling that something was crawling under his skin. He knew they couldn't ease the constant awareness that came with being trapped in a body that wasn't his own.

Tink—clatter!

Riku rolled his eyes and went to the window, gripped the curtains in one hand, and—paused, breathed. It's fine. He's seen me. He knows. He understands.

He didn't, but Riku doubted anyone could, and he had to trust someone. His oldest friend—the only person he'd known to have turned into a Heartless and struggled with his Nobody—seemed like a good start.

With a snap of his wrist he pulled back the curtain and opened the window, somehow managing to both catch the rock that came flying at his face and still be surprised by the tang of fresh, salty, sea air. The scent of it made him shiver; had it always smelled so wonderful, or had locking himself in his stale bedroom for a week just driven him mad?

"Wow, nice catch!"

Riku looked down to see Sora standing amongst the shrubbery, right by the tree he'd always used to reach the bedroom's second story window. His smile was a bright spot in the deepening dusk, his eyes shining with admiration. Almost, Riku replied to that admiration with, Thanks, I'm glad I caught it with my hands and not my face, but he found he didn't have the strength to get snarky. He didn't even have the strength to smile for his friend.

So, instead, he took him in. They hadn't seen each other since returning to their respective homes, and if he were honest, there hadn't been many opportunities on their journey for him to properly appreciate the ways Sora had grown. He'd changed his clothes, which wasn't surprising, but the fact he'd managed to gain a little height was. He'd lost some of his baby fat, but then, they all had. Me most of all, he thought.

Huh. Perhaps he was able to get snarky.

Sora's growth wasn't particularly noticeable, but it was there. Even with Riku's newfound height, he wasn't so high and mighty he couldn't appreciate the minutiae of life. Besides, there were more important things than his body. For all Sora had gotten a little taller, and a little more handsome to boot, it was the brightening of his heart that was most beautiful. Riku would never say that out loud, of course, but he could see it.

"Hey, Riku! You still in there? Wanna swim back to shore any time soon?"

Then again, standing in Riku's garden as he bounced a pebble in his hand, Sora looked every bit the raggedy five year old who'd tossed rocks at his window. Riku was positive his expression was the same then as it was now; a wild grin, accompanied by dimples.

He sighed. "I'd rather drown, actually."

"Aw, Riku."

"Hello, Sora. What are you doing here?"

"Didn't your mom tell you I was going to visit?"

"Yes, but people usually have a reason for visiting."

"I've never needed one before!" Sora exclaimed. Riku couldn't deny that, so he didn't. He just stood there and said nothing until Sora started scratching his head. "Hey, Riku?"

"Yes, Sora?"

"Can I come in?"

"Sure. Use the front door though."

"Aw, c'mon."

"Sora, you're fifteen, not five."

"I know," Sora complained, kicking the dirt, "but talking to your mom makes me feel awkward, and I kinda missed doing things like this, y'know?"

Riku let out a long breath. It was awkward talking to his mom, he supposed. "Fine, come in. I know you'll climb up here even if I say no, so might as well make this easier for the both of us."

"Hehe, good." Sora grinned. "Glad you're smart enough to know when to quit."

Riku shook his head, but not before gesturing for him to come up. He tried to ignore the churning of his stomach as he stepped away from the window and sat on his bed. The sound of branches snapping and feet scuffling grew louder and louder until a messy head of hair popped over the sill, hands and feet following as Sora scrambled into his room.

"Riku!" he exclaimed, then leaped at him, goofy grin on his face. Riku caught him, but dumped him on the bed before the action could solidify into the hug it was meant to be.

"What do you want, Sora?" he said, then winced. Too harsh. "I mean, I know you told my mom you were coming, but why? To tell me more about this party?"

"Well, actually, I kinda just wanted to see you because you're my best friend, we saved the world together, and we haven't hung out in over a week." Sora pushed himself up, smiled again. "I figured it couldn't hurt for me to come over, say hi, all that good stuff."

"Hi, Sora."

"Oh, shut up," Sora snorted, giving him a nudge with his shoulder. "Hi, Riku. There, now we can move on to the good stuff! Your mom told you about the party, right?"

"Yeah..."

"Did she tell you when it was?"

"No."

"Ah! Well, I'm glad I came over then, cause it'd suck if you missed it. It's in a couple of days!"

Riku frowned. "That soon?"

"Geez, don't sound so enthusiastic!" Sora laughed, eyes flitting about. "Man, it's been ages since I've been in your...room..."

He fell silent. Riku did not look up from the spot on the floor he'd decided was worth his scrutiny. He didn't need to. He already knew what Sora had seen; a wardrobe, and a white bed sheet. He'd tidied up everything else.

"Hey, Riku?"

"Yes, Sora?"

"What are you wearing?"

"Uh..." Riku abandoned the spot on the floor to examine his outfit. A black coat, black pants, black gloves. He'd taken off the boots, but had felt so uncomfortable without them that he'd snuck into his parent's bedroom and stolen a pair of his dad's old, black socks. They were warm, though not as comforting as his boots or the blindfold in his pocket had been. "Ah, this?"

The bed squeaked as Sora flopped back. "No, I didn't mean now, Riku! I meant what are you wearing to the party."

"Oh."

"You're going to wear something, right?"

"Have you ever known me to be a nudist, Sora?"

"Well—"

"Past the age of four."

"No," Sora sighed. "I just wanted to know if you'd found any new clothes. You can't walk around Destiny Islands looking like a member of Organization XIII! You know, it's safe to dress down. There's really no need to be on guard right now. Like sure, I get it. I have my jumpy moments too, but it's safe here, Riku."

Of course it was safe. Destiny Islands had always been as safe as an island world could be. There hadn't even been any darkness to draw the Heartless here until Riku came along.

He exhaled, gloved fingers digging into his palm, marking the leather. Beside him, there was another squeak. He looked up to see Sora sitting cross-legged on the bed, staring down at the timber floor and its adorning rug. "It's not that, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"Can you tell me what it is?"

Riku didn't think so. He wasn't sure he had the words to describe what was going on inside his head. Sora had been a Heartless briefly, but his relationship with the tiny Shadow whose shape he'd worn bore little resemblance to the one Riku had with Xehanort's Heartless. He had an Anti Form, but that temporary transformation wasn't exactly comparable to wearing Ansem's flesh either. Both his clothes and body changed when he used certain powers or visited certain worlds, but they never made him feel unlike himself, and the moment the magic ended, or he departed, everything returned to normal.

And none of those shapes symbolized the same things Riku's did, not to the same degree. Sora's time as a tiny Heartless had proven both his dedication to Kairi—his willingness to sacrifice himself to free her heart—and how puny the darkness inside him really was. His Anti Form was fickle and irksome, but it never lingered long, and the strength of Sora's shadows paled in comparison to Riku's own. They symbolized, if anything, how good Sora was; how brightly he shone, even in the deepest, blackest abyss.

That wasn't the case for Riku. If Sora had worn the form of weakest Darkness, then Riku was trapped inside the strongest. All its seductive powers existed within the shape he wore, were woven into every thread and fiber of the man who had seen the shadows inside Riku's heart and used them to conquer him with embarrassing ease.

That was the body he lived in. It was a constant reminder of his own weakness. A constant reminder of his own darkness.

"I just...don't have anything to wear."

"Oh," Sora said. "Well, I've got some good news then! I saw your mom picking out some new clothes for you while I was out earlier today! She had a bit of trouble because no one around here is really your size, but she managed. Some of the things she got looked really cool too, and there was stuff that looked like what you used to wear. She's always been good at getting what she wants though, hasn't she?" He paused. "I wonder why she hasn't given them to you yet. Ack! Do you think it was meant to be a surprise?"

"No." Riku glanced away. "She has."

"Has what?"

"Given them to me."

"Oh."

Silence, then another squeak of the bed. Riku refused to look. He didn't want to see Sora's face right now. Or maybe I don't want him to see mine.

"Riku, what's really going on?" Sora asked, voice soft. "I don't think you're wearing that coat or covering your mirror because none of your clothes fit. Is it because—"

"I'll wear something else to the party," Riku said. "Okay?"

Silence again. Riku's whole body tensed. His shoulders stiffened, his joints locked. His fingers dug into the bedsheet, and he was so, so glad it was blue, and not that blinding white hanging from the wardrobe. His every breath came too small, too shallow, aborted in his throat. He couldn't understand why.

Then the bed creaked and Riku felt gentle arms wrap around him. There was no flurry of questions, or even concern, just Sora's small, warm body pressed against his. It was a rarity for him to be so restrained, but Riku appreciated it. He considered it proof Sora had grown during his journey, as much as it was proof he'd retained all that defined him; his openness, love, and determination. The soft thud of his heart slowed Riku's, easing the tension from his body. Riku couldn't bring himself to return the embrace—couldn't be sure that Sora would be able to resist prodding and pressing for more if he encouraged him, couldn't be sure he even wanted to be hugged by Riku right now—but he treasured it nonetheless.

"Hey, Riku." Sora's voice came muffled, face pressed against his side.

"Yeah?" he said.

"I'm glad you're here."

"Oh. Okay."

Sora snorted, then pulled back with a smile. "And I'm glad you're coming to the party. Now, uh"—his eyes darted around the room before settling on Riku's drawers—"did you want to play a board game or something? It's been ages since we've done that, and I've got time for a round before I have to head home."

"The Keyblade Wielder has a curfew?" Riku asked, attempting to tease.

"He does when he vanishes for a year and a half," Sora laughed. "Though really I just want to spend some time with mom and dad."

Riku shrugged, breathed a sigh of relief that they'd cleared the heavy air from the room. "Fair enough."

"So, that board game?"

"We can play one. You choose, Sora."

Sora whooped and let him go, rushing across the room to rifle through his drawers. Riku sat back and closed his eyes. For Sora, he could manage this much; just an extra half hour of company.

He swallowed and look down at his gloved hands, an empty smile on his lips.

For Sora. I can do this for Sora.

Riku wished he could sink into his shadow.

Unfortunately, he'd never had the ability to do so. Using the Corridors had felt like it, sometimes, but wandering through them was not the same as dissolving into a puddle of darkness. He'd lost the ability to do that too though, in the aftermath of the Kingdom Hearts Encoder's explosion. Why its combustion had left him in his current form while erasing most of his dark magic was a mystery, although Mickey and Ansem the Wise had said anything could happen. It was just Riku's luck that he had to accept the logic of a busted magic machine, and move on with his life.

Which, of course, led back to his current situation, in which his inability to become a dark puddle of goo had forced him to escape his welcome back party the old-fashioned way.

He'd tried though. He really had. It wasn't like he'd wanted to duck and run, although vault and run was probably a more accurate description in this case. It was embarrassing he'd even felt the need to. The party hadn't been big; just him, Sora, Kairi, Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka. The beach brawling trio were long time friends, and even if he'd never been as close to them as he was to Sora and Kairi, he still enjoyed their company. They were vibrant, lively people, but relaxed at heart, like most islanders. He'd reminded himself of that over and over again before the party.

But being relaxed didn't make a person stupid, and Riku...

Well, how many teenagers changed as much as he had in the span of a year and a half?

"Wow, Riku," Tidus had said when he'd arrived. "You got—"

"A tan!" Selphie stared.

"I would've said big, sister," Wakka observed, "but it's not like it matters much, ya? We can still see your face in there after all, man!"

"Aw," Tidus sighed, holding a hand against both Wakka and Riku to compare their heights, "some guys get all the luck."

"And all the tans!" Selphie exclaimed, leaning forward a little so she could peer up at his face. "All those years on the islands and you never once got a tan, and yet you sail off to some mysterious place and come back with the greatest one of all! How'd you manage that!?"

It was a rhetorical question, or at least he'd hoped it had been, because he hadn't been able to answer it.

Still, for all their commentary on his appearance had stung, he'd taken some comfort from the fact they'd heard his real voice. Or at least, if they hadn't, they'd chosen not to comment on it the way his mom had. In all fairness to his mother though, he hadn't actually said much to his friends, but his lies regarding how he'd lost all memory of his journey should have been enough for them to determine if they heard Ansem or Riku himself.

But is there any joy in them hearing my true voice if all I'm telling them is lies?

"Oh no!" Selphie had said, genuine sympathy in her voice. It had made Riku feel awful. Fortunately, she'd bounced back almost immediately with a mischievous grin on her face. "But it's okay! You're safe here, and as long as you're with us, we don't mind if you don't remember. And maybe with time it'll come back to you?"

"Yeah..." Riku'd murmured.

