this can be considered a companion piece to all the lights in the sky are stars, given that they are both me just vomiting out things i want to happen in kh3. less kissing in this one tho. more battle scenes. i was practicing. maybe that's more your thing.

in other news, writer's block is the worst thing on the planet

"So, that place is where the fight will be," Riku says, indicating a winking dot of light floating in the darkened room. Yen Sid's personal study has been darkened, curtains drawn, and he has used his magic to project a star-map of all the worlds into the air around them, making it seem as though Riku is a giant moving through space. Yen Sid nods gravely. (He does everything gravely, to be fair.)

"Of course, my knowledge of this world's location is long outdated," he cautions, running a hand down his beard. "It has been eleven, nearly twelve years since any of us has dared to return to it, and in that time the darkness has swallowed and clouded much. Many of the natural orbits and paths of the worlds' celestial dance have been disrupted. The ancient almanacs have indeed been rendered useless. If we survive this coming conflict, the known World will need to be re-mapped."

Riku nods. In the dim light thrown by the star projection, Riku is painted in silver, gleaming in his hair and tinting his skin ghost-pale. "I think I should go there," he says after a while, his fingers lifted close to the mote which represents that world, the one Yen Sid and his Majesty will only call "the Keyblade Graveyard."

Yen Sid frowns and leans forward. "Master Riku," he says, brows knit, "even if you could find this lost world, what do you hope to gain by seeking it before the appointed day and hour? It is a wasted land, where none dwell. There are no answers to be found there."

"We can't just be reactive." Riku shuts his fist around the mote of light, and instantly the galaxy of lights winks out, leaving the study in shadow. "So far, all we've done is sit back and wait for Xehanort to make another move. Before, we didn't know what his plan was or where he was going with any of this. Now, we know. The guy told us. We've got the chance to get the jump on him, or at least keep him from getting the jump on us." Yen Sid claps his hands, and the curtains draw back from the windows, slowly letting the natural light back in. "Besides," Riku adds, "do you trust him to fight fair and square in a neutral zone? Because I definitely don't." The bastard already has them outnumbered nearly two to one by default. Why couldn't it have been thirteen lights versus seven darknesses, anyway?

"Ohh, so you're thinkin' that Xehanort might get there first and set a trap for us!" a voice comes from behind them, and Riku turns to see King Mickey step into the room. How long was he out there?

"Yeah," Riku replies, nodding. "I think it's a good idea to learn the terrain and scope out the area. Maybe even see if we can spy on him, if he's using that world as his base."

"Oh, he wouldn't," King Mickey says, in a voice so certain even Yen Sid seems thrown off. "Xehanort won't dare to step foot on that world until the time's all right."

Yen Sid beats Riku to the punch: "King Mickey," he says, "what would make you so sure of this?"

"Why, because the Keyblade Graveyard is haunted!" King Mickey spreads his arms and chuckles as if that were common knowledge. After a pause in which Riku is sure he and Yen Sid must have the same expression, King Mickey waves them down. "Aw, I guess I better explain from the beginning, huh?"

And so he explains that back before Sora had traveled to the World that Never Was to face the Organization half a year ago, he'd stopped by Disney Castle to check on the Cornerstone of Light and to get a gummi tune-up. The king explains that while he wasn't there, Queen Minnie had been, and had told him that a strange portal had opened up in the Hall of the Cornerstone, and Sora had investigated it. He explains that Donald and Goofy told him about the battle that ensued with a mysterious armored figure, who spoke with a ghostly echoing voice and attacked them because it somehow mistook one or all of them for Xehanort or at least his allies, and that Sora had fought to within an inch of his life to keep the vengeful spirit at bay.

"They described the place they were in and it sounded just like that awful world," Mickey concludes. "And I got to thinkin', why, how come Xehanort wasn't basing any operations out of that world there right now?" Wow, that is a good question. The World that Never Was happened to form on the edges of the outer darkness, sure, but the Keyblade Graveyard isn't even on their maps right now, and Xehanort must surely know how to use that place to his advantage. "But, if there's this really powerful spirit that attacks anyone who it even thinks is Xehanort, then it all makes sense! He's scared to go there until he's strong enough to make sure he can defeat it."

Yen Sid seems perturbed by this, stroking his beard near-compulsively. After a long pause, he asks, "Did Sora describe this... 'armored figure' in much detail?" Almost like he knows something. Riku finds himself nearly holding his breath waiting for the answer – anticipation is contagious.

