Archive of Our Own

Ven claimed to be the expert sleeper out of all of them, given he had been sleeping for over a decade. He hated to go back to sleep. Sleeping for a decade and lying dormant when he was supposed to be as free as the wind frightened that he would fall subject to the same torture. He was useless to them in his sleep. He couldn’t even help Aqua out. And Aqua would cover him in a blanket and wish him well. Ven would do the same, but Aqua’s sleep was troubled.

Smiling and laughing was easier than telling the truth. The truth stuck in his throat, then it died.  Aqua and Terra were alive! They were together again after all these years. It didn’t feel long. Time in Sora’s heart was off. The time he was awake was too short. There was little he remembered before meeting Aqua and Terra for the first time.

When anyone caught him up at late hours, he would say, “Catching up on my waking hours.” Most had received it off as a joke. He was exhausted even after a decade of sleep.

Aqua, on the majority of his sleepless nights, sat with him to watch the stars. Terra came along whenever he realized Ventus was awake. They talked, but when there was nothing to talk about, a comfortable silence enveloped them. They laid on the grass, relishing in the feeling that they were together again. Nothing will tear them apart. Never.

The stars twinkled in the sky, all bunched up. Blues, greens, and reds swirled in tandem, coalesce. The sky always was brighter whenever they were together on the ground pointing at constellations and linking hands like their own makeshift Wayfinder. It was the same sky they were under years ago. It changed and yet it didn’t.

Aqua and Terra never questioned him about his sleeping habits. They knew their friend feared to fall asleep because he might never wake up. Ventus didn’t have a set sleeping schedule. No one called him sleepyhead anymore because there was no justification for it. One of the few ways to distinguish Roxas and himself were the bags under his eyes. He stayed awake until he dropped where the world was a blob and he had to sit down and—

He was up, staggering, searching for an enemy in the shadows.

Sleeping set his nerves on edge. Ventus was just as exhausted before he fell into nightmares, maybe a tiny bit less. Funny how no one bothered to check if he was lacking in attack while sparring. His nightmares weren’t this bad before the decade. The worst part was he couldn’t remember them. Maybe people were screaming, maybe something was burning him, maybe he lost a friend. Maybe he was running. They came almost every night, forcing him up in a sweat. They didn’t appear with Terra and Aqua. The dreams were nothing and sleep was sweet. Ven couldn’t help but feel its emptiness. Before, he could describe his dreams in detail of candy fantasies and endearing adventures.

For some reason, this wasn’t what he deserved.

Something was missing. He didn’t know what. There was a piece in his heart that didn’t quite fit. His darkness… no, that was inappropriate, his counterpart didn’t take that part with him. His heart called out for the shadow the trailed behind him. Vanitas no longer needed him, so Ventus no longer needed Vanitas. Memories were fickle matters. Vanitas didn’t have it, else Ven would’ve realized. They weren’t proficient at reading each other beyond emotions anyway.

Seeing a constant reminder of the shadow bothered him. The Shadow would know a thing or two about the lost past. It was in his sight, but not in his reach. Ashamed to say, he had jumped at the Shadow more than once and received no answer. Not that he told anyone of his intensive circumstances until he met Chirithy, a new addition to his life.

Ventus told some of it to his new friend. Was he a new friend? Well, he’d trust the creature with his life. It was like he had known the creature forever. The small, gray cat-like figure tensed slightly under his fingers. Yet, he, Chirithy, huddled closer to him, a silent promise to keep it between them. Sadness glimmered in the creature’s eyes.

The two became inseparable. Ven’s memories of when they met were messy. It mashed up with paying respects to his master and a vivacious city where the light doesn’t dim. Ventus didn’t recall ever going to such a city. Aqua and Terra let the creature into their daily lives. Chirithy helped in every aspect. He cheered them on in training, brought snacks, and stayed positive. There was only once the creature’s demeanor faltered. It was the time when Ven divulged into his faded memories. Chirithy said it was no matter to be worried about right now, only to be aware of the time right now.

Sleeping alone was better. Albeit, Chirithy was by his side. It was a dreamless sleep, but it didn’t force him into shivers. Something was gone. His heart ached. “It was better this way,” was a whisper that came and went. No one barged into his room, comforting him and easing his cries for help to the unclear people in his dreams. Did Chirithy sleep? The boy slept before the cat anyways, but that cat was always up before him. How Chirithy was wide awake was a mystery to him.