"Oh, oh, oh! And now you're back and all grown up, we can take you clothes shopping! I've already dragged Sora and Kairi on a trip or two, so maybe we could organize a day for you? I know there's not much out here, but, well, just because you've forgotten things doesn't mean you gotta forget how to dress yourself!"

She'd meant it in good humor, and that was exactly how his younger self would have taken it. "You, dress me? Looking like that?" was the sort of thing he'd have said, and she would have scowled and pulled out her skipping rope, chasing him down the beach as they laughed and shouted and kicked sand at each other.

But that wasn't how things were now. There was a weight behind her words. He knew she was trying to make him feel at home, reassure him that nothing had changed between them. He was positive she'd seen how he fidgeted with his too long sleeves, how he sunk inside his jumper; a worn, old thing that was nonetheless comfortable, and capable of hiding everything. She was clever enough to have noticed all that, and kind enough to communicate it in a way the others wouldn't pay attention to.

In a way that wouldn't single him out.

But Riku had never been good at accepting others' concern, and there was just too much she didn't know.

So he'd forced an awkward laugh, shoulders stiff, and picked one of his nails to bloody ruin beneath the baggy sleeves of his jumper.

It didn't matter if he got it dirty. It wasn't an outfit his mother had chosen for him, but one he'd scrounged together himself. Like Selphie, there were just too much she didn't know. The clothes she'd chosen for him were too tight, too...showy. It made sense, in a tropical place, to wear a little less, and most garments that covered the body were still gauzy, airy and designed to breathe.

But Riku couldn't bear to wear something like that. He'd taken one look at what his mother had bought him and snuck into his dad's room, searched the drawers for his oldest, baggiest clothes, and decided they were good enough. They were painfully plain and unfashionable, but the endless pit in his stomach was not present when he wore them. The same could not be said for the other outfits he'd been offered.

He just didn't want to see his skin. He doubted that was something anyone on Destiny Islands could understand. The boy they'd once known had never been ashamed of his body, after all.

But isn't it obvious I've changed, he thought, a little hysterically.

Perhaps it wasn't, because no one else had commented on his outfit, and the party had continued as normal. Riku had tried to take part, but the whole thing had somehow managed to be both boring and exhausting at the same time. Standing against Selphie's living room wall or under the tree in her backyard did not an exciting evening make. Yet even in the corner or by the fence, there hadn't been enough shadows to hide in. There'd been no avoiding conversation when it happened, though he'd had nothing to say. School wasn't a topic he could handle; he dreaded the idea of returning, and had been away too long to actually talk about anything topical. He couldn't—and didn't want to—talk about his journey. The jokes and chit-chat he could just barely manage with Sora and Kairi were impossible with the others and—and—

There was nothing. All he could offer were monosyllabic responses, and all he could feel was bad.

Sora and Kairi had tried to help, approaching him at several points in the evening to talk, but Riku just...couldn't. He'd hummed and nodded, and stifled his need to fidget out of his flesh by picking at his nails, and said nothing.

And then when the rest of them had got caught up in a conversation, he'd leaped the fence and ran.

He'd thought he'd had nothing in common with his peers before. That had been a mistake. Now he really had nothing; no way to reconnect or mend broken bonds. Worse than that though, were the voices their presence awoke in his head, the ones that whispered words he could never say and truths he could never tell.

You were all consumed by darkness, and it was my fault. I was willing to let you suffer just to get away. I might not have known what would happen, but I risked your lives anyway. Yet when you look at my face, you don't know what it means. You don't know why I look this way. You don't see me, and you don't understand what it means for me to be like this.

He choked on his breath. The ground beneath him was uneven, and his new shoes were a size too small, feet aching in their confines. He tripped once on a rock, scowled, but kept going. He couldn't stop. He had to get away. He didn't want anyone to see him right now. He didn't want to see anyone. He ran down sleepy island paths and over sandy grass, on and on until he found himself in a small copse. Palm trees and other foliage sheltered him from sight. They provided a respite, allowed him to slow first to a jog, then a walk, then a hobble.

He was so glad he had somewhere to hide. He couldn't go home, after all. There'd be too many questions waiting for him there.

Why wasn't he at the party? Why hadn't he worn something nice? Why was he limping so badly?

What's really going on, Riku?

I can't go back there. I can't go back to the party. I can't sink into the darkness. I can't...I can't be like this, I—

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice the footsteps until he'd slowed. The sound of them made him want to run, but he didn't. That would only make him look more ridiculous, and he'd already humiliated himself enough.

So he staggered forward, not too fast, not too slow, wincing with every step. He probably had blisters now. Maybe, if I close my eyes, I'll be able to deal with them. You don't need sight to clean up blisters, right?

"Riku?"

Oh, he thought. It's Sora. He snorted. Of course it's Sora.

"I'm here," he called back, and kept walking. Beyond the copse lay the beach, green giving way to a long strip of gold that ran into the darkening sea. Riku could see the last vestiges of twilight on the horizon, slowly surrendering to the blue-black of night. Everything was quiet; the tide soft, the waves gentle.

A wild mass of hair bobbed into his peripheral, followed by a pair of concerned eyes. "Are you okay?" Sora asked. "You just up and left."

"Yeah, sorry." His eyes remained on the beach, refusing contact.

"Kairi's staying back to talk to the others. They're a bit...confused. Hurt."

Riku slowed down some more, and not just because they'd reached the edge of the beach. Grass and sand blended beneath his feet. It crunched and shifted, so familiar, and so strange. He still wasn't used to the way this world sounded now he had a little more weight behind his stride. Or his stumble, as it were.

"Riku?" Sora's voice softened, not that it had been harsh to begin with. His pace matched Riku's, every step in perfect time.

"I..." Riku spoke around the lump in his throat. "I didn't mean to hurt them."

"I know. Can you..." Sora hesitated. "Can you tell me why you left?"

Riku shook his head.

"Okay," Sora murmured. Riku heard the undercurrent of frustration in his voice. Sora was always one to push, to reach out, to do. It must have been difficult for him to hold back. He didn't show it though, not tonight, his surface quiet and calm as the sea. "Do you want to watch the stars together?"

Riku nodded.

His body shook as he lowered it to the ground, sand slipping between the baggy folds of his pants. He should have brushed it off, but he didn't have the energy, and Sora was kind enough not to comment as he sat down beside him. Above, the sky glistened, the first stars shining brightly against the deep blue blanket of night. It reminded him a little of when they were kids, how they'd hung out on the mainland's beach long after dark, telling stories and admiring the lights glittering upon high.

He was glad they were doing this on a different part of the beach though. It eased the ache in his chest that came with revisiting places and moments from his childhood. Playing board games with Sora, he'd realized that everything he did in his new body, his new self, was tainted. He couldn't touch the past without corrupting it, couldn't let the memories take him without his darkness slipping through the cracks and washing everything away.

Maybe that was why he'd trashed that board game after Sora had left. Maybe that was why he'd ended up pulling his hair for hours afterward, frustrated that he'd done such a thing.

Whatever the case, he was glad the place they sat now couldn't ruin a childhood spent gazing at the stars; each one a new world, a new friend, an opportunity. Each one a way to learn, and become something more. Each one a way out, a bright light beckoning him forward.

If he'd spoiled his friendships, his dreams, and himself, he hoped at least not to spoil that long-gone boy's memories.

The sand beside him shifted. He turned and looked down, took in the sight of Sora bathed in the glow from the lanterns behind them, and the moon and stars above.

He was radiant.

He always had been.

"Hey, Riku?" he said.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for pushing you to go to the party. Kairi and I thought it would help you reconnect with the others."

Riku sighed. "I know, Sora, I know. I'm just...not ready yet."

"Yeah, I got that. I'll listen to you from now on, so let me know when you're up for it, okay?" Sora smiled, open and warm, and Riku's fingers caught on the inside seams of his sleeves. His bloodied nails stung with the force of his grip.

"Okay," he said.

"Just promise me you'll try, alright? Kairi and I are here for you. We know what happened, and we know how hard it is, so we're gonna support you every step of the way!"

"Okay," Riku breathed. "Yeah, alright." His eyes returned to the stars, all the constellations he'd wanted to chase as a child dancing before him. "Thank you, Sora."

"No problem, Riku. Besides, what are friends for? You looked out for me while I was out on my journey. The least I can do is help you when you need it!"

Something stirred in Riku's chest; a longing, a warmth, a reaching hand. It was a feeling that had no place existing inside him. Yet it did, and when Sora shifted closer and started pointing to random constellations, claiming they were him, Donald, and Goofy, Riku let it wash over him.

He was tired. He was hurting. He was sore. If being with him makes my heart happy, and this body feel worth it, then that's okay. It's what friends are for, after all.

When he thought about it later, he couldn't say when he'd stopped shaking. If he had to guess, it'd probably been when Sora had reached into the sleeve of his jumper and taken his hand.

Riku spent the next week alone.

At his mother's request, he got out more often, though that didn't mean he sought company. Leaving the house did make him feel a little less like a burden though. That was good. He had always preferred to be independent, especially when it came to family matters.

Although in the end, you still needed someone to fill the empty spaces they left in your life.

He wished he could dismiss that thought, but then Maleficent, Ansem, and Mickey came to mind, and he knew there was some truth to it.

He hadn't seen much of his dad, but that wasn't unexpected. When he'd been really little, his father had taken charge of the fishing boats responsible for providing most of Destiny Islands' populace with their food. It left him rather busy, and so exhausted that he went to bed almost immediately upon returning home each day. They'd spoken briefly when Riku had first come back, but not much more than that.

Still, he'd hugged him then, and that was all that mattered. Even though touch made Riku's skin crawl, and a part of him had wanted to weep being so much taller than his father, his hugs had always—embarrassingly, foolishly, pathetically—soothed some boyish part of his heart.

His mother's occasional kindness, and his father's rare presence; the child in him longed for those things.

In the end though, his dad had to work, and Riku didn't really deserve to be held anyhow.

What if I tainted the memories of all the times he's hugged me before?

He couldn't live with that. If he ruined everything he touched, then he would simply refuse to touch anything.

That wasn't too hard. It just meant keeping away from certain people and places, and staying off the main streets. Two things he was more than happy to do. For all he felt a little less anxious being out of the house, he had no particular desire to see anyone. Still, avoiding attention could have been difficult. The school kids were currently enjoying summer vacation, and the Destiny Islands were bustling—as much as they ever bustled, anyhow. Riku was just lucky that most of the islands' populace tended to congregate around the main streets, allowing him to dodge them with ease.

Of course, there was a downside. Riku had few fond memories of the shops and stalls near the mainland's center. In that sense, it was the ideal place for him—

Except then what would happen to those moments? What would happen to the memories of buying fruit juice with our pocket change, and spilling it on each others' sandals? What would happen to memories of laughter, of complaining about homework, the heat, and the holes in our boats that kept us from rowing out to our island? Would I be willing to give them up just to replace them with stares and strange looks? With being too tall, too broad, and too strange; an outsider in my own home?

Well, weren't you always an outsider, Riku?

—insofar as there was an ideal place for him on Destiny Islands.

However, with so many teenagers and their parents now strolling the main streets, Riku had no choice but to wander the back roads and hidden paths, the stands of trees less loved, and the beaches less occupied. He still sailed over to the small island from time to time too, walked along its shores as the sea lapped at his boots. It was a dangerous game, perhaps, visiting such a treasured haunt, but if he were honest, his current idling barely resembled the flurry of activity and passionate pondering that had defined his childhood here.

It was nice though, his idling. The waves soothed him, reminiscent of that moment he'd spent with Sora as they'd sat together on the Dark Margin. It'd been just the two of them then, reflecting, and all his worries about his body and his choices had faded into the background. It had been quiet, sweet, soft; a melancholic acceptance of whatever was to come, now that they'd protected everything they'd wanted to.

He lay on the beach sometimes, with those memories playing out in his head, and got sand in his hair and clothes. It was as gritty and grainy as one would expect, but he preferred it to the feeling of something slithering beneath his skin. It gave him a moment's peace, until the tide came and washed it all away.

That was how he spent most of his week. Yet for all he avoided company, there were moments when he broke his self-imposed exile.

Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka did not stop by after the party, but they did send him a letter. Riku hadn't known what to expect, but he was both shamed and moved when he opened the envelope to reveal a handmade card with the words We're Sorry written across the front in big, bubbly letters. Inside, there was a picture of three shaky stick figures hugging a fourth, obviously Selphie's doing. He didn't know how he felt, seeing the Ansem figure standing in for him, but he couldn't bring himself to be upset. It was ridiculous and sweet, just like his friends.

