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“They say that each star in the sky is a whole new world.”
“A whole new world?”
“Yeah, and that each one of them has their own stories.” A sigh, the rustle of grass and the whistle of a night bird’s first song of the night. “I want to hear them all.”
Two boys lay together in the tall grass, staring up at the night sky to watch the twinkling of stars above them. Above their heads wooden swords lay forgotten, the notches and nicks in the their own silent story of growth of two boys into young men, into masters.
“Me too.” The soft-spoken blond agreed, humming softly as his friend scooted closer to tuck his head into the crook of his neck. “To see and visit all those worlds… that would be amazing. What kinds of colours would they be, what kind of sights would they have.”
“I'd like to see that,” the brunet laughed, “You can paint me every single one we’ll ever see, and I'll write you every story we’ll hear.”
“Write all the happy ones.” The younger told him. “The ones where a happy ending makes everything okay.”
“The ones where you and I can stay together like this?”
Their hands intertwined together on the soft grass, the metal of two keychains—two halves of a whole—pressing into their palms but neither minded.
“The ones we don't get to live out every day.” The blond quietly agreed, and the brunet rolled onto his elbows to look down at his companion, squeezing their still-joined hands.
His long hair tumbled down in warm waves over his shoulders, and shadows loomed over the blond, darker still than the evening around them, but his eyes shone brightly. Brighter than the powerful light resonating inside him.
“Xander—” he began to say, but the blond shook his head and pulled him down into a kiss to silence him.
They stayed like that for a long time, and when he pulled away, Xander could see only the starlight above them, past his head, and his ever shining eyes.
Like stardust had been poured into them, really, he thought.
“Ryoma.” He breathed. “We can't go on like this.” His voice quivered, faltered. Hesitation and trepidation clear in his wavering voice. “We’re not children anymore.”
Ryoma's frown was palpable in his voice. “Don't remind me.”
“I'm sorry.” Xander replied quietly, letting Ryoma twirl a lock of his hair in his fingers. “Sooner or later you and I will take our Mark of Mastery exams, and we will have to go back to our own worlds.”
“I can barely get Raijinto to listen to me.” Ryoma grumbled, and Xander laughed helplessly.
“And Siegfried still has a habit of burning me.” He agreed, smiling when Ryoma took his free hand to kiss his palm gently, as if that was enough to make his burns go away. “Yet here we are, Ryoma. On the road to becoming the next pair of Keyblade Masters.”
Ryoma sighed.
“Honestly, I still can't believe it.” He admitted, rolling off Xander, much to his quiet displeasure. The blond turned to lie on his side to watch him plop back on the ground, back heavily hitting the cushiony grass. The brunet looked up at the sky again, unseeing, unfocused—just there. “Of all people, there's us. Some guys, who the Keyblade decided was good enough to show itself to.”
“We're not ‘some guys’, Ryoma.” Xander chuckled. “Aren't you royalty?”
“I didn't earn that, thanks.” Ryoma bit back. “I still haven't filled in those shoes just yet.” He sighed, turning on his side to face Xander, reaching for him to tangle his hand in the blond’s hair. “You, though. You're already a High Prince to a T.”
“Crown Prince, actually.” Xander corrected him gently, but he was smiling all the same. “And I think you're already quite the good High Prince, Ryoma. You've shown qualities of a good leader, and I know your father is proud of you that you're wielding a Keyblade too.” In their hands, their keychains clinked together as Xander squeezed them. “You know Raijinto chooses only the worthy. That's you.”
The brunet sighed again. “When did you grow up so fast and leave me behind?”
“Regrettably, I'm not aware when.” Xander replied, but he scooted closer to his lover. “But you know what? Let's make a promise.”
Ryoma raised an eyebrow at him.
“I heard from the Master that somewhere out there, there's a tree with star-shaped fruit.” Ryoma snorted with laughter, earning him a light smack on the arm from the blond.
“Sorry, sorry.” He grinned, “Go on.”
Xander flushed darkly, grateful they had only the light of the moon and the stars above them, and cleared his throat. “They said that sharing that fruit ties two people’s destinies together.” He continued. “Someday, when one of us finds that tree, we should find the other to share it with.”
“That's not super reassuring.” Ryoma pointed out. “For starters, how are we even sure we’ll see each other again after one of us finds that fruit? Or, I don't know, what if we’ll never find that fruit?”
“Ryoma, pessimism isn't a good look on you.” Xander chuckled, and the brunet laughed.
“Trying to be realistic here.” He shot back, but his voice held no venom. Not when Xander scooted even closer to cuddle with him.
“And realistically, you're never one to break promises. To anyone.” Xander warmly said, hugging him close. “So I'm insuring on this promise. I know, in the very least, you won't break it.”
Ryoma laughed, and kissed him tenderly.
“You have the weirdest line of thinking.” He laughed, “But okay. I'll promise. I'll find that star shaped fruit and I'll share it with you under the same night sky above us now.”
“We'll be a little older by then, a little less younger but we'll still be us, right?”
“Yeah.” Ryoma chuckled, kissing him tenderly. “We'll still be us.”
