Archive of Our Own ^beta

It has been officially a week since the last time Sora kissed Riku and he is one bad day away from jumping into a trash compactor and letting himself be compressed.

Having a serious argument with your spouse about parenting is a marriage milestone Sora wouldn’t have minded not reaching. The worst part is that he has no idea how to solve it. Normally, they would talk it out (Kingdom Hearts knows they wouldn’t have stayed together this long if not for healthy communication), but Sora is starting to suspect that the problem is that they have been talking about it too much. Beating a dead horse to the point its corpse is pulverised.

Also, he just… He doesn’t think he is in the wrong here—it isn’t pride! No, he isn’t being stubborn. Roxas and Xion already soothed his worries about acting like an insensitive jerk. They even agreed that it was a complicated debate and that both he and Riku made good points. They also said that they were happy to not be in his shoes and offered no further comment on the situation. Assholes. One would think that they would show more consideration to the guy that fostered their hearts and was not-so-indirectly the reason why they were even born—he also doesn’t think that Riku is mistaken; on the contrary, he understands where he is coming from. It’s simply that Sora… One part of him doesn’t want to believe that Riku is right, not about that. This whole discussion has reopened wounds that Sora thought had faded by now.

By bringing out the past, Ai has started to ask questions they don’t know how to answer. The stories they told her when she was little were so sanitised, half-truths at best. All victories, all happiness, good friends and goofy villains and the power of friendship as the solution to world-ending calamities. They were opening up to her in recent years about the most unsavoury parts of their youth: Riku’s struggle with darkness, Sora’s struggle with darkness, Castle Oblivion, Xehanort and the terrible things that happened in each world that she never heard about. And, every time, Sora witnessed how Ai’s expression fell and childhood wonder abandoned her opal gaze.

Sora doesn’t want that to happen and he also doesn’t want to think of his adolescence as a succession of horrors. There was joy within the chaos; some of the best moments in his life were preceded or followed by awful catastrophes. The pain wasn’t wanted, but the hurt was good; the hurt made him learn, it made him grow. Accepting it happened and how terrible it was made him the man he is today and he wouldn’t change a single thing.

But, by the way Riku is treating the subject, one would think that Sora is proposing to throw Ai into a pool full of piranhas. That isn’t the case at all! He would never put their daughter in danger. If Ai is the one wanting to jump headfirst into piranha-infested waters, that’s another story entirely.

“Sor- Err, I mean- Master Sora?”

Sora stops checking on the equipment to plaster on his winning smile before turning around. The last thing he wants is for the new kid to take him for a wet blanket of a teacher. “Yes, Corcoran? Any questions? I know magic might appear a bit outdated compared to the technology in your world, but I swear it’s twice as fun as it looks.”

Corcoran, the most recent addition to the academy, comes from the scientifically prosperous world of Todayland, a futuristic wonderland that Sora avoids visiting like the plague, so Riku is always the one accompanying Ai to visit her friend Wilbur. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him that the boy observed today’s lesson with uninterest, as if nothing that Sora or any of his students cast was new to him. He probably has machines in his world that manage to accomplish magic feasts by pressing a few buttons.

“I have questions, but not about the class.”

Not something unexpected, it’s—what? His second day? “Ask away.”

“Are you okay?”

Sora’s smile falters. Shit, if the new kid noticed his bad mood he must look depressed.

“Yes, I’m!” He tries, cheerful and carefree and inspirational and all those things he aspires to be as a teacher. “I get it, you are worried because you saw me being hit by Aero, but I’m wearing protective gear, remember? Not even the strongest spells could hurt me.” For good measure, he pats his own chest and widens his smile.

Dark brown eyes bore into his with unnerving intensity and Sora knows he isn’t buying it.

“Are you happy?”

What?

“What?”

“You look miserable.”

What?

“Corcoran, what are you-”

“Corcoran!”

Eraqus appears on the scene, a whirlpool of blue hair and flowy white sleeves as he sweeps Corcoran away.

“I told you! In this world we use our legs to go from one classroom to the other, not everyone can have transportation tubes inside their buildings! Quickly, you are running late already!”

The two boys exit the training grounds before Sora can process it and he is left with the sensation that he is missing something. Weirdly invasive question and rude remark aside, that was an uncharacteristic loss of composure on Eraqus’ part. He and the others usually tell him to let loose a little, but he was downright manic as he dragged Corcoran.

Aqua and Terra explained that Eraqus brought Corcoran to the Land of Knowledge because he saw potential in him as a keyblade wielder. So maybe he feels responsible for him? His sense of duty has always been his biggest cause of stress, after all. He will ask Ai about it later; she will for sure know more about it.

After finishing tidying up, Sora spends a moment in the bathroom looking in the mirror. He forces a smile, but it doesn’t seem remarkably fake; he is an expert in hiding behind them, so how could a total stranger figure him out that easily?

Whatever, it doesn’t really matter. Once he solves things with Riku there won’t be a need for pretending.

Ah… He wants to make up so badly. This is the first time in forever that they are not in sync and it’s akin to having half of his heart ripped away. At least, fixing Ai’s broken necklace keeps him busy enough at home to not think about the off-tune song in his chest.

It’s been one week and one day since the ‘incident’ and Riku’s skin is craving Sora’s like a shipwrecked man yearns for land. Not even his desire for nightmares gets this poignant. He has not felt this touch-starved since he was sixteen and enveloped in a black leather coat that covered all of him; not even the wind could grace his skin. Decades of receiving daily affection and honeyed words have spoiled him. Now that he knows intimately the feeling of being loved so thoroughly that it became engraved in his soul, Riku feels uncomfortable in his own skin. Itchy and prickly and like he is shedding scales he has no business sprouting in the waking world.

But this is more important than Riku getting his fill of Sora, this is about their daughter and her future. At this very moment she is in an intersection, contemplating the paths presented before her. One leads to unnecessary pain in the purchase of a goal no one can guarantee her, while the other foresees unchanged peacefulness. None of the options are perfect; both are uncertain in their promises and Riku knows that the better choice would be for Ai to find the middle path. Her own way to dawn. Even so, as much as Riku has scratched his brain for ideas, he hasn’t been able to come up with one that would satisfy all of them. This is a complicated conundrum that could scar Ai for life if proceeded carelessly; Riku can’t simply relent because he is frustrated and needy.

Sure, there are probably other ways to approach his disagreement with Sora than simply stopping all physical contact and communicating only when necessary, but Riku knows himself well enough to predict that he will end up caving if he allows Sora closer. His will is as weak as when he was a teenager.

If only they had been honest with her sooner, perhaps his conflict with darkness and his repressed fears could have acted as a cautionary tale and prevented this from happening. Because as much as Ai has Sora’s sunny disposition, his laidback spirit and selfless heart, she inherited Riku’s overthinking mind, his impetuosity and his tendency to shoulder the whole burden of his problems. Adding to that, Sora’s tendency to hide his real emotions behind a smile and Riku’s brooding and evasive nature have mixed in the worst possible way and now they never know when their daughter is struggling with something. At least when younger, Sora sought help and confided in his friends, even if he preferred to ignore his dark thoughts as much as possible. And in Riku’s case, he acknowledged his emotions and dealt with them in private, even to his own detriment. Ai, on the other hand, hides and runs away and keeps her concerns close to her chest, naively confident in her ability to solve them without help.

That means that things in their house are perfect until one day, suddenly, they aren’t and Riku and Sora have to come to terms with the fact that they might not be as good parents as they think themselves to be.

Thankfully, the new kid’s presence has lightened up Ai’s demeanour. Sure, she has gone from downcast to slightly distressed, but (she got this from him) she tends to obsess over her own mistakes, so being distracted by Corcoran will do her some good.

Riku is seeing all of them at the end of the corridor right now: Nyx, Eraqus and his daughter fussing over Corcoran. The three of them have been inseparable since Ai entered the family and he wonders if Corcoran will become a permanent member of their group. They have been kind of following him like three very clingy shadows; Eraqus in particular has been extremely keen on not leaving him alone for even a moment.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess that there is more to the whole situation, but Corcoran has Aqua’s seal of approval and (rumours about his weirdness aside) Riku trusts her judgement. Maybe it is as innocuous as them being excited about Eraqus’ first ‘protégé’; it wouldn’t be out of character for those three to go a bit overboard in their enthusiasm.

