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The first time begins when the two of you, with DiZ seated at the head of the table, discuss the next course of action. You can’t see, hiding your eyes from the darkness inside yourself, but you can smell them: him, with the faintest trace of rotten-sweet darkness over a void; her, with the clean, soft scent of light, and her moist skin. He tells you to go to Twilight Town again, to watch them, stay informed of the replica and his Nobody. You nod, that was the usual.
“Naminé...continue your work. I expect a report soon.” Everyone looks over at the cocoon where he sleeps silently, and nods. DiZ gets up, and leaves. You turn your head in her direction on instinct, and hear the soft rustle of her hair as she looked up at you.
“Riku?”she asks, confused. There’s the tiniest pop as her lips part slightly, and the smooth scrape of her hair on her crayon as she pushes it behind her shoulder. Since you started wearing the blindfold, you’ve grown used to sensing the world through hearing and smell. Your sense of smell is a little unsettling, stronger than normal. It’s easy to rely on.
“Nothing.” It’s a lie. There’s something about Naminé that’s not like Kairi at all, a solemn maturity, and a loneliness. Besides the boy slumbering in the bud a few meters away, she’s your only friend. But you have work to do. You raise your hand in farewell and sink into the darkness, protected by your cloak’s resistance and your blindfold. You can’t see the dark, it can’t tempt you.
You still feel relieved when you emerge in Twilight Town, watching the first Nobody arrive. You watch from a distance, but you are pretty sure No. VIII knows you’re there. He’s the assassin, not you. The coat isn’t exactly made for sneaking, either. But when you first saw him stop by a shop and buy three bars of sea salt ice cream, you were a little surprised. When DiZ had told you that Axel watched over No. XIII and the replica, you had not expected friendship. Was he pretending? Could Nobodies even have friends?
Your mind returns to the White Room, and the slight girl who never left it. You count her as a friend. But what had you ever done for her?
After the Nobodies and the replica go back to their castle, you sit in your hiding place, thinking. If Nobodies could pretend, could go through the motions knowing their friends don’t feel, then you could do it. You buy two bars, place them in one of this coat’s many pockets. Your body is cold, a symptom of overexposure to the darkness, and as you take a corridor back to Castle Oblivion, you’re glad of the coat’s anti-darkness properties. She wouldn’t eat something tinged by the dark.
When you enter the room, the waxy smell and scratching tell you that she’s drawing. Rather than interrupt, you place a bar of the ice cream in front of her on the table, and sit down next to her.
“Don’t let it melt.” There’s a shifting sound, and her neck pops. She probably nodded, but she’s been in one place for too long. “Hey, you can take a break.” A slight pause, then a small exhalation. The sketchpad drops onto the table, then the crayon. You can hear the wrapping crinkle and whine as she pulls it open with her delicate fingers, and you do the same to yours. After a moment, you extend the bar. She taps her against it.
“Cheers,” you both say, and you take a bite. Just like back on the islands. The two of you, Nobody and dark knight, eat in silence, not wanting to spoil the moment. She’s the one who breaks the silence.
“It’s salty...but sweet. It’s good.” You almost smile, before remembering that Kairi used to say that. And you betrayed her. You don’t say anything, afraid your voice will betray you. “Riku, what do I smell like?” That’s a good question. You almost don’t want to tell her, play it cool and pretend you don’t know.
“Not like other Nobodies. They reek of darkness, and you can tell they’re missing...you know.”
“Hearts.” She doesn’t sound insulted, just sad.
“But you’re light, wrapped around a void. I can always tell where you’ve been sitting, what you’ve touched. It’s sweet, and it doesn’t give you a headache like the darkness. When I walk in here, it reminds me of home.” You hope she’s not looking at you, because a little flush comes over your cheeks. Of course she is, though; you can feel her breath, a little cool on your cheek.
“That’s nice.” She reaches out to grasp your shoulder. She’s always been touchy, a little clingy. Maybe it’s because she’s always been alone. “You don’t have to be so hard on yourself, you know.”
“You wouldn’t understand.” You shrug her hand off, knowing you hurt her feelings. “The things I did...I don’t even deserve the Keyblade I have.” You hear the wet sound of her swallowing.
“Maybe it’s because you only fight the darkness. That’s not enough.” She bites off the last bit of her ice cream just after you do yours, and places the stick on the table. There’s a little scratch as she scoots closer to you in her chair. “You have to accept the light.”
You’ve turned to face her before you realize why you can’t hear her; she’s leaning towards you, slowly, and before you can turn away she’s taken your face in both hands and kissed you gently. You can taste the ice cream, and her lips are cold, but something dark and hot in you shrinks at her touch. It whispers, take control, but you fight it off, you let her kiss you. No tongues, of course. She’s far too innocent.