The night sky in this world was the same back in the Land of Departure, Ryoma thought to himself as he emerged from the cave he had come in from from the Realm of Darkness.
It's been so long since he saw anything other than pitch-black oblivion and Heartless and despair, so the sight of the same blazing stars he looked up to as a younger man sparked hope in him once again. He was free from that cursed Realm again. He could find Corrin and his siblings and Xander now.
Gods, Xander. How was he? Was he safe? What happened to him?
He sighed, dragging his feet over sand-covered stone, and realised the island he stood on was tiny. An offshoot of what looked like a mainland in the distance. A rickety wooden port was right in front of him, devoid of any boats, and while the tree houses on the island looked sturdy enough, it didn't seem like anyone had been there in a long while.
The coconut trees and other flora overran the place, blooming mysterious flowers he wasn't familiar with but found beautiful, and he knew that here, he was safe. He was in the realm of Light again. He headed into a shack to his left only to find a flight of stairs leading up, so he followed it, his way lit dimly by a Fire spell at the tip of Raijinto’s blade. He eventually made it to a door, and going out of it had him standing at the end of a bridge leading to a smaller island beyond the island. A tree that was practically lying down stood out amongst the coconuts with it, and curiously, Ryoma approached it.
He sat on its trunk, sighing deeply, and inspected its fruit, eyes widening to realise they were bright yellow, and star-shaped.
“Somewhere out there, there's a tree with star-shaped fruit.”
Xander’s voice rang in his head, an echo like the crashing of waves. Bewildered, Ryoma plucked one from its brood and turned it over in his hand. It was ripe, that much he could tell. It was firm in his touch, like a peach, the skin leathery like citrus. A scent he couldn't place—tropical, fruity with the zest of a citrus fruit or a passion fruit—wafted from it, and the leaves at each point of the star reminded him of legumes, if legumes had serrations at their edges.
The fruit that tied destinies together. He made Xander a promise, when they were younger. Free. Unburdened with the Chosen One as a shared student, or with the weight of their little brothers’ sins, or with the constant gnawing fear of oblivion in failure.
Ryoma smiled, and took another fruit, leaving two left ripe and ready on the tree. He made his way back to the spring beside the cave to wash both of them, and thoughtfully ate one of them.
It tasted like no other fruit Ryoma had ever tried. Like fruit added into tea, crunchy and tangy but sweet, but warm and kind.
It tasted like hot summers spent in the happy bliss of his boyhood. Like the comfort of a parent’s loving hand.
It tasted like coming home.
His hand dropped, nostalgia bringing heaviness to his heart more than fondness, and he sat down heavily on one of the stones by the spring.
He couldn't wait to get home.
(Was there even a home to go to?)
Ryoma finished off the fruit thoughtfully, humming softly a tune Xander once taught him, the title and lyrics long forgotten, but the sentiment still remained. In his hand, Xander’s keychain glinted, and suddenly Siegfried appeared in his hand. He looked at the blade, and he smiled softly.
“Are you calling me home, Xander?” he murmured, and darkness shot out from the tip of the blade to open a portal in front of him. He peered it, and felt only coldness from it. None of the warmth of home, of memories and nostalgia.
Of the love he and Xander shared.
Yet, Ryoma smiled.
His other hand, holding the fruit stark yellow against his red armour, tightened slightly on it, holding on like it was a lifeline, and he took a deep breath.
He’ll uphold his promise, this time. He thought. This fruit was his and Xander’s to share.
“Big brother!” Corrin screamed, throwing herself against Kaze’s arms holding her back, as Xander lifted Ryoma off the ground by his neck. The brunet fought the choke that bit from his throat, half-smirking as he looked down into the gold that had tainted the blond’s eyes.
“Got… you too… did he?” He managed, ignoring the urge to rush to Corrin to protect her. “Anan… kos... clear in… your eyes.” The hand tightened around his throat and he coughed. “Gold… doesn’t suit… you.”
Xander didn’t respond, drawing Siegfried and raising it, ready to strike him—
But the yellow fruit tumbled out of Ryoma’s pocket, and it stole Xander’s attention from him.
The blond stopped, his hand loosening on Ryoma’s throat enough for the brunet to squirm away from him, dropping down to cough through the smirk growing on his face.
Xander stood there, gaping at the fruit.
“That’s… a paopu. Heard from a friend.” Ryoma panted, slowly getting up. “The star-shaped fruit you told me about when we were younger? That one.”
Xander’s eyes flicked to him, and the gold in his eyes flickered. He was fighting the dark’s possession.
“Didn’t say we’d share it? It’s a little overripe, but I think it’s alright.”
“Big brother, what are you doing?!” Corrin called, but he ignored her.
He drew Raijinto, smirking slightly as he settled into a stance. “So, Xander. When do you plan on coming back to me?” he asked, “Must I beat you into sensibility first?”
The blond settled into his own stance, and Ryoma laughed.
“So be it.” He nodded. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back.”
His grip tightened on his Keyblade, and thought back to their youth, gazing up at the stars, imagining their light scattering down to them like fine, golden stardust.
“I promised.”