King Mickey frowns. "Well, gosh, let's see... he said it was about... six feet tall or more... and its armor was rusted... and it carried a really large Keyblade. Sora didn't say much more than that."

Riku thinks he can hear "It can't be..." from Master Yen Sid behind him, but when he turns to look, the old man is already straightening himself, settling his hands on the table. "In light of what you have told me," he says, and he seems more quiet, more pensive than before, "I reconsider what I said before. Master Riku, I believe you should seek out this mysterious figure. Discover its purpose. Fight if you must."

Riku can tell a dismissal when he hears one. "Understood," he says.

It happens between breaths: one moment, there is nothing but bare rock, blowing sand and hot dirt, and the next moment, the wind dies and the sand settles and there is an entire person there. Kneeling on the ground, hands resting on a massive Keyblade, like a knight awaiting orders. Riku jumps back, startled, Way to the Dawn already springing to his hand, and the King gasps.

It had taken about a week for them to find this world, a combination of running all over with a swift Falcon-class Gummi Ship and triangulating based on places Mickey had been before. Upon landing, Riku could immediately sense the hostility of the world itself, although no Heartless sprang at them (which itself was remarkable given that they were two Keyblade wielders traveling without cloaks). The air tasted heavy and dry; the sand and dirt crunched loudly no matter how carefully he stepped. This was a world that didn't want them there.

Now, standing before the armored figure in a defensive stance, Keyblade at the ready, Riku can hear something. It's like a voice, alien and hollow—it makes Riku's hair stand on end. It takes a second for him to realize that it's the armor talking: the sound of air flowing through spaces in it, mimicking human speech, resonating within the metal. Riku realizes, with a cold spike in his gut—the armor is empty. (He hadn't realized how little he'd believed it was actually a ghost until he got here.)

key..ades... you...

"What are you?" Riku shouts, despite himself. Mickey shushes him, behind and to his left.

one... do not know... but... you... that time...

The armor, motionless up to now, lifts its head. It's looking at Riku, ignoring the King.

you are... the one...i ch o s.e...

(And somehow, when Riku hears this, his heart responds, though he doesn't know why—he feels as though he is on the verge of remembering something, something terribly important—)

but – (and now the voice boils dark, its resonation buzzing low in the earth, through Riku's soles—) ..f..eel... in you... xe. .ha..no..r...

"Uh-oh," Mickey says, and Riku doesn't even have time to agree with him before the armored figure stands, and then pulls its massive Keyblade free from the earth.

yo..u... mus.t... be...

"Mickey," Riku says, and he still can't believe he's about to say this.

"What is it?"

He swallows. "I think... I need to do this alone."

The armored figure still hasn't moved, but it radiates an intent as focused as the point of a laser beam. Riku knows it's only waiting for him to decide whether he's fighting alone or not. "But why?" Mickey looks as distressed as he did in Castle Oblivion, when Riku was about to face Ansem.

Riku turns from him, faces the armored figure. "Because... I think I know him." (He remembers fragments, a child's disjointed memory—blue eyes, strong hands, a gentle smile. He remembers the Keyblade the armored figure holds. He's seen it in his dreams since before he can recall, never understanding its significance, forgetting it upon waking.) "And if it's who I think it is... he's the reason I can wield the Keyblade." The armored figure stands tensed, but it seems to be willing to allow him the time to persuade Mickey to step aside. "And I..." He brings his hand in front of him, the broad side of Way to the Dawn facing the ghost. "I have to know why."

Mickey takes in a deep breath. "Well..." he says. His lips turn down for a moment, but he nods. "I understand, Riku. But if you get in trouble—"

"—I can call you anytime," Riku finishes. He smiles even though he can't afford to turn to face Mickey, to turn away from the armored figure.

He pauses, listens, but Mickey leapt away too lightly to be heard, because before he hears anything, the air suddenly tightens and the armored figure explodes forward. Riku's instincts kick in and he rolls to the left, gets his feet beneath him, looks up—rolls again, there's no time, the armored figure is fast despite its size and that Keyblade is way too massive for Riku to care to take a hit—

something slashes across Riku's chest and sharp agony rips through him. Some long bright-tipped fast-moving thing, like a firefly tethered to—It's turned its Keyblade into a whip, Riku realizes, and this time when he dodges, he lets the cold-hot bite of the darkness carry him faster than sound, leaving wisps of acrid black smoke and a crack of displaced air in his wake. Riku doesn't know where Mickey fled to, to be a safe distance from this, and he can't worry about it anymore because now he needs to start fighting.

