A/N: The finale is here at long last! Time to wrap up some loose ends.

For those of you who have kept up with the story despite its erratic publishing, thank you for your patience. I hope you've enjoyed the ride. Remember, comments are love :-)

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6. To Keep an Oath

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How long it's been since that fateful afternoon, Roxas can't say.

Even if he'd retained the presence of mind to keep track of time, there isn't any means by which to mark its passage. He's not in possession of a watch, and there's no clock in the room he'd shut himself into – the same room where he and his best friend had spent their final moment of togetherness. Due to Twilight Town lacking a proper day-night cycle, the light streaming through the stained glass windows hadn't grown brighter or dimmer throughout his stay. That, coupled with his preoccupation, had meant that the days all bled into one long, unending stretch.

Not that Roxas can bring himself to care. As far as he's concerned, only one thing matters:

Remembering her.

Her—Xion. He cannot afford to forget her. Because memories of her is all he has left.

To that end, he'd dedicated every waking moment to rereading his diary entries and the letter she'd left for him. Said letter now bears deep crease marks from the countless times he'd folded and unfolded it, to peruse contents he'd long since memorised. Perhaps it's irrational, but he can't shake off a certain, lingering fear. What if he doesn't remind himself of her every second? Would his precious memories dissolve into nothingness – just like she had?

So he keeps reading, keeps reliving those beautiful, painful memories until bags form under his eyes and his already unruly hair turns into an irredeemable mess. Every conscious effort to remember her is like burying a dagger into his most vulnerable spot and twisting the blade. His chest would constrict until he finds it impossible to breathe, and tears would burn down his face.

But there's a macabre satisfaction in it. For this pain he feels is real. It's tangible. It testifies to the impact she'd made on him, the significance she'd had in his short life. She had existed, he had loved her, and the proof of both facts is carved with agonising clarity into his heart.

Only when Naminé comes in for her routine check-in would Roxas be interrupted from his reminiscing. True to her promise to take care of him, she'd bring a tray of food and drink every time. While he would succumb to thirst, Roxas tends to leave the food untouched. Mustering the will to eat is beyond him. Answering Naminé's questions about his well-being – or anything, really – is also beyond him; rarely had she managed to coax more than a few tired monosyllables out of him.

One day, Naminé apparently decides that she'd had enough. After the umpteenth time Roxas declines her instruction to eat, she sets the tray down on the table with an emphatic clunk.

"Roxas, she wouldn't want you to neglect yourself like this."

Uncurling from his fetal position on the couch, Roxas turns bleary eyes onto his host. Though frustration is clear in her reprimand, the only word he registers is 'she'. "Y-You remember her, then?" he garbles out, voice scratchy from disuse and too much crying. "Xion?"

"Yes, I remember Xion," Naminé says, looking gladdened by the simple fact that he's replied. "I've drawn pictures of you and her and Axel together. Those are as much a physical reminder as that letter she left for you."

Roxas releases a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "Then I'm not the only one who remembers?"

"You're not the only one," she affirms. Then, more wistfully, she adds, "I would never want to disrespect her sacrifice by forgetting her."

Hearing that takes an indescribable weight off his shoulders. While Roxas would endure any hardship for Xion, it's a relief to know that he's not alone in bearing the burden of remembrance.

As he ruminates on this, Naminé reappears at his side with tray in hand. "Please, Roxas. Eat."

He doesn't protest when she deposits the tray in his lap. Under her unsmiling scrutiny, he picks up the fork and mechanically shoves food into his mouth. It tastes like ashes – he's not even sure of what he's eating – but the act appeases her, so he keeps at it. He supposes he needs the nutrition; his Organisation coat is starting to hang loose on him.

In the end, Naminé exits the room with a half-cleaned plate and something like relief on her face. He eats a little more the next time 'round, and a little more after that. Though he has yet to express his thanks, he's immensely grateful for her ongoing care. Her little pep-talk had given him the courage to let go, just a little. He knows now, with comforting certainty, that she's on his side. Even if she doesn't share his attachment to Xion and thus cannot understand the enormity of his loss, they are united in the desire to honour Xion's memory.

Bit by bit, the compulsion to re-read his diary and Xion's letter abates, becomes less overwhelming. It gives him just enough breathing space to set aside his grief and think about other important matters—

—like what the hell to do with himself.