So though they did not see each other, he accepted their letter and sent one back. He apologized and said thank you, and felt the lump in his throat ease. He might not be ready to face them, but he didn't want to hurt them either.

Whether his guilt stemmed from ditching their party, or sacrificing them to the darkness, he could not say.

Sora and Kairi were another story. They left him alone when he was at home, but the moment they caught the faintest whisper of him being out and about, they hunted him down. They couldn't always find him, of course, but the three of them had explored so much of Destiny Islands together that it was rather difficult for Riku to hide.

He didn't mind though. They knew what had happened to him, and why he looked the way he did. They'd seen him at his worst. There was no lie, no secret, when he was with them.

Yet the fact they knew each other so well, that they'd spent most of their lives in one another's company, meant that everything they did was sacred. There was no part of Destiny Islands they hadn't seen, no game they hadn't played, no stone they hadn't turned. It didn't help that they were the most likely to see right through him, even when he didn't want them too. That was only a secondary problem, however, to the fact that every moment they spent together brushed up against a memory he didn't want to touch with his tainted hands.

So, when Sora suggested they race down the beach, Riku walked like he had stones strapped to his legs. When Kairi said she wanted to sit and watch the sun set, Riku picked the spots with the worst views. He didn't take up any offers to play fight, nor did he scratch shapes into the walls of the Secret Place. He did not join any of the games they'd made up as kids. All he did, in fact, was lie on the sand, and walk trails that led him in circles, taking routes that had never come naturally to him before.

And all the while, Sora and Kairi never pushed him to do anything, although he could feel their worried gaze upon his back. He hated it. You've suffered too. Why worry so much about me when you've got your own problems?

When he pointed that out to them though, one day on the beach, they only shrugged.

"The truth is, I'm okay," Sora said, rubbing the back of his head. The gesture seemed off, skewed, a little hesitant. It was like he was dancing around something. Riku loathed that it had to do with him; that Sora's endearing, flustered mannerisms should become awkward in his presence. "I have these pretty bad nightmares sometimes, but I've been able to talk to Kairi about them, and they don't really bother me all that much. I do want to talk to you about them, in the future, but I figured..."

He trailed off, and Riku's stomach sank. "Sora—"

"It's fine, Riku." He smiled. "Kairi?"

"I'm alright," she said. "I mean, up until I got kidnapped I'd mostly avoided trouble, thanks to you guys. When the Heartless consumed our home, that was scary, but Sora kept my heart safe. Then you protected me, Riku, when Ansem came after me. You even helped me when Axel tried to capture me that first time, and then when Saïx attacked me...again and again, you two were there for me, so even if I got a little hurt or scared, I was okay." She dragged a stick through the sand, her other arm wrapped around her knees. "I don't like it when people grab me though. I feel like an object, like they're going to use me. But when I try to fight back, I find myself freezing up instead..."

She couldn't meet either of their eyes.

Despite how grotesque he felt, Riku took advantage of his body's newfound size to hug both his friends. It hadn't been something he was known for doing before, which was perhaps why he didn't feel so bad embracing them now. Though maybe if I'd been the sort of person who did this for his friends, none of this would have happened in the first place.

"I want to be there for you," he murmured against their hair.

"Silly," Kairi said, laughing. "Didn't you hear anything I just said? You have been! Sure, you were a brat about it, but you still tried to rescue my body back when I was in Sora's heart. When I was trapped by Axel, you made a corridor for me, and when I got kidnapped, you found me, protected me, and gave me a weapon. You helped me fight and kept me safe. You helped me get to Sora."

"You helped me too," Riku said. "I would've left if you hadn't called out to me, back when the three of us reunited."

"I know." Kairi's smile was sad. "I figured that out when you let Sora yell at you."

"Hey!" Sora complained. "I thought he was Ansem. Or Xehanort's Heartless. Whatever."

"It's fine, Sora," Riku said. "I just wish I was able to do more for you. I wish I'd been able to do more for you."

"I mean, you did do things for me. Sure, you, ah, really hurt me at points—" He bit his lip and Riku cringed. Memories of his actions—not Maleficent's, not Ansem's—swamped his thoughts like thick, black sludge. He'd been so reckless, so thoughtless, so spiteful; things that had almost resulted in Sora's death.

"I'm sorry," he said. I should thank Goofy properly the next time I see him. Donald too. I'm so glad they betrayed me, because I didn't deserve them. Not them, and not the Keyblade. But Sora...Sora did. He deserved them, and I deserved—

He knew what he deserved.

"It's fine, Riku," Sora said, waving a hand. "You were there for me in the end. You helped me close the door, and you protected me while I slept. I know it cost a lot to wake me up, but you did that too, and when I started chasing the Organization, you were always there, guiding me." He leaned his head back against Riku's chest. "You gave up your body for me, and when I fought Xemnas, you were there."

There was a weight to his words; a reminder of the moments that had followed that fight, and their time by the sea on the Dark Margin.

"Just my luck to get left behind again," Kairi sighed.

"Aw, Kairi, we'll be together next time, promise," Sora said, jostling her until she laughed.

He and Kairi began to chat quietly then. Riku did not join their conversation, though he kept them both close, bodies safe against his.

As much as it shamed him, he understood why they hadn't talked to him about this sooner. He even understood why they'd chosen not to delve deeper into their struggles while he was present. The truth was, he couldn't be strong for them right now. If they'd been fighting with their Keyblades, with swords, and with magic, against the Heartless and Nobodies, then maybe he could have been.

But they weren't. This time, they were fighting silence, shame, and guilt, flesh, memory, and distance. They were fighting the choices they'd made, and the play of darkness and light in their heads.

It was harder, so much harder, and Riku couldn't say if he'd survive the battle, let alone come out victorious.

Almost, he asked after Roxas and Naminé—struggles he couldn't understand, even though he knew what it felt like to watch a replica fade—and as he thought that, a shadow flashed through his mind. He winced. For a second, he'd remembered a girl he'd never known. But then she was gone, and he knew he couldn't ask about Roxas and Naminé anyway. Just like his friends had to trust he would come to them when he was ready, he had to trust they would be there for each other while he couldn't be.

And he did.

Still, he hoped he would be well again soon, because even if he didn't deserve better, they did, and he wanted to give it to them.

And I will, he thought, and hugged them close. I will.

He let her do his hair.

It wasn't something they'd done before, not even as kids. Maybe that was why he'd said yes when Kairi had suggested it during their impromptu sleepover.

The reason for the sleepover itself was simple. His mother had wanted him gone for the night. She was frightened of him becoming a true recluse, although he was also sure his presence made her uncomfortable. The hole her wayward son had left was poorly filled by the stranger who'd taken his place.

He didn't blame her for feeling that way. He felt the same.

In the old days, his mother shooing him from the house—or sighing as he pleaded to go visit his friends, or scowling at the empty bed when she realized he'd snuck out the window—usually resulted in him spending the night at Sora's. His home had always been warm and inviting, his parents delighted to have more children scurrying about underfoot. Riku had uncountable fond memories of lolling about on Sora's bedroom floor, jumping on his bed, and sitting up with his mom and dad as they made dinner and built toys from driftwood. There were as many happy moments had in Sora's house as there were stars in the sky.

That meant, of course, that just passing by Sora's street left him feeling like he was drowning in a mire. He wondered if Destiny Islands itself had known a similar agony, when the Heartless had clawed their way into its heart and swallowed up all its places, all its people, and drawn them into the deepest darkness.

Fortunately, he had far fewer memories of Kairi's house. They hadn't visited much as kids, in part because it had been impossible for Riku and Sora to relax in the presence of her father, the mayor. His lined smile had always awakened a bashfulness in them that no amount of boyish confidence could overcome, which in turn, had resulted in far fewer visits over the years.

It had been lucky then, that when Riku had left the house that afternoon to meet up with Sora and Kairi, the latter had happily announced her house was free for the night. "Dad's busy, but I don't think he or mom would mind if you came over!"

As it was, she was right. Kairi's mom had greeted the three of them with a smile, and if her eyes had bugged halfway out of her head at the sight of Riku, no one had commented on it. She'd told them how happy she was to see them, and then sent them to Kairi's room with a tray of drinks and snacks, and a light-hearted, "Now make sure nothing untoward happens up there, alright?"

And so nothing untoward did.

Sora flopped about on the floor, popping slices of dried fish and fruit into his mouth. Riku watched him as his eyes followed the shapes Kairi's fancy lamp sent dancing across the walls, a colorful contrast to the warm, overhead lights. Silhouettes of flowers, waves, and tiny sea life circled over the rich chestnut of her wardrobe, the pale wood of her vanity, the organized chaos of her desk, and the pinks and purples of her bed. It all seemed rather quaint, when compared to the electrical and technical wonders of other worlds, but perhaps that was what made it so appealing. Sometimes, simple was best.

When Sora wasn't watching the shadows play, he'd sit up, sip his drink, and flick through Kairi's books and magazines, commenting idly on this and that. He'd laugh and talk, and all the while, Riku sat on the floor with his back to the bed as Kairi brushed his hair.

It was such an intimate, delicate thing. Even before he'd fallen to darkness, he likely would never have let her do it. He'd stopped letting his mom do it, after the age of six. Yet when she'd offered, he'd accepted.

Maybe he was just happy not to have to deal with it himself. He hadn't brushed his hair properly in a long time, after all.

She was so careful. Still, it hurt a little. No matter how gentle she was, Riku had neglected his hair. Knots caught in her comb, snarls in her brush. If she'd yanked them out, he'd have accepted it. He deserved it, letting his hair go as he had, but no. She didn't yank. She didn't pull. She was always just firm enough as she removed each and every tangle.

He could imagine her beleaguered expression as she worked, thoughts conveyed with every brush. So dramatic, and, I wish I had known what to do, in equal measure. Perhaps a little, I love you, no matter how uncool you really are, and no matter what you've done.

He heard her, with every stroke, with every touch. Every decision she made, whether to trim off a split end, cut away the worst of the mats, or pick, pick, pick at a knot, she made with a promise. We'll put that behind us. You wanted this to go, right? But this can stay, even if it'll take some effort to deal with. When she hid his bald patches with careful combing and layering, he heard, I understand you need to hide this, but please know I've seen it, and I don't mind.

Still, he knew how hard it had to be. Ansem had thick hair, and thus Riku had the same, and it could endure a lot. Yet the level of neglect Riku had inflicted upon both his hair and his body, particularly after he'd changed, was...well.

"Can you work miracles?" he asked, voice soft, not quite shaking. Sora didn't respond, eyes on the patterns swirling across the ceiling, but Kairi did. She paused, brush mid-stroke.

Then he felt the briefest touch of lips to his hair. "I can," she said. "I'm going to."

Riku started trembling, but that was okay. With the last of the knots brushed free, Kairi's motions turned soothing, and by the time she was done, Sora had crawled into the space between his legs. They both hugged him; Sora from the front, Kairi from behind, and held him together until, finally, he was still.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't mention it," Kairi said, and kissed his hair one more time.

He spent another week alone.

Mostly, he did as he had previously done; holed up in his room, wandered the islands, and kept to himself as best he could. At his request, Sora and Kairi gave him some space after their sleepover, and no one else dropped by. He did, however, see his mother more than once, his creaking door heralding her arrival every time. She came with cloth swatches, seeking to test both the material and color.

"I want to make you something," she said the first time. "You didn't seem to like any of the clothes I picked, so I thought we could try this instead."

His eyes fell on a knot in the wood planks by his door. "I'm sorry, I just..." He took a breath. "Okay. I'd like to wear things that are bigger on me, baggier. I don't know if that'll be easy or hard to make, but it's what I want."

As he said the last words, he looked down, drawing his sleeves further over the dried blood around his nails and the crescent cuts upon his palms. His mother didn't comment, though, and he had to look up to gain some idea of what she was thinking. When he did, he wasn't sure what to make of what he saw; thoughtful eyes, furrowed brows, her head tilted to one side.

"That's a little more like you," she said finally.

"What is?"

"Telling me what you want; that's a little more like you." She shrugged. "I should be able to find enough fabric to make you what you want." Then she turned and left, though not before he heard her whisper, "It's funny. You sounded a little more like yourself too."

The door squeaked shut, and Riku's stomach flipped. Had she heard his voice? His real voice?

He couldn't know, but later, when he was wandering the beach, he wondered why the thought excited him so much. Why did it matter to him if she heard his real voice, when he wanted to turn back so badly? Her growing accustomed to his current form could only make an already difficult task harder; having to convince her that this shape, his old body, and his future one, all belonged to the same boy.