Ven’s mood brightened. His public demeanor didn’t change much, but seeing the disappearance of bags under his eyes was one thing to his improving health. The heavy weight on his chest remained, although it lightened up. He found the energy to pull through in training and sparring. He looked in the mirror. He looked the same as before. Before he woke up. Before he forgot—

The keyblade wielders and allies met in Yen Sid’s tower, discussing the state of Organization XIII. Ven tried hard to pay attention. It was a bunch of pictures and names he never heard. Xehanort’s name was strewn all over. The name left a bitter taste. Apparently, a good number of their ranks was now part of their group. The more the merrier, right?

The former members corroborated what they knew about the members. It wasn’t much. The Organization was more of an alliance to inherit Xehanort’s heart than a union. Why would anyone want a heart that wasn’t their own to control their actions? To lose one’s heart.

Terra placed a hand on Ven’s shoulder to shake him out of his reverie. It was not his fault that these words were transforming into a mixture of uncooked batter.

One picture stood out to Ven. A man draped in the dull black robes of Organization XIII and long unruly light pink hair. The man held himself straight with a slight smirk. Why were Ventus’ hands shaking? The mass of people in the room expressed their distress of this man. The scythe he had didn’t fit him the way it should as it matched his flowery personality.

An image flashed. A young man of the same pink hair adorned in dress clothes. He was far kinder than this ‘Marluxia’ guy. He turned around, his sorrowful blue eyes piercing through Ventus, “Ventus, I… I can’t summon it anymore.” The darkness exploded all over the horizon. Blades of light and dark danced in the air, slicing and dicing all in their way. The suffocating fight no one was meant to survive.

“There’s a weapon over there! You could use that!”

Ven blinked and the image dissipated, “Why is he using a scythe?” The sentence erupted.

The tall man with fiery hair narrowed his eyes, then settled for crossing his arms. “What do you mean? As far as I know, and I know more, Marluxia only uses scythes and pretty flowers, but mostly scythes.”

Should Ven call him Lea or Axel? He’ll stick with Lea. It was weird to see someone grow up as he didn’t at all. The one who sparred with to the one today. It was weird seeing Marluxia. It was the feeling he had with Lea.

“Lea, I thought he was…” Ven trailed off. Everyone expected an answer from him. He had an answer! It just disappeared before he could retrieve it. It was right there. The first letter of the name was almost tangible. His ears started ringing. The world was growing hazy. The tower wasn’t a tower anymore, but woods, then a mine, then a desert desolate before five people. A meeting of some sort. Something squeezed his hand, and the tower was back.

Chirithy looked up at him, worry was one of the few discernable emotions on his face. Ven rubbed his temple and smiled. It gave him a headache to think.

What was he thinking? Marluxia? That name didn’t seem right.

He fumbled. “I don’t know,” Ven dipped his head to his friends in an apologetic gesture. “A scythe doesn’t seem to be a weapon he’d use.”

Ven was pretty sure no one understood his train of thought. He didn’t understand where it was going either. It kept going and going, no end, going into foggy places where the light didn’t shine.

When they came back to the pink-haired man, Ventus clamped his mouth shut. Words festered in his throat and incomprehensible emotions took place. That man didn’t smile out of happiness. He used to—

He used to what?

Distancing himself from the conversation left him with a relaxed mind. He couldn’t contribute to it: The Organization wasn’t made before he went into a terrifyingly long slumber. Aqua, who had been living under the equivalent of a dark rock, could describe them.

Then, Yen Sid decided to pull him back into the conversation with, “Ventus, is there anything you would like to add about him?”

“Huh?” Ventus drew himself out of his stupor. Rubbing away the drowsiness, his mouth moved. A fleeting sense of clarity. A young man bathed in light, not adorned in a cloak of the shadow. Once aware, the impact of everyone staring at him hit him. The man in the picture was an opponent of their goal. An enemy didn’t cut it. His heart told him. This was somebody, not a Nobody.

They expected him to do something. He knew the feeling, but it was nerve-racking. Unpleasant.