His journey to find answers has effectively ended. Within the space of a day, all the missing pieces have fallen into place, completing the puzzle that is his identity and his connection to Sora. He had learned all he'd wanted to know, and then some. But far from curing his restlessness, this has only put him in a worse state than before.

Because he'd lost everything that was important to him in the process.

His dear friends are gone. Xion is no more, having willingly given up her life for the greater good. And Axel would continue to betray him, trapped as he is under the mistaken impression that they're better off within the Organisation. That's if he hasn't already been eliminated for failing his orders, Roxas thinks despairingly.

And not only is Roxas without friends, but also without affiliation or purpose. Fighting is all he knows, and it's so utterly pointless. All this time, he'd been beating up Heartless for a cause he'd never supported, a group he'd never belonged to. What good is wielding the mystical Keyblade if he would only be exploited for his abilities?

Yet Roxas is free. His freedom had been hard-earned; he'd brute-forced his way out of the Organisation, and Xion had paid the ultimate price to ensure his continued existence. It'd be horribly remiss of him to squander this second chance. Why should he give up what he'd fought so hard for only to fade into obscurity?

By all rights, he should ignore the complication that is Sora and claim this life for himself. Let Riku come after him; what's another pursuer? He's already a fugitive. With his strength restored, he should be strong enough to fend off any opponents.

But what would he do next?

Maybe he could try to rebuild his life while on the run? Unfortunately for him, dark corridors are limited to places the user is familiar with, so hitching a portal off to nowhere isn't an option. He'd have to settle in a world he already knows – which means the Organisation knows it, too. It's far from ideal; he'd be constantly plagued with the anxiety of being hunted down and caught. With that looming over him, it'd be hard to make new friends, let alone find a new place to call home.

Well, he could quash said anxiety by taking down the Organisation. How gratifying would it be to storm headquarters, foil Xemnas' evil plans and deliver much-needed justice? But even as he revels in the idea, he knows it's overambitious – suicidal, even. After Saïx's defeat, they wouldn't be stupid enough to challenge him alone, which leaves him outnumbered seven-to-one. Against such odds, he'd be destroyed for sure. Or worse yet, recaptured and enslaved. Then he'd be back to square one: being the Organisation's pawn once more.

Not an acceptable course of action.

Underpinning all this is a certain moral dilemma. As much as Roxas deserves a shot at life, is it really okay to live at Sora's expense? Naminé had mentioned that Sora carries great responsibility. If Roxas isn't capable of filling his shoes, can he really just toss aside that fact and run away?

But I'm not Sora! he snarls in silent defiance. His responsibilities are his, not mine!

It's funny how desperately he'd sought to uncover his past, only to want no part of it in the end. But can he ignore all of his previous self's obligations, whatever they are, just to rewrite his own blank slate? Leave all of Sora's friends and allies and loved ones without closure, endlessly waiting for his return?

Leave Kairi waiting?

That gives him pause. There's nobody besides Roxas who has a more intimate understanding of how important Kairi is to Sora. Briefly, he entertains the idea of visiting her and telling her everything. Isn't she owed the truth, at the very least?

But he doubts their encounter would go well. There's no way to know how (poorly) she'd react to someone who is and isn't Sora. To have the one she loved stolen away, usurped by his incomplete, amnesiac copy. Not to mention that he'd take one look at her – the girl whose likeness he'd unconsciously stamped onto his own beloved – and feel his heart break all over again.

No. He can't do that to Kairi, of all people. He can't give her his inferior Nobody self, when it's Sora who ought to return to her. And if Kairi deserves Sora back, wouldn't this mean that everyone else does too? That's only fair, right?

It ends up becoming a contest of cosmic significance. Roxas is beholden to no one, whereas Sora has countless others who depend on him. To sum it up, Roxas would cause untold suffering through the simple, selfish act of holding onto his borrowed existence. With that knowledge weighing on him, would he be able to live with himself?

In the end, he's just as necessary a sacrifice as Xion was, isn't he? She'd gone through the same moral dilemma, and come out with the strength to do the right thing. Is Roxas just deluding himself with the illusion of choice, because he must ultimately follow in her footsteps?

All this injustice, just because he's Sora's goddamn Nobody.

