Letterblade

Lol.

*jumps at crossover crack*

L (from Death Note)/Seymour (FFX)

From:

EHEHEHE WHUT.

Um.

Yes, yes, I think I can, er...eh, fuck established metaphysics. :D

From:

*villainesque hand pyramid*

...Excellent. :D

From:

And uh, feel free to go nuts on my own meme. There's plenty of cross-over potential, should you feel the need.

From:

Seymour's on his knees, shaking under the black sun, the massed pyreflies of the Farplane roaring in his ears. Wafted here by little Yuna's staff. Too soon, far too soon; time drifts sideways; the massive presence of Sin is gone from the back of his soul and he's failed, how could he possibly fail, wasn't he right, wasn't Yunalesca right? That the only solace, the only peace in this mad spiral, is death?

Death.

He is at peace here, or he should be. Instead--

"Excuse me," says a dry voice behind him. "Could you please tell me the nature of the substance of which you are composed?"

Seymour startles, takes a long breath, gathers his stray pyreflies back together, and turns.

The stranger isn't dressed like any Spiran Seymour had ever seen. A wiry man, indeterminate age, incredibly scruffy hair and deep-sunk eyes. He has his hands tucked deep in his pants, slouches like a drunkard, stands on one foot and scratches his ankle with his toes, and looks at him with the keenest stare Seymour has ever met.

"...pardon?"

"You are neither human nor shinigami," the stranger observes blandly. "I appear to be somewhere else entirely, which was an unexpected result of dying, but I doubt you can provide me with that information. You are not, however, composed of any form of matter that I recognize."

Seymour smiles faintly. "Of course you're here if you died. This is the realm of dead people, after all."

"Interesting. Entirely unlike my deductions."

"These are pyreflies." Seymour lets himself half-dissolve. "Spiritual energy. They take the forms of those who have no bodies, at times. You don't even know that?"

He seems vaguely offended at that, and scratches behind one ear, then his eyes dart sideways as he notices a pyrefly drifting up from his dark hair. He plucks at it with spidery fingers; it disappears.

"I seem to have gotten lost," he says dryly.

***

[Er, I don't drabble, as such. More ficlet. But how the fuck am I supposed to set this up in a hundred words?]

***

He was on the Farplane, he was supposed to be at peace, but this stranger--this L, he says his name is, and what kind of a name is that?--seems to have latched onto him for the moment. He's sitting beside him now, if one could call crouching on a rock sitting.

They trade stories. L's crypic about his, but looks at him oddly when he starts talking about Sin.

"You remind me a good deal of my prime suspect," he says after a moment.

"Do I? I'm surprised. I'm rather a unique man."

"He thought that as well. And that he could redeem the world through death."

"And I suppose you'd thought that you'd kill him and send him, then?"

"Not as such. He destroyed me. But I closed the case against him, to my own knowledge, and that is my primary satisfaction." He looks down for a moment, as if contemplative. "My successors should take him down eventually."

"So you, at least, have died at peace," Seymour says wryly.

L's silent for a long moment.

Pyreflies stir behind him, echoing his thoughts. They take forms, for a moment; there's L, crouching on a set of stairs. There's a boy with tawny red hair sitting above him. L's rubbing his feet. L is dying; the boy holds him, and smiles, sharp and cruel, just like Yunalesca.

"I closed my case," L says.

"Was he your friend?"

Why, Seymour thinks, is he being drawn into this? He should be fading, dissolving into the land of the Farplane, as everyone does with time; he should be gone, at peace, not being fascinated by some crouching, muttering puzzle.

"My only friend."

"Well," says Seymour, "he laid your sorrows to rest. He must have been your friend."

***

L, Seymour discovers, does give good footrubs.

Edited Date: Jan. 28th, 2010 06:11 am (UTC)

From:

Jesus.

You are an astounding writer, you know that?

AND YOU TOOK EXACTLY THE ANGLE I HOPED!

And how you connected Seymour and Light together, hell yes. Destroyed by their own idealism.

Thumbs way up.