But the answer was obvious; there was no guarantee he would turn back, and being recognized by his mother eased some ache in his chest he hadn't quite realized was there.

She can hear me. The real me...

The thought made him smile, and he saw no reason to reject that joy as he walked along the shore.

In retrospect, he shouldn't have climbed a tree.

It had been a split second decision. He'd seen the boats on the water from his spot on the beach, counted two heads of brown hair, two of red, one of blond, and made a run for it.

If it had just been Sora and Kairi, he wouldn't have felt the need to hide, but he couldn't handle being around the others. He was better than he had been, but that didn't mean much. The thought of them seeing him as he was right now was just too much to bear. Kairi had worked miracles, but you couldn't abandon your hair for months and get away unscathed. His bald patches were embarrassing. They made his cheeks burn and stomach reel.

He couldn't say why they were so humiliating though, nor why his urge to hide them was so great. Is it because I'm pathetic in so many other ways? he'd wondered. I suppose that's it. I really don't need them looking at me with more pity than they already do.

The thought had been too harsh, too spiteful, too much like his younger self. It had distracted him, stolen precious moments he'd needed to decide what to do next. Perhaps that was why he'd scurried head first into the trees and clambered up the nearest one leafy enough to hide him, rather than do something intelligent. I wish I'd used my time wisely.

He hadn't though, and so, here he was.

Stuck. I'm stuck up a tree. I spent fifteen years of my life on this rock climbing trees and never once got stuck up one.

But he was. He was stuck. Granted, if he'd had a little more room to maneuver he could probably have gotten loose, but he didn't. There were too many eyes nearby, and being as big as he was, zero chance of him escaping without being seen by at least one of them.

Stupid. This whole thing is stupid.

He remained up the tree for a good half hour until the world took mercy on him. The group, who had been playing games and talking since their arrival, split up. Sora tumbled and wrestled with the others, while Kairi opted to take a stroll, heading toward the trees. She'd always liked the islands' greenery. Riku had never known if that was because she'd come from a garden world, or if she just really loved flowers.

Riku did know he didn't want to disturb her though, not when she was so obviously enjoying a moment's peace. Still, he couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity she presented, and so rustled the leaves just enough to draw her eyes upward as she wandered by.

He wasn't surprised when she jumped. He wasn't surprised when she rolled her eyes at him either.

"Riku, what are you—"

"I'm stuck."

She raised a brow. "Really?"

"Yes. Well, no. Not properly. I just...I can't get down without being seen." He sighed. "I wasn't ready to speak to the others."

"And so you climbed a tree?"

"Yes."

Kairi stared.

"I know it was stupid."

"I'm glad," she said, and sighed. Her eyes were warm and bright though, lips quirked in a cheeky grin. "I can distract the others for you, if you want. Unlike you and Sora, I actually have summer homework to do, and with my winning personality, I'm sure I can convince the others that helping me catch up will make for a good time. Studying outside is way more fun than studying inside, after all, and it's not like they can't get some of their own homework done while they're helping me."

"Thanks Kairi." Riku said. "But what about Sora? You said he doesn't have homework."

"I thought maybe he could spend some time with you. He said he wanted to. Is that...okay?" Her face fell, just a little.

"It's okay," he said, quick as he could. He hated seeing her sad. "I like spending time with you and Sora."

Her smile could have melted all the snow in the Land of Dragons. "I'm glad. Now, the minute I start talking, you work your way down. I'll keep the others' heads in their bags until then." She winked. "You and Sora go have fun cove side, alright?"

"Alright," he said. "Thanks again, Kairi. I'll make some time for you too."

"It's fine, it's fine," she said, waving a hand. Riku didn't miss the way she paused before continuing though, teeth in her lip. "Just...just tell me when you're ready for another party? I want to bring everyone together. So does Sora! But neither of us want to do it until you're ready. I'm the one in charge of organizing these things though, so..."

"I'll tell you when I'm ready," he said. "Promise."

"Good! And in return, I'll come say hi if the others head back before I do."

"Because that totally isn't also advantageous to you."

"Hey, if you have fun at our next party, then it was also advantageous to you," she said, and stuck out her tongue. "Now, get ready to move!"

Her red hair flashed in the midday sun as she ran back down the beach, shouting to the others once she was far enough from Riku that they were unlikely to look up and see him hanging halfway off his tree branch. He hung there for a moment, waited until Kairi and the others had their head in their satchels, then dropped to the ground.

He was just straightening up when there was a rustle in the underbrush, followed by a bird's nest and a grin popping through the foliage.

"Hey!" Sora said.

"Hello, Sora." Riku grinned.

"We sneaking off?" he asked.

"I guess?" Riku replied.

Sora laughed. "Of course we are. You wanna lead the way, or should I?"

Riku paused. A memory came to him; an ocean in the realm of darkness, aches in his body, and a friend by his side.

"You lead," he said.

He had expected Sora to smile—he did. What he hadn't expected was for him to take his hand. A part of him wanted desperately to tear it free and hide it up his sleeve, but he didn't. Instead, he let Sora twine their palms, and followed him through the tangle of trees to the cove. Neither commented when their hands parted.

They didn't do much once they got there, just walked the length of the beach, enjoyed the wind, the surf, the sand. Riku listened as Sora chattered idly, catching him up on this or that while the gulls wheeled overhead. He'd been reconnecting with his peers, his parents, his home, had already started reading over Kairi's schoolwork, despite the fact there was no guarantee they'd be staying long enough to attend.

There was no guarantee for a lot of things, it seemed.

When Riku brought that up though, Sora only shrugged. "I mean, I could use that as an excuse to skip out on studying. My parents would complain, but you and Kairi would understand, and let's be real, schoolwork sucks. I like learning new things, but sheesh! They always manage to make it so boring." He swiped a finger under his nose and smiled. "But if the worlds are at peace, then I'm gonna have to go back to school. I mean, Mickey and Yen Sid will probably want us to do some training, maybe check in on the Heartless situation here and there, but that's about it. I'll make time to visit Donald and Goofy, and all my other friends though, for sure!"

His eyes shone at the thought, and Riku turned his gaze up to the bright, blue sky. "You know," he said, "it's funny when you think about it."

"Think about what, Riku?"

"How I wanted to see all those worlds, learn all those things. I wanted that so badly, yet in the end, you were the one who really made something of yourself out there."

Silence. There was only the sounds of the surf and the sky; soft susurrus, gentle breeze.

"Was that really what you wanted, back then?" Sora asked.

Something lodged in Riku's throat. "Maybe. I don't know. I wanted"—strength, meaning, purpose, power. He'd been curious too; eager to know, eager to understand the world, all worlds, and his place in them. More than that, he'd wanted to protect, to keep safe the things he'd treasured from the dangers he knew were out there. There had been so much going on inside him, so many dreams twisting together in his chest. Over time, they'd become one great, shifting mass of light and shadow, somehow all contained within a boy who'd grown more bored, more bitter, more envious, more hurt, and more certain of his life's meaninglessness by the day.

And then he'd opened the door.

"Riku?" Sora said, so softly.

"It feels so petty. All the things I felt, all the things I did. It meant everything at the time, but looking back, I just feel petty. Why did I want so much? Why did it hurt so much? Why did I need you and Kairi to conform to my wishes? Why did I expect it all to go my way? Why did I need it to?"

Sora said nothing. He didn't have the answers. He could have made something up, maybe, but he didn't.

Instead, they kept walking, hands brushing now and then. The closeness helped, reminded Riku that they were both warm, alive, and present. No matter what path Riku walked down, Sora would survive it. Sora had survived it.

"Hey, Riku?"

"Yeah?" He turned to look down at Sora, whose eyes remained ahead.

"You can still do it, you know? See other worlds, learn new things. With our powers, we'll probably end up leaving Destiny Islands again. Maybe it'll be for a long time, or maybe we'll head out for a bit every third week, or something." Sora turned to look up at Riku. "If that happens, I want to take you to see all those worlds and meet all my friends, and then maybe you can even make some of your own! Our lives aren't over. Your life isn't over. It's just like Kairi said; a new journey's just begun!"

Riku swallowed, nails digging into palms still hidden beneath sleeves. Yet he wasn't sure what he felt; despair, or something else. All he could think was, No wonder you opened the Door to Light, Sora. I doubt even Kingdom Hearts is as bright as you.

His lips quirked, and Sora grinned; apparently satisfied by the sight of his smile.

They kept on walking down the beach, Sora marching through the rising tide. They were quiet, but content, Sora looking forward, Riku looking around. His eyes flitted up, catching on the wooden tower, the flying fox, the coconut trees, and the star marker sitting high upon its ledge; all pieces of a childhood game he wasn't ready to recreate. A gust made the rope of the flying fox shudder, its handgrip dancing in the wind.

"Could I even recreate it?"

"Hm?" Sora glanced up at him, then followed his eyes to the flying fox. "Recreate what?"

"I..." He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "Our old races. I was wondering if I'd even be able to use the flying fox now. I...I can't help feeling like I'd break it."

There was a moment's silence, and then Sora burst into laughter. Riku, already embarrassed, blushed harder. Yet Sora's laughter didn't seem malicious—as if that was a trait one would associate with Sora—and when he calmed down, he said, "Sorry, Riku, I just—I was just thinking, even if you broke the flying fox, you'd be alright. Built as you are, the only thing you'd have to worry about breaking if you fell is the ground."

The image hit him like a punch to the gut; Ansem, Seeker of Darkness, plummeting from a flying fox and leaving a crater in the sand.

Something welled in Riku; bubbling, eager to burst. It rose up his throat, like every strangled sentence and dark thought that had ever tried to escape him. It felt like light though, and when he opened his mouth, what spilled out was laughter. It pulled at his lips and creased his eyes, left his stomach and chest aching in such a wonderful way.

It's ridiculous.

"That's so stupid," he said. "Just t-thinking about it is—" He broke off, Sora's only acknowledgement of his words an increase in laughter as they stumbled away from the flying fox.

They walked a little more before finding a nice spot on the sand, sitting just beyond the tide's reach. Riku surrendered to Sora's goading, taking off his shoes, and the water tickled their toes. It felt nice; wet sand and salty sea soothing in their way.

They stayed like that until Kairi arrived, the sun's descent accompanying her. The rest of their group had headed home, apparently, and so she'd come to join them. Riku was glad. Everything was warm and sweet and good, and even if the sand stung Riku's fingers when he buried them in it, he still felt more at home in that moment than he had in any other since returning to the Destiny Islands.

Since he'd given up his body.

Since before he'd left, since his heart had gone wandering, like the lost boy it belonged to, so many years ago.

The three of them sat on the beach until the sky turned pink and the sun glowed gold, and the world that had once seemed a shackle now thrummed with magic. Riku couldn't believed he'd forgot it; the promise on the horizon, the warmth of the sand, the kiss of the sea.

He was glad, though, to remember it, at least one more time.

He couldn't breathe.

The room was small, too small. A dim lamp in the corner was the only light. Its glow was warm, but did nothing to stop the shivers that racked his body. He could barely see. That didn't matter. If the room was too bright, he'd flinch, curl, and wither, but if it were too dark then the shadows would come to life and make him writhe. All he had to keep him together was Sora; his hands in his hair, and his lap cradling Riku as he trembled.

It had been an accident. Kairi had come over to talk to him. They'd been having fun. The whole thing had reminded him of old times—maybe even better than old times! He'd told her she should start planning for that party, and she'd clapped her hands, eager. He'd decided he could stand to wear a shirt with shorter sleeves—something simple, made by his mother—and she'd been delighted.

"We should do something to celebrate!" she'd said.

So they'd decided to practice wielding the Keyblade. Nothing too hard, just handling and grips, motion and movement. Kairi was already quite skilled with her Keyblade, but she hadn't been wielding it for that long, and Riku thought he could use a refresher. They'd talked while they trained; Kairi energized, clumsy in her excitement, him lax, content in the moment. He hadn't paid it any mind when she'd stumbled once, twice, then—

Third time's the charm.

Some part of him had wanted to scream. Another had wanted to laugh. As she'd stumbled he'd reached out, caught her by the wrist just as she'd grabbed his wardrobe, and the sheet covering it.

The sheet had fallen.

It had been an accident. Neither of them had meant anything by it.

But her eyes had gone wide, and he'd seen the fear in them seconds before she'd cried out. Her mind had gone to another place, another time, beyond Axel and back to Hollow Bastion, back to—

He'd glanced to the side, seen his reflection in the mirror.

