Author name: Ruaki
Author email: ruakichan at aol dot com
Category: Drama/Romance?, Kingdm Hearts
Keywords: Riku, Sora, post-KH
Spoilers: Anything and everything from the beginning to the end--including the secret trailer--of KH.
Disclaimer: Riku didn't end up confessing undying love to Sora in the game, so I'm pretty sure I don't own them. Disney, with their mighty battalion of LAWYORDs, actually owns the full copyright. Square's just a conspiracy! .
Author's Note: Syn:03: Riku sleeps at the jewelry shop. And Cid...
Special Author's Note for ff dot net : Okay, so I uploaded this namely just to keep Syn fresh, and to say, yes, it's still going. Anyway, since the story is in Riku's point of view, we don't get a lot of a chance to see what other characters were thinking and doing, right? Well, during Syn:03, we don't know what was Cid was doing from the time Riku fell asleep till the two met again in the center square. So ... this 'fragment' is a short story detailing just what did occur. Fragments are not looked over by my betas, so all mistakes are of my own. As of right now, this fragment is only available here at , cause you guys rule and stuff. So please enjoy. Also, Syn:07 is progressing nicely, for those wondering.
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Thin trails of white steamed from his large nose, hissing out like twin snakes to give him the appearance of a guarding dragon. It was silent, save for the hum of the night lights casting a dying yellow glow on the glass display cases. Teeth chewed on the filter of his cigarette thoughtfully as he watched the pale boy sleep. The fire had long died in the hearth, red embers fading to black. Night had fallen.
Cid dragged long on his cigarette, sucking the stick down to the filter, before removing it from his mouth and tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. Long streams of smoke gusted into the air, hazing the soft light into the misshapen forms of lost ghosts. He knew what to do; he trusted his instincts, relying on that mystic sixth sense which had saved him during many battles and sticky situations.
At the same time... this boy was a stigma.
Leaning forward, he ground the cigarette down into the ashtray on the table, rubbing the stiffness from the back of his neck. He wasn't as young as he used to be; his bones ached even at the idea of a new war to be fought. Venus Gospel had been stored away a long time ago, when the idea of fighting had simply ... tired him. So now he made pretty pieces of harmless jewelry for dottering old women and played with his rocket engines on the side, holding onto his forgotten dreams of flying; even when the Heartless had come, he was reluctant to hold the haft of his polearm even to strike down the enemy.
It wasn't his battle.
He stood slowly, old bones popping loud in the empty silence. His arthritis was acting up again; it was probably cool and damp outside.
Quietly, he made the usual nightly rounds about the store, checking and double-checking that each case was locked and all his tools were put away. Traverse Town had little problem with crime, but years of habit had been ground down into automatic routine.
After cleaning up the remains of dinner, Cid pulled a woolen blanket from an overhead cabinet, shaking it out. He kept it there for the nights he decided to work late, opting rather to sleep in the store than head home. He smirked a little to himself as he bunched the material in his fingers, callused skin snarling the wool. He was getting soft. Buying the kid dinner and now letting him sleep in his shop?
Plus getting a blanket to cover him with, no less.
Wouldn't Shera just get a giggle over that if she knew? Maybe tease him a little about patriarchial urges. Fuck that shite.
Snorting, he trudged over toward the sleeping kid--Ruki, Reeki, Ricky, Riku, yeah, that's it--and carefully laid the blanket over him, while resisting the urge to tuck him in. Hell no, he wasn't feeling fatherly toward nothing.
A hand absently smoothed the covers across Riku's shoulders, wrapping the hem close. The moogle in Riku's lap chirped before flopping over, bulbous nose twitching with the breath of sleep, knocking the jeweller out of his reverie. With a low curse, Cid scowled at his traitorous appendage and it wisely drew back.
"Keyblade Master, huh..." Cid shook his head, digging for his pack of cigarettes, pulling out another stick. He stuck it between his lips, sucking on the end. "You ain't gonna be jack shite if you don't frickin' believe in it," he quietly told the deeply slumbering boy.