This time, when the armored figure rushes him, Riku taps the darkness again, hurtling towards it cloaked in smoke. He can see the movement of its Keyblade, taste its weight and momentum, hear it pulverize the air—

he slides along the side of it, the way the shadow it casts slides over rock, by bare centimeters—

and slams his Keyblade into its open left side. The impact crashes hollow inside its chest like thunder, and it flinches back, before shoving its shoulder down to knock Riku away. Riku takes the hit on his sword shoulder and his arm goes numb to the wrist, sending shocks right into his fingertips, as he flies a couple meters away to land on one foot and one knee.

The armored figure is right on top of him, bearing down, and Riku throws his left hand up, and energy burns through it—he calls on his fear, on adrenaline and shock, on the involuntary flashes of anger you feel in reaction to pain—and shimmers star-heat/frostbite blue above his fingertips. The massive Keyblade slams into his shield and it wavers, flashes colors, but doesn't break. Riku's shields have become impenetrable, ever since he learned how to channel any impact-pain that jolts his arm directly back into them without conscious thought.

Impenetrable—but brief, because emotions are volatile and can't last long, so Riku can only gather his strength, shift his left leg more solidly under him, and back-spring away as the Keyblade slams into the ground where he was. He doesn't dare try the same trick twice with dark-enhanced speed, but he does manage to strike back at the figure with a series of hard, focused thrusts. Every one of them hits with the sound of thunder.

Riku doesn't even know if he's doing real damage. How can you strike a ghost? When he dodges, he stays low and close to the ground, before striking upwards with the weight of earth behind him, pushing him towards the dust-choked sky; he ripples away with cracks of darkness and shimmers behind the figure to strike at the back of its neck before slipping away again; he deflects its own screaming-energy projectiles back at it. It never slows, or tires.

(Sometimes when it strikes, Riku thinks he can hear something, like a hollow and half-swallowed shout, the wind hissing through the seams in its armor creating an endless shriek of rage that didn't need to stop for new breath.)

Its fury is so palpable that sometimes when Riku touches the dark, he can sense it in the very air, because anger corrodes and the darkness knows its own—it sizzles like a cloud of poison, clinging to his skin, burning down his throat when he breathes, hot-sick acid stinging under his tongue. It seems to attack more viciously every time Riku uses the darkness. Riku kind of gets the feeling it doesn't want him to do that.

Once, and only once, Riku catches its strike, locks Keyblades with the figure and tries to stare down an empty helmet. The impact involved rips through him like the blow of a car crash, his feet driven down half a foot into the earth (the earth, which is not soft at all in this place). Riku thinks he hears something, the wind catching on juts of metal, a voice echoing in a well: why? And though it is only one question, Riku thinks he understands: why the darkness, why this foreign and tainted Keyblade, why? Why isn't he the same as the boy from the islands?

He doesn't have an answer, or at least, he has no answer he can spit out in a few words while also driving off the inexorable strength of a ghost. Riku disengages, pulls his blade away with a screech of metal and dodges to the left. The armored figure jumps back – its Keyblade unfolds like a gun – it's preparing a Mega-Flare again. Riku knows it will home in on him, and he prepares to deflect it and run, except –

he sees, out of the corner of his eye, the King jumping in from the side, to stand by him – the Mega-Flare releases just then, coming for both of them –

Riku acts on instinct.

He throws himself to one side – to the side King Mickey is moving towards – and throws his arms up, crossed at the wrists, his hands in loose fists, and he takes every ounce of sudden terror he's feeling, and pours it along with every last drop of magic and stamina he has into a Dark Barrier half-dome that covers the space in front of them, curved like the windshield of a Gummi Ship.

The Mega-Flare hits once. Riku can feel the heat across the barrier as if it were searing his own skin, and he pours that pain into his rage, and the rage into the spell, and he prepares himself for the second impact when it deflects away to return.

(Here is the thing.

In theory, it should not be possible to build a Dark Barrier this big, or this thick, or this enduring.

The darkness is void, is vanity, is selfishness, and therefore encompasses the types of emotions that are volatile – that react once in a violent flash, and are then gone, leaving more void in their wake. Anger. Envy. Fear. All excellent for channeling into, say, a Dark Firaga. Dark Aura, even. A fast and furious attack that feeds on its own energy. But defense? Tricky. Dark Barrier is best for single blows. For something in the heat of a moment. In terms of endurance, you won't get much out of it.

In theory.

