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The three of them sat in a circle (more like a triangle but hell, who was checking?), three sets of eyes intently focused on the star-shaped fruit in the centre of them all.
“So how are we going to do this?” Sora piped up as he leant back, scratching his head beneath his unruly mane of spikes.
It was Riku who answered him. “For the fifth time, Sora, that’s what we’re trying to figure out. Which we can’t do if you keep interrupting.” This was only met with a long, exaggerated, melodramatic groan from the other boy as Kairi sat up straighter.
“Let’s look at the facts again. So we know we have to share the fruit. Does it have to be at the same time? Because—“
“Yeah, it has to be the same time.” Sora countered. “But we can split the one still. I say we tear it in three and do it that way.”
Riku shook his head. “The timing will be all wrong. We’re working with three people here: can’t afford to blow it and leave somebody out. That’s not how we work, right?” The question was met with solemn nods. “So like I suggested, we get multiple fruit and split one between each of us. First you two, then me and Kairi, then me and Sora.”
“But you’re SUPPOSED to use the one!” Sora bemoaned, at the same time as Kairi pouted. “He’s right, it’s traditional.”
Riku quirked one silver brow, waving a hand between the three of them. “And this is typically traditional, is it? I don’t think the stories were written with our kind of arrangement in mind.”
That was met with hums of acknowledgement and some thoughtful silence.
“…you boys know it’s gone rotten by now, though, right? We’ve been out here for two hours.”
More hums. More silence.
“…you wanna just go play video games instead?”
“Yeah.”