He shook his head again, turning to leave. No need to lock up; he'd be back soon. The breeze was chill, nipping his skin when he opened the door, its hinges squeaking. He inhaled the sharp air as he stepped out, the door shutting against his back, nudging him forward. Fumbling around, Cid found his lighter, sparking it to life; shielding the tiny flame from the playful breeze, he lit his cigarette and inhaled the pungent smoke.
Well, he'll inform Leonhart anyway and let him sort out on what to do with the kid. It wasn't his battle, not this time.
Tendrils of fog clamped around his feet as he passed through the dead streets of the town; night and day physically looked the same here, but the atmosphere was still different. Night just always carried the aura of foreign shadows and unfamiliar landscapes, of death and emptiness. No one took to the streets of Traverse Town at night, especially as of late, what with the rumours of Heartless roaming the abandoned wards flying about.
People feared the unknown. It was a fact of life, one that Cid was bitterly aware. People feared the unknown--it could be something as exotic as fantastical creatures or something as mundane as the starry sky overhead. That fear of the unknown was what had stifled Cid's own dream, the dream to sail among the silver dust speckling the black sea which they called space.
People relied too much on their senses, on the tangible things that they could see and hear or taste and touch. And therein was the greatest weapon the Heartless had; Cid had seen many monsters during his own fighting career, some more frightening in appearance than the Heartless, some larger, some faster, some smarter. But only the Heartless, those small black insects, held the greatest weapon: no one could understand why they did what they did.
Monsters attacked because they were carnivorous, villains attacked because they were homicidal or megalomaniacal, but the Heartless simply... attacked. And stole. And multiplied. It was like taking the fear of the unknown and giving it a body. They raped and consumed hearts, but no one understood why or what happened to the ones lost.
Physical death could be easily grasped by human thought, but spiritual death was something only fear knew.
Cid sighed, exhaling the last of his nicotine and dropping the stub to the cobblestones as he stopped in front of a squat little house. Its owner had disappeared a long time ago, so Leonhart had commandeered it for their use. Yuffie had fixed it up; as much as Cid teased her, he had to gruffly admit that the house was in better shape than it was before. Now it served as a commune for the hidden hand of the King.
He couldn't remember just how he got roped into helping Leonhart and his ilk out, but it was probably the same soft spot which made him stop Riku from walking out of his shop earlier in the day. Damn, he really hated the hero types. Why was he always stuck helping them? More damn trouble than they're worth.
The lights were on, so he let himself in without any ceremony. Yuffie immediately tackled him, hugging him once before playfully punching him in the shoulder. He growled at her, grabbing her arm before she could dance away and demanded his cigarettes back. She made a face at him, obviously hoping she wouldn't get caught this time. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes, she returned his beloved sticks of nicotine, slapping them down hard onto his open palm.
"You should really quit smoking! It's bad for you!" The ninja wagged a finger under his nose.
Cid scowled darkly, tucking the pack away and making sure nothing else had been stolen. "Ain't gonna quit, goddammit, so stop liftin' 'em."
"One shouldn't separate a bear from his honey," Leon's reticent voice floated from the back. The young man was leaning against a wall, arms folded over his chest, gazing out the window into the darkness.
"Wow, Squall, you actually made a ... well, kind of a joke." Yuffie clapped her hands together, bouncing over to the young man, beaming at him. "I think that's some serious progress there."
"Fhn." He paused, eyes flicking once over her before returning to their study of the shadows. "And it's Leon."
"Oh, right! Sorry."
Cid plopped down at the table which dominated the center of the room, frowning at the paperwork scattered over the battered wooden surface. "Where's Aeris?"
"Out." Leon moved then, gracefully unfolding himself from the wall and gliding to the table. "We received word that the King's envoy should be here soon. She went out to meet them."
Cid's fingers twitched. He felt the need for another cigarette. "Keyblade Master's here."
"What!" Yuffie bounded to the table, hands slapping against the surface. "No way, already?! When? How? Who? Is he cute?"
The ex-pilot shot her an annoyed look, fingers tap-tap-tapping. "Walked right into my bloody shop, lookin' like an abandoned lil' pup."
Leon caught what Cid was not saying. "You don't believe he's the one."