From:

LOL, yay! Thanks a lot!

What angle? You mean L on the Farplane being all "WTF these are not the metaphysics I expected? (I mean, first I have to get used to this whole Shinigami thing, and then the Notes, and now everything changes on me AGAIN? DECIDE, universe!)" :D

Seymour and Light have a few things in common, yeah. :D Not that Light isn't many times smarter, and L will realize that and be annoyed, but still...fun parallels ensue. And fun parallels is the point of crossover crack!

From:

Yes, the Farplane is resplendent with delicious crossover possibility. As much as the Trekverse. Which makes me regret I don't know Voyager so much.

I think my head-canon Seymour is smarter than the writers at Square-Enix would ever let him be. It's a dangerous trap!

From:

owlmoose.livejournal.com

Mugs pointed me here and I just had to tell you how awesome this is. The connection between Seymour and Light is excellent, as is L's reaction to being on the Farplane. Nice job taking a crack prompt and making it work so well!!

Also, I love that L cares more about having been right than about being the one to bring Light to justice.

From:

Thanks so much! I had fun working that stuff out. And the image of L scratching a pyrefly out of his hair amuses me no end.

And L totally would care more about that. He figured it out. The rest is scutwork. (Not that he knows that Light deleted his recent data, and it's going to take another five years for Near and Mello to wrap it up. But, hey, scutwork.)

From:

auronlu.livejournal.com

And I just wandered in after noticing that you and mugs were interacting. (Did I serve as the Wood Between the Worlds again, or was this just a happy coincidence? I used to have this odd superpower to link up people from different communities and fandoms, but it's been in a drought of late.)

I haven't read your writing in far too long. It was always good, and now it's better.

From:

nevacaruso.livejournal.com

Mikage (SKU) and Subaru (TB or X era, you pick), please!

From:

Gad, this is a v. nifty idea, and might actually mutate into a full-sized fic. Aiiii.

May come back and add more to this.

***

Late Sunday night, no students about, Sumeragi Subaru lets himself into the old study hall in Houou.

Haunted, they'd said, around the town.

Not the same things they'd said about Ohtori campus, down the road, but he'd deal with that later. He can feel that place from here, roses and corruption at the edge of his consciousness. Instead he finds the stairs to the basement, cards the lock, takes them slowly.

He's not on the job. Nobody's paying him for this. He's just butting in, investigating for free, maybe even trying to help someone, like he would when he was little. Before. It feels foolish, but it's better than (come to me, beautiful slave, come back to me, hunt for me, my roots are thirsty, my blossoms are wilting, come, come) other things. Even if he still feels, will always feel, hollowed out and dead.

Kamui helped with that, at least.

There's an outline of a dead body at the bottom of the stairs.

He forms a slip of paper in one pocket, steps nonchalantly over it.

There are more outlines down the hallway. Scattered pairs of shoes. They have no particular substance, Subaru can see, nor are they the ghost's direct work. They've just manifested because he is there.

Machinery creaks in the distance.

The broken-down old elevator, the stories say, sometimes works, but not like anyone expects.

He finds it, walking slowly past shadows of bodies, moldering storage boxes, water heaters, shoes. There's a desk--mundane once, he suspected--with a face-down framed photograph. Two empty teacups, one stained with lipstick. A vase of dried and rotting roses, crinkled petals black as night. A pile of identical rings, heavy signets of dark metal.

He smells (blood, water me with blood) fire.

"Can I help you?"

Ah, there's the elevator, an old freight elevator with a rusty grill. The ghost stands beside it, a teenaged boy with ancient ruby eyes, dressed in a dark blue school uniform, little expression. His hair is the color of cherry blossoms; he smells of ash and dead roses. There's a thorny stem in his breast pocket, all the petals torn off.

"Please pardon my intrusion," Subaru says.

This won't be easy, he thinks. This ghost is old, decades old, pinned to unlife and reality by swords and blood. His very presence feels almost deliberate, like somebody had taken a living boy and made him--but why?