But Riku has learned something from his time in the Realm of Sleep, and that is this: that the division between things of the dark and things of the light is not so stark as you would believe. That hearts are complex, and the rules can bend. That, viewed through the right lens, anger on behalf of a friend can burn brighter than any emotion centered on the self. That fear can be a sign of love, that love itself can be of the dark.

That darkness can change to light, and light can fall to dark.

In short: Riku learned how to change the rules, and that power is still his. To consume the darkness and return it to light; and vice versa.)

The Mega-Flare, deflected once, moves back as if sucked into a whirlpool centered on the two of them. It taps the barrier again and Riku screams as the impact nearly shatters his mental hold on it. He is only dimly aware of the King touching his shoulder, saying something – the syllables run through his ears like water. All of his energy is focused on keeping the barrier intact. Because –

(slam)

The armored figure's Keyblade slams against it. The blow sends Riku to one knee, the barrier flashing and sparking but still holding. His head hurts as if it was his skull that was struck.

He is starting to make out what King Mickey is saying: Riku! You don't have to –

(And true, he doesn't have to. The King can hold his own. But this is Riku's fight. His burden.)

A second blow from the Keyblade. Where did the Mega-Flare go? Riku might have dissipated it on the second reflection. He doesn't know. His eyes are screwed shut. It hurts too much to see. He can feel his magic depleting at an alarming rate, his limbs getting heavier. He's never tried to hold a Dark Barrier up this long, not even on his own account.

A third blow. The barrier dims, flickers, but it stays up. Riku cracks his eyes open, to see the armored figure mere inches away, separated from him and the King by only the barrier. It brings its arm back for another blow.

The barrier shatters upon the fourth impact, and Riku catches the Keyblade on the crux of his crossed wrists. The impact numbs his hands and wrenches his shoulders, and the teeth of the Keyblade scratch across his forehead, drawing blood that trickles over the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks like tears from the corners of his eyes. Riku finally opens them all the way. Even though he's so exhausted from the effort of the barrier that his vision is doubling. Even though he thinks one of his wrists might be broken.

"Enough," he chokes out, and what he means is: enough. I'll admit I've lost to you. But don't hurt my friend. Don't make me responsible for more collateral damage.

For a second, a blessed second after what felt like a lifetime of blurred motion and adrenaline and intermittent pain, everything is quiet. None of them move. Even the wind has gone still.

The armored figure slowly brings its Keyblade back, catching a couple strands of Riku's bangs as it lifts off his wrists and away from his face. Riku tries to stands but stumbles – he's so exhausted now that he's dizzy – and he involuntarily yelps when he puts a hand down to steady himself and the whole arm twinges. ("Twinges" is too light a word for it. More like "screams in agony from the wrist to his shoulder socket.")

"Riku!" He hears the King call his name and then he feels a cool rush of energy rush over his skin, lifting his worst bruises and sealing some minor fractures back together, especially at his wrists. The cut across his face knits together, leaving his face smeared with blood with no sign of how it had gotten there. The Curaga relieves some of his exhaustion, but he still feels a little dizzy. He's taken a beating. He needs to rest if he wants to completely recover.

The armored figure is still standing there. It hasn't returned to its original position, the way Mickey said that Sora had described. In fact –

It dismisses its Keyblade.

Riku stands up, unsteadily. He has a feeling. Some nameless compulsion. He felt it, during the fight. The figure does want to speak to him. But it will take something more to reach it. An act of trust. "Wait," he says to Mickey behind him.

He summons his Keyblade to his hand and steps forward, holding it loosely at his side. The atmosphere is taut with anticipation; it doesn't seem like the ghost or Mickey can figure out what Riku is doing.

He plunges his Keyblade into the earth.

(The armored figure's head moves, as if focusing an unseen gaze more intensely.)

And Riku sinks, carefully, to his knees. Puts both hands on the hilt guard. Mirroring the armored figure's posture from before, when it had appeared.

It steps forward, slowly.

And it puts both hands on his head, as if in a benediction.

I UNDERSTAND NOW.

(Its "voice" before had been carried by the wind, too light and incorporeal, incapable of transmitting the words of a ghost. Now, though. Now its words carry through the earth, its native element. The metal of its armor conducts the sound where it touches, rattles in Riku's skull like the voice of a god. It almost hurts, and he winces.)

I FEEL IT IN YOU. XEHANORT TOUCHED YOUR HEART ONCE, TRIED TO TAKE IT. YOU AND I ARE THE SAME.