How he seethes with the urge to defy it all. Screw cosmic significance! He ought to flip everyone the proverbial middle finger and just walk away, walk his own path. Said path would be fraught with difficulty, but at least he'd have the satisfaction of choosing it for himself. He's entitled to a life as much as anybody else, dammit!

Yet what is freedom without any meaningful way to spend it? What is life without purpose, without friends, without anything to hold dear?

What would he even be living for?

To prove to myself that I exist.

But is that enough? Can he survive on such flimsy, abstract reasoning? What is it that he truly wants, in the deepest depths of his heart?

I want… to be with my friends. I want to be with Xion. I want to do the right thing by her and make sure her sacrifice isn't in vain.

And just like that, the answer becomes obvious.

Xion's final resting place is inside Sora's heart. That's where Roxas will join her. He will finish what she started, by offering himself in unified sacrifice. This will fulfill her wish to give back to Sora his rightful memories, thus restoring his fragmented existence and many connections. Perhaps there aren't any other real options, but Roxas will take ownership of this choice. He will go back to Sora – of his own volition.

Decision made, he rises from the couch and wanders over to the room's exit. The door opens and shuts behind him, marking his departure from his final place of respite.

A quick glance around the foyer reveals that nothing has changed since his last visit. Not even Riku had bothered switching up his haunt. The silver-haired teenager is leaning against that same winged unicorn stand as though he'd always been there, though logic dictates otherwise.

"Roxas," he calls out in a terse greeting.

"Riku," Roxas returns, equally terse.

"I was wondering when you'd leave that room," Riku continues, tilting his head. Roxas doesn't need to look behind that blindfold to know he's being examined head-to-toe. "You look awful."

Delivered with such offhandedness, that remark makes Roxas' hackles rise. The nerve of that guy, to criticise his appearance after the nightmare he's been through—! "What's it to you?" he spits.

But Riku doesn't seem to pay his mounting agitation any mind. "I remember… there were two of you. But the other – a girl, I think? – she must've already gone back to Sora." He raps his knuckles against his temple. "It's hard to remember even her name now."

"It's Xion, Riku," Roxas grits out, hands balling into fists at his sides. "Don't insult her memory."

"Xion…" Riku shakes his shaggy head, as if clearing the cobwebs in his mind. "Has Naminé's idea worked, then?"

Unclenching his hands, Roxas exhales loudly through his nose. "Yeah, I remember it all. I remember everything. No matter how much it hurts, I'll never forget."

This admission seems to take the older teenager aback. "Roxas, I'm so sor—"

"Don't," Roxas snaps, cutting him off. Not only would an apology from Riku be utterly inadequate, it's also the last thing he wants to hear right now. "Just… don't.

"Do you know how much it hurts to lose someone who meant everything to you?" Bringing his palm up to his chest, he presses it against the ache that seems to have taken up permanent residence there. "This pain I feel… it's proof that she had lived. I'll carry that for the rest of my life. Not that there's much of that left now."

Riku's mouth goes slack in surprise. "Wait, are you saying—?"

"Yeah, I've made up my mind," Roxas confirms, not without spite. "I'll go back to Sora, just like you want. I'll give you your friend back. I won't let Xion's sacrifice be for nothing."

Then the crushing emptiness of Xion's absence hits him yet again, turning his words and manner forlorn. "She's there, isn't she? Inside Sora's heart. Will I see her?"

It's a rhetorical question meant to grant him some semblance of hope, but Riku denies him even that. "I… can't say. I don't want to hand out false promises."

Roxas cannot help but scoff. "No, you've done enough damage already."

Like before, Riku ignores his provocation. "Roxas, I've been thinking. I realise how unfair things are for you. You and her."

"What's your point, Riku?" The retort exits his mouth in automatic reflex, but it's more resigned than belligerent.

"I want to… offer you a favour."

This causes Roxas to shoot an incredulous stare at Riku's blindfold.

"Anything you ask, within reason," the older teenager continues. "I can't let you gallivant off, for example."

"Wasn't planning on that, anyway," Roxas sighs. "There's nowhere to go. And there's no point in going on." Then he narrows suspicious eyes at Riku. "But why this? Why now?"

Discomfort is clear in the twist of Riku's youthful features. "You and Xion remind me… of him and her."

"Sora and Kairi, you mean?" he surmises.