The world had stopped, and everything had gone dark; a strange droning sound in his ears.

When he'd come to, Kairi had his head in her lap, had been calling his name for time unknown. He thought that might have been what brought him back. He couldn't say. He'd blinked, shivered, had too much blood under his nails and on his arms, the word sorry on his lips.

Then there was his skin. He'd been able to see the darkness there, like worms squirming just beneath the surface. He'd told Kairi what he saw, and her face had twisted. He'd known something was very wrong then, because though Kairi could be soft with him, she was more inclined to tease, with brows downturned and eyes rolling, all in good spirits. Her kindness had always had a playful edge, at least with him.

But it hadn't then. He couldn't have even called it sentimental or sweet. The only word for what he'd seen in her eyes was grief.

He'd faded in and out. Apparently his mother had come in at some point, but he couldn't remember it. Kairi had asked her to get in touch with Sora though, and he thought she might have brought them something to drink. Other than that, she'd kept out.

It was probably better that way. This wasn't something she could fix.

She never knew who I was, not then, not now. She doesn't even know what I am, what I did, how I ended up like this. None of them do. They don't know why I look like this.

"For Sora, Riku. You did it for Sora. That's why."

It's because I gave into the darkness. That's why. And even now I wonder; why? What was my dream? Why did I believe it was worth it? What was I trying to achieve that night? Before then, after then, what was I doing? I wanted to see so much, do so much, become so much. I wanted to protect them all too. But I was weak and angry, and so, so jealous, and then I tried to kill Sora and got upset I couldn't, and I put him in danger and Kairi in danger and I-I...I hate myself. The fact that Mickey even stood by me in the Realm of Darkness and afterward—why'd he do that? I deserved what I got. I deserve so much worse.

"Riku, p-please, it's okay. I—we know what you did, but you're not that person now, and we still loved you then, even if I was scared we couldn't reach you. But Sora was right. There was still light in you, and your darkness wasn't—isn't—all evil. There's more to it than that. You took your hurt and made it something else, t-took both light and dark and made them yours. And I-I don't think you would've killed Sora. I don't. You love him, you love me, and we love you. I know you did bad things, but—"

Her words had sunk beneath a sea of white noise and drowned. The sunlight outside had flickered. I can only wear this body now because he still exists somewhere deep inside me. I am Ansem, and he is me. The hurt he did is the hurt I do.

He'd wheezed, Kairi's embrace reminding him how to breathe. It had brought him back long enough to realize he'd been talking out loud, that she'd heard every shameful, foolish thought. He'd choked, and darkness had spilled into his gut like lead and tar; the perfect fuel for the humiliation burning in his core.

"Sorry," he'd choked.

She'd just wrapped her arms around him and whispered, "I'm with you. I'll stay."

She had.

Some time later, Sora had arrived, and Kairi had gone downstairs to rest. The sun had gone by then, the lamp light all that remained. It wasn't enough, but it had to do. The overhead lights, and Sora's magic, would all have been too bright.

Riku couldn't say how many hours had passed. It had been full daylight when Kairi had fallen over, so maybe six? He felt too cold and too hot, shivering constantly. Kairi had helped him put on a jumper and socks, at least, had thought to hide his body from him. It had been Sora who'd fetched his blindfold though. Riku hadn't put it on yet, but he needed to.

"S-Sora, I need—" His mouth was dry, lips crusty. Sora leaned over and grabbed his water from the bedside table. Riku rose on trembling limbs to take it, felt pathetic as water sloshed down his front and dribbled down his chin. "I don't know why I'm like this," he rasped. "I'm sorry."

Sora shook his head, took the chance to change positions now that Riku was sitting up. He settled with his back against the pillows, then guided Riku to lie on his side in his lap, returning his water to the bedside table. Riku lay there, shaking, fidgeting, until gentle hands cupped his face. That touch stilled him just long enough for Sora to tie the blindfold in place.

A weight lifted. The light grew dimmer, but that didn't matter so much. The cloth itself had power; a darkness of his own choosing, one that blocked out all the others.

But is that darkness the truth, or a lie?

His shivers remained.

"I thought I was getting better," he whispered, "but it's just so hard. I don't know if I can do it."

"You are getting better," Sora replied. "But the things we experience are always a part of us; our joy, our pain, all of it. Our memories make us who we are, but they make stuff like this happen too, even when we're trying to move past it. Sometimes it's quiet, and sometimes it's loud, but moments like these...they're a part of life, I guess. This sort of thing happened to Kairi a couple of times, when we first got back, and...to me too, a little while ago. But that doesn't mean we aren't getting better!"

Riku's heart sank. "I didn't know."

He felt Sora move. Was he shaking his head? "It's okay, Riku. Kairi and I were there for each other, and we know you'll be there for us when the time's right. You have been there for us. But Kairi and I, we're okay. I mean that. We have our scars, but we're alright. Sure, it's a bit weird, not having much to do. I think I get why you were so bored, back in the day. I love it here, I love being home, but when you've got a lot on your mind, it's hard not having something to really focus on. You end up thinking too much, huh?"

Riku choked. "Yeah, but—" He stopped, swallowed. "I'll be there next time."

"Okay," Sora murmured, stroking his hair. "But help yourself a little too, alright? You've always been honest about what you felt, just not completely. You've never been a liar, but I always feel like there's something hidden deep inside you, Riku, something even you don't want to look at. Sometimes, I wonder if you're still bottling things up."

"I don't. I'm not sure I ever did. I've been all over the place lately, Sora. You have to see that." He took a shuddering breath. "When I was hiding from everyone, it wasn't this bad. Even when I became—" He cut himself off. "I just did what I had to do. I don't know why that's so hard now."

"You were always busy, weren't you? Even if you were alone, or in the dark, you had a purpose. You had plenty of time to think, sure, but you were always doing something. Thoughts really eat at you when you're not, because then you're just living with them, aren't you? Them, and nothing but them." Sora pinched his cheek, before rubbing a soothing thumb over it. "And you do bottle it up. Sure, you're more open about some things than you were before, and you're obviously a lot more awkward"—he chuckled, the sound warm and sweet—"but for all the ways in which you're different, and more true...I think you think more shows on your face than is actually there, Riku. You still keep your most precious feelings close to your chest, spoken through actions and words we can't always interpret; obvious to you, but not so obvious to us."

A breath slipped past Riku's lips. How Sora could think he saw so little when he'd seen all that, he didn't know.

Yet above him, Sora grunted, clearly irritated by all the parts of Riku he couldn't see. Riku knew that shouldn't make him happy, but it did. He was so, so happy he hadn't let himself go completely. Some emotions had always shown on his face, but others he'd always hidden; treasured feelings he shuddered to express. Through his actions and skewed words, he might share them, although it was his hope that when he did so it would be deliberate, and when he was ready.

"It's not something to be proud of," Sora complained, and Riku flinched.

"Did that show on my face?"

"A little, but you're kinda off your game right now, y'know?"

"I know."

"I wish you'd share things with me more often."

"I know, but I like having a little control, Sora. I don't try to hide everything. You said yourself I'm honest; obvious, in some ways. But I don't think it's wrong to want a little control over your heart, and what you share of it. Taking that away from someone hurts. You know that, don't you?"

That got to Sora, or maybe to the piece of Roxas inside him. Their circumstances weren't the same as Riku's, but both would understand his desire for control. Even Sora—who gave his heart freely, who felt so much, who reached out whenever he could—had things he wanted to keep to himself. His identity, his memories, maybe even some of his pain. Sora, Roxas, Riku. Each of them could understand; there were parts of your heart you'd rather share by choice, not painful accident.

Still, after a moment, his comment felt like a petty jab, as opposed to the connection it was meant to be. It felt like a victory sought solely because he needed to assert himself as correct, as superior, all the while revealing all the ways in which he wasn't. He hadn't meant to do it, but it still seemed like he had.

His breath escaped as a wheeze, because he wasn't good at tears, at vulnerability. He hoped it didn't sound as gross to Sora as it did to him.

Apparently, it didn't. Sora remained unperturbed by his noises, more interested in stroking his hair and cheek. To need such a thing seemed juvenile, but Riku couldn't deny it eased the ache in his chest. The silence, and Sora's touch, lulled him near to sleep. His breath slowed, as did his heart. His eyes fluttered. Why even bother keeping them open, when the blindfold reduced everything to lamplit silhouettes anyway?

It's not like I'm missing out on much. The only thing I'd want to see in this room is Sora, and he'd just tell me to put my blindfold back on.

"Do you..." Sora said, then hesitated. Riku shifted onto his back to show he'd heard. He was grateful Sora didn't stop petting him, just changed the shape of his motions; the curve of his wrist, the trail of his fingers. "Do you still want Kairi to organize that party? She brought it up downstairs, wanted to know if I thought she should go ahead with it or not. I said I'd ask you."

Riku wasn't sure. "Do you think I can do it?" Or do you think this means I'm not ready.

Sora hummed. "I think...I think you can. This is a bump in the road, not a tumble to the bottom of the hill. The wrong thing happening can set anyone off, but I wouldn't judge how well someone is overall by seeing how they act in those moments. Besides, I think we can avoid a repeat of what happened. No mirrors for the time being, and if Kairi falls, let her fall on her ass."

A spluttering laugh burst out of Riku, alongside an unfortunate amount of spit. He winced. Gross.

But Sora didn't seem to mind, only grabbing a handkerchief from the bedside table and wiping Riku's mouth. Riku supposed he'd been drooling so much earlier, a little saliva wouldn't bother him now.

"Glad you've still got your sense of humor," Sora teased, and Riku found he didn't mind his gentle ribbing. "But for real, let her fall. Kairi will be fine. She's fragile in some ways, but tough in others; just like the both of us, if you think about it. She'll be okay, and so will we."

"I know," Riku said, and realized that, for the most part, he meant it. "It doesn't feel like it sometimes, but I know."

There was a pause then. Sora continued to caress him, though the shape of his motions changed; a little shaky, even as he traced familiar routes.

"Can I...can I tell you something, Riku?"

Riku frowned, trying to pick out what Sora was feeling based on voice and touch alone. It was something he knew, a familiar emotion, but still not one Sora commonly expressed. He wasn't quite flustered, so maybe—shy? Granted, Sora had stumbled and paused a lot during their conversation, and that had been because he was afraid of hurting Riku, because he had to say what needed to be said without harming him in the process.

Yet those stumbles and pauses had changed. They were no longer the product of Sora's concern for him, but rather his own personal fears and anxieties. Not an external worry, but an internal one. Riku could hear the difference. Was it because of the blindfold? Perhaps. He was in a bad enough state that he probably needed it to figure out what Sora was feeling. He only wished he were a little less shaken, so he might have been able to determine what that was beyond 'shy'.

But as I am, this is all I know; what he wants to say now is different. It means something else, something beyond this pain.

He said the only thing he could say in response to that.

"I'm listening."

"Heh, thanks." Sora hesitated, then began, haltingly, "I know it hurts, being in Ansem's body. I know it makes you think about things you really don't want to think about; Ansem, yourself, darkness, fighting me, using Kairi, maybe even about what happened between you and Roxas— "

Riku winced.

"Sorry. If it helps, I don't think he hates you. But I hadn't really planned to talk about you and him. This is, uh, more about us."

"Us...?"

"Yeah. I, um...what you did for me, it means a lot."

Riku frowned. "What does?"

There was an exasperated sigh from above him. "You giving up your body for me, Riku. You giving it up to save me." His voice softened. "That's what this is all about. I know you could only call upon the darkness the way you did because you gave in to Ansem once, but ever since then you've been fighting, learning, growing, changing! You kept the light in your heart, and accepted your darkness—well, most of it. You never made a Heartless or a Nobody, despite everything you went through, and when I was in danger, you chose to save me. Even if it hurt you, you made that choice, because you...because I..."

Sora trailed off. The words rung in Riku's ears, their meaning trembling through his bones. He couldn't bring himself to move, though some part of him begged, pleaded, to crawl up Sora's body and press his ear to his chest. It was a ridiculous thing, but he wanted to know how fast his heart was beating, just to see if it matched his own.

"I..." Sora's voice shook. "I want you to remember that, Riku, the next time you see yourself, the next time you think those sad thoughts. You look like this because of me, because of what you were willing to give up for me. I-I try to feel like I'm worth it but—"

"You are," Riku cut him off. "You always have been, and always will be. I'd do it again if I had to, even knowing how it hurts me. Every time, over and over, I..." Riku's voice caught. Sora remained silent, and that was enough to make his cheeks burn. But he has to know. No matter how much I hate this, he has to know he was worth it. I'd take this suffering any day, over a world without him in it.

