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He’s a little restless, if he’s honest.
It must be the after-final-battle high getting to him, with the way he hasn’t slept all that well in a few days and constantly keeps wandering for something to do, a direction, anything.
Who knew that after fighting for so long most of your life, you wouldn’t know what to do when it ended? Not Riku, that’s for sure.
Something to do. Something to do.
His parents are happy that it seems their only son won’t be risking his life anymore, pampering him with love and pulling of cheeks and all his favorite foods.
Everyone in Destiny Islands is fine. Even him and Kairi have a new agreement – have faith Sora will be back, and he will. He calms his worries with optimism and hope, and it works.
So he has nothing to do.
There is nothing to fight for right now, nothing to protect—and it’s incredibly selfish, it’s awful to even think of, but he has no idea what to do now that everything is over.
He should be happy—and he is! Everyone is safe, everyone is comfortable with their own family and friends. He is with his family and friends. So what is it with the sudden emptiness?
“I’m gonna go to the Land of Departure,” he announces to his parents over breakfast. “I just need to check everyone is okay, and that everyone is adapting.”
Riku’s mom has the look of someone who simply understands she can’t hold back her son, and so does his dad. It hurts, just a bit, but he’s thankful for their understanding.
He makes way to the Land of Departure and at least hopes to get peace of mind.
Peace of mind comes to Riku in the form of Terra. He gets a warm welcome from the three of them, all hugs filled and inviting him in. He’s never been here before and his brain is working fast to pick up every detail he can—the constructions, the training grounds, the dorms, the very elegant insides—and there it is.
Riku’s brain comes alive again, the emptiness from earlier slowly vanishing. Being in contact with other worlds is what makes him happy, apparently, it’s enough to give him a sense of something to do. Maybe he doesn’t like being idle.
He’s always been a fan of having something to fight for, an objective, and it felt bad but he was always at his best when he had something to protect. Being in another world already scraped at the surface of all those feelings.
“I just wanted to make sure everyone’s okay,” Riku smiles at them, sitting down—he arrived right in lunch time, apparently. “I know it’s been a while since you guys settled here, so if you wanted any help...”
He does get to help around after lunch, which is perfect. There’s a thrill he gets from being helpful, from productivity, and suddenly he’s very thankful he came to the Land of Departure. He expected things to be a little awkward between them, but they talk like they know each other for ages—Ven jokes around, Aqua ruffles his hair a lot, and Terra makes sure he’s always having fun and being comfortable.
He likes it. It’s better than being alone.
When they’re done re-constructing most of the training ground, Ven whisks Aqua away with the promise of coming back with food for everyone.
“Ven thinks he’s a good cook now,” Terra explains, amused.
“And is he?”
“He’s getting there.” They both laugh. “Riku. Can I ask you something?”
The sudden change in tone catches Riku off guard. He nods anyway, a bit concerned.
“Are you okay?” Immediately after asking, Terra says, “I’m not accusing you of anything. You just seem tired, that’s all.”
‘Are you okay?’
Weird question. Riku hadn’t stopped and asked himself that. His body is very sore, probably from fighting non-stop. He’s tired, like he hasn’t slept at all, and the weird emptiness that fills him makes itself present if he thinks about it too long.
“I…” But it’s embarrassing to admit it. Why wouldn’t he be okay? What problems does he have to complain about?
“Personally,” Terra continues, sitting down on the grass and inviting Riku to do the same, “it hasn’t been all rainbows and sunshine.”
Oh. “What happened?”
“Nothing, that’s the thing,” Terra smiles a little. “Everything’s a little weird for me, now that it’s all over. I’ve been so used to Xehanort taking over my body that now, I feel like I’m intruding myself. I feel like every day I wake up in a stranger’s body.”
Riku almost shudders—he knew all too well what it was like to wake up in a stranger’s body. Waking up and looking at the mirror only to never find your face, remembering the dread that maybe he was never going to be Riku again, and perhaps worst of all—being okay with it. Feeling like he deserved it.
“I know how that feels like,” Riku confesses. “Ansem—er, Xehanort’s heartless. He possessed me more than once. I… the hold he had in my heart was so strong, I felt like there would never be a escape from him.”
Terra’s smile is sympathetic. Riku catches up on, then, Terra literally felt the same way—feeling like Xehanort would never let him go, possessing him for ten years…
“It’s almost funny, how empty it feels now,” Terra looks up at the stars. “Being let go, I mean. It’s weird to finally be free.”
Riku nods. The emptiness—he never stopped and thought about it, how it could be related to Ansem finally giving him a rest. There would never be any type of taunting, Riku would never be haunted by him again.
It’s weird. I think I’m gonna miss you.
“I get that,” Riku sighs. “I feel like… we’ve been so used to this, we need to learn how to relax now.”