The silver-haired teenager plucks at his sleeve, his discomfort becoming more pronounced. "Yeah. You're both so… similar."

This earns a bitter chuckle from Roxas. "Hits a bit too close to home, huh?"

Riku grunts an affirmative.

"Doesn't it make you feel horrible inside?" Roxas sneers, his words laced with no small amount of vindictiveness. "Being able to see them in us? Like it's them you're watching go through this hell while you just sit there and let it all happen."

Riku's lips are peeled back in a pained rictus. "Yeah, it does."

For some reason, getting that simple response drains all the animosity out of Roxas. "Better than nothing, I suppose," he mutters. Then an idea occurs to him – why not test the truth of Riku's generosity? "It just so happens that there is something you can do."

Something that isn't quite eagerness flickers across Riku's face. "What is it?"

Slipping his hand into his pocket, Roxas pulls out the book that contains so many of his precious memories. "Here's my diary." He hesitates for a moment, then fishes out the equally precious memento that his best friend had left behind. "And a letter Xion wrote to me.

"Give this to Sora. I want him to remember us. I want him to know that we were living people once, with our own hopes and dreams. And hearts," he adds as an afterthought. "We sacrificed all of that, just so he can be whole again."

Riku receives the proffered items with surprising care, even reverence. He stows them away into his coat. "I'll make sure he gets this. You have my promise."

Though Roxas hates having to say it to Riku – of all people – a word of gratitude would not be amiss here. "Thanks."

The older teenager nods, not the least bothered by his grudging manner. "Roxas," he says heavily, "Sora wouldn't be happy that things are like this. He'd want to meet you and Xion. Or more than that, probably – he'd want you two to be your own people. He'd look for another way."

"What's the point of telling me this?" Again, Roxas' retort contains more resignation than bite.

Riku scrubs his face with a weary hand. "What I'm trying to say is… Sora would feel for you."

Despite himself, Roxas feels his lips quirk in an almost-smile. "That's a nice sentiment, not that it means anything now. If my Other was a jerk, I wouldn't have bothered with any of this." Then he tilts his head up and looks Riku in the eye – or blindfold, rather. "Just tell me one thing, Riku. What will you do once Sora wakes up?"

The other guy returns his stare evenly. "We'll stop whatever the Organisation's doing. We won't let them have Kingdom Hearts."

Satisfied, Roxas closes his eyes. "That's good enough for me." Then he blinks them open, realising that there's still one important piece of information he needs. "Well, I'm going to see Sora now. Do you know where—"

"Second floor, right side. And Roxas," Riku adds before Roxas can saunter off in the provided direction, "I want to thank you. Both you and Xion. I can't… express how grateful I am that you're doing this." The sincerity in his voice is raw, unmistakable, and it makes Roxas' insides churn with discomfort.

Unable to muster 'you're welcome' in reply, he asks instead, "You'll take care of Sora, won't you?"

Riku thumps his fist against his chest. "You can count on it."

"Alright then." Having exhausted the patience to continue their uncomfortable interaction, Roxas takes several steps forward, past the older teenager. "Goodbye, Riku."

"Goodbye, Roxas," he hears Riku's reply echo behind him.

Turning around to give the silver-haired teenager one last glance, Roxas resumes his march across the foyer, towards his next destination.

He finds himself in a library of sorts, with an open flight of stairs descending to the doorway below. To his lack of surprise, Naminé is already awaiting him here. After advising her of his decision, Roxas follows her lead down into the mansion's basement.

They pass by the control room, an arena-like space, and arrive at an interesting-looking corridor. Lining the left wall are glassy, teardrop-shaped pods, each large enough to house a person. Indeed, two of them contain occupants: a short, anthropomorphic duck and his taller canine counterpart, dressed in blue and green respectively.

Roxas recognises them straightaway. That's Donald, the ill-tempered court magician, and Goofy, the phlegmatic knight – his two most trusted companions. They've been on numerous adventures together, sharing lots of smiles and laughter amid arguments and tears. One thing is certain: he can always rely on them in a fight. How many times has he watched in awe as Donald razed the battlefield with his spells, or muttered his thanks as Goofy intercepted an attack meant for him? They even have their own victory salute: a team hi-five, accompanied by a cheerful cry of their motto:

All for one and one for all!