There was silence, then, a rumble. It wasn't deep, nor malicious, but warm and tender, affectionate; Sora's laughter.

"Okay," he said, "I'm worth it. But I do want you to think about what I said, Riku. You're not Ansem, and his darkness isn't the same as your darkness, or your light. What his face means when you wear it, and what it means when he wears it, are different things; to our friends, to Kairi, even if she gets scared sometimes, and to me." He said the last so softly, a tinge of unfamiliar sweetness in his tone.

"What does it mean to you?" Riku asked, without meaning to. His words seemed loud in the quiet, despite the fact he mumbled. He had to ask, though. He had to ask, because he thought he knew the answer. His chest thrummed with it; with Sora's feelings, with his own feelings, and it left him shaking for an entirely different reason than the ones that had plagued him for the past few hours.

He couldn't be sure, but he hoped he was right. He wanted to believe that there was a flame in Sora's heart that matched his, a twin string that sought to be tied.

Sora didn't reply though. Not with words. Instead, a hand pressed against Riku's, fingers sliding into the empty spaces between his own. They twined until they were locked together, shaking palm against shaking palm.

"Can I tell you later?" Sora whispered. "I know you're smart enough to figure it out, but..."

"Yeah," Riku said, word escaping in a slur, spoken too quick for clumsy, weary lips. He didn't know which of Sora's words he replied to. It doesn't really matter, does it?

They stayed like that for a while; Riku's head in Sora's lap, the light dim, the house quiet. He couldn't say for how long though, because with Sora's gentle touch soothing his body, and his words soothing his heart, he drifted off to sleep. His last thoughts were of the things they wanted to say to each other, and when they would be ready to say them.

When they'd be less fragile, less afraid.

He hoped it would be soon.

Riku went to the party.

If he hadn't had his breakdown, he might have dressed in nicer clothes. As things were, he was just happy he didn't feel ridiculous standing around in the same drab jumper he'd worn last time. A pair of comfortably loose, handsewn pants—a gift from his mother—socks, and sandals completed his bland outfit. He should have been embarrassed, but he wasn't. Everyone's dads had worn worse, after all.

It was just the six of them again, and this time, Riku had fun. He still didn't have much to say, considering he wasn't prepared to tell them about getting stuck up trees and wiping his nose on Kairi's skirt and Sora's shorts, but that was fine. It felt nice to idle with Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka and not want to jump the fence. It didn't even matter that he had nothing to say, when Wakka and Tidus started talking animatedly about their ball game, leaving the rest of them to groan and laugh.

True laughter felt so good.

It was fortunate he remembered the rules though, because Tidus and Wakka would not be satisfied with merely talking about their ball game. No, they had to play, and so Riku had to play too. It was a little awkward; Selphie's backyard wasn't really designed for ball games, and they had too few players to form teams. Still, the three of them made do, passing the ball, ducking, and dodging around each other until Kairi announced dinner was ready.

"Aw, but wouldn't you rather keep playing, brudda?" Wakka asked, reaching for the ball in Riku's grasp.

"Sure, I'd be up for more," Riku said, then held the ball high above his head. "But dinner first."

"Man, that's just not cool," he complained, but it was hard to take him seriously while Tidus cackled not three feet away. Wakka himself looked very much like he was trying not to laugh.

"Dinner first," Riku repeated, "or are you really that eager to lose to me again?"

"Oh no!" Tidus exclaimed, but he didn't stop laughing. He sounded rather thrilled, in fact.

Riku wasn't surprised when Wakka tackled him; a friendly press of his shoulder and head to his chest, arms around his waist. He was a little surprised that he didn't need to dodge the attack, body too big to be muscled about by the likes of Wakka. It should have made him feel bad, to notice that, but it didn't. It was rather fun, actually, using his size and weight to push Wakka around, even as he pushed back.

Then Tidus joined in. They still couldn't stop him, both boys hollering as Riku walked them about the yard. Their feet scrabbled against the ground, their chests heaved, and yet no amount of effort on their part could overcome Riku's firm, if careful, push.

"Boys!" Selphie called. "Stop playing your stupid ball game and—oh." Riku turned to see her blinking in the doorway. The warm light from the house and the setting sun limned her, granting her a golden glow—or maybe it was her eyes that did that, bright and eager as they were. “Oh, that’s so cool! Riku, do you think you could carry me around on your shoulders?” She batted her lashes in a deliberately ridiculous fashion. Riku tried to hold back his laughter.

"No, Selphie!" Sora's voice shouted from inside. "Dinner first! You said you were hungry!"

"Well, it's not like my mouth will be busy while I'm up there on Riku's shoulders!"

"Selphie!"

Riku gave in and laughed.

The group fetched their food from the kitchen—courtesy of Selphie's parents, who they thanked—but ate out in the yard. Riku did let Selphie ride on his shoulders for a little bit, giving her the full tour of her own garden. It was only pre-dinner entertainment, however. He didn't want food in his hair, or for Selphie to choke. The latter would result in more food in my hair anyhow.

Her head was still in the clouds when he helped her down, eyes dazed. That didn't stop her from leaping forward the moment her feet were on the ground though, her arms wrapping around his middle in a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Riku!" she exclaimed, voice almost a sing-song. "That was awesome." She pulled back, and looked him right in the face. "I'm so glad you're feeling better now. It's nice to have my other piggyback-boy home. Can't make Wakka carry me all the time, y'know?"

"Hey, what am I? A smelly, old fish?" Tidus complained.

"You might as well be," Selphie told him, sticking out her tongue. "The last time you tried to carry me, you fell over and blamed me for it! Then you said it was because I was too heavy for you!"

"You are, but that wasn't an insult!"

"Tidus, I'm the smallest girl in my class and you're one of the strongest guys—"

"Yeah, but—"

"—and you go on and on about how you're going to support the one you love with your big, manly arms—"

"Tidus has big, manly arms?" Kairi whispered to Wakka, who snorted.

"—Selphie—"

"—so I say, alright Tidus, you do that, but you'd better hope she's a pixie or something if you can't handle me!"

"Hey!"

The two kept going, clearly enjoying their silly banter. Wakka just shook his head, Sora and Kairi giggled, and Riku chewed his lip as he tried not to laugh again. It almost felt like old times, except he could feel the undercurrent of 'trying to hard to be normal' that flowed beneath their conversation; the odd glance his way, the occasional smile...

He took it as the kindness it was meant to be, not the pity he'd once assumed it was.

Banter was replaced by idle chit-chat as they ate. Their meal was delicious; skewers of shrimp, fish, mushrooms, and peppers, crispy purple sweet potato fries, and a wide variety of dipping sauces, all set out on the low deck. There was even a bowl of chilled fruit for dessert, and plenty of juice to go round. They sipped their drinks, wonderfully sweet and sour, and watched as Selphie poked Sora with her now-bare skewer, until the two were engaged in something like a battle. It turned into a chase when Sora knocked her weapon out of her hands, and she ducked and wove behind Riku and Kairi, the latter eventually stepping forward to defend her.

Eventually, it was just Riku and Selphie on the deck, watching as the others fought and wrestled, before finally starting up another ball game. Their shouts and laughter filled the yard, dancing shapes and shadows a perfect accompaniment to the pretty hues of Selphie's dusklit garden, and the swinging light of the lanterns. Riku couldn't resist a snort when Kairi stumbled and spilled her juice on the others, all three of them squeaking and shrieking in a boyish chorus.

"They're kind of silly, aren't they?" Selphie said.

"They are. That's fine, though. It's nice when they're goofing off like this." Riku smiled.

"Yeah," she agreed. He turned and caught her looking up at him, grin rounding her cheeks.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. I'm just really glad you guys are back. We missed you. Kairi always seemed kind of sad while you were gone, even though she tried to keep her spirits up. No one wanted to hang out on the small island with me either. It got lonely. School was less fun, games were less fun; we were worried, but also things just...didn't work out as well, without you two. It got worse when Kairi left, but now you're safe and home, and everything's all right again." She cocked her head to the side, bit her lip. "I just hope...that while you're here, you'll play with me a little, okay?"

He paused. There was something in her voice, in her words, that made him suspect, but...she just smiled and waited for his answer.

"Okay," he said.

"Good," she said, and rose. "I'm glad you're feeling up for it now. I know things were rough, but I'm glad you're settling in. Really glad."

She couldn't know what he had been through. Of that, he was certain. He suspected, however, that she was far more aware of how he felt than anyone as ditzy as her should be. But she's always had many sides; the rough and tumble, the romantic, the sweet, the snarky, the ditzy. Is it really that surprising that she'd notice these things? People are always more than they appear. I should know that some things exist beyond sight, and others truly are only skin deep.

And some things are more complex than skin or soul could ever explain. Some choices are both the manifestation and defiance of everything you've ever been.

"...and when I was in danger, you chose to save me."

Riku thought on that as he watched Selphie run off to join the others, her smile still bright as bright could be.

Some time later, Selphie dug out her parents' old records; classic songs every kid on Destiny Islands knew, if only because they'd had to hear their parents play them over and over again. They were good songs, though, and easy to dance to, so it wasn't surprising when she, Tidus, and Wakka got right into it. Sora only paused for a moment to watch as the trio swung their hips, before he turned to Kairi and held out his hand.

"You wanna dance?"

"Sure," she said, and smiled, laughing when he twirled her around. The two of them joined the fray, spinning in happy circles as the music played.

Riku stayed by the fence, content. He sipped at his punch, enjoyed the rustling leaves, the breeze in his hair, and the backdrop of shimmering stars as his friends made fools of themselves. A part of him wanted to join them, but he didn't think he could handle much more tonight. This body is still a bit...

The thought got lost as someone sidled up alongside him. He wasn't surprised to see Kairi there, her having apparently slipped away from the others. "Hey, Riku," she said, swaying innocently.

"Hello, Kairi."

"So I was wondering..."

"What were you wondering, Kairi?"

"I was wondering if you'd like to dance with me?" She smiled up at him, skirt bouncing as she did a little twist.

He smiled weakly. "I don't know. I'm not sure I want to be the center of attention right now."

Her swaying slowed. "Ah, alright." Her eyes flitted back to where the others were bopping and jumping, bright percussion paired perfectly with their wild dancing. "Y'know, I'm really glad you came tonight."

Blue eyes met his. They were a little like the sky; warm and so deep they seemed almost indigo. They caught the light and shone, honest as the small smile that graced her lips. Riku found he couldn't resist answering it.

"You know," he said, "I think I am too."

She giggled. "Do you think, maybe, if we stayed over here you could..." She started bouncing with the beat again, and Riku surrendered.

"Alright," he chuckled, setting his cup on the ground. "Forgive me if I'm not any good though. Haven't done this in a while."

It was silly; a little bob here, a little bounce there as he tried to remember the steps of a dance long left behind. Yet it came back easily—the shimmies, the sways—and easier still when Kairi took his hands and guided him through the rest. The two of them twirled, stepped left, then right; knees bouncing, feet tapping, lips parted with laughter. It felt good. So very, very good.

"Aw, c'mon you guys! You're dancing without me?" Sora's head popped up between their arms, eyes big and lips pouty.

"We can make room," Kairi giggled.

"Woohoo! Then let's do it!"

And so they did, the three of them holding hands and dancing. Riku found he couldn't, and didn't want to, stop moving; not when he noticed how big his hands were, not when he nearly stepped on his friends' toes, and not when Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka started cheering them on. His cheeks burned and his stomach flooded with butterflies, but he danced, because that was all he wanted to do.

It was fun, felt good to have sweat on his brow from something other than battle, pain, and fear. They jumped and leaped with the music, Riku letting Kairi and Sora, and then the rest of his friends, perform using his body. They hung off his arms sometimes, rolled over his back when he bent low at others. He twirled them around and let them twirl him. When they turned the dance into a game of limbo, he played, and when he fell he let them all pile on top of him.

Good. It felt good. Selphie, Tidus, and Wakka whooping. Kairi laughing. Sora smiling so, so brightly.

He had known, even at his worst, that the ability to protect those he loved was important to him. Amidst all those other dreams and desires, there was that; the desire to protect what mattered most. He had always known, but in that moment, he understood.

This is it. This is what I wanted to protect; this, and here. It's what I wanted to see and leave behind me, in every world I went to, in every world I'll go to. I don't want to bring disaster, I want to bring this. And I don't care if it's in this body or another, and I don't care what I've done. Protecting their smiles, protecting his smile; t hat was my dream in the beginning, and I'll carry it to the end. I lost my way, but now I've found it, with my light and darkness guiding me.

