kh_drabble | (no subject)

Challenge: [077] Martyr
Title: Victory
Word Count: 550
Notes: I'm fond of angsty writing for even the fluff topics. There was no way I could escape it for this one. Caution: SoKaRi love inside. Post Happy KHII Ending.

They stopped talking about Home ages ago. It used to keep them warm when tangled body limbs and heated breath against skin could not. The day Riku turned twenty brought the bitter comprehension that his teenage years had come to an end, and this couldn’t possibly be a childhood adventure anymore.

*

The day Sora turned twenty they retreated back to the King’s home world. In the long hallways that were only ever filled with ambiguous space now, they gently clinked glasses of Cid’s homebrew. Riku let it burn a sweet trail down his throat, Sora tipped it back in one wide swallow, and Kairi stared at her murky reflection on the surface. They’d given up the pretence of separate rooms ages ago too, instead curling under shared blankets and melding together like the twisty smoke of Mulan’s fireworks.

Kairi grinned and mouthed the birthday song to Sora, words silent and imprinted on his skin where her lips touched the back of his neck. He fell asleep with her face pressed to his shoulder blades and his fingers resting on Riku’s arm. Sora’s tired snores were only broken by Kairi suddenly reaching to Riku, and whispering what she couldn’t in front of Sora;

“I’m scared.”

*

On Kairi's twentieth, Sora was late coming back. It was nearing midnight, when it wouldn’t be her birthday at all, and no matter how Riku warmed her hands in his or stroked the hair from her face, she could not breathe.

“No one fights,” she said, kissing the inside of his wrist for that single connection. “No one fights because they know Sora will do it. Because he’s their own hero.”

“They’ll fight once they realize... how bad it is.”

“It’s been bad for years,” she hissed, frantic and shaking. “When he’s dead.... that’s when they’ll realize. When Sora is dead. When he’s some tragic martyr for them all. And they’ll all go to destroy those that killed their hero, wearing some horrible token like... a little crown around their necks, or a key... and it won’t mean a thing because-”

He pulled her forward until their chests met and their outlines began to bleed together. He drank her venom into himself. Humming in her ears, he traced the scars along her back. Her cheeks were still marred with tear-tracks when Sora returned and he gently kissed them dry.

“Birthday,” Sora said, because none of them could bring themselves to say ‘happy’ anymore.

*

Then on Riku’s twenty-first birthday, he and Sora went to the very edge of Light and gripped their blades until their palms bled raw. They pushed forward until they passed from their own holdings, away from Light, and into the frigid shadows that eclipsed all sight. Only the sharp clang of keyblade metal gave any indication where the other stood.

It was still his birthday when Riku realized he could no longer hear the second sound of bladed battle.

*

It was three days before Riku was given light again. White and too bright, it was only interrupted by the familiar silhouette of Kairi leaning over him. His bandaged hands gripped what he recognized as their own bed.

Around her neck lay a small rusted key. Kairi tried to smile. It tore her face.

“We won,” she said to him.