Despite his suspiciousness or lack thereof, Riku is still a father; he has both the right and the obligation to meddle. So, he approaches them as silently as possible and, once he is close enough, he asks: “And what are you four plotting about?”

All of them turn around like they had been, effectively, planning the heist of the century. Three different flavours of horror stare at him, each one guiltier than the last. Nyx looks ready to deny his involvement, Eraqus seems about to beg ‘please don’t tell my parents’ and Ai has the same face as the first time he caught her in her room about to eat a cookie from Wonderland that would turn her twenty feet tall.

Expected reactions from them, who have a long history of pranks and secret schemes. Corcoran’s, on the other hand, does catch him by surprise. With his brown eyes wide, jaw so open it appears unhinged and both hands fisting the fabric over his heart, he looks one second away from cardiac arrest. An absolutely baffled expression. He has quite the expressive face for someone the other teachers have described as ‘demure’ at best and ‘ominous’ at worst.

To add to his whole appearance, he has a Hareraiser with its ears wrapped around his left leg; not a good sign. Vanitas and Naminé should talk to him.

“Uncle!” Nyx recovers the fastest, his tone purposely nonchalant. “What are you doing with us small fries? Shouldn’t you be training the big shots?”

Riku scoffs, as if the three of them weren’t known in the academy as the future leaders of this generation of wielders. If the situation were any different, they would have taken their Mark of Mastery exams already.

It’s also obvious that Nyx is trying to distract him, because behind his back, Eraqus has started dragging an apparently catatonic Corcoran away.

“Is your friend okay?”

“He is!” This time, Ai is the one doing the deflection and she is clever in standing by her side, which means that Riku has to turn his head to face her, putting Corcoran out of his view. Smart girl. “It’s just his third day here, so, you know, he is acclimating.”

His daughter is so terrible at lying once she has been caught red-handed; why can’t she be this obvious all the time? It would spare him and Sora so many headaches.

“Is that so, Corcoran?” He asks, receiving no answer. When he turns around, he discovers that Eraqus and Corcoran have disappeared from the corridor at the speed of light, the only proof they were even here being the Hareraiser left where Corcoran once stood. The poor Unversed looks at him with his disoriented, sad little red eyes and then starts hopping in circles while making pitiful sobbing noises.

After sighing in resignation, Riku goes to lift the Unversed from the floor and cradle it in his arms. He has never been good at ignoring them, like the rest do; they remind him too much of Dream Eaters dying to be cared for.

“Whatever you four are getting yourselves into, it better not be something reckless.” He says this looking directly at them with severe eyes. As difficult as it is to be serious and authoritarian with an oversized black bunny cuddled against his chest demanding pets. “We have had enough of those for the rest of the year.” His gaze falls, heavy, on Ai and she shrinks in on herself, head low in shame.

She is, technically, not grounded, because he and Sora couldn’t agree on it. Therefore, she is in a limbo of sorts. Riku doesn’t like this situation more than Ai does, but putting herself intentionally in danger with the goal of getting beat to a pulp merits a reprimand. Whether it will come sooner rather than later depends on his ability to compromise with his husband.

“I’m sorry,” she says, sounding painfully sincere.

The Hareraiser on his arms lets out a sorrowful yowl.

Riku sighs.

“I know.” He sneaks a glance at Nyx, who is observing them with those inquisitive eyes he inherited from Xion but judge him as hard as Roxas’ do. “We will talk about this later.”

He has been saying that so much he might as well tattoo it on his forehead. ‘We will talk later’ ‘Let’s wait until we are home’ ‘Not now’ ‘Let’s talk tomorrow’ ‘Now is not a good moment’. Even he is getting tired of the delay, but each time they start to discuss it, a minute turns into an hour and responsibilities are calling for them while their debate remains unresolved.

The day after tomorrow Riku will go on a five-day trip with some of the newly appointed Masters and he is already dreading the idea of leaving without closure. He doesn’t even know if he should expect messages from Sora while he is away, much less a call.

Deciding to keep his worries to himself (and isn’t that hypocritical of him?), he bends down to kiss his daughter goodbye on the crown of her head before continuing on his way. Hareraiser nudging the underside of his jaw. Great, it is feeding on his bad mood now. “Don’t be late to your classes.”

(As he walks away, without him noticing, two pairs of eyes peek over the corner. One watching more intently than the other. “Stop looking at his ass.” Whispers Eraqus, smacking his companion on the back of the head.)

…

“What’s going on with the new kid?”

Aqua tenses up and her reflection in the window displays her nervous eyes. The students outside, eating lunch, talking in groups and having friendly spars with their Starlights, become nothing but a blur.

“Let me guess. Corcoran asked you if you were happy.”

“I mean, I was eating a salad, so it isn’t like I was having the best time of my life.”

“A salad? Ha! I see Isa finally put you on a diet.”

“He just wants me to eat healthier, shut up.” The sound of a chair scratching the floor occupies the teacher’s lounge, followed by Lea’s content sigh as he sits. “Anyway, I told him I was, happy, you know, and he got this face like-”

“Like he would rather you be a miserable, flaccid peach about to be squashed in the road by a truck in the middle of a scorching summer day.” Interrupts Lauriam and Elrena laughs in sharp delight.

“Not a metaphor I would use, but yeah, basically.”

“It was the same with me.”

“And with me.”

“I’m relieved then.” Lea chuckles, “I thought he had a personal vendetta against me or something.”

“One thing doesn’t exclude the other.” Comments Elrena, all playful mischief.

“The kid has been here for four days, what could I have done to cross him?”

“Your presence is offensive enough.”

“Hey! That hurt my feelings.” Aqua can see him cleaning a non-existent tear from his cheek in her mind’s eye. “No wonder no one nominated you for favourite teacher.”

“Like I care for a poll that’s so obviously rigged.”

“Grandmaster Aqua.” Lauriam calls for her and she turns to face him; she hopes none of her distress is obvious in her eyes. There is so much she is not telling them. “Your son was who brought him here. Do you know anything that could put an end to this intrigue?”

Oh, she does know something. She knows a lot of things. Should she start by mentioning how Eraqus cast a Cover spell on someone and got them into their house, into their dinning room and expected Aqua to not notice? Her? The person who taught him everything he knows about magic? Or perhaps she could explain the absolute dread that overtook her soul once she dispelled Eraqus’ enchantment and discovered who was hiding under it. She would like to add how Terra had to bribe Ella with lollipops for her to not say anything to anyone and how worried she is about her daughter’s dental health among everything else going on right now.

No. If she were to narrate this tale, she would begin with Ai begging Wilbur to use one of his dad’s time machines only to mess up the date they wanted to travel to and end up crashing in a planned twenty or so years in the past. Then, she would talk about how they had the brilliant idea to call Chip and Dale (since their number hasn’t changed in two decades, apparently) to ask if they could repair it with gummi blocks. And of course, because it couldn’t have been any other way, Chip and Dale sent Sora to be an on-site mechanic.

Everything would have gone perfectly well if not for Sora sneaking inside the time machine at the last moment and travelling to the future with them.

Aqua heard that story with her head in her hands from Eraqus and Sora himself after his cover was blown, but when she asked why Sora would do such a reckless thing, he said that he was curious.

Curious.

Sora should thank Terra for calming her, because if it wasn’t for her husband, he would have marks the size of her fingers around his neck. She can’t remember the last event in recent memory that awakened such rage inside her. Because Sora of all people should know the dangers of interfering with the timeline. He got vanished from existence for it, damn it!

Time travelling by technological means is also different from doing it with magic. The latter plays by Fate’s rules; it’s part of the cycle. It happens because it’s meant to be and it doesn’t alter the time flow; it’s part of it. Technology, on the other hand, is dangerous. It can undo and rebuild reality without consequences for the user. Whoever commits the act of altering past events won’t be charged for taboos against nature. A time machine is the perfect device to carry on atrocities and never be charged as guilty. Which is why their use is strictly regulated if not completely forbidden. Aqua herself had a painfully long discussion with Cornelius and Bruce about the matter.