A weight pushed down on his chest. And it was getting harder to breathe and breathe. Sand hurled into his lungs to the point where he had a coughing fit, gripping to the edge of a lone ke— desk. Hacking up air. Wheezing for a reprieve from the storm.

“Ven, you’re still here,” his life-long companion said. A blinding light surrounded the creature, Ven had to squint.

“Yeah, I choked on some water,” Ven rasped. His glass hadn’t been touched. He’ll do without the concerned gazes of his friends. Focus on one problem first.

The discussion continued. No jabs were made on Ventus’ mind. People threw concerned glances his way that were not acknowledged. He was called in to make comments or fill in information Aqua and Terra had mistaken. Aqua had a pensive look after his episode. She resorted to squeezing his hand if he needed to pay attention.

Conversing wasn’t his strong suit as many figured. It didn’t take a genius to see his dazed look when he spaced out in conversations. His strong suit was to think on his feet. Light as the breeze. Strong as the gust. That was why he was chosen… for a multitude of things he guessed. He was supposed to be comfortable voicing his opinions. His opinions were tumbling together where it didn’t make sense in the way it should. He would end up mumbling over and glaze over a topic he’d soon forget.

Forgetting was as scary as sleeping. Forgetting meant losing a part of himself. At least sleeping didn’t have nightmares ever since Chirithy came around. Aqua tucking him to bed didn’t do the trick as Chirithy could. Ventus joked about he was a cat who lived off of dreams. Chirithy hesitated before he laughed.

Ven didn’t know whether to be glad his sleep wasn’t interrupted by vehement pleas for light or to be sad for its absence. The trade for a good chunk of rest was a good chunk of being brought into a place he had no recollection of. The vivacious town where the sun doesn’t fail to break melded in the peaceful Land of Departure. Sometimes, Ventus tripped on items that weren’t quite there or saw a faint gleam of a coin. It was more of a medal than a coin. Aqua and Terra questioned him if he got any sleep to which he responded with a resounding yes. He didn’t have bags under his eyes. They didn’t need to pester him on his health. Sora didn’t need to go out of his way to bring Yen Sid into his problem. Naminé didn’t need to come to do some memory magic to spur his past.

Chirithy gave Naminé a wide berth when she came to visit.

Chirithy, who Ventus knew to be as welcoming as the rays of the sun, stayed away from her. He had disappeared by the time he entered the room. Ven had a sneaking suspicion Chirithy was watching his sessions with Naminé. Never too far.

Naminé was a patient girl, dressed in a simple white dress as if memories were simple matters. Meetings with her included talking about themselves or goals for his treatment. Others deemed her a ‘memory witch’. She was much too sweet to be called a witch. In her sketchbook, pictures made of crayon burst to life. The sentiment was there in each of the pictures on the blank wall or the pages. The walls in this room were oppressive without the images. Ven could suffocate in here if it weren’t for Naminé’s company.

“Do you really think this will work?” Ven said, slumping into the chair.

“I’ve… done it before. Your connection to Sora simplifies the job. I understand it’s not comfortable for you,” she said. “I can make a compromise, but I assure you that it will go much smoothly otherwise.” The sketchbook showed a drawing of a desolate desert with funky sticks stuck in the sand. That was as far as she could go after a few sessions. This one page took more than Ven could count on one hand.

Ven fidgeted, “It is uncomfortable.” There was no overlooking the fact. Sleeping, he was getting a handle on it with Chirithy or the makeshift slumber parties his best friends had. Trusting Naminé didn’t sit well with his heart. Knowing what she had been through, he should cut her some slack. He didn’t know her. They never met before this. This wasn’t safe. She could steal his memories. However, she was the only person he knew to help the situation. “Only a light doze, right?”

The girl hummed in affirmation. “I’ll limit it to an hour. You’ll be aware of any alarms.”

“Thirty minutes,” Ventus tapped his chin. An immediate response out of fear.

“It’ll work,” she nodded.

No turning back now. The girl waited, sitting tall. It was rude to keep someone waiting. This was what he wanted. A hint. Evidence. A past known. Why was a stupid fear going to stop him?