"I am merely trespassing here myself," the ghost says dryly. "I have been evicted from my accustomed home."

"I am Sumeragi Subaru."

"Mikage Souji. May I ask why you are here?"

"I am an exorcist."

Mikage tilts his head slightly. "I have survived several attempted exorcisms, including the eviction I mentioned. I do not wish to disappoint you, but I doubt you will be successful. And I will resist."

"I know." Subaru pauses, weighs his options. Combat would get him nowhere; his own onmyodo hadn't been as strong since (my moon shines upon you), and he has not yet learned to bend the powers of the Sakurazukamori to this end (ghosts don't bleed for me). "I was merely curious."

"Then come in." Mikage raises one slim hand. The elevator grate creaks open, nothing moving it. "I don't get visitors often."

From:

nevacaruso.livejournal.com

Oh, this was great. Haunted and haunting both. The voice of the tree was particularly creepy.

I hope you do decide to continue, but thank you so much for this little snapshot!

From:

Oh, I will definitely be continuing. (Okay, probably definitely, I'm a flake. But dude. So much to work with here.) Thanks so much!

From:

timesrunning.livejournal.com

There are no words for how awesome this is...PLEASE CONTINUE IT!

From:

Utena: Shiori/Kozue/Wakaba

From:

Hope you don't mind if it's post-Ohtori, because I kind of have post-series versions of all these girls kicking around in my head...

***

"You're just gathering us up," Wakaba says with a smile.

She's early, snuggled in a nut-brown sweater with leaves twining the collar. Kozue is late. Neither is particularly surprising; Shiori closes the door against the late autumn chill and leads her in to her neat, tiny flat.

She'd emailed them both, after she met Kozue. All three of them doing the same crazy stuff back at school, what were the chances of that?

"I, ah," Shiori says, and her throat closes a little. Wakaba pulls off her sweater, ponytail bouncing, and winks at the fruit bowl on the table, three pomegranates nestled in it. "About Kozue..."

"I think I saw her a few times. Miki's sister, yeah? He was always hanging with my other friends..."

"I, ah, when I met her, I." Shiori can feel herself blushing. She'd kissed Wakaba. Once or twice. It was awkward. Since when had she become such a queer slut? "We..."

Wakaba tilts her head to one side, brow furrowed a little. "Did you sleep with her or something?"

Shiori nods. "She--I'm sorry. I know we--"

"It's okay," says Wakaba, reaching for a pomegranate.

***

"Nowhere to put a car in this damn neighborhood." Kozue's a couple of inches shorter than Wakaba, but she seems to fill the doorframe with energy. She's not wearing a coat, bare arms under her tank top and lace shirt. "Yo," she says, and wraps Shiori up in a chilly-skinned hug. "Sorry I'm late. Parking's a bitch."

"Er, it's all right. Come in..."

Wakaba wipes her hands on a napkin and stands; she's been peeling a pomegranate. "Shinohara Wakaba. Pleased to meet you."

"Yeah, I remember you, I think. You were, uh, whasshername's friend?"

"Yes."

"Kaoru Kozue. What did you just kill?"

Wakaba looks down ruefully at the red juice stuck under her fingernails, and then Kozue shakes her hand anyway. "The fruit of the underworld."

"Ahaha. Highest estrogen content in nature."

"Really?"

"Yup. Isn't just the fruit of the underworld--and I think we've all been there--it's also the fruit of pussy."

Shiori blushes; Wakaba blinks and laughs.

"You're blunt," Wakaba says.

"Yeah, well." Kozue grins and sticks her tongue out; the stud catches the light. "I'm in porn, what do you expect?"

Edited Date: Jan. 28th, 2010 05:37 pm (UTC)

From:

"Aw, hell," says Kozue, "I've been outclassed in taking well to Mister-Crazy-Pink-Hair-Revolutionize-The-World. You pulled it out of him?"

"Well," says Wakaba with a lopsided smile, "I did want that sword, after all, and it's not like he was making much use of it."

Kozue cackles. "Yeah, I know what that's like."