Everything Aqua cherishes, everything that she fought tooth and nail to accomplish and everyone she holds dear could go down the drain and dissolve into a wisp of air, all because eighteen-year-old Sora was curious. Her children, her marriage, this whole academy and who knows what else could disappear and she would be none the wiser, because she wouldn’t even remember having had them in the first place. The thought has her waking up in cold sweat in the middle of the night, scratching at her bedsheets. Thankfully, Terra indulges her during her nocturnal rounds around the house to check that everything (and especially everyone) is in its place and then draws circles on her back and whispers calming sweet nothings to her ear until she falls asleep again.

Hence the question would be, if she is so scared of what Sora’s presence could bring, why is she not merely allowing it but also helping him continue here? And the answer is that she remembers what eighteen-year-old Sora, fresh out of Unreality, was like and she could not find it in herself to deny someone she loves so much a chance to experience happiness in peacetime. It was an opportunity to show a disillusioned Sora that all he is fighting for will be worth it and return a genuine grin to a face that has gone months without one.

Also, because Sora begged her to, on his knees, and promised that he would allow Naminé to erase any memory he had of this time period before returning to the past. That was an offer Aqua could accept.

And so, she cast her strongest Mirage spell on him and together with Terra decided to continue with the cover story that Eraqus, Nyx, Ai and Wilbur had already told Ven (who took the three of them to visit the latter) and the Robinsons: that Sora was a friend of Wilbur’s named Corcoran that showed great potential, so Eraqus decided to bring him to the Land of Knowledge and see if he was interested in being a keyblade wielder.

She really appreciates her son’s quick thinking and generous heart when he got so deeply involved in a problem that wasn’t even his, as well as she acknowledges how many headaches it is going to cause him. “He is just like you.” Said Terra, smiling tenderly, and she couldn’t deny it.

If only their efforts were paying off. Aqua isn’t sure what Sora was expecting to find when he was pleading so desperately, but he has obviously not found it. Each day that passes has him looking gloomier and Aqua knows exactly what would cheer him up immediately, but that’s the only thing they can’t let him discover. He instructed Eraqus as much.

“Don’t let anyone tell him anything personal about his current life.” She said, as seriously as she could, it was practically a matter of life or death. “He can’t hear a word about his marriage or the fact that he is Ai’s father.”

“But why not? Auntie Naminé is going to erase his memories anyway.” Questioned her son in his soft voice.

“Because if he knows, he won’t want to forget it.” And that’s what she can’t allow to happen. Aqua might be a grandmaster now and have decades of experience over Sora, but Sora has always been unpredictable; she doesn’t trust herself to be able to force him into forgetting if he resists.

Since her warning, Eraqus has been watching him like a hawk and his dedication warms Aqua’s heart. She is so proud of her boy; it almost makes her forget that he tried to trick her at first. Almost.

That will be a chat for another day, though. Right now, Aqua has three fellow teachers to dissuade from investigating further and a certain time traveller to find and have a conversation with. If he continues going around being creepy, someone is going to pry.

“Nothing at all,” she says and tries to be pacifying, “but I trust Eraqus’ judgement.”

Lauriam gives her a considering look before turning towards Elrena and Lea. “Have Naminé or Vanitas checked on him yet?”

“They tried to yesterday, but he refused.” Answers Lea.

Damn it. The counsellors are already prying.

“As you said yourself earlier, it is only his fourth day.” This time, she is using her diplomatic voice. The three of them give her their attention. “We should go easier on him. He probably realised keyblade wielding doesn’t interest him and is worried about telling us.” Elrena and Lauriam exchange a look; meanwhile, Lea nods. “My son might have pressed him a little too much to attend. I will have a talk with him, Corcoran shouldn’t feel forced to stay here.”

She leaves the room to the sound of Lauriam and Lea agreeing with her and Elrena complaining about Corcoran needing to ‘grow a backbone’. All in all, mission accomplished.

Although, to be honest, she is equal parts proud and concerned that her Mirage spell is able to fool an academy full of the best keyblade wielders in the Realm of Light. After this, she will impart a masterclass on identifying Illusion magic; it’s clearly needed.

Sora is watching his husband instructing his students, knowing that by the time he sees him disembarking the gummiship at his back, it will be more than two weeks since their last real contact. Their last kiss. Sora licks his lips and mourns the taste that should be on them. He has never been shy about putting on a show whenever any of them goes off-world for more than a day. Dipping Riku into a dramatic kiss, lifting him in his arms and carrying him to the luggage compartment as if he were another bag he was planning to take with him, hugging him tightly while threatening to not let him go or fake-fighting the students who ‘had the audacity’ to ‘take his Riku away’ and then fainting on the ground after a theatrical surrender.

Needless to say, his absence is blatantly noticed and, from his spot at a window on the second floor, he can see some of Riku’s students looking around, as if they were expecting someone to show up.

Him, they are expecting him and he is dying to go there and do just that. But he doesn’t dare. Let everyone know that the saviour of the universe is a coward who can’t gather the courage to bid his husband the overenthusiastic and embarrassingly corny farewell he deserves.

He had planned to do it at home, but Riku was gone by the time he woke up, a note in the kitchen explaining that he had some preparations to do before the trip. Right. As if Riku would risk doing anything last minute.

At least, he knows that Ai and he had a proper goodbye. Although he would have preferred to have her complaining in faux disgust about how sappy and mortifying her folks are. One of the things he has discovered as a parent is that embarrassing your kid is utterly gratifying.

“Is this how things are now?”

Sora jerks away from the window.

There, in the middle of the corridor, standing like a vengeful soul from the Underworld, is Corcoran, looking at him with his brown, inscrutable eyes. Among the marble and gold of the walls, he cuts a dark figure. Small in the same way a dagger is, sharpened all the way to the hilt.

It has been only five days since his arrival and he can count on one hand the times they talked, but in each one of them Corcoran showed himself more hostile, his words charged with a resentment Sora couldn’t explain. The others said that Corcoran acted oddly with them too, but he is the only one subjected to his animosity, to his deep, unnerving glare.

“Cor-”

“You don’t even talk to each other?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this!” In the blink of an eye, Corcoran is on his face, all bare teeth. “You watching from the window like a fucking coward!”

His yell feels like a slap to the face. This close, Corcoran’s eyes are almost black and they are boring into his soul like he wants to rip him apart.

“I have seen you two when you pass each other in the halls and when you try to talk.” His voice is acidic, fierce like a growl. “You don’t even look at each other, you just mumble awkwardly and then run away like you can’t stand being in the same room together.” He grabs him by the lapels. “Again and again. You run away like a fucking coward.”

Sora pushes him off, using more force than he should on a kid his age. Corcoran lets go and stumbles backwards and, when he locks eyes with him, there is nothing but hatred in them. Pure, raw abhorrence. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“Who are you to talk to me like that?!” He tries to be stern, the authoritarian Master he has seen others be, but he has goosebumps in his skin and a knot on his throat and he isn’t sure why the words of this total stranger feel like arrows sinking between his ribs.

“I’m someone who knows that you were a miserable kid who grew into a miserable adult and will die a miserable man.” There is weight to his words and certainty to his tone, like he is chanting a prophecy, condemning Sora to hell. He corners him against the window and digs a finger into his chest, his eyes full of vitriol as he claims: “Because you didn’t dare, you were too much of a coward to dare and get your chance at happiness!”

Then, Corcoran hits the wall with his clenched fist and both the punch and his yell echo in the marble. A roar that turns into a sob the more it resounds.

“And there is nothing I can do about it!”

It’s a cry for help if Sora has ever seen one.

“Who are you?” He asks slowly, carefully. During his years as an instructor there have been problematic students. Those who came from bad backgrounds, those who relied too much on darkness, those who believed too much in the light and those who were fighting monsters invisible to him. And he learnt how to deal with them: the things that triggered them and the ones that caused comfort. Which words were appreciated and which ones were received with a scowl. He isn’t Naminé or Vanitas, but even they come to him sometimes for difficult cases. Sora knows how to treat an aggressive student; he knows how to deescalate before blows are exchanged.

But no angry yell was ever this personal. No kid has ever peered into his soul and noticed his buried fears. He is at a loss here. Because Corcoran is talking like he knows Sora better than Sora knows himself and a little voice inside his head is agreeing with him.