Ven inhaled, steeling his nerves. Once he closed his eyes, the sensation of floating enveloped his body. His feet were off the ground. He could see and hear, all of it was muffled. Tattered images flew. His mind was clear. The questions plaguing him had been silenced. It wasn’t really peace, but it wasn’t throwing him into a panic. He was there, disconnected.

As seconds passed, shards weaved together into chains, brimming with magic. The black chains were bound to a grand door. The white door embellished with green suffered a beating from the other side. Every hit made his head pound. Make it stop! He couldn’t gain the energy to pull the chains. The chains wound themselves tighter. They shot out and chained his wrists.

“It was the agreement.”

He was drowning. His hands tried to brush the surface, but the chains fought back. Deeper and deeper he went into the unknown. Bang! The last hit on the door shook Ven awake, panting. He gripped the armrest to steady himself, “Was that… Was that supposed to happen?”

Naminé stared at her sketchpad then at Ventus in disbelief. “No, I have never encountered anything like this. I’m sorry.”

Ventus rubbed his forehead, “Don’t apologize. I was the one who asked for help. As long as my memories and I am intact, then it’s fine.” Mentally taxed, but physically fine. Mistakes happen.

“There was a barrier, mostly of chains. It is far superior in strength and ancient,” she said. “I tried my best. I couldn’t get farther than five dark figures.” She averted her gaze.

“They look like…?”

She shook her head, “All I saw were five figures, I’m not even sure they’re people.” Her attention was on her sketchbook. “There’s something deliberately blocking your memories. Memories are like webs. They connect with each other. I try to connect a point to another point to establish a steady foundation. I can’t find a connection to get past it. Your emotions should have quickened the process, but the barrier was stubborn.”

“I see,” Ven said. “Um, thank you, Naminé.” He stood up, inching toward the exit.

“If you find anything at all, please come back here. I’ll figure this out and call you,” she said, adding strokes to her sketchbook. The sketchbook was difficult to see.

Ven was out of the room when Chirithy appeared by his side. His companion didn’t leave for long as this was his final visit. While Ventus didn’t discredit Naminé’s skill, this was far beyond what was in their capabilities. If a light doze in a strange place was unsettling, then a prolonged stasis was out of the question. He needed to catch up on those waking hours, not miss out on his friends growing up without him.

Nightmares and reality were merging together. These were the nightmares he couldn’t remember, where the darkness overtook his view. The first few weeks of dreamless sleep didn’t have this. He was fine, amazing to have a sufficient amount of rest. This condition of merging dreams with reality was growing more frequent. Try as he might hiding it, his loss of awareness revealed it. Terra found out when Ventus didn’t move from the wall, only to roll back and prepare for an attack. An early morning with Aqua led to Ventus clutching to her hand with an unspoken promise. Every time he was thrust out of the nightmare, he was astonished. The emotions were there. Horror and fear were repeat offenders. The images were nonexistent.

The final straw was when he lashed out at his own shadow. Apparently, he was speaking gibberish and waving his keyblade. Fear was etched in the entire situation. Terra had to haul him away and take him to a place that doesn’t cast shadows. Ven was curious to hear the full story of this. Also, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Yeah, waving at his own shadow, not the most efficient pastime.

Ven wasn’t surprised when the two persuaded Yen Sid to leave him off duty. Offended, yes, but it was understandable. Others questioned his wellbeing. He refused to answer, brushing them away with a shrug. No use in making them worried, though whispers of his current state were thrown around despite Terra, Aqua, and Master Yen Sid’s effort to keep quiet. Everyone had enough on their hands. Now, Ven couldn’t assist them.

Aqua, Terra, and Ventus hadn’t recovered yet. This period off-duty meant Ventus could repair the weak bonds. Although they weren’t at all estranged after being separated for an extended period. The trio was healing. Maybe complete healing would never arrive. When no one had an urgent mission, they would talk about simpler years or bask in each other’s company. The silent wish to return to simpler times was prominent. It was impossible to make it come true. They never spoke about the terrors they had faced.

“Ven, do you remember when you brought in all the dandelions you could find into your room?” Aqua said.

Ventus twirled a dandelion between his fingers, “Dandelions are great. Chirithy agrees with me, don’t you?” This was one of the few things from his early residence that made him move in his lethargic state.

Chirithy flinched under his gaze before nodding and fiddling with the pink pouch around his neck.

