Wishing Well Sea

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts

It started with six simple words.

Thinking of you, wherever you are.

There wasn't any easy way to explain how it all began. Or maybe there was, but she didn't know it. When it began was a different story. She could trace her strange behavior back to a dream she'd had some time ago. She hadn't thought anything of it the first time she envisioned the boy who fought through seas of darkness with nothing but a key and bravery to guide him. Everyone had weird dreams like that every now and then, right?

We pray for our sorrows to end, and hope that our hearts will blend.

But the second time it happened, she realized something: despite having no memory of this boy, she knew him. Or had known him, at least. She couldn't remember his face well enough to try and place it, and that infuriated her, because she was so, so sure she'd seen it before. So, sure enough, when she dreamt of him a third night, she forced her unconscious mind to memorize every detail of the scene that played out before her. She was surprised to find that this time it was the island—the island where she'd spent most of her childhood—and she was there, and so was Riku—

Riku. How long had he been gone? She'd lost track of the days she used to count, and couldn't seem to recall exactly why he was away, but it had to be important. Riku never did anything without a good reason.

But then there he was. With them. He was with them. They were together. Like friends. Did that mean Riku knew this boy, too? Everything was so crystal clear; the blazing heat of the sun, the blue of the water and blue of the sky clashing at the horizon, the ringing sounds of laughter. She could see it all so perfectly, except for him. He was the only part of the picture that didn't exactly fit, but his presence felt right all the same. That was enough confirmation for her.

Now I will step forward to realize this wish.

Now, she wasn't stupid; she knew full well that telling someone about this bizarre-yet-not-so-bizarre dream would land her in a psychiatrist's office, and she'd had enough sympathetic looks to last a lifetime. That's why she kept her thoughts to herself, buried deep inside her heart, where they belonged. But it was like locking a wild animal inside a cage; eventually these thoughts would burst free, and when they did she found herself sitting at her desk, pen in hand, paper in front of her, and she would write.

Anything she could possibly think of that didn't really make sense would end up scrawled on the page in the penmanship she'd learned so long ago. All the unplanned and unconnected tidbits of emotion and reflection that were tangled up inside her head were pulled apart and then stuck together in straight lines. It was her way of coping with what may have been just a figment of her imagination.

And who knows: starting a new journey may not be so hard,

Without realizing it, she made a routine of this writing, like a long-practiced ritual. That single sheet of paper became a sort of diary, a collection of thoughts dedicated to the maybe-real boy with no name. Each new thing that entered her mind was tacked onto the end of the pointless string of words in no apparent order but chronological. Unbeknownst to her, this dialogue served a greater purpose; with each stroke of a letter she was sketching an identity; stepping stones that would lead her to him.

or maybe it has already begun.

Then came the inevitable day when she ran out of room for words and ran out of time she didn't know she had.

It was a normal day, as normal as any, and she was occupied in her thoughts like she usually was. That's probably why Selphie brought it up, to pull her back into reality. "Do you feel like going out to the island?" No, she didn't, and she said that. She just couldn't go, not until she remembered who he was. Deep down she was afraid that she was the only one who couldn't remember this boy, which was the second reason she never mentioned it, and the guilt that brought about was suffocating. But she asked anyway; asked if she knew him. Selphie didn't. "Are you sure you didn't make him up?" Yes, she was, not that she expected her friend to understand.

There are many worlds, but they share the same sky—

Suddenly she was dreaming again. She couldn't recollect going to bed, but she was dreaming, or something like dreaming. There was a boy—not her boy, and she wasn't his girl. But he knew her and had dreamt about her, and she thought he, Roxas, might be a connection to him.

She was right. All at once it was Kairi and Roxas and, and…she still didn't know. But she heard him, heard him say her name, and it dawned on her that she was here and so was he and they were speaking to each other, and that's all that mattered. He didn't say much, and she didn't say anything, but those few simple words were more than enough.

one sky,

When she came to, she was on the ground, wasn't sure how she got there, but never mind that. Selphie was worried at that point, and who could blame her? Kairi stood up as if nothing had happened—how utterly inaccurate that was—and was running before she could be stopped. She ran as fast as her legs would allow, panting and aching by the time she reached the edge of the sand, but she didn't care. When she finally slowed to a stop, there was Selphie, right beside her, confusion embedded in her green eyes.

She inhaled deeply and rereleased the air to the wind, a gentle smile settling into her features. She reached into the bag she was carrying and pulled out a peculiar object: a glass bottle. She'd sealed the letter—she'd decided it was a letter—in it and packed it that morning, feeling that she'd need it for something, but not understanding why. Now she knew. The final pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, shedding light on all those things which she had forgotten.

Kneeling, Kairi set free the message and watched it sail away in the tide, where it was sure to one day find her definitely-real boy.

"Starts with an 'S'. Right, Sora?"

one destiny.

I toss my token into the wishing well sea,

and pray that my boys will come back to me.

I'll stand here and wait by our special, little tree

for the day that we can again be three.