When Corcoran looks at him, there are unshed tears in the corners of his eyes. “I’m a miserable kid.”

Sora’s heart clenches, “Corco-”

A flash blinds him; Sora is forced to close his eyes and, once he opens them, all he sees is Nyx’s blond hair and his arms manhandling Corcoran as he carries him away in another burst of light. As fast as his mother. The afterimages of his arrival and subsequent flight linger for a blink, then disappear into nothing. Not even the dust in the air is disturbed.

What the fuck is going on?

On the second day of his trip, while surveying the rainforest around Encanto, Riku’s gummiphone lights up with a notification. He stops in his tracks to check on it, heart too hopeful for his own good, especially because it isn’t a text from the man that occupies his every thought but an alert from the academy’s official channel. Oh.

Corcoran has stolen a gummiship and now there is an arrest warrant set for him.

“I knew that kid meant trouble.” Grumbles Summer at his right, also looking at her gummiphone. Uru and Xavier agree.

To be honest, Riku doesn’t understand the distrust Corcoran awakens on anyone that interacts with him. In his opinion, the boy is a little shy, but he has a kind smile and joyful eyes, always ready to crack a laugh. A good kid. Or, at least, that’s what he thought until this news. Maybe he has been too focused on his own problems to notice the clues that the others picked. How shameful of him.

“Shouldn’t we help capture him?”

“Yeah! I bet they could use the help of some Masters~”

The three of them materialise their Starlights and bump their tips together. The ‘all for one and one for all’ anthem that he shows his students. It makes him smile, despite their zealousness not being a good sign. Being too fixated on the title will lead them astray.

“We have our own mission to take care of, don’t forget that.” Riku puts his gummiphone back in his pocket. “Only measly Masters drop their current mission once one with a bigger reward shows up.”

Summer, Uru and Xavier look at him like a trio of dogs who have been told to not jump on the couch and Riku needs to hold his laughter.

“But we should regroup with the others. Make sure that nobody is planning on being a wannabe space ranger.”

At his words, Uru and Summer give Xavier the side-eye and he, after noticing it, squares up. “That was one time!”

Yes, Riku already has his hands full here.

The universe seems to disagree with him, though, because once he assigns his students new areas to clear off and tasks to help this world’s inhabitants, while he is left alone talking with Alma, the last person he expects to see on this world appears at Julieta’s side, arms full with baskets brimming with all kinds of food.

“Don Riku, your student is such a polite young man.” She praises as she finishes walking up the hill to Casita. “He helped me carry the groceries all the way from the plaza.” Her hand pats Corcoran’s shoulder, smile as motherly as the rest of her. “He didn’t even let me carry a cucumber.”

“I’m glad to be of service, ma’am!” Chirps the ‘polite young man’ who is currently on the run and with a search warrant over his head. The fuck.

There must be an explanation for this. Rationalises his brain. No one would steal a gummiship and fly into a world with people ready to capture him instead of hiding without a good reason.

Besides, Riku doesn’t find it in himself to be angry when Corcoran carries such fondness with him. There is something in the curve of his smile that just… it is familiar. It is warm; it is contagious and nostalgic in a way he can’t identify.

The way his eyes squint when Riku approaches him, like his happiness is too big to be only shown on his lips, also pulls at his heartstrings. He smiles back and Corcoran beams, handing him half of the groceries after Riku reaches for them.

“I can’t allow him to be more considerate than me, can I? That would be fatal for my reputation.”

Julieta and Alma chuckle, leading the way to Casita, who welcomes them in with a symphony of tiles and doors clicking and waving their own hellos. The house is as colourful as always; after years, Riku has gotten used to its magnificence, unlike Corcoran, who glances from corner to corner in awe. Warm brown eyes landing on blossoming cacti, artfully woven quilts or the smartly dressed rats running on the railing. How could anyone believe that a boy who observes the world with such wonder could be evil in any way?

He stole a gummiship. Reminds him his logical self. I was kidnapping princesses of heart and going mad with power at his age. Counterarguments his pettiness. This is actually quite tame.

Regardless of the sympathy he might feel towards Corcoran, Riku is a responsible adult now, so he messages Aqua while the kid is busy putting away the groceries with Casita assisting him on the task by opening cabinets and drawers, indicating to him where each item goes.

“Miss Alma,” he approaches the matriarch discreetly, gummiphone back in his pocket. Aqua will probably want to take care of this in person, but there is something he wants to do before she gets here. “Would it be possible for me to borrow a room to talk with my student?”

Alma stops supervising the kitchen’s resupply to gift him one of her polite, prudent smiles. “But of course,” she steps towards the closest wall and palms the stone. “I’m sure our Casita will be happy to provide.”

Her words work like an enchantment: the whole kitchen rumbles, with strange merry noises of cracking wood and clicking tiles as a new door appears in the wall, purple and with a shiny round knob, encased between hanging plants.

The door opens on its own, the hinges producing a brisk melody, as if it were saying ‘Come on in, come on in! I have waited forever to have you here!’ which is the feeling that Casita always gives him. A home away from home, a place that welcomes those who seek respite and doesn’t judge the ones who need a place to hide. Casita will always have a warm room and fresh air and a thousand songs ready to be heard.

“Thank you, Alma, Casita.” He bows to both of them and while Alma makes a dismissive gesture, the kitchen tiles clap happily against the wall. A secret, vain, little part of him prides himself on his trained manners. Teenager him would have never shown this respect to anyone. Perhaps that’s something he could teach the kid about. “Corcoran,” the boy is at his side before he can even finish turning around; he kind of resembles an eager dog who is about to go on a walk.

“Yes?”

Riku puts one hand on his back and Corcoran lights up like a Christmas tree. Is… Is he touch-starved? Did no one pay him attention at home? Whatever the case is, Riku hopes to discover it soon. “Let’s have a little chat,” he starts guiding him to the new room. “There is something you have to tell me, isn’t there?”

The spine against his hand goes stiff and suddenly Corcoran isn’t able to hold his gaze. “Do I?”

“Unless the alert I received about someone stealing a gummiship was a prank, I think you do.”

“Oh, that.” To his surprise, Corcoran relaxes, blowing a raspberry into the air before letting out a brief laugh. Strange.

The room they enter could be used as an illustration for the word ‘cosy’. It’s a small place with wooden walls and ceiling, thick carpets in rich, deep colours covering the floor, potted plants hanging at the corners and quilts and pillows over every piece of furniture. A loveseat rests at the centre of it, facing an unlit fireplace, and that’s where Riku sits; he doesn’t even need to invite Corcoran, he follows suit without a word and has no qualms about leaning against his side. With his head supported on his arm, Corcoran exhales a heavy sigh and that makes Riku frown. The exhaustion on his face looks too marked for someone his age. It brings up memories he would rather forget.

“Riku,” when he talks, his voice is thin, unsure, “could I ask you something first?”

Oh, the others warned him about this too. ‘Corcoran famous question’ and the subsequent memorable reaction. Even Sora mentioned it at dinner a few days ago. Riku was wondering when it would be his turn; he had been feeling excluded.

“Whatever you need.”

Corcoran’s lips press into a tremulous line, eyebrows down in a scowl. The proofs of an internal conflict are displayed clearly in the way he opens his mouth before thinking twice and slamming it shut. He still looks hesitant about his decision when he asks, finally: “Are you happy?”

Here it is. Riku has given this enough thought to be absolutely confident in his answer.

“I’m.”

“Really?”

This is new. Corcoran’s expression has none of the disgust the others described. If Riku had to put a name to it, he would say he appears… contrived. The emotion in his eyes isn’t quite disappointment, but it is undeniable that he would have preferred to hear something else.

Riku can’t give that to him without lying, though, and he got tired of lies a long time ago.

“I’m the happiest I could be. And, certainly, much happier than what I thought I would ever be at your age.” He nudges him with his shoulder, something light and amicable, yet he receives no reaction.

“And…” Corcoran drops his gaze to his hands, fingers wriggling his shirt’s bottom over his lap. “How much of that happiness would you say is because of something Sora did?”

Okay, this took an unexpected turn.