"Why, what did you do when you pulled...whose?"

"My dumb brother's," says Kozue. "I nearly kissed him."

There's an awkward sort of silence.

"Don't worry," says Kozue with a grin, and reaches for a handful of pomegranate seeds. "I got over him."

***

"Shiori?" Wakaba asks. "Why have you been taking notes?"

"Um." Shiori taps her pencil nervously against her cheek. "Well, I seem to keep finding us, so I might as well try to keep track."

"Lemmesee," says Kozue.

"Kozue," Shiori whines, clinging to the notebook; they tug-of-war for a moment, and then Kozue darts out a blue-nailed hand and tickles Shiori just left of her breast, like Wakaba isn't even there watching this, and Shiori yelps, spills into her lap, and Kozue grabs the notebook, triumphant.

"Hm, notes on us, boring..."

"Then why did you--" Shiori starts, indignant.

"Hey, I didn't know you drew!" Kozue flips the notebook around, shows Wakaba. "Check it out." It's a rough sketch of Kozue, winglike scrawl for the hair, no shirt, little butterflies on her shoulders.

"Kozue!" Shiori gets one leg back under her, wriggles out of Kozue's lap and to her feet. "I don't, I just, give that back, I'm no good..."

Kozue looks at her dangerously, closes the notebook, hands it to Wakaba, and there's a moment of silence--Shiori nervous, Kozue purposeful, Wakaba just bewildered.

Kozue tackles, yanks Shiori down over her own armchair, and gives her bottom a string of hearty smacks. "I thought I told you to stop it with that no good shit," she says, as Shiori yowls--beet red more from the embarrassment of Wakaba watching than anything else.

From:

[Crud, this is getting way to big to possibly pass for a drabble. I think I've been wanting to write this fic for a while, and you just got me started.]

***

"So," says Wakaba, "you two are a couple."

"Um," says Shiori. Kozue snorts.

"You make it sound like we're married or something. We've just fucked the once." Kozue gives a shit-eating grin and leans back, hand on Shiori's knee. "Was good though. She needed it."

"You do seem a little more..." Wakaba pauses. "Less high-strung?"

"I guess," says Shiori, awkward.

"Kozue," says Wakaba, "did she tell you that we kissed? When we met?"

Blue eyes go wide. "Noooo..."

Shiori curls into herself. "I'm sorry--"

"Any chance of a repeat performance?" Kozue asks.

Shiori sputters a little.

"Shiori, if you think I'm the jealous sort, you've got your head screwed on backwards." Kozue pats her knee, and looks to Wakaba. "What about you? You the jealous sort?"

"Actually, I. Well." Wakaba gives a bright, awkward smile. "That was the first time I kissed a girl, so I don't know?"

"For real? Shit, that's a shame." Kozue pauses. "I thought you and, uh, whasshername were..."

"No. We...I don't even know. I was clueless."

"It was freakin' middle school. You're entitled to be clueless."

"You didn't seem that way," Shiori says. Kozue bursts out laughing.

"Fuck, girl, I was in love with my brother, what more do you want?"

***

"So, Persephone." Kozue sucks on a pomegranate seed, spits out the core, and eyes Wakaba.

"So, Pornstar."

Shiori's beat a retreat to the bathroom. Kozue edges a little closer to Wakaba on the couch. "If it were any other girl I knew," she says, experimental, "I'd think she was trying to set us up."

"You know strange girls."

"Yeah, but we're stranger. We're black roses. Seriously--"

Wakaba grabs a handful of her shirt and kisses her, all tongue and hunger.

Shiori comes back with soapy clean hands, no trace of pomegranate, and clamps them both over her mouth with a little squeak.

From:

Wow. Keep on keepin' on, and I'll keep reading.

From:

eeheehee. I'm glad to have set off a fic splosion in your head.

From:

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA.

I love the post-Ohtori take. Kozue brassy, Wakaba straightforward, Shiori a little flattened by these people who don't avoid the subject.

Brilliant! Thanks!