“They aren’t when you have to clean them from the floor,” Terra said. “Master went ballistic when he saw the sheer amount of weeds in there.”

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault you decided to open the window and let the wind blow them away,” Ven pouted. “They are not just weeds.”

“You could’ve gotten the yellow ones, but you chose the fluffy ones instead,” Terra elbowed Ven playfully. “You needed some air in that dreary room.”

Ven laughed, “The fluffy ones are better than those. Have you seen them fly in the wind? They’re dancing! You know, Terra, if you’ve actually seen them with your eyes, then you know what I mean.” Ven adored the tiny seeds that floated. He couldn’t seize them. He had to wait for them. They would spread their beauty that couldn’t be contained.

“The good part was the garden had a decrease in weeds,” Aqua said, a slight smile gracing her lips.

“See, Terra, there was some good in cleaning the fluff from my room,” Ven said, stifling a snicker as his friend grumbled.

Chirithy was aloof this conversation, opting to keep his attention to the clouds.

Ven blew the dandelion in his fingers. The fuzz waltzed in the cool breeze. The cool breeze was building stronger and stronger. Turning back, a huge tornado roared, bringing horror to the desert. Keyblade wielders on all sides did not draw their attention to it. They faced each other with their weapons at the ready. Animosity was rampant. Keyblades rained, no longer with their wielder, and impaled themselves into the ground.

And Ventus’ voice died as he screamed for them to stop. No, they were not supposed to fight because of a stupid feud. They were not supposed to be greedy. They were to keep the balance between dark and light. Not choose sides against allies.

“Ven, we need to run.”

Ventus shook his head at the person the dandelions conjured. His wounds might impede him. The heat was unbearable. But the war must stop. There wasn’t any good to be gained from this. But the darkness was sneaking up on the horizon. The others didn’t want to back down. This was a losing war. Everyone knew it.

“We have to. It’s too late for this.”

Darkness was all-encompassing.

A firm tug pulled Ven from the burning desert and plopped him on the cool grass. The sky didn’t face the danger of the approaching darkness but housed the twinkling stars. He remembered the heat. He remembered keyblades. What he remembered made fear bubble inside of him.

Most worries were dashed when Aqua and Terra huddled closer to him, neither speaking. Not close to where he couldn’t inhale the fresh air. Chirithy was on his lap, nuzzling his hand. He was safe. There was no quarrel. No one commanding to flee. Just them. It was peace. Watching the stars like no tomorrow, hand in hand, telling jokes, and laughing. Time was ticking. They had to grow up. This wasn’t an age for fairy tales.

Chirithy plucked the dandelions from the ground and threw them away when he thought Ven wasn’t looking. Ventus kept his reluctant distance from the said plant. Lovely as they were. Premonition hung over each dandelion like a plague.

That night, Ven didn’t room with Aqua and Terra. He loved having sleepovers with them, don’t get him wrong, but something concerned him and waking them up from sweet slumber to have them sick of worry was cruel. Especially when he couldn’t explain the cause of his own worry. They would fuss over him, taking turns to calm and comfort him as if they weren’t dealing with the same problems themselves. They tossed their own care for his own when he acted up. That and they didn’t approve of his method of working until he dropped. He disapproved of it himself, but he wasn’t going to let sleep come to him so easily.

Chirithy was another matter entirely. Not only did the creature refuse to leave Ventus’ side, but Ven also refused to leave him. Their connection was special, anyone could see that. They knew where each other were, or Ventus knew when Chirithy was near and Chirithy knew wherever Ventus was. Except for the times of Chirithy leaving after the Naminé incident was close to zero. The small companion clung unto Ventus as a lifeline, awake or not.

To call these images in his sleep a nightmare was an overstatement, but to call them a dream was incorrect. Dandelion seeds floated into his dreams. Five people were sitting near the edge, handing each other items from a basket. Their shoulders shook and some used their hands to indicate who's talking. They were close, but they held themselves at an arm’s distance.

Darkness overtook from the horizon. Life was sucked from every being in the vicinity.

One by one, each person stood, keyblades in hand. Then they all dissipated into the remains of dandelions to mingle with the darkness. Darkness engulfed some. Others vanished before the darkness could swallow them. One was at odds with it before losing half of itself to the opponent.