With my friends guiding me.

With my friends loving me.

Flat on his back, buried beneath them with his eyes on the stars, Riku smiled.

Strength to protect what matters.

It was all he'd wanted, and somehow, in that moment, he felt closer to it than he had in a very long time.

Riku took the sheet off the wardrobe.

It was still weird, seeing Ansem's face reflected in the mirror. The fact they resembled each other only made it more strange, not less. Yet this time, he did not hyperventilate when he reached toward the glass and saw it reach back. He did not collapse when he stepped away and saw his reflection do the same, nor when its hands trailed down its body in time with his own.

If this was going to be his shape, then he wanted to know it.

When he'd first returned, he'd tried on clothes a couple of times. That had been before it had really set in that he was both back home and stuck in his new body. Of those times, he'd done it once in front of the mirror. There'd been revulsion, certainly, but he'd managed it right up until one of his old shirts had split open. His chest had been the thing that had done it in.

It seemed funny now. He could even make a joke about it—no wonder Ansem never buttoned his coat, or something like that. Back then though, he'd wanted to cry. He hadn't, but he'd wanted to.

He got why. That moment made more sense to him than most of what had happened in the last year and a half.

Still, he was glad he could entertain lighter thoughts these days. Alongside the jokes, he found it wasn't difficult to wonder how the others might react if they'd been there, or if he told them. He found he was more amused than upset at the thought of Selphie and Kairi giggling, Wakka guffawing, and Tidus gripping his own chest. Riku suspected he'd be laughing too, but it would be fake, mind preoccupied by how he'd give up a whole day of playing ball games—a very big sacrifice—for the chance to have a shirt-busting chest like Riku's.

And Sora...I wonder what he'd do? Would he laugh or be jealous? Would he smile and shake his head? Would he nudge me in the side and wiggle his eyebrows? Would he hug me?

Would he grab my chest from behind, just to see how big it was?

His cheeks flushed. What an odd thought.

He put it aside; breathed in, breathed out, then turned slowly in front of the mirror. He'd taken off all his clothes, save his boxer briefs. It was embarrassing to look at himself, really embarrassing, but he needed to do it.

It was unlikely he'd be interrupted. His father was off on the sea, his mother out shopping. She'd almost looked happy when he'd asked her to keep an eye out for clothes in his old style, or something like it. He wouldn't mind if it were a little different, a little more suited to his 'grown' self, but he wanted something that was undeniably him.

Something that was undeniably Riku.

His mother had smiled when he'd said it and told him, "I'll keep an eye out."

The rest of the clothes she'd bought or sewn for him were laid out on the bed, ready to be worn. He doubted he'd keep all of them, but hopefully, by the end of the day, he'd have something to wear that wasn't drab, gray, baggy, or his old, black coat.

Again, he breathed in, out, and slid his hands over his chest. This is silly, he thought, but it helped. He could feel himself, see himself, see that there was nothing crawling under his skin. He didn't move like Ansem. His gestures, his posture, were all Riku. True, he was certainly a different Riku than the one he'd been before, but that was okay. There was old him, and new him, and glimpses of a future him, and none of them were anything like Ansem.

He ran his hands over his chest one more time, and tried not to catch his own eye when his body began to show its interest. That's not what this is about, he thought, although it was probably a good thing that he could respond to being touched. He certainly wouldn't have been able to a week ago.

His fingers traced the roundness of his muscles, pressed into his fat, traced the delicate dip below his collarbone and down the center of his chest. He squeezed gently, felt his body give in places, resist in others; bone and sinew and flesh, skin soft and rough. It made him hot, hands stroking over his shoulders and arms, his hips, waist, and thighs; the outsides, and the insides. His fingers skimmed down to his knees, along his calves, over his ankles, toes curling against the rug. Then he straightened.

His fingers shook a little as they rose to his stomach, traced the dimpled muscles there. He followed one dip down, down from his hip bone to press against the cloth that covered where his hip met his leg. Again, he tried not to look as his hand ghosted over his underwear, up to the waistband.

Then, with all the courage he had, he shucked them off.

He didn't look long, and he doubted he'd tell anyone how he'd touched such intimate places; between his legs, and then up and around to squeeze his backside. His cheeks were as dark as they'd ever been, and yet...

I want to know myself. This is a part of that. I won't be ashamed.

So he wasn't, and when he was done, he slipped his underwear back on. Then he grabbed a sanitizing balm from the bed and cleaned his hands, carefully scrubbing over their backs, the fat of their palms, the circle of his wrists, the bumps of his knuckles. He scrubbed under each nail and along each finger, and knew them as his, before he wiped the balm off with a rag set aside for just that purpose. He wasn't too worried about hygiene, not when he'd just showered, but he wanted to take care of his body—especially with where he intended to touch next.

The balm and the rag were returned to the bed, and his eyes returned to the mirror. Slowly, he brought his hands up to his face. He tucked his pale hair behind his ears, watched as his fingers slid over his features. They caressed the muscles of his neck, the square of his jaw, then trailed up and over his cheeks. The strong bones there appealed to him, but not as much as the delicate lashes that fluttered against them.

He went to trace them, and stilled.

For all that he'd been looking at himself, he hadn't really looked at himself. Yet now, he and his reflection shared a gaze, their eyes upon each other.

It's me. It's really me. My heart, my will. Me.

He could see it there; the wrong color, but the right feeling. It was calmer, less intense than it had been, but still there. Still him.

And that smile. That smile wasn't Ansem's at all.

If I get my old body back, I'll do this again. I want to know myself. I want to know my body. I want to see myself in the body I'm in. And if I never get my old body back, then fine. I'll make this one mine, and even if I think about how I might have been, I'll be happy as I am. I'll get used to this one, and I'll be happy in this shape I took to save a friend.

"Now," he said, and turned to his bed. "Clothes."

Destiny Islands' fashions were summer incarnate. The seasons didn't have much variety, though some parts of the year were certainly more damp than others. Bright colors were always in style, though the preference for loose or close-cut clothes was constantly shifting. Everything was made to get wet and endure heat, and even the most delicate clothes were made to last; gossamer dresses, shoulder wraps, and sarongs floaty as the breeze, yet strong as the hurricane.

Riku doubted he'd be wearing any of those, although he wouldn't mind a light button-up or two; something vivid, with a nice pattern. He usually preferred flat color on his clothes, but right now he wanted variety. He wanted to try things. A little of the old, a little of the new, some styles he might borrow from his younger self, his friends, or Ansem, and plenty of yellow and blue.

So he got to work. He put aside the longer, baggier clothing. A few loose pairs of pants would be appreciated, but Riku had had enough of ill-fitting outfits. It was a miracle he'd found clothes stretched out to his size, but it was also a miracle he no longer needed. Besides, baggy clothes were always something he'd only worn on occasion, and usually with a form-fitting piece to accompany them.

It's not like Ansem and I ever looked bad in tight clothes, he thought, as he rummaged through the outfits laid upon his bed, so it's not like I have to worry about that.

He set aside two pairs of waders and their accompanying suspenders. He'd need them at some point, just not right now, although he appreciated the fact they were such good fits. From there, he turned to vests and shirts in as many shades as his mom had been able to make and find; summer and sunset, indigo night and brilliant dawn, and all the blues of sea and sky. He picked out pants that clung to his legs—and a single baggy pair a little more fashionable than his last—sneakers, socks, sandals, boots that fit, and a myriad of accessories that were unlikely to snap any time he flexed a muscle.

There were casual clothes and swimwear, school uniforms and semi-formal outfits, a choice between two sets of formal wear, and pajamas. Finally, came the underwear, from which he selected to keep the most comfortable...and the ones that made him feel sexy.

He decided not to think too hard about that.

He tried everything on, went through the motions of puffing out his chest, stretching his limbs, and turning to see how it fit on all sides. He was so, so glad no one was around. He couldn't imagine how embarrassing it would be if someone walked in on him. He'd always wanted at least a little attention from his peers, but he doubted he'd get praise for primping and prancing about. That hadn't ever really been how he'd gone about it before anyway, his younger self preferring a more natural approach to getting attention.

A pity. He'd never known how much fun it was being foolish in front of a mirror.

Kairi would laugh, he thought, tugging at the hem of one shirt. I think I'll keep it just for that.

Oh, Selphie would love this one. It'd certainly test if she could keep her hands to herself. He struggled out of the top—too tight around the chest—and slipped into another. Ah, this one's too 'Wakka'. Maybe I should give it to him, actually. A little tailoring would get it down to his size.

No, no, he thought, of a pair of shorts. Asymmetry is more Tidus's thing. They'd be too big on him, though. That's too bad. I don't think I've got anything in his size. Well, maybe he'll ignore me giving Wakka gifts if I teach him that spike I used at the party.

He entertained the idea as he slid into a new set of garments.

Hey, this one's good. A bit like my old style, but muted. And those pants from before, I could use them. I'm allowed at least one baggy pair.

Wow, Ansem in a school uniform. Never thought I'd see the day. Never thought of it at all, actually. I can't believe I'm pulling off plaid.

That's a nice color with my skin. Not sure about that one, though. Ah, but if I pair it with this!

On and on he went, until—

Oh, that's a bit...much. But I look kind of good, don't I?

Would the others think so, or would they laugh? Would Sora think so?

Would he think I look good?

He paused, shook his head, and went back to work. Yet once, twice, thrice, his mind snarled on that thought, until he'd lost count of how many times he'd wondered if Sora would think something looked cool, looked good, looked nice. It was embarrassing too, to think he considered it most often when he wore something a little too tight, a little too sleek, and ended up checking out his chest, his backside, his legs and arms, and his...face, surprisingly.

Let it not be said I don't have at least one romantic bone in my body. Or two, if we're giving the honor of romance to my cheekbones.

"Wait, romantic?"

He blinked at himself in the mirror. The boy he saw seemed strange, but not because he looked like Ansem. His face was all worried lips and flushed cheeks now, but moments before it had been cool, and worse, coy, excited by the formless thoughts his outfit had awoken.

It wasn't as if he'd never thought of intimacy. The idea had always been there, just never clear. The same could be said of love. It appeared to him in many forms; shifting, changing, growing, blooming. A flame in his chest seeking another, twin strings wishing to be tied. Every bond he had with a friend was different. Every desire was different. Even as the thought of Sora met the thought of romance, and more physical longings, he couldn't say if what he felt was truly romantic. Not because he didn't love Sora, but because no words felt right to describe the bond they shared and how important it was.

In truth, he wasn't sure if what he felt fit neatly into any name, but...maybe that was okay. Had Riku himself ever fit neatly into the shapes he'd worn through his life?

Perhaps Riku was simply Riku, desire was simply desire, and love was simply love, no matter what any of them looked like.

And Sora...

"I mean," he said aloud, to the boy in the mirror, "I guess I've always wanted the others to think I look good, Sora most of all, but..."

It had never quite been through that lens, had it? He'd wanted to be the role model, the dreamer, the winner, the hero, the adventurer, the protector. That was how he'd wanted them to look at him, to admire him. But to be desired in other ways, to be desired by Sora—

Don't you think about what he was going to say that night? When you broke down? Or are this and that not the same?

They aren't. They're different. Connected, maybe, but different. And I won't guess at what he was going to say. I want to hear him say it, if that's what he wants to say.

But you know. In your heart, you already know.

—well, Riku had never thought about it. Desire was a strange thing, something he'd buried deep inside himself when he'd felt the first inklings of it years ago. He'd considered it a distraction then, something to be ignored. Then he'd fallen to darkness and hadn't deserved to feel it, and after that he'd been busy, trying to wake Sora, and then—

He'd become Ansem, and everything had just...vanished. To him, there had been no Riku left to feel desire or be desired. There'd been nothing.

Now, though, he wondered if Sora might still want him. If, despite his body, he desired him. If he saw him. If he caught Riku's gaze and glimpsed more than Ansem's eyes, if he watched the way he moved and thought of his childhood friend. If every action he took and every gesture he made whispered 'Riku'.

Sora's eyes might only be able to see the material, but perhaps his heart saw more.

Can he see beyond the shape, to the self that lies inside?

Sometimes, when they closed their eyes, Sora and Kairi saw him as he was. His silver hair and sea green eyes, skin paler than it was now. They said he was shaggy and sweet, still big, but not quite so broad as Ansem. Riku hadn't looked at any mirrors during Sora's year of slumber, but when asked about it during their time together in the Castle That Never Was, Mickey had said that was accurate to how he should have appeared.

