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namiriku · 2 years ago

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A/N: For the @memoryofpromises zine! I cheated a little and put both Riku/Naminé + Repli!Riku/Naminé in this fic.

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The market was lively. Sitting on the steps to the town’s well, Naminé curiously watched as villagers bustled from shop to shop, their arms loaded with fresh fruit, meat, and other supplies. Children weaved between strangers’ legs, laughing as they chased one another. Shopkeepers rang bells and shouted, trying to attract visitors. Coins clinked as goods were exchanged and the sharp scent of roasted meat wafted through the air. The whole place hummed with energy and she couldn’t tear her eyes away, fascinated.

She hadn’t known that a place could be so alive. Looking down, Naminé started to etch out the market with a stick she’d found, scraping the pointed end on the hard dirt ground. If only she had something to catch the bright colours: the gleaming red apples, the dirty grey capes, the play of light and shadows from between the bazaar awnings. If only she could memorize it all and never forget.

A shadow fell on her sketch and Naminé looked up to find her companion glaring at her. At his feet were two big white bags, stuffed to the brim. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low and scratchy. A ragged brown cape concealed his white hair, but nothing could hide his bright, blue eyes.

“Do you need water?” she asked, touching her throat. He sounded parched.

His frown grew deeper and he crossed his arms. Gesturing with a jut of his chin at her picture, he repeated, “What are you doing?”

“Sketching,” Naminé replied innocently, smiling as she glanced at the market. “I wanted to try to capture it all.”

“Are you using your powers?” He leaned forward, pulling her cape back over her head. She hadn’t noticed it’d fallen. Despite his gruff voice, his hands were gentle, carefully brushing back her hair before securing the cloth.

She watched him in silence. He smelled vaguely of the sea, despite never having been there, and it was funny the things that were carried over, the things that were inherent to a person. When he pulled back, Naminé shook her head. “No, just normal sketching.”

“Good.” He sighed, tension escaping his shoulders. Stuffing one bag under an arm and holding the other in that hand, he held out his free hand to her. “Come on, we have to go. We’ve been here too long.”

“I don’t think the organization will find us here,” Naminé murmured, taking his hand anyways. He pulled her up, his arm surprisingly strong for how lean it appeared.

“Did you foresee that?” he asked quickly. He was still holding her hand.

“No, just a hunch.” Dragging her foot over her sketch, Naminé wiped it clear, leaving behind only the stick. “Let’s go, Riku.” He flinched at the name. “Do you want me to call you something else?”

His jaw clenched but he shook his head. “No. I am Riku.”

In a sense, she supposed, that was true.

-x-

Naminé blinked, staring at a pristine white page in a notebook. The paper crinkled as she flipped throughout, revealing dozens of sketches of the sky and migratory birds. Tracing the pencil lines with a finger, Naminé lowered her eyes. She was dreaming of that moment again, a dream that felt as real as a vision.

She lifted her eyes to gaze at the barred window in front of her, the thick metal stripes that gave her a peek of freedom. Around her, her small room was littered with soft pillows and silken sheets, with plush rugs and intricate lamps. A golden cage filled with the finest goods Organization XIII could lay their hands on. Golden bracelets clinked on her hands and feet, as though the rich metal could help her forget that they were chains.

A bird flew past the window and Naminé took a deep breath. She knew what came next. A salty scent flooded her senses, like a tide coming in, and behind her, she heard footsteps approaching her door. A rough voice asked, “Naminé, it’s time. Are you ready?”

She didn’t have to turn around to know the sharp blue eyes that awaited her. She didn’t have to, yet her body moved anyways, almost by instinct, and she stared at the familiar face of her companion. No, not quite—this Riku wore a half-smile, his expression almost kind as she came closer. Naminé had often wondered just where her spell had gone wrong, just what her Riku was missing that this Riku had. Experience. Time. There was something lacking that made her Riku gruff and angry, like he was waiting for something.

Then again, maybe this Riku had been like that when they first met. She couldn’t remember, it had been so long ago now. Only this moment remained crystal clear, a memory that refused to fade. Only this and his last breath, her hands covered in his blood, her sight blurry from tears.