“All of it?” Images of his husband flash behind his eyes. An entire life together. They might be going through a rough patch, but when has that stopped them? Riku can’t help the grin on his face. “Well, if not all, most of it for sure.”

His grip on the fabric tightens; Riku watches his knuckles turn white. “Then if Sora didn’t do that or did it in another way… You wouldn’t be happy.”

Why the fixation on Sora? Riku lets himself sink into the cushions. “My life would be completely different.”

“Worse?”

“Yes.” He cranes his neck, nape against the backrest and his eyelids drop. Stars, where would he be without Sora? The question fills him with dread. “I don’t even dare to imagine it.”

“Would you be miserable?”

He would be… A younger him thought that he would stay jealous and spiteful for the rest of forever. Then, after getting his ass kicked a few times and learning his lesson, he made amends by being a background character in Sora’s story. He aspired to be someone helpful, someone good, but not present, so he wouldn’t risk inconveniencing Sora’s happiness with his unrequited feelings. Later on, he was determined to disappear from his life entirely and wander the cosmos like a vagrant spirit, jumping from world to world aimlessly. If Sora hadn’t been the one to reach out, if he had given up on him, then miserable wouldn’t be able to cover the extent of Riku’s agony. It hurts to even think about it. “Yes.”

“So, if you could go back, you wouldn’t change anything.”

“Not a single thing.” Taking a deep breath, Riku opens his eyes. He needs to make up with his husband soon. It has been way too long since the last time he kissed that silly grin of his. “I guess the others told you already, but Sora and I go way back. It wasn’t always easy, I for sure didn’t make it easy, but time has brought me joys I never dared to hope for. And I have Sora to thank for that.”

Confiding in Corcoran is unusually easy, perhaps because he recognises some of his fears, the doubts about the future, the feeling of being betrayed when the people around you thrive in glee as you drown in sorrow. The same regret for past actions and the constant ‘what if’ plaguing his mind. Riku can relate and he wants Corcoran to know that there are things to look forward to too. Life is too precious to spend it wallowing. The brightest light is found in the deepest darkness.

“My job is fulfilling, I’m surrounded by friends, I have a daughter who is my pride and joy and I’m married to the love of my life.” Sora, Ai… He is missing them so much now; it doesn’t matter if it counts as giving in, he should be the one to call. He just wants to hear their voices. “What else could I wish for?”

“That’s-That’s good.” Riku straightens his posture hastily. There is a sob breaking through his words. “I’m happy for you.”

“Corcoran-”

“No, really, I’m happy for you. I want you to be happy. I- really, really want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.” Tears gather on his eyelashes; Riku sees him trying to contain them, how he hardens his expression until it breaks and the first drops slip through the fractures. “Everyone has gone through so much. They all deserve good lives.”

“Come here.” There is no need to think twice about it, Riku simply wraps his arms around him and the kid crumbles against his chest, dead weight and wet sobs, fingers gripping tightly his master coat.

“But what about me?!” The scream is full of anger; his hands are shaking. “Where is my happiness?!” Riku caresses his back, palm firmly pressed over his spine, stroking up and down, up and down in what he hopes is calming repetitiveness. “Why am I the only one miserable?”

“It might look like that at times, but things get better, I promise.”

“Not for me.” Corcoran sobs and then makes his stomach churn but also scratches at something in his brain. His troubled breathing, the cadence to his words, how he presses himself closer, like he wants to dig a hole on his chest and slide inside. All of it is unmistakably familiar, but that’s impossible. “Because I can’t change anything. I’m- If I do- I don’t want to-”

The boy dissolves into tears and Riku holds him through it, nestling his head under his chin. His smell is also peculiar; it stings his nose the same way light magic does and, vaguely, it reminds him of Aqua. Has she cast a spell on him? A protection charm like the one she gifted Kairi all those years ago? There is so much Riku doesn’t know, but it can wait until Corcoran calms down.

“I have to sacrifice my happiness for theirs.”

“Sacrifices are serious stuff.” To be honest, Riku has no clue what is the cause behind his tears, but he is friends with enough self-sacrificial idiots to know how to proceed. They had group therapy about it once. It was enlightening. “And a bit too demanding for someone your age. Why would you have to sacrifice anything? You could let others help in sharing the weight.”

Half the reason why he worked his ass off was to ensure that future generations won’t have to lose their childhoods to literal war. No child should be having to sacrifice anything to anyone. That’s what the adults are here for. That’s Riku’s job.

“I- I don’t know.” His voice is small again, he has stopped shaking. “It’s my thing, I guess.” He buries his face on his chest and that, too, feels weirdly familiar. “I’m always sacrificing myself.”

Riku is so chasing down whoever made him feel this way.

“Maybe it’s time to stop and allow yourself some rest.” He pushes him apart enough to look at his eyes, damp and swollen from crying, a brown so dark it shines obsidian. They are the colour they have always been, yet Riku is assaulted by a feeling of wrongness that twists his guts into knots. Something isn’t how it should be here, but Riku shrugs off the uneasiness once again. “Let the others deal with their problems on their own.”

“What if… I’m the problem?”

Who hurt him this badly? Riku put his gummiphone on silence so they could talk without interruptions, but his mind can’t stop coming up with questions for Aqua. Does she know any of this? Does Terra? Eraqus? “Then I will gladly deal with you.”

The smile that grows, slowly, on Corcoran’s face warms his chest the same way it pricks the back of his head. As unfeasible as it might be, he has the sensation that this isn’t his first time seeing this teary hopefulness.

His subconscious has been trying for a while to tell him something, but its whispers don’t turn into a scream until Riku ruffles Corcoran’s black hair and that wrongness dials up to a hundred. The strands don’t feel like they should; their length, their texture, it’s all amiss. The straight and short locks feel like… spikes.

Unruly, untameable, sun-bleached, soft, gravity-defying spikes. Riku knows these spikes, he would recognise them anywhere, even if his vision refuses to show him what he knows is there. Brown, precious, cherished spikes that he has been brushing with his fingers for years. Sora’s spikes. His Sora’s spike.

“Riku?” Their eyes meet, but Riku can’t focus on the blush spreading on those cheeks when he finally realises that what’s bothering him about his gaze is that it should be blue. “Are you okay?”

Riku pulls him closer enough to sink his nose into his hair and, now that he is concentrating, the smell of Aqua’s magic is blatantly clear. But protective spells aren’t this spicey; this essence comes from Illusion magic. And strong one at that. This is more than a Cover or even a Glamour, this is a Mirage spell.

“Is there something on my hair?”

Aqua went all in and that’s a problem, because Riku is clueless regarding Illusion magic; he doesn’t have the slightest idea where to start pointing his keyblade to dispel something this advanced.

“Riku?”

But he does know a workaround.

After letting the other go, Riku starts searching inside his magic pocket, pushing away potions and ethers and the occasional stray keychain. Stars, it wasn’t that long since he bought it; how much deeper does he need to dig?

“Riku…”

Deep enough for the pocket to swallow half of his arm, but fortunately, his fingers finally close around his triumph card and he pulls it out.

“Are those eyedrops?”

Eyedrops laced with panacea that he bought from a Moogle a few weeks ago, to be precise. ‘Perfect to find hidden wonders’ is how it was advertised and Riku hopes it will work against Illusion magic too. If not, that Moogle better be prepared because he will be demanding back his munny.

Without losing a moment, Riku applies a few drops to each eye and closes them tightly. The concoction tickles the back of his eyelids and it feels like he is holding back tears. It takes half a minute, but the sensation diminishes into nothing and that’s when Riku looks at who is sharing the couch with him.

The image is blurry at first; the other is but a colourful amalgamation of spots sharing space, a vague idea of a silhouette that, blink after blink, solidifies into a shape from treasured adolescent years. Tan skin, blue eyes and brown spikes crowning a juvenile face that observes him with intrigue and hints of worry.

Fucking Hades. “Sora.”

Sora—Sora, fucking eighteen-year-old-looking Sora—stares at him with eyes wide in panic and a body ready to run. “Me? No! I mean- who is Sora? I don’t know any Soras.”