One by one, their light flickered out. One remained, alone, with darkness nibbling at its stem.

They were going to lose this battle.

They weren’t safe.

They didn’t fail.

They won’t give up.

They weren’t going to lose the war.

Losing was not an option.

Ventus stood on a plain with four others. His wounds almost made him fall to the ground.

Sand filled his lungs. “Run!” His companions said in tandem. The clatter of weapons created a cacophony. The warriors cried for more light. Sparks flew. They wanted more light. Lux. They wanted more Lux. They were going to take it by force.

One push from the fleeing party sent Ventus toppling into the Light. Run! Run! Run! Run! The mantra continued in his head.

“Fly, Dandelion, spread your light. They will always be beside you. Never will you be alone. It must be done.”

“Ven, you have to be okay!” someone screamed.

Ven landed on his soft bed in the Land of Departure. He forced himself into a sitting a position. Sleep didn’t release its grip on him yet. Chirithy loomed over him, focusing. “Chirithy, what are you doing?” His voice was a whisper.

The creature startled over. “Huh, you just- I’m glad- you slept well,” he settled on. Concentration overcame Chirithy’s features. “It’s… early right now,” the creature said.

The sky still had stars in it. Ven would have been worried about Chirithy’s change in demeanor,

but he was exhausted far more than he felt before he slept. “For the most part. The sun hasn’t even risen.” Ventus muttered, and he was standing in a town of flashing colors and chatty crowds.

Home.

He knew every nook and cranny of this place, where people relaxed or where no one was around. His legs took him around. Hiding places were his territory. People were busy in their own endeavors to notice the child. Groups gathered together to execute further plans. Boards of rankings and unions showed who had the most Lux. Those who paraded around the streets were the victors. Ventus wished to be part of this! To collect Lux and help other worlds. He already had a keyblade. A cloaked figure came up to him and said Ventus could—

“Don’t.”

The illusion shattered. The pieces of the colorful town fell into the abyss, locked behind the grand white door. The chains wrapped around the door and then they aimed for him.

Ven gasped. This place was his room. What was that? He tried to focus his gaze, but all he could fixate on was the ball of gray fur. Chirithy was on the ground, writhing. The shadows were enveloping them and Ventus couldn’t move from the bed. Invisible chains shackled him down. He thrashed. “Why didn’t you run?” The shadows said.

A flash of brown and blue ran into his room. Terra and Aqua? They sat by him through his episode. Chirithy was cradled in the blue one’s arms. Never before had Ven seen the creature so dull. When Ven blinked, the whole world was in a haze. They were saying something that went over his head. Their usual warm touch wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t chilly. The pressure was there, but no attachment. The shadows rose from the darkness and engulfed his vision. Before the darkness reached him, luminous chains wrapped around him, acting as a guard.

“Darkness flock around you like moths to a flame. However, you choose to turn to the light.”

“There’s a delicate balance between light and dark. I just choose to keep it as it is. Obviously, I’m not a moth.”

Ventus laid in oblivion. No light to be seen. No sensation to be felt. Words fluttered by, melding into incoherent sounds then into a long string of static. He was watching something he couldn’t recall. Piece by piece, the memory broke apart.

Maybe it took hours before he found even ground on the green mosaic surface of his heart. His. Ven took cautious steps. Each thud echoed. In his view, a silhouette of his darkness stood. Looking at the mosaic, the darkness didn’t take over. Green shimmered by itself, a picture of a desert stood tall. Red didn’t infest it. Yet a sense of dread crawled up his spine.

“Vanitas,” Ven said, “you’re here.” The statement had to sink in. Vanitas was his own character, or that was what Ven believed. The sight of him induced tremors. Any entry by Vanitas meant it had to be forceful. Vanitas shouldn’t be here. The blond was on the defensive, “What did you—“

“I am,” the shadow said. “We used to be two sides of the same coin. That connection can’t be lost so easily.” Vanitas placed a hand over his own chest. A keychain appeared in his palm. “Brothers, who have lost the same, do not remember what it was.”

“I thought you couldn’t come here,” Ven sized the other. His heart didn’t have the yearning to connect. The side of the scale he stood on was tilted to the light. The dark had no standing in this heart.