Mostly, though, Sora and Kairi saw Ansem's body.

Ansem's body, with Riku's heart and soul.

It was strange. He didn't really want to give up either of those things.

See me as I could have been. See me as I am now.

Love me for who I am, always.

His face burned, but he made himself look in the mirror regardless. Neither shyness nor shame could stop him, eyes watching every stretch of his limbs and shift of his muscles until he had finished changing, outfit chosen for the day. It was tight, but not too tight, and appropriate for any adventures he might have on Destiny Islands or elsewhere. It could have benefitted from some magic, sure, but he'd already faced the worlds once without mystical garments. He knew he could do it again if he had to.

The colors were just right; shades of blue and gold, some muted, others bright. His pants were long, his sleeves non-existent, and his boots comfortable. He'd even taken the time to pick out accessories: gloves, arm bands, belts, and buckles. The latter two would be useful, if he had pouches he needed to carry. It was a practical look, with just a little flair. Not special, not fancy, but honest.

It's me, he thought, and smiled. That's all it needs to be.

It was like being a kid again.

He meant that in all the best ways, for all the worst were behind him. He could row his own boat and hold his own blade, and much of the ignorance of childish innocence had been stripped away. He understood now, how the sweetness of a dream could become the bitter of a nightmare as one's heart struggled against itself. He understood now, how easy it was to slip from light into the worst of darkness, and how difficult it was to balance one's scales. He understood now, that you had to respect your friends to truly protect them, had to trust in their strength. He understood now, that that was the only way to truly have their backs.

He'd learned that the hard way, but he was glad, at least, to have learned it.

Shame and guilt vanished, snatched by the tide as it receded from his ankles. He smiled at it, and all the sea. The ocean was no longer bars, but a promise; somewhere out there, there are more things to do, more places to visit, more people to meet, and more lessons to learn, and one day you'll know them, with the wind in your hair, and your friends by your side.

It's what we deserve. It's what I deserve.

How good it felt, to think that.

"That's a double whammy! Booyaka!"

Riku's eyes flitted from the horizon to where his friends played, the five of them splashing about in the water. They were smacking a giant beach ball at each other, laughing and shouting, ocean glistening. Tidus and Wakka had fallen in the water, Selphie having got them both in the face with the ball. The boys were happy though, smiling and whooping as Kairi swung Selphie around. Sora, just off to the side, cackled with his hands on his knees.

Riku grinned, turning back to the sea as they resumed their game. He'd been playing with them earlier, but his height and breadth had given him too much of an advantage. That's what he'd said, anyway, when his team had won for the fifth time in a row. His friends had teased him as he'd left, but it had been light-hearted, and he suspected they'd known he just wanted some time alone.

Alone, in good company, he corrected. Not quite the same as being alone.

His friends' voices filled the sky, mingling with the cry of gulls and the whisper of the waves. The tide kissed his toes, the sun warmed his skin, and a gentle breeze kept the humid air from settling. It was balmy and sweet; the perfect time to sit a while and think, while all the world seemed radiant. It kept him from being too melancholy or anxious, although there wasn't much for him to fear at the moment.

He'd had a sit down with his parents and talked about the future, his enrollment in school, and his plans to leave. He'd made it clear he intended to continue travelling, but that he hoped to attend classes some days. There were things here he was interested in, after all, and teachers who were willing to help him learn them. He didn't think he could live his life as a normal student, but that was okay, because he didn't have to.

His parents thought this was strange, that was for sure. Yet he'd been firm, and they'd listened. When they'd questioned him, he'd worked to prove that he'd learned a lot on his journey, both from Mickey and the experience itself. He'd done a handful of written tests, and even shown off some of his more practical skills. The folk of Destiny Islands had always valued that sort of thing, and his parents had appreciated his efforts to assuage them.

That, and I've matured. That has to count for something.

If he were honest, it probably counted for a lot.

The fact he'd had a backup plan had likely helped too. He'd taken time out of his week to help his dad on the fishing boat, and sufficiently proved that, if nothing else, he could make a future there. It wasn't the stuff of Riku's dreams, but it was something he could do. He'd been good at it; hauling nets and casting lines, balancing barrels and boxes on his shoulders. He didn't think he would ever get used to so many grown men staring up at him as he hefted embarrassingly large numbers of fish, though.

The most important thing, however, was that he'd seemed happier lately. He hadn't even considered that a factor when he'd talked to his parents, hadn't thought they'd notice, but...they had.

They had, and it had mattered.

It had soothed something in him that he hadn't realized needed soothing.

So that talk had been useful. Riku remained a little distant—from his family, his home, and the other islanders—but he was happier. They were all happier, and a little more at ease with each other. He even made the time to spend an evening with his mom now and then, the two sitting side by side as she taught him how to sew.

"I want to make sure all your clothes fit, if nothing else," she'd said, and he'd heard the love in her voice; difficult and complicated, but present all the same.

Riku sighed, the sound floating away on the wind. Life had settled into something like normalcy; a blessing, and a curse. With his days and nights split between his friends, his family, and sweet, sweet solitude, he finally felt like he'd gotten things under control. He didn't want a life like this forever, but he was happy to have it sometimes.

He was also prepared for whatever news Mickey would bring in a few days time. If there was no way to turn back, he could face it. If he still didn't have an answer, he could face that too, and if he could transform into his original self, then he had that to look forward to.

And plenty to consider. How long will it take me to get used to my old body? How hard will it be to explain such a dramatic change in my appearance? Could the transformation be done gradually? Or will I have to say I've had another breakdown and lost a lot of weight and...height?

He snorted. Well, he wasn't going to worry about it now. He'd made plans, and he had ideas, so instead of worrying the next few days, or weeks, or months away, he would accept things as they came. Maybe I'll just follow my heart, like Sora would. It seems to work for him.

Perhaps that was it. He'd follow his heart, and figure things out that way; how he was going to explain his body, how he was going to help the world, how he was going to travel, and become stronger, become braver, become better with each passing day. How he was going to learn from it, on the days he didn't.

But for now, I'll just enjoy each moment as it comes. The world lies before me, and I'm going to embrace it. This is my choice. This is my truth. This is my self.

Water splashed, out of sync with the rest of the sea. Riku glanced up to see Kairi and Sora stumbling over to him, the others apparently caught up in an impromptu wrestling match further down the beach. "You done?" he asked, as they came to a stop beside him.

"Almost," Kairi panted, dripping and grinning. "I need to officiate the battle happening over there, but once I'm finished I'll join you and Sora up on the islet."

"So I'm going up to the islet, huh?" Riku laughed.

"You'd better be," she said, but there was no threat. Her eyes were far too soft for that. "It's been so long since we've been up there."

Riku hummed, turning to look at the tiny island and its hanging tree. They hadn't visited it properly since they'd returned, Riku having refused to do more than look wistfully from across the bridge. He hadn't wanted to sit there, hadn't wanted to ruin his memories of such a special place. It's my fault we haven't really—

He silenced the thought with a gentle hush. No. Fault isn't the right word. I needed time, so I took it, and that's...okay.

But now he was ready, and he wanted to go. He wanted to visit the islet, with its hanging paopu tree and the endless view of the ocean. He wanted the sturdy trunk at his back, the wind in his hair, and the warm sand beneath his feet. He wanted the twin promises the sky offered; that of home, and of something more.

Destiny Islands' own magic.

Spluttered whispers drew Riku from his thoughts, and he turned just in time to catch Sora and Kairi communicating through the age-old art of pulling faces. Sora jumped when he realized he was watching them, then again when Kairi gave him a little nudge. Her grin was enormous.

"So, you guys gonna go?" she asked.

"I-I dunno," Sora said, voice a little odd. "Did you wanna head up there, Riku?"

Riku nodded and rose. "I think I do."

"O-oh, awesome! Me too." Sora shot Kairi a look, but she only smiled and swayed, as innocent and sweet as a flower in the wind. Riku raised a brow.

"Do you really want to, Sora?" he asked, taking note for the first time that his friend's cheeks were bright pink. He must've gotten sunburned while playing; odd, considering Sora tended to tan.

"Yeah, I do," Sora said, scratching the back of his head. "I miss hanging out there. Kairi and I have been up a couple of times, but I really wanna visit with you. But, ah, don't feel bad about it, okay? I'm just glad you're looking good—I mean feeling good—no wait that still sounds—" He choked a little. "Better! I'm glad you're feeling better. I'd rather you do these things when you're feeling up to them, Riku."

His words were sweet, but all Riku could think was, Oh, so it's not sunburn.

Kairi idled between them, her red hair flashing in the midday sun. She bent a little to get a look at their faces, downturned as they were, then snapped upright with a grin. "Alright," she said, "you guys should head up and get settled! Talk, chit-chat, enjoy the view! I'll be with you as soon as I'm done officiating this wrestle!" She gave them both a wave before spinning on her heel and heading back down the beach, her pace as lazy as the tide.

Riku watched her go, and wondered.

"Uh," Sora said, drawing Riku's gaze back to him. "You wanna head up?"

Riku nodded. "Sure."

They made their way to the islet, walking slowly as they talked about whatever came to mind. The mood wasn't quite as casual as it should have been, but Riku found he was alright with that. The thread of tension beneath their words was not bothersome, but promising, and only a little awkward. It didn't get in the way of their conversation, didn't stop Sora from pondering aloud if Riku could lift him onto the roof of the shack and get him to the bridge that way. Riku was willing to try, but Sora just laughed.

"I'd rather walk with you," he said, scratching his head. "And besides! We both know I can make the jump."

"Yeah," Riku said, "but wouldn't you getting thrown up there be funnier?"

"Hey!" Sora complained, while Riku chuckled. "I suppose you're right though."

Riku reached over and ruffled his hair. "Even so, I wouldn't. I'd rather walk with you too."

Sora didn't say anything after that, although Riku caught him smile. It was nice, the two of them silently enjoying each other's company, the creak of the old wood door, the well-trodden stairs, and the wind over the bridge. It brought back memories of a childhood spent running races and playing games, dreaming endlessly of what lay beyond that vast ocean of sea and sky.

Sora leaped up onto the hanging paopu the moment they reached the islet. Riku would have joined him, but as sturdy as the old tree was he couldn't be sure it would hold his weight. He didn't mind though. He could still lean against it, and when he did he was of a height with Sora. The breeze whispered through their hair, the trees swayed, and the leaves cast dappled light across the sand. Behind them sat their island, and before them, endless blue to the horizon and beyond.

The promise of an adventure.

They sat in silence, the distant sounds of their friends and the wind mingling with Sora's exhalations. Riku knew they were supposed to talk about something, but he wasn't sure what, so he just stood and waited. After a moment, he tilted his head, watched as Sora first wrung his hands, then grabbed fistfuls of his pants, before finally digging his fingers into the rough bark of the tree.

Riku wondered if he'd like to tangle them in his hair.

Would he like that, even when I'm like this?

Pink, sunburned blush.

Stumbled, stuttered words.

A flash of red hair and a teasing smile.

A memory of a night when Riku fell apart, and the words that were whispered then.

A question.

"What does it mean to you?" he asked. "The way I look."

There was a moment of silence. The ties that bound them pulled taut, their hearts connected. A shiver ran down Riku's spine as Sora looked at him; saw his body, saw him. His thoughtful gaze took down every wall, accepted every shadow and spark of light, acknowledged every feeling that awoke inside him. Then he smiled for just an instant, leaned forward, and shut his eyes.

Soft. Chapped. Salty. Sweet. Riku trembled as Sora’s lips pressed against his own, heart threatening to leap out his throat as their hands twined together. He leaned into the kiss, and heard everything Sora wished to say.

When they pulled apart, Sora was smiling again. “That’s what it means, Riku. Maybe those feelings weren’t always that shape, but the meaning was always the same.”

Riku’s eyes stung, but he wasn’t sad, not in the slightest. The fact he’d had his first kiss in this body didn’t bother him. Instead, everything was bright; his feelings, his heart, his soul, his tears all welling up and spilling out at once, tumbling down his cheeks in drops that shimmered like the stars, the sky, and the shining sea.

“Yeah,” was all he managed to say. “Yeah.”

They stayed like that until Kairi arrived, leaning against the tree and one another; hands entangled, hearts entwined. When she reached them she said nothing, merely smiled as they made room for her. Then it was the three of them, side by side, standing together as day became dusk and the sun set, dying the world in pink and gold.

Everything is going to be okay, Riku thought, and found he finally believed it.

Beyond the Shape