Riku cups his cheeks and Sora—because this is Sora, his husband, the younger version of his husband, a Sora who isn’t yet his husband, a Sora who is his husband-to-be—freezes under his touch. “Sora.”

“Please don’t,” Sora begs and his desperation breaks Riku’s heart, “you weren’t supposed to know.”

“To know what?” Blue eyes elude his. “Sora, you can tell me.” He caresses his face in the way he knows his husband adores and it seems to work, because the younger Sora melts under his fingers the same way the current Sora does and Riku wants to coo at him.

“It’s a long story.”

“I love your stories,” Riku reclines, dragging Sora with him until he is cradled against his side, head pillowed on his chest, “especially the long ones.”

“And I’m kind of dumb in this one.” He mumbles to his collarbone, shame on his tone.

“Even better.”

His husband isn’t a big man and he wasn’t a big teen, but back then, Riku didn’t have more than two decades on him. The difference is startling. Sora isn’t only small like he had never felt on his arms, he is also fragile and vulnerable in the way kids on the verge of adulthood are. His smile, though, is just as precious and Riku swears to protect it at all costs. Now, then and forever. Every Sora deserves a reason to laugh, even if his joy is so soft Riku can barely hear it.

“It started when Chip and Dale asked me to help someone who crashed on an asteroid.”

“That didn’t go how I expected.”

“I know.” Aqua sighs as she sits in a chair that Casita helpfully pushes towards her. Returning her gummiphone to her ear, she says. “I’m still trying to decide if this is for the better.”

On the other side of the line, Terra laughs good-naturedly. “We should have figured something like this would happen, shouldn’t we? Trying to keep Sora and Riku away from each other has never worked.”

“I dared to hope.”

“You did what was best for everyone.” Terra’s reassurance seeps under her skin and Aqua swears her bones turn into butter. She is so, so, so tired. “Sora is just… uncontrollable.”

“Sora is a gremlin, that’s what he is.”

Another laugh comes from the speaker. “Aqua!” She smiles.

“I think this week aged me twenty years.”

“Twenty years of experience gained in five days.” Terra ruminates, as if calculating a price. “It isn’t a bad deal.”

“Bad or good, I hope Riku knows what he is doing.”

“He does.” Aqua tries to believe him, she really does. “He wants this future to stay as it is just as much as you or any of us.”

That’s true, but she doubts that the way to preserve this reality is to do exactly what she has been avoiding this whole time. Although, she admits that Riku’s determined expression when she got to Encanto and realised that he was seeing through her spell convinced her to let him go with Sora. “He needs to know that the future isn’t this horrible ending he has imagined in his head.” He said. “Do you really want to send him back with this much despair in his heart? Not even Naminé will be able to erase that.”

“You are right.” Aqua cradles the gummiphone with both hands. “I’m going to miss you three.”

Terra’s voice is honey-sweet the next time he speaks. “It will only be for two days, then Riku will take charge of the trip again.”

Fortunately, she will be able to sleep through the whole night once she is back in her bed and sans time traveller under her roof.

“Tell Ella that mom loves her and to brush her teeth.” Then, in a firmer tone, in case they are being listened to, she adds. “And thank Eraqus for volunteering his free time to help me prepare the lessons about Illusion magic.”

“When did he-” The confusion disappears in an instant and she hears him scoff. “Okay, I understand. I will tell them.”

Not the worst punishment she could come up with, but she has on good authority that Eraqus wasn’t enjoying himself more than Aqua did during this whole mess, so this is enough. Also, it’s a good excuse to help her son improve his technique without it looking like she is encouraging him to try to trick her again. Because she doesn’t want Eraqus to hide things from her, it’s just that Illusion magic is awfully useful.

Anyway, her next conversation with Eraqus is too far away to focus on it right now. There are novice keyblade Masters waiting to be tutored. “Love you, Terra.”

“Love you too, Aqua.” She wants to hear it again. “Take this as a chance to relax, everything will be okay at home, I promise.”

If there is something she can trust blindly in this world, it is that her husband will always have her back.

“Thank you.”

Now, she only has to wait for Riku to do his part and to call Naminé.

“Wait, wait,” Sora massages his temple, trying to stop a budding headache. This whole thing is too much to take at once. “Ai went to the past? Why?”

“She wanted to stop herself from sneaking off-world to fight Tamatoa.”

“But that happened a week or so ago, not when I was eighteen.”

“A miscalculation, apparently.” Riku leans on the counter, watching through the kitchen window their daughter showing a younger version of himself a photo album. “They typed the wrong date, didn’t notice, and got launched to the past,” something Ai said makes teen-him bark out a laugh, “and into an asteroid.”

Knowing that the migraine will be inevitable, Sora joins Riku on the counter, elbow against elbow. “I would ask how she gets herself into these situations, but we were the same at her age, weren’t we?”

“We were worse.” Riku chuckles, teal eyes soft like they always are while speaking about the past. “Ai is a saint compared to us.”

“We weren’t that bad.”

“We were terrible sons.”

Sora has nothing to say to that. It wasn’t something he paid attention to at the time, with world-ending threats happening around him, but if Ai pulled on him the same things he pulled on his parents, it would flip his lid. He would go berserk or enter clinical depression, no in-between.

His relationship with his folks was never the same after his year-long stay in that white pod. Could anyone blame him, though? How do you return to a house that holds no trace you ever existed? How do you talk to a mother so used to your absence she forgets you returned? How do you bond with a father that wishes you remained lost? Sora didn’t try to figure it out; he simply packed what few things of his were in his old home and moved out permanently. Even after all these years, Sora hasn’t told them about his marriage, much less about their granddaughter. And wouldn’t that be a crazy story to tell?

Regretting it now of all times feels like a joke, but parenthood has put things into perspective. If Ai abandoned their home, if she fell in love, married and started a family of her own and refused to let him be part of her life, it would end him. Sora would rather traverse the Realm of Darkness keybladeless and on his knees. Anything but being separated from his little girl.

“I was too hard on her.”

Sora shakes off his thoughts to look at Riku. Oh, he knows this face. It’s the ‘I regret every decision I ever took’ face with a little bit of ‘I’m the worst dad ever’ in the crease between his eyebrows. A hated combination, but Sora is familiar with the remedy.

“You were too hard on yourself.” He knocks their shoulders together before walking his fingers down Riku’s thick forearm in the direction of his clenched fist.

When their hands intertwine over the counter, bare skin against gloved palm, Riku deflates and leans all his weight on him. “I’m terrified she will end up like me.”

“That will never happen, do you know why?” Sora nudges at his side until Riku looks at him and he hopes his gaze carries at least half the love he feels for him. The trust he puts in him. The conviction that Riku is someone good. “Because she has you.” Riku seems taken aback for a second, until his words settle and he smiles, soft and sweet and sincere. “And you will be with her every step of the way.” Their foreheads touch, eyes closed; this is the closest they have been since their argument and it’s blissfully serene, like drinking cold water on a hot day. Like coming home to a hug and a kiss and a warm meal. “Always moving forward.”

“Towards where?” Riku whispers; it’s a puff of air against Sora’s craving lips.

“That’s for Ai to decide.”

“I’m afraid she is going to hurt herself.”

“That’s a given.”

“She is rushing things.” Riku huffs and pulls away, yet when Sora opens his eyes, he doesn’t find a grimace but a tender look loosening Riku’s elegant features. “And we are in a loop.”

Sora chuckles. “I guess we ran out of new things to say.”

“Papa!” Ai calls from the living room, distracting them both. “Where did you put the album with my birthday photos?”

The photo album? Right! Sora peeks his head over the kitchen window and says: “It’s in my workshop! Wait here, I’m gonna get it.”

And that’s his plan, but before he can step out of the room, Riku has him cornered against a wall, hungry mouth on his equally starved one. Sora doesn’t question it; he presses back with the same intensity and savours Riku’s lips, the ambrosia denied to him for a week. His hands go to Riku’s hair, but it’s kept in a braid and that has Sora whining. He wants to card his fingers through silver locks; he wants to pull at it and to have Riku moaning his name in that deep voice he gets in the bedroom.

“Later,” Riku promises with another kiss. “I missed you too.”

Denied access to his hair, his dejected hands travel south and give a good squeeze to another favourite place of his. Riku jolts.