After a few more of the chaste kisses, her hands slip down around you and pull you into a hug. She’s tiny, and her head only comes about halfway up your neck. She seems happy, though, so you hug her back. You realize just how long it’s been since you hugged someone, and your blindfold gets a little damp, your arms hold just a little bit tighter.
After a few seconds, she lets go and reaches for your blindfold. She knows not to take it off, but she pushes it up so she can see one of your eyes flutter open. You look down at her, small and smiling. It’s a tragedy that even special Nobodies don’t have hearts. Your eyes slide over to her sketch pad, and it’s a drawing of her leaning in to kiss you. It’s beautiful.
You put the blindfold back in place. That’s enough. From the other side of the room, a cough. DiZ is back.
“Riku...” He trails off.
“I understand.” You nod to Naminé, and leave through the corridors. Of course he wouldn’t approve. But while she kissed you, you could feel the light.
The clouds above the castle loom dark and menacing, but the replica you’re fighting is not nearly so. It should not have been interfering in your investigation, but it was probably assigned to track you down and assassinate you. It’s a shame, though; you were wielding Soul Eater before it was even created, and its Keyblade doesn’t come near the strength of the original.
It’s almost too easy.
It leaps back, summons a ball of blistering flame, but you’re more than ready, countering it with a dark blast of your own. It tears the Fira to shreds and strikes the replica, too powerful to be stopped by that pathetic block. You lunge forward, thrusting with Soul Eater, and it manages to parry, letting out a grunt of exertion. Carrying the thrust into a wide side slash, you push it to the side a little, and it takes advantage of the new angle to come at you with a massive overhead move. It’s sloppy, and you move far faster than it ever could, sword flashing in the night.
Its Keyblade makes a high arc into the air, landing in the ground. It slumps over, falling. You take a moment to feel bad before walking over to it, kneeling, and pulling back its hood. You raise our blindfold, wondering what you would see. You did not expect the face of Kairi to be staring down at the ground, panting. Jumping quickly to your feet, you get professional.
“Your face...who are you, really? And why do you have a Keyblade?” It—she—is proud, pulling up her hood.
“Tell me first why you are dressed as one of us.” You have to admire her tenacity, but there’s no good in telling the Organization that you need one of their cloaks. Better to let them stew.
“To make sure my best friend sleeps in peace.” The answer comes to your lips effortlessly, but it’s perfect. It’s not a lie, and it’s not something she would understand. You doubt she’ll tell her superiors. “I don’t know who you’re supposed to be...but...” You walk past her, pick up the Keyblade from the stones. Holding it isn’t like holding his, all light and purifying rage. This one is dim, less. An imaginary fraction of the whole. “You can’t fight fire with sparks. This Keyblade, it’s a sham—worthless.” You toss it to the side like the dreck it is, and it clatters next to her.
“My Keyblade is not a sham! What gives you the right to say that?” She sounds like Naminé, and you feel a twinge of regret, but before you can dwell on it the idiot runs at your back with the blade, slashing at you. It was telegraphed from a mile away, her little growl of anger not helping, and you duck under the strike, spinning and hitting her firmly in the back. She falls again, Keyblade vanishing.
“Find a new crowd. Trust me, those guys are bad news.” It’s not her fault she was created for the Organization. Her voice makes you soften a bit, and you regret it almost instantly. You turn and begin to walk away.
“Why?” She sounds desperate now. She’ll have to go back to their castle with empty hands and an excuse. “You’re the real sham!” And she’s right. Somehow she saw right through your act, she knows that you’ve walked paths just as dark as hers. Something breaks inside you. You aren’t one of the good guys.
“Fair enough.” You don’t show weakness. “You could say I am...the biggest nobody of them all.” Her scream fills the night, and you hear the faintest sound of something in the castle breaking. The darkness swallows you whole.
You emerge back in the White Room, slump against the wall, slide down it until you’re on your butt with your knees tucked into your chest, and cry, not letting out any sounds but feeling the salt on your blindfold as your tears soak into it and dry out.
The second time was when Naminé crawled into your lap and held you, whispering kindnesses and reassurances. She would shush you when you said you were worthless, kiss your cheeks, simply press her head to your chest and hear your physical heart beating. The other one was showing itself with the tears, which she wiped away when they trailed down your cheek. When you were a little recovered, you kissed her, tasting salt— not from ice cream, but from your own eyes. This time you were hungry, needed her light more than air, and you pressed your tongue into her mouth.
The darkness surged up like a wave inside you, screaming dominate, control. She fought back and you let her win, slowly leaching the dark from within you. Soon, you sat beneath her, allowing her tongue free rein in your mouth. When she finally finished, you felt...different. She’d filled in some part of you drained by your fight with No. XIV. She stood up, and you followed her, glad the coat hid certain parts of you pretty well.
“Thanks, Naminé.” You didn’t have any other words.
“I love you.” You smiled. Nobodies couldn’t love, but they could lie.
“I love you, too.” Somebodies could lie, too.