Terra chuckles, “Isn’t that funny? We need to learn to relax.”
“Yeah, I guess it is,” Riku joins in. “I didn’t know—I didn’t know someone else felt like this. I felt so bad…”
“It’s okay, really. It doesn’t make us weak, or bad,” Terra says; almost more to himself than Riku. It still comforts Riku. “I can’t help but feeling like it’s my fault you suffered so much—if I had just let you be…”
“Then my life would’ve been different, and I don’t think I would’ve liked that,” Riku jumps in immediately. “I’m grateful. The fact that both of us are sitting here talking about this shows how strong we are.”
Riku is an expert on saying things when he can’t take his own advice—but this time, as he says it, it’s convincing him a little more.
“Riku,” Terra starts. “I want to make things right.” Before Riku jumps in to say he’s already doing his best, Terra carries on, “And I want to start by saying—I’m here. And I might know a thing or two about possessions,” he concludes. “You— we don’t have to deal with this alone, Riku.”
Riku smiles. “Yeah. We don’t.”
Aqua and Ventus come back then, big smiles on their face as they carry a tray with cookies and glasses of milk. He finds himself relieved after the small talk with Terra, and the more he digs into his brain, he finds many things that make him uncomfortable—things he buries so much, he never bothers to bring them to the surface.
Terra would understand.
It feels good to know that.
“You can stay here today, Riku,” Aqua tells him. “You look like you need a nap.”
“Ah, is it that obvious?” he laughs, nervous. Maybe he does need it. “Thank you.”
“There’s nothing wrong with needing naps,” Ventus butts in, “I’d know about it.”
The fact that they can joke about it cheers up Riku immensely. They were okay, and that’s what mattered.
Later, he manages to sleep better than he has the previous nights.
Sparring with Terra is fun. Riku does it under the excuse of learning more from him, that there’s so much he could do if Terra guided him, but really—he only wants to get to know him better.
There’s comfort to Terra’s presence. He’s never had a figure like him before—he loves Mickey dearly and will eternally be grateful for everything that he’s done for him, but this is a bit different from that. This is the closest thing to a mentor—someone who’d take care of him and guide him to be a better version of himself.
Terra is good at it, too, sometimes he catches Riku off guard—“Less aggression, more thinking,” “Always keep your guard up,” “You’re doing great, let’s work on your speed more”—and even though that formally, Riku is the Master here, the years and hardships that have formed Terra makes his title look like he’s a novice, like he picked up a Keyblade yesterday.
After they end on a tie again, they both sit down on the ground, Terra handing him a bottle of water. “Good job again. Seriously, kids like you shouldn’t be so good at this.”
‘Kid’. That always made Riku smile. He hadn’t noticed, back then, that everyone always saw him as an equal—a leader, a Master , someone people could always rely on.
And it’s a heavy burden. Having people count on you after everything you’ve done, after all the mistakes you’ve made—it’s tiring. It’s a relief to be called a kid, to be able to have the smallest of problems and look to Terra for a possible solution. It’s like a piece of his burden being shared.
“Yeah, well, what can I say?” Riku jokes back, making Terra laugh. “Thank you for sparring with me.”
“You insist that I can teach you things, but really, Riku. I think you’re the one doing the teaching.” Terra snorts. “I guess you’re a Keyblade Master for a reason.”
“You too. Didn’t you tell me the story about the Mark of Mastery? You weren’t chosen because of the darkness. But now we know how that works, so, I’d say you’re a Master on your own right.”
Terra smiles, lopsided. “You know? I would’ve appreciated someone like you back then. Never would’ve imagined something like this—light and darkness, back to back.”
“Me neither. I mean…” It’s always embarrassing to share his stories. But somehow, Terra always incites him to open up. “I thought the solution was to seal it away. Keep it hidden, away from everything. Only as I kept going I realized it wasn’t something necessarily evil or wrong —I’m the one making the decisions. I could do whatever I wanted with it. Sure, I… kept being tempted, by Ansem and everyone else, to give in and use it differently. But here I am.”
“You’re strong,” Terra says. “Stronger than anyone would ever think. I’m proud of you, Riku. You… make me believe I can be forgiven, too.”
Riku turns back to look at him. “Of course you can. Your friends—Ven and Aqua love you. They’ve already forgiven you.”
Shaking his head, Terra continues, “I meant myself. I think you inspire me to forgive myself, too.”
Oh.
To forgive yourself… Riku sits back again, staring down. There is something inside him, waiting to be filled with good acts. It’s almost like a big jug of water, and once he fills it all, then he’ll forgive himself.
“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Terra asks him again, seemingly knowing his thoughts. “Forgiving yourself is easier said than done.”
“Yeah. I feel like I haven’t done enough.”