“Here.” As usual, Riku held out his hand, offering his assistance in her escape.

She knew how this would end. Naminé took his hand and woke up.

-x-

Naminé leaned over to her right, peering down hill at the winding path as it led out of the forest. In the distance, plumes of smoke curled in the evening air, a dark grey against the pink sky. Even from here, she could hear the din of the town. “I can’t believe there are so many people.”

Pouring over a map he’d stolen, Riku scoffed, “Of course there are. The world’s pretty big.”

She flushed, her neck burning. “That’s true.” Even if she’d spent most of her life in Castle Oblivion, trapped by the organization, she wasn’t entirely ignorant of the world. Her visions of the future had given her peeks of a world she’d never experienced.

Still, it was one thing to see it, another to be in it. Every market was an assault on her senses, a cacophony of sounds and smells. Naminé scuffed her shoe on the ground, biting her lip. “It’s just, aren’t you curious?” Every town had a different feel to it. She could spend her life going through them and cataloguing the differences. “It’s a place you’ve never been to.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Not really,” Riku muttered, his finger tracing a path on the map. “I have memories.”

In a sense, she supposed he did. She glanced at the city one last time. “If there are so many people, then they might not find us here. Or anywhere. It’s too big for them to search everywhere.”

At that, Riku looked up from the map. His brow furrowed, his lips a thin line, and he shook his head. “You’re too powerful for that. They won’t just let you go.” Paper crinkled as his grip tightened. “You won’t be safe until we reach Destiny Islands.”

She couldn’t hear that name without remembering flashes of sun and water, three smiling children eating a star fruit. Sneak peeks of a past she should never have looked at. Stepping closer to him, Naminé studied the map. It barely covered half the continent, the vast majority of it forest with a stream leading to the ocean. “Have you figured out how to get there yet?”

Riku’s jaw tightened. Reluctantly, he shook his head. “Not yet.” His eyes lowered, long eyelashes hiding his gaze. “My…his memories…they’re incomplete. Foggy.”

Her fault entirely. Naminé bit her cheek, looking away. “We can go somewhere else,” she suggested. “There have to be other safe places.”

“No,” Riku barked, rolling up the map. “We have to go there.” He winced as he accessed his memories, as he strained to remember more. “Sora, he’s there. He can help you.”

The child with a gap-tooth and the biggest smile. “He might not be a fighter,” she countered, unable to shake the memory she’d stolen.

“He’s not as good as me, but he’s capable.” Riku grabbed her hand, his grip soft but firm. He went down the path leading away from the city. “It’s this way.”

-x-

Naminé dreamed of the scent of iron intermingling with sea-salt. If it wasn’t the start, it was the end, and Riku lay in her hands, his life pouring out him. Blood stuck to her hands as she cradled his head, begging him to breathe, to live, to not leave her alone.

He lifted a hand to her cheek, his touch soft. His lips moved slowly. No matter how many times she tried to stop, her sobs drowned out his final words. Did he blame her? Did he hate her? She was the reason he was dying here, a sword through his chest, and not safe at home with his two best friends.

Her powers were useless here. No matter what future she saw, it was dark and empty.

His hand slipped from her cheek, red smudging her skin, and the sound that escaped her wasn’t human in the least.

-x-

“Did you love him?”

Naminé blinked, tearing her eyes away from the flickering flame. Next to her, Riku was sharpening his sword, his right hand firmly sliding a rock across the blade. Despite his attempt at apathy, he was watching her from the corner of his eyes, his shoulders hunched, his jaw clenched.

She didn’t have to ask who he was talking about. They had been together for almost four months now and aside from the initial week, this was the first time she’d heard him ask about the original Riku. “Love?” she repeated, watching as his muscles tightened at the question.

“Did you?” he repeated.

How oddly direct. He was usually cagier when it came to something personal. Hugging her legs, she tucked her chin on her knees and considered the question. Love. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. “No, not exactly.”

He gave up the pretence of sharpening his blade. “What does that mean?”

“He was kind.” Naminé could still feel his calloused hand that first time she’d grabbed it, his widening smile when she hesitantly asked for his help. “I didn’t know anyone could be so kind, so warm.”