“Not as much as I missed you.”

He remembers being eighteen. He remembers feeling lost and worn like a used tool. He remembers thinking about the future and collapsing on his bed without motivation to go on for another day. He remembers resigning himself to a destiny that felt like a cage.

He also remembers the thousand questions that appeared on his head. He remembers the excitement of discovering an answer every day. He remembers thinking and hoping for a future constructed by himself and the memory is almost enough to bring him to tears.

It made him scared and thrilled at once, it made him daring and courageous and reckless. It made him realise that he wanted to kiss Riku like he is kissing him right now and that if Destiny was against that it then he would spit in its face.  

“This isn’t a competition.” So Riku says, but his hands are on their way to copying Sora’s and-

“Papa! Dad!” Comes their daughter’s voice, authoritarian and buoyant. “Stop being nasty in the kitchen!”

Whatever reply Sora or Riku might come up with ends up being drowned by the sound of the younger Sora choking on his own saliva.

“Here you go.” Sora hands Ai the old, thick and beloved album. She takes it as if its covers were fragile porcelain and hugs it against her chest. “Also, this.”

What his husband puts around Ai’s neck is, to Riku, more valuable than all the munny in the Realm of Light. Ai’s face at receiving it isn’t too far behind.

“My necklace!” She exclaims and her hands leave the album to lift the treasure to her face and kiss it loudly. A resounding ‘MUAC’ that has Riku holding back laughter.

“A necklace?” Eighteen-year-old Sora leans closer to her, examining it with curious eyes. They widen once he realises and then his head turns to him, then to his older self, then to him again. “It looks like-”

“A mix of ours, doesn’t it?” Riku thumbs at the golden heart hanging above his chest, reminiscent of the one that functioned as Way to the Dawn’s keychain now so long ago, although to this Sora, it might have been only two years.

Both Soras grab their crown necklaces and the move is so coordinated it looks staged. Riku laughs and Ai joins in.

“They gifted it to me on my first birthday.” Says Ai, once her giggles die down. Her hands are still cradling the pendant, a silver heart adorned with a golden, three-pointed crown. Riku remembers perfectly the first draft Sora presented to him and how excited he was as he explained what it meant. Flowers blossom between his ribs the same way they did back then. “When I became part of the family.”

“You were already part of the family.” He reminds her, but Ai scoffs with a roll of her eyes and the gesture is so him it pains him to watch.

“Why didn’t you have it before?” Asks the time traveller and that one-shots Ai’s bravado. She sinks into the cushions and it doesn’t take an expert to know she is wishing for the couch to swallow her up.

“She broke it.” Answers his husband, sitting next to his younger self.

“How?”

“She went down a slippery slope of stupid mistakes and reckless decisions.”

“I said I was sorry.” Ai glares at him, the shame from days ago completely gone, and perhaps that fierceness might intimidate others, but he knew those eyes when they were simple opals Sora had mined in the Dwarf Woodlands. Uncut and unpolished and full of promises. He is immune to her stares.

“She was being a little reckless.” Agrees Sora and it’s a first. It surprises Riku to hear it from him.

As it does Ai. “Papa, I thought you were on my side.”

“There are no sides in this house.” Sora crosses his arms, chest puffed out. “Only a dad and a papa deadly worried about their little girl.”

“I’m fifteen-”

A guffaw interrupts her and the three of them stop to watch the newcomer as he doubles over.

“Riku was always saying that back at home.” He explains between laughs. Then, he straightens up, hands on his hips and an exaggerated frown on his face, looking down at Ai with pompous smugness. “Urg, I’m Riku, I’m one year older and stronger and cooler than you, grunt grunt grunt.” Ai bursts into giggles and Sora seems to take it as encouragement because, to Riku’s horror, he continues. “I’m fifteen and so much better than you, why can’t you be more like me, Sora? Urg, everything is so boring. Grunt, grunt. I’m gonna befriend the darkness and you can’t come with me. Grunt, grunt.”

Older Sora says “You nailed it” at the same time that Riku protests “I wanted you to come with me!” and their dissonance only makes Ai laugh harder.

“Dad, you were so edgy!”

“I guess the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.” He curls one arm around Ai and presses her against his side, keeping her still enough to poke at her ribs, where she is ticklish. The shriek she lets out is pure comedy on its own, the album on her lap jumping with each kicking of her legs. “Miss ‘I’m gonna let a giant crab beat the daylights out of me to feel real pain’.”

“It seemed like a good plan!” She smacks his hands away and, after a deep breath, she continues. “Besides, I’m made from cirmolo, not apple trees.”

“A giant crab?”

They turn to face a perplexed younger Sora and Riku is grateful for his presence. It’s the first time he has been able to joke about this and it’s like a boulder the size of a Cera Terror has been lifted from his chest.

“Are you talking about Tamatoa?”

“You know him already?” Asks Ai, still cuddled under his arm.

Sora’s mouth twists in disgust. “I met him recently.”

Yeah, Riku remembers that encounter and, going by the twin repulsed expression on the older Sora’s face, he is reliving that moment too.

“Why did you go there? Did Maui lose his fishhook again?”

“No…” Ai evades his gaze, fingers drumming over the album. Shame seems to have returned, at last. “I went there on my own to… fight him.”

“To let him win.”

“Only a bit!” The couch shakes as she jerks upright, her posture defensive. “I went there because he is obsessed with shiny things and I know he would want my necklace. So, I taunted him with it because he is a humongous, unscrupulous monster that would make me struggle because fighting him is like fighting an angry mountain with pincers.” She opens and closes her hands, mimicking a crab snapping at the air in front of younger Sora’s face. That has him leaning backwards, almost falling over his older self. “And my necklace broke.”

“And he almost killed you, Ai.” Why does she keep glossing over that part?

“But he didn’t.”

Because Ai’s Dream Eaters connected with him, crying for help. He had never seen them that desperate, nor had his heart ever beat faster. For a moment, he feared his veins would end up bursting, his pulse too frantic to be contained inside his body.

From across the couch, his Sora seems to remember his panic too, because he reaches towards her. “Ai-”

“Why would you do that?”

Sora’s hand stops mid-air, as does Riku’s reprimand. Silence settles among them.

He doesn’t know.

After all the time they spent together, he thought that Ai or, if not her, Nyx or Eraqus would have said something. Nyx—who advocates against keeping secrets—is usually the one spilling personal information.

Quietly, Ai opens the album to the first page and slides it into the younger Sora’s lap.

“What do you see here?”

“Wood?” He looks closer, fingers tracing the edges of the only photo there, where a ‘Day 1’ is written in round, wiggly letters. It’s strange to think that, when Sora took it, none of them could imagine the importance it would have one day. “A wood puppet?”

“That’s me.”

The time traveller opens his mouth, then closes it, eyes big and round when he looks at Ai, but her attention is on the album as she turns the page.

“Do you remember Geppetto?” Her voice is calm, controlled in a way that has Riku worried. This is his first time listening to Ai tell the story of her creation. By glancing over her and Sora’s heads, he can see his husband mirroring his pensive expression. “He is the one who started carving me. I was going to be a wedding gift for my parents, so he kept it a secret even from his son. But he died before finishing me.”

“Geppetto is-” Younger Sora sounds so aghast; the question dies on his tongue, forever unfinished. Geppetto was already an old man when he met him, but Sora has never been one to think about the end of things, nor does he accept death easily. The memory of his tears after receiving the news remains clear and Riku stretches behind Ai’s back to squeeze Sora’s shoulder, the same way his older self is already doing.

“It was Pinocchio who found me while he was cleaning Geppetto’s attic years later.” Continues Ai, her hand on Sora’s forearm. When she was little, she asked continuously about the kind, skilled artisan who had the idea to create her. Riku still finds it a bit sad that he is the closest she has ever had to a grandpa. Yen Sid and Merlin are more like crazy uncles. “He brought me here while I was just wooden blocks poorly put together and then they decided to finish what Geppetto couldn’t.”

She points to the displayed images. Day 2, Day 3, Day 4 and Day 5. To him, it’s like it happened yesterday. His fingers still remember how it was to hold the gouges, chisels and other tools. The smoothness of the wood as he delicately dug the metal in and broke it to create something new.