From:

slipjig.livejournal.com

Ignoring your list of fandoms completely: Jack and Nancy from "The Empty Child/The Doctor Dances."

From:

:PPP

Then again, you can get away with shit like that. :D

***

Jack spent the second war in the South Pacific. Even if it grinds in his chest to know that someday, his Doctor and Rose will land in London, half a planet away, and he can never see them--can't because his stupid former self is running around trying to accidentally wipe out humanity. Doesn't want to meet himself. And not just because of the Reapers.

He comes back to London after it's over, after the blitz stopped, after the skies cleared, after twelve more deaths.

He didn't expect to run into somebody he knew.

"Bloody hell, it's you."

The thin, fierce voice comes from behind him; he whirls, expecting anything from a kiss to a gunshot--never know, when you hear that sort of thing. Instead it's just a sharp, curious stare.

Nostalgia from sixty years ago hits like a hammer.

"Whoa." He pauses, but her name, everything he knew about her, comes quick and fast, burned into his memory by the Doctor at his side. "Nancy?"

"Jack Harkness." It isn't a question. "I thought--I thought you were gone."

Right--last she knew, he was riding live explosives. Ah, the things he got up to. "Been away for a while, yeah. Here and there. How have you been?"

"Well enough." She must be into her twenties now, he thinks, but she's still tiny, could pass for a teenager. One of those people who'll always be young. "Stayed in the city watching the children, through the blitz. I've got a rented room now, me and Jamie."

"How's he doing?"

"Growing up strong." She smiles fondly. "You seen the Doctor? I never thanked him properly."

Keeping the smile on his face goes from effortless to almost impossible. "Not recently, no."

"Oh. Well, I hope he's all right."

"He's a survivor. Just like you."

"I s'pose he would be."

"Nancy," Jack says slowly. She's come closer; she wouldn't even come up to his shoulder, he thinks, she'd have to kiss him on tiptoe. "Have you got to get back to Jamie soon?"

"He's old enough to be on his own now, I'll be out all day. Why?"

"Want to go get lunch with me? Old times' sake?"

"Old times like you nearly killing everybody?"

"Sorry about that."

"Sure." She closes the distance as he starts walking, almost skipping a little to keep up. "But--"

"I'm paying."

"That's not--"

"What kind of gentleman do you think I am?"

"You're a rogue and a scoundrel, Jack Harkness, no gentleman at all." She pauses, and he slows his pace a little. "Then again, I'm not exactly a lady, am I?"

From:

slipjig.livejournal.com

I did not cheat! I just made sure to go with a fandom I knew enough about to make it reasonable, rather than picking two random names out of two random character lists. Thank you so much for indulging me, though. I do feel honored. (And I love the fic!)

From:

Since I feed the brain-eat: Kingdom Hearts, Sora/Riku/Kairi.

From:

Om nom nom.

Running with an idea I kinda gacked from one of Laylah's fics. You probably know which one I mean.

***

Riku's on the beach, knees to his chest, very still.

Kairi can see him as she comes around the corner. Sora's already pelting ahead of her, kicking up sand in his wake. Riku's face is buried in his folded arms, silver hair wafting in the moonlit breeze--but it's his hair now.

His body had slipped again.

Not for long; just a little, in the night. And it had just been his body, Kairi was pretty sure. But waking up with a strange man, big and heavy and dark, wrapped around her--okay, maybe she'd yelped and jumped away, and then there was a wounded look in golden eyes and the color draining away...

Being with Riku these days, she thinks, is like coaxing a stray cat in for pettings. The wrong movement, the slightest indication that she doesn't want him, and he skitters.

"Rikuuuuuuu," Sora yowls as he skids to a halt and wraps bodily around him. "Riku, come back, it's cold."

Riku jolts. Kairi pads up through the surf. Sora nuzzles Riku's cheek like a cat and pouts up at him.

"Kairi," Riku says softly. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd--"

"It's okay." Kairi kneels on Riku's other side. "I know it wasn't him, just your body getting a little confused."