“But you have! Me, on the other hand… I still have so much to do, so many years to make up for—”
“But you’re trying and you’ve done so much—” Riku stops himself. “Oh, we’re in a loop.”
Terra laughs and so does Riku.
“Here’s my idea,” and Riku leans in to listen to him like they’re conspiring. “If you see every reason to forgive me, then there is no reason to not start forgiving yourself.”
“Huh,” And it made sense. Riku couldn’t argue that he didn’t deserve it, because it’d be invalidating Terra, too. Well played. “Okay. I can’t argue with that.”
Terra holds up his pinky. Riku feels like a five-year old again, promising big things and having nothing but good feelings about the future. Riku raises his own and seals the promise. “We’ll get through this, okay, Riku?”
“Okay.”
He believes him, he really does.
“Is it bad?” Riku asks, out loud. “Is it bad to miss it sometimes?”
Terra puts a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not. It’s what makes us humans, I think. I’ve talked about this with Aqua—it’s a matter of reconnecting. Again, easier said than done, but…”
He pauses, hand falling from Riku’s shoulder. “I miss it sometimes. The constant internal struggle. The weird feeling that my body would never be mine again. But let me ask you this: would you go through it again? If Ansem appeared right now and tempted you, tried to get a hold on your heart once more—would you be willing to go through it?”
“No,” his answer is out quicker than he can think. Riku stills at how easily it slipped out. “I—it’s not something I’d like to go through again.”
If it was for his friends—Riku maybe would do it again. Or, actually, he will do it again if his friends were on the line. But everyone is safe, everyone is okay—would he willingly walk into harm’s way? Of course not.
Keeping things safe and protected included protecting himself.
Strength to protect the things that matter. You know, like my friends.
It’s a new idea to get around to, something hard to digest, but the things that matter also included Riku himself—the idea itself is foreign, hard to wrap his brain around, but it made sense. He mattered just as much as his friends did.
“Me neither,” Terra smiles. Riku learns by now that his smile always gives out something more than simply happiness; like there is something he knows that Riku doesn’t. “And that’s good. It means we’re healing and taking care of ourselves—that’s important, too.”
“Huh. Who would’ve thought?”
Not Riku, for sure. It made sense—if he was okay, he’d be able to always be there for everyone else. Taking care of himself was more essential than he’d like it to be. It felt selfish, at first, but it’s not like that.
Terra likes to do a game with him—for every time Riku deflects something, saying he doesn’t deserve it, he asks him if he would think the same if any of his other friends did the same thing. ‘If I told you I didn’t deserve it, would you agree with me?’ Of course not. ‘Then you have no reason to think like that of yourself.’
It’s hard, but it’s a work in progress.
Terra ruffles his hair. “You’re a good kid, Riku. I’m glad you come here often. You help me more than you know.”
“I don’t do much, though…”
He smiles again like he knows so much more than Riku. Maybe he does, and that’s fine.
“Trust me. You always do more than enough.”
Warmth spreading across Riku, he manages to smile as he looks out the field surrounding them.
Maybe change did start with oneself.
There’s less of a weight inside Riku’s chest—spending time between Destiny Islands and the Land of Departure has been healing to him. Even his parents seem to notice, now that they look less worried every time Riku goes out.
It’s wonderful.
“I think I want to start re-visiting other worlds,” Riku announces to Terra after sparring. “Maybe even discover new ones.”
“You just can’t ever rest, can you?” he says, fond. “Alright. Just promise me you’ll be taking care of yourself—I know you’re capable to.”
“Of course.” Riku smiles. “I’ll call whenever I want to talk.”
It seems to be exactly what Terra wants to hear. He gets a hug and a pat on his back. “Just know you’re always welcome here whenever you want to stop by, okay?”
Riku nods. “Don’t worry. I’m not going away forever! I’m just gonna be exploring here and there. Maybe get to know myself better.”
If Riku thought about it too much (and he has), there are a lot of things he doesn’t know about himself.
It’s always been him, running here and there to fight for someone, protect someone, prioritize someone. And his friends are the most precious thing in his life—he loves all of them so much—but there is no harm in getting to know yourself more.
Maybe even prioritize yourself.
Riku wants to find out about that.
Terra must have caught all of that. He always seems to know Riku like he’s a little kid, as open as a book can be. It’s nice.
“But same for you, okay?” Riku opens the door to the gummiship. “I’m always one touch away if you want to talk.”
“Sure.” Terra grins. “I’ll tell you all about Ven’s terrible cooking.”
“Can’t wait!”
They keep laughing, even as Riku slams the door shut and gets ready to go.
He has some vague directions for other undiscovered worlds, courtesy of Yen Sid, and there is a thrill running through him at the thought of being productive without having to fear that everyone is in danger.
For once, being alone is not as terrifying as it used to be.
For once, it’s a chance to listen to his heart and get to know his mind.