“Dad carved my face, my fingers, made sure that everything fit together and varnished my wood.” Then she goes to the next page, Day 6, Day 7 and Day 8. “Papa got me eyes made from gems from the Dwarf Woodlands” she says, touching just under her eyelashes, “and spider silk as hair from Rosie, his black widow friend.” This, she retells with her hands fanning out her hair, long and white as snow.

Younger Sora turns towards his older self. “You are friends with a black widow?”

“I’m friends with a whole circus of bugs.”

“And an ant colony.” Adds Riku, which makes the eighteen-year-old wince and Ai lets out a little laugh.

“Finishing the story,” Ai clears her throat, her calmness less of a performance and more of the light-heartedness he has come to expect from her, “they put me together, went to sleep and, well, I guess you already know who visited that night.”

“The Blue Fairy.”

What a day that was. Riku and Sora jumped out of bed because they heard something heavy falling to the floor and, when they got to the corridor, keyblades ready to attack, they found the wooden puppet they had been dedicating hours upon hours walking out of their workshop. Opal eyes blinking slowly at them, as fascinated by the world as they were of her sentience.

“She turned me into a living puppet.”

“Like Pinocchio.” Says the younger Sora, mesmerised.

“Like Pinocchio.” Agrees Ai, somehow resigned.

Behind their backs, Riku exchanges a look with her husband and the love he finds in his fills his chest with cotton flowers.

“When did you become a real girl?”

Ai closes the album. “I’m still not a-”

No, Riku knows where this is going and he isn’t going to allow it. “Ai you are a real girl.”

“Say that to my heart.” She scorns, hands clenched into fists.

“Ai.” Calls his Sora, reaching over the newcomer to coil his fingers around her wrist, where her pulse is felt through the thin skin.

This is another one of their beaten horses, but instead of being a pile of broken bones, this corpse keeps bleeding rivers of sorrow none of them can cross. Riku can practically predict where this will go, who will say what, who will do this or that, but, this time, the beginning of their argument is interrupted by their unforeseen guest. “What’s wrong with your heart?”

“It’s half-made,” answers Ai, before any of her parents can, “like the rest of me.” She presents her arm to the younger Sora and pinches her skin, a marked scowl on her face. “There are no bones under here, only wood.”

“But how?” His hand squeezes her forearm and Riku knows exactly what causes the surprise to appear on him. “It wasn’t like this with Pinocchio.”

“You know what it takes to build a heart, right Sora?”

“What we think it takes to build a heart.” Says his husband, Riku shares his distress. “Nobody is completely sure.”

“It worked for the others, that’s enough for me.”

In moments like these it’s so painfully obvious that Ai inherited their worst traits too.

“For something to gain a heart, it needs memories. It needs to have experienced connections, love and loss.” Ai throws her arms into the air, offended with Reality itself, and the gesture is so explosively Sora and so dramatically himself. “Suffering is part of being human.” She sags over the cushions, defeated. “And I have not suffered enough to obtain the privilege.”

“But… but that’s good.” Says the younger Sora and Riku could kiss him for it. Finally someone besides him sees it.

“Not for me! I don’t want to stay a wooden puppet for eternity.” Her next groan is suffocated against her hands and Riku is the one who pulls them away so she doesn’t hide. Ai glares at first, but she relents and looks at the newcomer, who has been another one of her friends for five days and Riku knows that she is judging his reaction. Searching for disgust or awkwardness or aversion. The emotions she found before in other people when her origins got revealed and Riku and Sora weren’t there to beat them half to death. “I want to bleed blood, not sap. I want to run without sounding like a bunch of planks knocking against each other. I want to block a hit and not have to deal with splinters afterwards.” Her voice lowers, losing impulse. “And I want to have a heart and do whatever people with normal hearts do.”

This isn’t his first time listening to this, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. As a father, he desires to give his daughter anything she wants, but what she most desires, what she yearns for with all her might, is something out of his reach. The heart is a complicated matter. Elusive and obscure. Entire wars have been fought to comprehend its nature and Riku now understands why. If Ai asked him to call upon Kingdom Hearts so it could grant her a true, complete human heart, he wouldn’t hesitate. And he knows, without a sliver of doubt, that Sora would be right by his side, committing any necessary heresy. Nature’s taboos be damned.

“And this is all your fault, by the way.” Ai pokes younger Sora on the chest, right under his crown necklace.

“Mine?”

“Yeah, yours, because you are going to be an amazing father.” A blush spreads over his cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. It’s adorable. He doesn’t remember eighteen-year-old Sora being this easily flustered. In his memories, he was the one shamelessly flirting with him. Once it got so bad that Riku considered the possibility that someone had poisoned him with a love potion. Not his finest moment. “Couldn’t you have pushed me down a cliff or something when I was a kid?” This, she asks to the older Sora, who scratches the back of his head with an apologetic smile. Then, she turns towards him. “Or, I don’t know, abandon me for a few months in a swamp so I had to survive by eating flies and fist-fighting crocodiles?”

“I apologize for being a decent father.” Says Riku as deadpan as he can, at the same time that his Sora asks: “Naveen has been telling you stories again, hasn’t he?”

“So, you wanted to fight Tamatoa to basically have a bad time?” The time traveller interrupts; he seems deep in thought.

“If you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

“It was stupid.” Agrees Riku.

“Anyways, it didn’t work.”

“Hurt will find you someday, Ai. Just give it time.”

“That was sinister, but thank you papa.”

His Sora beams, always happy to help. That absolute goof. Riku is going to be all over him the moment Ai and the younger Sora go to sleep.

“Did you travel to the past to fight him again?”

“No,” Ai lets out a humourless little chuckle and tries to hide behind her hair, it’s a habit she has had since she was a kid. His Sora says she gets it from him. “Actually, I went back to convince my past self to not go at all.”

Riku is still on the verge about how to feel about that. That was such a Sora thing for her to do.

“Why?”

“That’s our fault.” Says his husband, sharing some of Ai’s embarrassment. “We started fighting over it and things got a bit out of hand.”

That, for some reason, appears to light a bulb inside the younger Sora’s head. He looks like he has discovered the answer to the most convoluted enigma in the universe and, when he turns around with a finger pointed like a knife ready to kill, his eyes shine with vehement glee. “That’s why you looked miserable!”

“Yes.” Concedes his Sora and with his head lowered like that and his younger self still pointing at him, those two resemble a soldier apologising to its general. Ai and he share a secret smile as she relocates the album to the coffee table.

“I was so worried and you just-” The time traveller continues to shake his finger. “I thought the worst- and all this time you two- you were only-” He grunts and falls against the cushions. “I’m so glad I was wrong.”

Ai elbows him gently on the back. “You also looked miserable.”

“I was miserable!” He covers his face with his forearms, but his blush is visible beyond that. It’s colouring his ears red and it covers his neck all the way to his shirt. “I thought that I gave up on discovering what I really wanted for myself and… who I wanted it with, and that I did what everyone always told me I should.” Riku sees his lips slamming shut, an unsteady line that is two parts relief and one part grief. “That I put others before myself again.” His husband ruffles his head and his smile carries stories that they haven’t told Ai yet, but that Riku remembers as if they happened yesterday. That year after returning from Quadratum was an eventful period for their whole mismatched group of stray warriors. Sora, in particular, spent the first months with his head in the clouds, captive to his own thoughts. “I’m so happy I got it wrong. I still can’t believe that Riku and I are gonna marry each other.”

He sounds so giddy, it makes Riku want to pepper him with kisses just to see how flustered he can truly get.

“Is it that unbelievable?” Ai pokes him on the ribs, her tone careful and sweet. “Everyone always makes fun of how madly in love with you dad was when he was younger.”

Younger Sora peeks from between his arms. Oh, his cheeks are red, red. “Really?”

“Yeah! I have been told some crazy stories.”

“There is no need to share them.” Says Riku, holding Ai back by her shoulder.

“No! I wanna know!”

“I think this calls for a vote.” His traitor of a husband so helpfully declares. “Who thinks we should tell embarrassing stories about how Riku wanted to kiss me so bad it made him look stupid?”

The three of them raise their hands, so Riku attacks them with a pillow.

All is fair in love and war.