"You knew--"

She touches a finger to his lips. "I know your heart. Remember?"

Riku's eyes close, with an expression somewhere between pain and relief. "Kairi..."

"I'm sorry I freaked out."

"Oh, Kairi," he says, softly, and uncurls enough to offer her an arm. She snuggles up against him, soaking up warmth. "Don't apologize for anything."

Sora worms under his other arm and closes his eyes, contented. "Like she said, s'okay. Just come back with us?"

"Yeah," Riku says, tilting his head up to the moonlight. He's calming; Kairi can feel the panicked tension in his shoulders loosening.

A year or two ago, he wouldn't be, not so soon. He'd be protesting that they were wrong, that they weren't safe around him, that he didn't deserve them. He's resigned to them now, at least. Kairi strokes his hair, kisses his cheek, and he doesn't startle.

He's getting better.

"It's beautiful out here," Kairi says.

"I...needed air." Riku's telling little white lies, and they all know it. But even everything that had happened hadn't quite shaken him of the urge to run, to keep running, never stop, never rest.

"I love you," Sora croons into his armpit.

Kairi slides an arm around Riku and ruffles Sora's hair; Sora's sleepy and stupid, and it's pretty much adorable.

[continued next comment because I'm a wordy bitch]

From:

"Riku," Kairi says softly. "It's beautiful, I have sand in my pyjamas, and I'll get chilly at some point."

"Yeah. But I...I don't know if I'll be able to get back to sleep." It's frank, honest, and she kisses him for it.

"Me either. Bed sounds good though."

"Kairi," Riku says, "I..."

"It's the middle of the night," she says, "there's a beautiful full moon, I'm wide awake, and I want to have some fun with my handsome boyfriend. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, Princess," he murmurs, with a faint smile. "Nothing is too much to ask."

They kiss, slowly, deepening, until she feels Sora pawing at their hair. "What about me?"

She smiles impishly over at him. "What, you're not going to pass out on us?"

He sticks his tongue out at her. "And miss something?"

"Still sleepy?" Riku murmurs.

"Wake me up," Sora says, and kisses him eagerly.

Eventually they disentangle, get up, brush off sand. Kairi shakes out her arm, all pins and needles where it was under Riku, and takes both their hands and starts dragging them back home.

"Clothes in the sand hamper," she says, when they get there, because there's a bin for exactly that purpose in the corner of her room. They all strip; she unbuttons Riku's pyjama shirt for him, kisses his chest. Sora shakes out his clothes in the bin way too enthusiastically; sand spatters a little. Sora flings himself on the bed and wriggles, and as he coaxes Riku down atop him, Kairi finds her fuzzy robe, wraps herself in it a bit to warm up her body, and stares: her boys, twined together, one of Sora's tan legs wrapped around Riku's bare ass as they kiss.

More than her body's warm, now.

She joins them, rolls Riku over on his back, and Sora pulls back a little. It's gotten to be an unspoken dance, now that they're used to this; tonight, Sora and Kairi have agreed without even trading a word, they're focusing on Riku. And now it's Kairi's turn to kiss him, so she does, then whispers, "Close your eyes for a bit. Just feel us. Relax. It's okay."

Riku does; Sora watches them, licks his lips.

Kairi wriggles out of the robe and pulls out the belt from the loops.

"Riku," she murmurs, and wraps it around his wrists, guides them up to the headboard. It's not like he's securely bound, by any means--it's Riku, he's all battle-hardened muscle underneath her, he could probably tear the thing in half. But his breath catches anyway, his eyes fly open.

"Kairi--"

"We're not letting you go," she says. She looks at Sora for a moment; his eyes are huge. "We're keeping you right here, with us."

"Yeah," says Sora. "Always."

Riku clenches his hands, lets them relax again, and stretches in his bonds, all bare pale skin and surrender. Kairi trails fingers down his chest, and he's already hard, and Sora kisses her cheek and then wraps around Riku's side, hands roaming, tongue on his neck.

"You two," Riku breathes, sounding a little in awe.