“Proved you wrong,” Vanitas said. “Really, I shouldn’t be unusual. I am the Shadow you cast. You define me, Ventus.” The shadow stepped toward Ven. “No matter how bright the light is, there will always be shadows.”

Balance was pertinent.

Ven stepped back. Vanitas wasn’t attacking him. This wasn’t the nature of most of their meetings. There wasn’t uncertainty in the shadow’s voice. There wasn’t the constant premonition of being shanked. No, Ven couldn’t discern what Vanitas was feeling anymore. His heart didn’t call out. Ven readied himself, “Is that… what you really choose to be?”

“Heard you fell into deep, deep sleep,” Vanitas said, spinning an assort of keys by the luminescent green chain. “I think it has been three days now. It’s not nice to keep them waiting.”

Ven stared at the keys, then realized, “Don’t change the subject.”

Vanitas tossed the keys, “Your heart forgot about the keys. It hasn’t forgotten how to use them though. They’re yours. I don’t want them.”

The keys shimmered in the air before coming into contact with Ventus’ hands. Even if Ventus missed, they would be within his reach. Connected to him. “Wait, why?”

The shadow motioned to himself, “I’m Vanitas, the piece you lost. Those aren’t mine to begin with. I can’t use them, so I don’t care.” When Ven didn’t respond, he continued, “How could I use them?” The gaze he held made Ven uneasy. It would be so much easier if Ven could comprehend what was in that mind of his. They weren’t the same coin. They were different sides.

Ventus paused, “To stop me? Look, I don’t know how you even got here. The least you could do is give me answers,” he crossed his arms. He wouldn’t act like this to anyone, but they were made to be opposites. These opposites attracted the worst in each other.

“You can find the answers yourself even if your thick skull hinders your brain,” Vanitas smirked. He turned away from the owner of this heart, “I’m leaving.” A door of darkness carried him off. There was no way under normal circumstances that he was able to leave without a problem.

“Hey!” Ven was left in the dust of the other’s darkness. He tried to feel the presence of the shadow. Nothing. Alone once more in his own healed heart. He huffed. Would it kill the shadow to get him out of here?

He flipped the chain around, examining each key. There were five: one fire red with streaks of white, one rose pink, one sunset orange, one midnight blue, and the most ornate green one. There was writing scrawled on each, but squinting didn’t dare to clear the blur. They weighed heavier than regular keys he had for his home. They had a purpose to unlock secrets. Pieces for something bigger. A light to shine.

Ventus could find the answers, or so said Vanitas. Vanitas wasn’t the best source for information, but he was the only one at this moment. Trusting Vanitas was dubious.

Then the realization struck him that he fell into a deep sleep. This was his fear. And no, he would not stay in this homely place any longer. Ven couldn’t be useless to them. The least he could do was to alleviate some of their worries than create new ones.

Ventus held the keys to his chest. They were his. They were also someone else’s. Far from being cool, they were burning. Burning hotter than the scorching desert where the keyblades stormed. Hands overheating, he dropped the keys. Starting with the clatter of keys on the ground, the mosaic dissipated into geometric pieces. A teenager with a red scarf caught Ventus. Light exploded.

“See, I told you it was going to work!” The fiery voice made Ven’s head ring. He could’ve sworn he heard someone giggling.

Ven tried to tell the person to be quieter, but it came out in mumbles. People crowded around him, making it hard to survey the surroundings with the array of colors they had.

A whisper lessened the headache, “Ven, how are you?” The same voice that would greet him at dawn if he didn’t go to sleep. The same that would tuck him in at night and read him a fairytale.

It didn’t feel like three days of sleep. His mind was mush. His body didn’t want to exert any energy to reply. Still, he forced it to meet the cool blue eyes. “’m fine,” Ven tried moving his arm, but it met resistance. He surged up to yank it, only to pull up a teenager who had a similar face to his own. A phantom of Wayward Wind was in his hand.

“Ow! So much for me being fine,” Roxas hissed, tearing away. His eyes belied his irritated expression, “What happened to you?” This concern would have never happened last month.

Ven gave a hollow chuckle, forcing himself to relax, “I guess I’m fine enough to say I’m sorry?” He examined the group. Where was Chirithy? “Probably should consider a curfew, right, Terra?”