(What? Riku gasps aloud, but he can't even hear his own voice over the landslide of sound in his head.)

BUT WHERE I FAILED, YOU SUCCEEDED. I SEE IT NOW. I THOUGHT I COULD USE THAT POWER TO PROTECT SOMEONE BY MAKING MYSELF STRONG. ALL I MADE MYSELF WAS A WEAPON. A SWORD THAT ONLY BROUGHT PAIN. ALL WEAPONS ARE ULTIMATELY DOOMED TO BE USED.

BUT YOU...

(Somehow, the voice in his head softens. Warms.)

YOU MADE YOURSELF A SHIELD.

(The hands in Riku's hair tighten their grip slightly.)

YOU HAVE ACHIEVED THE MARK OF MASTERY. YOU HAVE DONE WHAT I COULD NEVER DO. I SEE IT NOW. MY RAGE IS NOT ENOUGH TO DEFEAT HIM. IT HAS BEEN TWELVE YEARS SINCE I WAS TAKEN. I HAVE FORGOTTEN WHO I ONCE WAS. I HAVE FORGOTTEN SO MANY THINGS.

I CAN ONLY PASS ON MY STRENGTH TO YOU.

"Wait!" Riku shouts. But the armored figure is already standing back from him. It shudders once, and then – suddenly – slumps to the ground, each piece falling apart from the next, until it is only a heap of armor parts. The largest shoulder plate from the left arm rolls and settles against Riku's Keyblade, as he braces against it and stands up.

"Gosh..." Riku hears Mickey behind him, and turns, to see the diminutive King walk forward and examine the armor closely. "It can't be..."

"You know something?" Riku asks, with something of a sigh behind his words. Not on purpose: he's exhausted.

Mickey takes a couple more seconds of squinting at the empty armor before he answers. "I think I just might have an idea who this used to be," he says. "And I think Master Yen Sid knew him personally."

Riku bends down and scoops up the shoulder plate, and fits it to his left arm. It's surprisingly not too large for him. "He was in pain," he says softly. "He told me... Xehanort used him. The way he used me."

Mickey nods thoughtfully. "Master Aqua's friend."

"The younger Xehanort that appeared in Hollow Bastion ten years ago," Riku says.

They share a long, pensive pause.

A rust-colored helmet sits on Yen Sid's desk, next to the skull covered in candle wax. The wick burns a low, blue flame.

"We have no conclusive evidence..." Yen Sid says, his hands folded on the desk before him. "Nevertheless, if your suspicions are correct, as I believe they might be, then we have learned something that may prove of vital importance in this fight." Riku stands alone, in front of the former Master. The King wasn't there; he'd said he had something to check on back home and left quickly, apparently lost in thought. Yen Sid's shoulders slump slightly, a radical change from his usual ramrod-straight posture. The low light from the window casts shadows that emphasize the lines on his face. He looks as old as he is, for once. "His name was Terra," he says. "I only met him once, but I could see that he was a kind young man. Respectful. Forthright. His friends loved him very much. I am... saddened, to hear what may have become of him."

Riku nods. He looks about as tired as Yen Sid himself. He'd only gotten about four hours of sleep on the Gummi ride home, and it was just enough time for his leftover bruises and overtaxed muscles to start screaming, but not enough to get any reasonable healing done. He's already made a mental note to congratulate Sora on actually beating the armored figure.

"It's incredible..." Riku says. "For him to hold on so long like that, out there." Riku had only been behind the Door to Darkness for a month at most. He only knows this from later reckoning; time was extremely difficult to judge there, especially given he was separated from his body and didn't need food or sleep. But to be anchored to a dead world for nearly twelve years... No wonder the ghost had gone a little nuts.

"And now, it would appear that he is lost," Yen Sid says.

"No," Riku says. Yen Sid looks up. "Not yet." Riku pauses, lightly curls the fingers of his right hand, and cuffs himself on the left shoulder, where the shoulder plate he took from the armor still rests.

A flash of light fills the room, and when it dissipates, Riku is clad in that same armor, all except for the helmet, which still sits on Yen Sid's desk. The old Master takes in a deep breath. "So..." he says.

Riku looks at his hand, flexes his fingers in the gauntlets. "I know I can save him." And one day, you will find me, friend. No ocean will contain you then. "And I will." He reaches out and takes the helmet from Yen Sid's desk. "Count on it."

He turns to leave, not seeing that Yen Sid is smiling, or that he might be surreptitiously wiping a tear.