“That’s it?” Riku knitted his brows, not quite believing her. “You created me. You didn’t want him to die and you created me.”

Her eyes flew open. “That was…” She trailed off helplessly. How could she explain the panic that flooded her when she realized he was dying, the grief that ran straight through her spine? Maybe she shouldn’t have taken his hand, maybe she should have accepted her lot in life. He could have lived to be an old man.

It had been too late then. It had been to late to change his fate, too late to save his life, too late to resurrect his body. The best she could do was capture his essence in a golem, to push her memories of Riku into a container and hope they stuck.

I didn’t want to be alone, she wanted to say, but the words were stuck in her throat, an ugly truth she couldn’t discard. It hadn’t been just sorrow and guilt that forced her hand—it had been fear. She couldn’t call any of these ugly emotions love, she had no right to.

And if he found out, this Riku wouldn’t look at her the same. Copy or not, he wouldn’t look at her the same and she couldn’t take that.

“It wasn’t love,” she finally uttered, falling back to the original question. “I didn’t want him to die because of me.”

A half truth, but it seemed like it satisfied Riku. He studied her one last time before returning to his sword maintenance. “So that’s all it was.” His muscles were still tense and she knew the questions weren’t entirely over. Though his mood seemed better than before. “Then…”

“Then?” she prompted.

He glanced at her, his bright blue eyes boring into hers. “What about m—” Cutting himself off, he quickly stood up. “Never mind,” he muttered, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His ears were a dark red. “I’ll check the area again.”

-x-

Naminé leaned forward, stretching a hand out from the lip of the cave. They had been lucky to find it just as the rainstorm had started, keeping themselves dry for the worst of it. And now, after waiting for several hours, it seemed like the storm had finally stopped. The wind had died down, the sun was peeking out from the clouds, and the only water that hit her was the steady drip from an overhanging tree. “I think it’s done.”

There was no response behind her, not even the usual soft rustle of cloth when Riku moved, giving him away when his footsteps were too quiet for her to hear. “Riku?” She turned back to her companion. Slumped against the cave wall, he gave no indication that he’d heard her.

Softly, she approached him. Still nothing. Coming to a stop in front of him, she leaned forward and squinted in the darkness. His breathing came slow and steady, his body completely still, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she listened.

Riku was asleep. Slowly, so as to not disturb, she sat down beside him. He must have been tired—he rarely rested when she was awake, more often than not patrolling and scaring off any interlopers. It was unusual to find him asleep, even odder to find him in a deep slumber. In the dim light, she could barely make out his profile. Even while unconscious, he looked worn. He was trying to hard. Just like his original, he was impossibly kind, far too kind for someone like her.

At least he wasn’t angry in his sleep. That was one thing she hadn’t expected, the rage that simmered under this Riku’s skin. He was brasher, more eager to leap into danger, as though he used all his carefulness on her and left nothing for himself. Was this a fault of hers, her imperfect spell causing him to fill in the blanks of his heart with other emotions? Or was it anger from the original, at what she’d done, at what’d she’d caused?

She never wanted to find out the answer. Some things were better left unsaid. Reaching for his left arm, she watched as his expression twitched before smoothening out. Her fingers brushed against his pale forearm but he didn’t stir any further.

Relieved, she went concentrated on his arm. Riku would be angry if he knew what she was about to do. Lightly, she stroked his skin, her digits tracing images of stars and the sea. The future was filled with so many vague shapes, like hills rising out of the fog. Magic sparked at her fingertips, her eyes glowing as she tried to peer deeper into his future.

Water. The cry of sea gulls. A sharp tang of sea salt. Destiny Islands, she hoped, but it could be any port town.

Riku, a boy called. Sora, she was certain. It had to be Sora.

Was this the past or the future? Try as she might, the future remained cloudy, the fog enveloping everything in a thick, white blanket. It’d been like this ever since she’d created Riku, her visions growing weaker with each passing day. The future was obscured and it scared her a little, walking into everything blind.

If only she could see Riku’s future. She hoped he’d live.

-x-

Warm. That was the first thought that entered Naminé’s mind as she slowly woke up, swimming back to consciousness. There was something warm around her shoulders. Something hard against her head. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at the dirt floor, dazed.