“Ven,” Just the word in Terra’s grave tone made the younger freeze. “You were sleeping for days. This isn’t… you can’t just do that!” He shook his head.

Although Terra might find a way to be vague, he was clear to Ven. They were friends long enough to understand each other. Ven averted his gaze, but Terra was urging him to make eye contact as if to ensure the younger was awake. He would’ve responded with a quip if it weren’t for the moment’s gravity. Ventus didn’t want to talk about this, not here. Not when everyone had their eyes on him. The pressure to answer in order to appease them was on him.

Terra was talking, but the meaning went over Ven’s head.

“Could you, um,” Ven started. It shouldn’t be this difficult to say a suggestion to his friends. The words resisted being brought. “Could you… not crowd me, please?” The accusing looks. Were they accusing? He asked them to stop looking at him. The sea of people parted as if he had a purpose amongst them, and he rose up to walk.

Except he stumbled and had to hold unto Terra. “I need to go outside,” Ven said. The amount of space with this amount of people was suffocating him. Terra’s grip steadied Ven, but he shook it away. Just himself. He needed to be away from this crowd. To ponder on the dream that denied him access. Remembering dreams shouldn’t be this terrifying. “I’ll be back, okay?” Ven smiled, trembling. He’ll discuss with them later and rectify this.

He didn’t let anyone stop from wading through the parted group to the door. And down, down, he went through the Wayward Stairs. It winded in circles just like his own mind.

Outside, he searched his heart. Lost, not broken. Forgotten. Saddening.

“Chirithy, you’re still here, aren’t you?” Ventus said, looking at the sky.

The sound of a small pop indicated the appearance of his friend. The creature waddled to his side. He didn’t speak, but Chirithy was frightened.

“I think I asked you this before, but what were you doing?” Ventus said, putting effort to equalize his tone. When Chirithy didn’t respond, Ven gazed upon his companion, who was revealing only the top of his head. Ven continued, “I’m just… disoriented, you know? You wouldn’t do it if you didn’t think it wasn’t right. I feel like I’ve known you long enough. I’ve known you before this. Before any of this.”

Though the wayward winds might roar, the silence between the two was louder. Ventus wasn’t mad at the creature. He doubted he could ever be mad at him. Ever. Upset was a better term, albeit confusion described this whole hullabaloo.

Chirithy shifted his feet. “I thought it was right. That’s all I can say about it.”

Upset and disappointed. For some reason, the mixture was aimed at Ven himself.

“For now?” Ventus said.

“For now,” Chirithy said. A note of finality rang.

But Ventus trusted Chirithy.

Ven paused, “Well, then, we can compromise!” Ven said. When he was younger, he would be demanding an answer. He wasn’t young anymore. Time made everyone older. For the good or for the worse. A compromise would prove sufficient.

Chirithy cast off the slump of his shoulders and widened his eyes at Ventus, “Huh?”

Ven hummed, “I won’t push it. You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t have to. You can tell me later when I’m ready, won’t you? Just don’t do whatever you did again.” There was an underlying purpose for this. Chirithy knew what it was.

The creature relaxed, “Of course, Ven!” He leaped at Ventus, who received him with open arms.

To add to Ven’s capricious cauldron of emotions was a dash of satisfaction. Their current events weren’t ideal and much of it was recovery, but they were united.

“There’s... this one thing I can tell you now,” Chirithy said, poking his head up. His tone was dubious.

Anticipation was palpable. Ven inhaled, easing his nerves, “What is it?” His hold on the small one was firm.

“You’ll always be Ventus, no matter what you do,” Chirithy said, fire burning in his eyes.

Not exactly what Ven was expecting. Maybe a clue for the next game would’ve been better. In due time, Chirithy will explain. Ven nodded, making himself agreeable despite his inner turmoil.

He would always be Ventus! That was a no-brainer. Why tell him that? The challenges thrown at him will make him stronger. He’d change, but he was Ven. His own person.

“And because of that, I’ll always be by your side. Nothing will stop me.” Conviction was in every single one of Chirithy’s words.

Ventus grinned, “We’ll be friends forever then!”

Chirithy’s laugh was genuine.

They were friends forever before. Under all that fog in his memories, Ven was certain of it. Chirithy found him. This time, separation was impossible.