"Yup," says Sora. "Us. We're awesome. So're you."

"No," says Riku. "But I'm still yours, if you want me."

Kairi wraps a hand around his cock, and Riku's breath hitches; he's so damn quiet, she knows, but she also knows what to listen for. "Of course we want you, dumbass," she says fondly.

From:

*squeaky noises of cute* I <3 the OT3.

From:

Also, Riku better believe that he's going to get all tied up if he leaves those two again. Symbolic gesture? Yes. Effective? Also, yes.

From:

Yeah, and if he was making a serious break for it, Kairi wouldn't just be using a bathrobe tie. :D

Thanks for the prompt!

From:

Welcome! Thank you for the fic!

From:

nevacaruso.livejournal.com

Okay, that's just cuter than a pile of kittens, right there.

From:

hiza-chan.livejournal.com

How bout a Kingdom Hearts/FFX crossover? I wonder whether Kairi or Sora would be the summoner? Probably Kairi and then Riku and Sora would be her super protective Guardians. I guess technically that's a fusion, but it sounds cool. Or you could do a regular crossover and have them meet people. I have a special weakness for Lulu and Wakka...

Ahh, I'm sorry. Babbling too much. But yes, Ot3 cutez crossover?

From:

*SPORFLE* ...Kairi as summoner.

mllelaurel and I kinda wound planning that fusion extensively. So I'm not going to write that. :P But.

***

"Rikuuu! Kairiii!" Sora's bouncing frame fills the doorway of their little living room. "I found a new gummi path! Come with me, come with me?"

They're curled together reading; it's been a long, slow few months, nothing happening, and neither of them would ever admit it, but it's been almost. Well. Boring.

"Where to?" Riku asks, setting his book aside. There's an excited sort of tension in his body.

"I have no idea," Sora says, with a huge smile. "Do you have any other jobs or anything, and are we good on potions, and does anyone know where my ribbon went?"

Kairi feels herself grinning from ear to ear. "Patience, Mr. Run-On-Sentence, we're on our way."

***

"Uh, Sora?" Riku asks dryly. They're padding along the shore of a jungled island. The sun's setting in a wash of lurid color; it's a beautiful world. "Are you sure we've actually gone anywhere?"

It's rhetorical; it's not like all of them wouldn't know if the ship had landed back home. Sora sticks his tongue out at him.

"Hey, I think I see something up ahead." Kairi's a bit ahead of them, keyblade slung over her back, stepping lightly down the rocky shore. "Something out to sea..."

She stops dead.

Sora runs into her back. Riku comes up beside them, and curses softly under his breath.

Down along the shore, there's a village, huts on platforms built over the water, simple and lovely. Palm trees and--well, it should be teeming with people.

"Heartless?" Sora asks softly.

More than half the village is smashed to kindling. Some of the inner huts look intact, and there's a docked boat that's practically untouched, but the rest...

"This was recent," Riku says grimly. "Probably today, maybe just an hour ago."

Neither of them question it; he's got the most experience in watching catastrophes like this. There are pallbearers picking their way over broken walkways, wrapping the dead in flowered shroud.

"It doesn't feel like there are any Heartless around," Kairi says.

"Maybe they're gone." Sora's the first to step forward, further into this beautiful, bloody world, his excitement drained into determination. "Let's go help out?"

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They've been at it for perhaps an hour or more, casting curagas, lugging bodies, running themselves ragged. Riku's made a few terse comments about Sora's demands for adventures, but there's no real bite to them; they're here now, and resentment just feels selfish when you're standing amongst the dead.

A burly tan man comes over to give them a hand, and it's honestly a few moments until Sora looks up at him properly and sputters.

"Wakka?! What're you doing here?"

The fellow blinks, scratches his shock of red hair, and Riku and Kairi look up too, and yup, it's Wakka.

"On pilgrimage, yah? I'm going into the guardian business for real this time. But, uh, did we meet when I was blitzing or somethin'?"

Sora stares openmouthed for a bit. "I thought everybody remembered me?"

"Huh?"