Unthinking, he rushes forward and braces his hands against the nearest occupied pod. "Donald?" He turns to look at its neighbour. "Goofy?"

But there's no response, only silence broken by the hum of running electronics. Donald and Goofy remain motionless within their glass prisons, eyes shut in repose.

Then realisation sinks in, causing him to pull away. He knows them, but at the same time, he doesn't. For neither the magician nor the knight are Roxas' companions.

They're Sora's.

The lines between him and his Other are already blurring. Is this a taste of what it'll be like once they merge, where the personality known as 'Roxas' slowly fades into the background and gets replaced by 'Sora'?

Only when Naminé speaks up does he realise that he'd been thoroughly lost in thought.

"They've been put to sleep alongside Sora," she explains. "Their memories are also messed up, and I've been working hard to fix them, too."

Roxas gives himself a vigorous shake to bring himself back to the present. "Will they all wake up at the same time?"

Naminé nods. "If everything goes according to plan, yes."

"So they'll be together. It must be nice, having such good friends by your side."

Saying that leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Donald and Goofy have always stood by Sora. Even when he'd lost his Keyblade to Riku and in turn, the reason for them to accompany him, they'd returned to him anyway. That loyalty and devotion and camaraderie would continue to stay with him, going forward.

And what does Roxas have? Nothing. But even as resentment bubbles hot and ugly inside his chest, it assures him that he's making the right decision.

They proceed to the next room, which is so devoid of feature and colour that it puts even Naminé's room to shame. Without any delineation between wall and ceiling, it may as well be an endless expanse of white. In the centre lies the room's lone piece of furniture: yet another pod stationed above an elaborate base. If not for the shadow it cast against the floor, it would be indistinguishable from its surroundings.

As Roxas shifts his attention onto the pod, something inside him reacts. All of a sudden, he's filled with a strange yearning to get closer, like some inexplicable force is pulling him forward. As he puts one foot ahead of the other, the yearning gives way to a sense of rightness. It's as though his very instincts are telling him that this is the place where he belongs.

"Sora is sleeping in there," Naminé supplies unnecessarily, interrupting his reverie. Roxas swivels, finding her a step behind him.

"I know," he says, placing a hand over his chest and marvelling at the sensations within. "I can feel him. It's like… he's calling me home."

"Xion said that, too." She gives him an encouraging look. "Joining him won't hurt, I promise."

It's more of a comfort than he can describe, knowing that Xion's final moments were not spent in fear or pain. "That's... nice to know."

"Well then," Naminé continues, her tone wistful, "I guess this is where we say goodbye."

Roxas shakes his head, unwilling to let her go before conveying his sentiment. "Before that, I want to thank you. For taking care of me."

Melancholy is foremost in Naminé's expression. "It's the least I could do. I promised Xion, didn't I?" Then she fixes intent eyes upon his. "But it's really you who deserves thanks, Roxas. I know how much making this choice has cost you."

For some reason, he finds himself much more receptive to Naminé's gratitude rather than Riku's. Maybe it's because he views Riku as the enemy, whereas Naminé is just the unlucky messenger. Or maybe it's because they're not very different from each other. He and she share an understanding that can only stem from the same fate, and that's what makes her words genuine.

"Yeah," he sighs. "I just wish we'd known about all of this earlier. If only we'd met you back then."

"Would it honestly have changed anything?"

Roxas ponders her question for a moment. Knowing what he knows now, how would he alter the past? There are so many things beyond his control, like the fact that he and Xion are unable to coexist. Even if Naminé's offer of untangling them from Sora's memory was made available earlier, could it be achieved? The year-long timeframe puts them at terrible risk. More likely than not, the Organisation would catch wind of their plan and nip it in the bud.

But aside from Naminé's offer, Roxas and Xion have no other means of salvation. This means that their fate is effectively sealed. As such, all that foreknowledge might do is buy time for them to make peace with their inevitable sacrifice.

"No, I suppose not."

His answer must've sounded so dismal to Naminé that she feels compelled to cheer him up. "Roxas, please remember this isn't the end for us," she declares, folding earnest hands over her breast. "We will live on, and we will meet again. If not as ourselves, then as our respective Others."

"That's not any real consolation, y'know," Roxas points out.

Perhaps he'd said that in too blunt a manner, for Naminé looks quite taken aback. "I'm sorry."