"He can be whatever he frickin' wants," and Cid finally gave into the cry for nicotine, pulling out another cigarette. His third in the span of twenty minutes. He hadn't chain-smoked like this in a long time.
Yuffie pouted at him as he lit up, but he ignored her, inhaling deeply. "He just ain't gonna be able to friggin' do it."
The faintest of creases lined Leonhart's forehead and Cid smirked wryly at that. Leon didn't give much into outward displays of emotion; the young man was obviously deeply puzzled by Cid's words to show that much.
But Cid really had no way to explain it. The kid fucking bled stigmata; it was pockmarked all over him like thousands of eyes which wept red tears. This wasn't a Keyblade Master; this was a fucking marionette going through the motions of pretending to be one.
"Are you sure he's the one we're looking for?" Leon's tone belied none of his puzzlement.
Cid shrugged. "He's a bloody Keyblade Master."
"Did you see the keyblade?"
"No."
Yuffie frowned, chewing on a nail as she mulled that over. "Then, like, how do you know he's a Keyblade Master?"
"Intuition."
Leon's lips quirked. "Intuition."
"Yep." Cid breathed smoke, grey curtaining his face. "Frickin' bloody intuition."
"The same intuition that says he's 'not going to be able to do it'?" A faintly sardonic tone edged the normally reserved voice.
"Yep."
"Hey, cut! Cut!" Yuffie held up her arms, crossing them over her chest in an X. "Cid, you don't mean that you don't think that we can't win against these Heartless, do you?"
"I ain't sayin' that. Geezus frickin-ay, clean out yer ears, girl!" Cid leaned back in his chair, balancing himself on the back two legs, flicking ashes onto the floor. "Yall'll know what the hell I'm talkin' about when ya lay yer own two squinty eyes on him. He don't believe."
"Huh?" Yuffie tilted her head. "Believe?"
Leon said nothing, pale eyes staring unblinkingly at the older man.
Cid shrugged again, scratching his stomach. "He's sleepin' right now. I'll bring 'im over 'morrow and yall can see for yer own bloody selves. King's envoy should be here too, eh? We'll have a friggin' party."
"Man, who pissed in your corn flakes today, Cid?" Yuffie made a face at him.
He bit down on the cigarette, folding up a sheet of paper carefully. "Got the feelin' the flamin' universe's turned on its head." He took careful aim and shot the paper plane at the girl. "Got the feelin' that someone's shoved us up against a bloody hard wall and is now screwin' us in the ass full throttle."
Yuffie snatched the plane out of mid-air, smoothing the folds. "Nice visual."
With a soft sound, Leon turned back to the window, sliding into the shadows. "Bring him early tomorrow, Cid. If he is the Keyblade Master, failure won't be an option."
"Aye-aye." Cid got up, stretched. "Gonna head back to make sure sleepin' beauty's still in Neverland."
"Cid!" Yuffie glared him, hands on her hips. "You left out one very important thing!"
The old man blinked at her, confused. "Eh?"
She grinned impishly at him, dark eyes sparkling. "So, is he cute or not?"
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The shop was empty.
Cid cursed, loud and vicious. Where the hell would the kid wander off to at this time of night?
Fingers suddenly crawled up his spine, stroking goosebumps from his skin. The faintest tinge of fear scented the air. The night, cool and silent, now hulked like the inside of a devil's maw.
Heartless were stirring.
More curses rolled from his tongue. Without thinking, he darted to the back of the store, sliding aside a false panel to reveal a safe. Numbers whizzed by as he rolled the code, flinging open the heavy door when the lock clicked. The faint night-lighting streaked in, passing over boxes, gears, and uncut jewels, before softly haloing upon a polearm mounted on pegs in the back.
He hesitated.
The kid didn't believe. So why should Cid believe? Could he believe in someone so mortally wounded, so stigmatized?
Fuck. Fuck. ... shit, he did it once before. So what the hell. Right?
His fingers closed around the haft of Venus Gospel.
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I hope you enjoyed the fragment. Thank you so much for reading. I'll post Syn:07 the moment it's available for public consumption! I really do appreciate all the reviews I get--I'm terribly sorry that I can't answer them all personally, but I'll be more than happy to address any emails if you'd like to talk.
C&C welcome.