"Wakka," says Riku, a little faster on the uptake. "Where did you grow up?"

Wakka frowns and folds his arms. "Besaid Island, just south o' here. Wouldn't be from anywhere else and play for the Aurochs, now would I?"

"Uh," says Sora.

"We knew somebody where we grew up who looked just like you," says Kairi.

"You're a different Wakka?" Sora says.

"Only one of me as far as I know. There somebody out there stealin' my name?"

Sora laughs. It sounds a little awkward, ringing in the broken village. "Aww, Wakka wouldn't steal anything. He's just your long-lost twin or something. Even plays blitz." He has one moment of thinking, a little hilariously, that this guy is Wakka's Nobody. But he sure isn't acting like a Nobody.

"A blitzer, yah? Well, he can't be all bad." Wakka shrugs, pauses, and looks around. "Were you here when Sin came?" he asks, softer and almost solemn.

"Huh?"

"Sin?" Kairi echoes.

Wakka stares for a long moment, then shakes his head. "What is it with the toxin these days?"

"We're not poisoned," says Riku. "We're safe."

"No, no, not like that...ayyy. There's somebody I should show you to, he's all confused and stuff too. You're not--" He drops his voice to a nervous whisper. "You're not from Zanarkand, are you?"

"No," they all say at once.

"Destiny Islands," says Kairi. "Looks a lot like here, actually, except, well."

"Sin," says Wakka. "Well, if you--"

"Wakka," comes a sharp voice from behind them. "There you are."

"Ah, Lu--"

They turn. There's a woman stalking down the walkway towards them, in a flowing black dress, her dark hair elaborately braided up, and she's stunningly beautiful. Kairi sees Sora gape a little out of the corner of her eye; she pinches his arm and he yelps softly.

"You should be with Yuna," the woman says, frowning. "She'll be performing the Sending soon. You are a Guardian, aren't you?"

"Yeah, Lulu, but--"

"Come. It's time." She turns, imperious, with the dangling jewels in her hair jingling, and walks back the way she came.

"Uh," says Wakka, "I should probably go..."

"Can we come with you?" Sora asks.

"Sure, everybody'll be there."

"She a friend of yours?" Kairi asks as they walk.

"Yeah. Lulu and I grew up together. Kinda like you guys, I guess."

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They fall into step behind a string of men carrying bodies, and walk in awkward silence, because Sora and Kairi both had never quite expected to be meeting friends, chattering, in the wake of a massacre. Riku, though--he'd always known the risks.

The survivors are gathering now, and Sora chews his lip awkwardly. Lulu's standing beside an enormous blue-furred man, and Wakka slips up ahead for a bit to talk to a bleach-blond fellow who looks almost like Tidus might if he was full-grown and dyed his hair.

Lulu's talking to somebody else now, a young woman with a staff.

"That's Summoner Yuna," Wakka whispers to them, dropping back. "She's about to perform the sending." Sora opens his mouth to say something, and Wakka hushes him.

There's dead silence for a few moments as Yuna steps out in front of the gathered crowd, turns, walks slowly out on the water. Sora grabs for Kairi's hand on one side, Riku's on the others, and he could barely even say why.

Then Yuna raises her staff, and begins to dance.

It's one of the most beautiful, terrifying things Sora's seen. He watches, barely able to blink, as strange lights start pouring from the gathered corpses, as sighs like passing souls fill the air. He doesn't notice Kairi until he feels his hand hurting because she's squeezing it so hard, and looks at her, and she's wide-eyed, with her other hand clamped over her heart like it hurts.

"Kairi?" he whispers. Riku turns, concern clouding his face.

"She's...she's sending off their hearts," Kairi breathes. "Like when you free them with a Keyblade. Only..." She trails off, shaking a little, as the water starts to rise under Yuna, dancing with her, in the golden light of the sunset.

If not even Kairi knew it was possible, Kairi the Princess of Heart...Sora looks at Riku, and they don't even need to say it, it's in both their faces. We're staying here. And figuring this out. And helping.

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