With her downcast eyes and the way she's drawn her shoulders into herself, her resemblance to Xion is especially pronounced in that moment.

"It's not your fault," he quickly backpedals. "I guess there's just nothing that can be said to make it better."

Naminé expels a heavy breath. "You're right."

"It's okay, though," he reassures her, feeling the same compulsion to cheer her up just as she had done before. "I still appreciate your effort."

This brings a smile to her lips, a faint and tremulous thing. He averts his gaze; it hurts to look at that too-familiar expression, those too-familiar indigo eyes.

Silence settles between them. Though their conversation might be brief, it has clearly run its course. After a moment, Roxas clears his throat.

"Well, I'd better get on with it. Until next time, Naminé."

"Until next time," she repeats, giving him a solemn nod, "Roxas."

He waves as she retreats out of sight, back into the previous corridor. Now left alone with nothing but to face his end, Roxas takes a deep, shaky breath to prepare himself. Then he lifts his head high, squares his shoulders and closes the distance between himself and the pod.

With a hiss of moving hydraulics, the pod unfurls, not unlike a blossoming flower. Suspended within it is a sleeping teenaged boy. His brown hair is wild and overgrown, in dire need of a trim. Despite his short and slender frame, the jumpsuit he's sporting looks a few sizes too small for him. Couldn't they be bothered to give him a change of clothes, at the very least? Has he been shut away in there this whole time, neglected, as he continued to sleep?

Roxas lifts his gaze until it alights on the boy's too-familiar face. A face identical to his own.

"Sora," he calls out, his voice resonating across the chamber. "You're me, huh? Or the 'me' I was before. It feels like we're two completely different people, now."

There's no reply; not that he'd expected one.

"Will you remember us?" he continues. "Me and Xion? Maybe you will. If your memories are anything to go by, you're a decent guy.

"I wanna hate you," he proclaims, propelled by a sudden surge of emotion, "but I can't. Not completely, anyway. You get to be a real person, while me and Xion are just your shells, your… leftovers. I definitely resent you for that."

Then the anger empties out of his voice, replaced by something worn and tired. "But I also know this is all out of your control, like it is for us. You didn't get to pick and choose. You just happened to get lucky."

Again, Roxas is greeted with silence. But there's a strange warmth emanating from Sora now, suffusing the air around him before settling deep inside his chest. It's comforting, familiar. It makes him think of the tropical ocean breeze – of home.

Maybe this rejoining thing won't be so bad, after all.

"Whatever. It looks like my days are over, and you're carrying on the torch. So… good luck. Make sure you kick the Organisation's butt for us, alright?"

He rests a hand against one of the pod's many petals. "That's enough from me. It's time to wake up, Sora."

Retrieving the thalassa shell from his pocket, Roxas brushes his thumb over its serrated surface. "Xion, I'll be with you soon."

He studies it for another moment, before tucking it away. Then he takes his final step forward. Light pours into the space between him and Sora, engulfing all of his senses until he knows nothing but white.

xxx

Fin.

xxx

A/N: So we've finally come to the end of this story. Perhaps an alternative synopsis would be 'what if Xion manages to carry out her original plan of returning to Sora', but Roxas gets a little too entangled in affairs for that to accurately reflect the story's direction.

Before you ask, I have no intention of rewriting KH2 under these altered circumstances. Fundamentally, things would stay the same, though I imagine Sora would face down Org XIII with extra prejudice.

If Xion's data persisted in Vexen's research notes as mentioned in KH3, then by association other physical records of her would also persist, right? It seemed inconsistent that she would fade from Naminé's drawings (or Roxas' diary). Like a magic eraser had selectively scrubbed out all traces of Xion save Vexen's research notes so that the true Org XIII can revive her at their convenience.

Days was meant to be a self-contained story, with Xion both making her debut and fading from existence in the one instalment. I feel like Nomura had invented some convenient deus ex machina so that he can shoehorn her into the KH3 narrative, so I decided to flip it around in this story. Honestly though, I believe this is how Days should've ended. I despise the start of KH2 if only for the fact that Roxas' experience in the alternate Twilight Town is completely fabricated (extra cruelty points to DiZ, I guess) and doesn't feel genuine to me.

Thanks for reading. Please leave a comment, if you feel so inclined :-)