Sunlight streamed into the cave, lighting up the shallow shelter. It was morning. She must have fallen asleep. Still groggy, Naminé stared blankly at the ground. Outside, she could hear the quiet drip of rain sliding off leaves. Through it all, she still felt something warm. Glancing to her left, she stared at a grey tunic. Riku’s grey tunic.

That jolted her to her senses, though she kept still as she assessed the situation. Riku’s arm was curled around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him until her head pressed against his chest. His breathing was still calm. Was he still asleep then? An unconscious move rather than a conscious one? Whatever it was, his hold was firm, pinning her to his side.

There was something comforting about it all. Something safe. Naminé couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way. He was warmer than her and she leaned closer, soaking in the heat. They should get up.

They should.

Naminé closed her eyes and breathed Riku in. A few more minutes couldn’t hurt.

#rikunami #replinami #fanfic

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namiriku · 2 years ago

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Blindfolds and Treasured Words (Rikunami Fic)

“It appears we’ve come to a standstill,” DiZ said.

Naminè winced, stared up at the large stasis pod, stopped in its purpose like a flower waiting to bloom suddenly frozen over by an unexpected early-spring frost. She bit her lip in dismay. “Yes.”

“This has gone on long enough.” Every word dripped with condescension—she had failed. She knew that. “Riku—I think you know what needs to be done.”

Riku barely hesitated. “Right.”

DiZ said nothing more. He didn’t need to. Without a backward glance, as if she were merely a feature of the room rather than a person he had been having a conversation with, he left.

Riku gave a barely audible sigh.

Naminè hesitated—despite their working together for nearly a year now, she still found it difficult to initiate conversation with Riku. But it wasn’t in the same way that she found it difficult to talk to DiZ. She certainly found him intimidating—the black coat he was forced to wear certainly didn’t help matters—but not necessarily in a negative way. He was, especially of late, of few words, and thus everything he did choose to say felt important. To Naminè, his every word had weight, and it could be said that she hoarded them like a dragon does its gold. He was the only one she had to talk to, after all.

“You…don’t want to do this,” she finally said.

“I wish I’d never looked at her,” he said softly, bitterly.

Right. Because she looked like her.

She moved a few steps closer, wringing her hands anxiously. “Will you still do it?”

Riku’s mouth tightened. “I have to…don’t I?”

Naminè wasn’t even sure what answer she’d wanted. “I suppose so.”

Riku nodded, then reached back to tighten the knot on his blindfold—a gesture of resolve. She sensed he was about to go, but then, seized with a desperate need to keep talking to someone, anyone, she asked, “Do you…really need to wear that?” Without realizing what she was doing, her hand began to reach towards his face.

He caught her hand a couple inches from his nose, somehow sensing what she was doing. She nearly jumped out of her skin. “I do,” he said, still softly. It took her a moment to realize he didn’t sound angry. “It helps keep the Darkness at bay. There’s no real power in it, but it helps me visualize the Darkness still locked inside me, almost as if I’m seeing inside my own heart. If I take it off, well…the Darkness comes out. And so does Ansem. And…I don’t want you to see me like that.” He paused. “How come you’ve never asked before?”

“I…was too afraid to ask.”

“Because I scare you?” He was still holding her hand. “You’ve seen the Darkness in my heart. You can feel it.”

Naminè stared at him, wide-eyed, completely at a loss as to what to say.

He seemed to take her silence as agreement. He loosened his grip on her hand, turned as if to go. “I don’t blame you.”

Naminè grabbed his hand with both of hers before it could slip away. “No, no, it’s not—it’s just—“ She floundered for words. Riku waited patiently. “I…get nervous. I don’t get to talk to a lot of people. But you don’t scare me.”

He picked up instantly on what she wasn’t saying. “DiZ does.”

Naminè bit her lip, but didn’t reply.

Riku didn’t need to say that DiZ was overly controlling, unnecessarily cruel, out of line. They both knew it, and they both knew that there was nothing they could do about it. Sora had to wake up. He was all the help they had. So instead he gave her hand a comforting squeeze, then let it go.

Something else seemed to occur to him, though. “Tell me, Naminè…why are you doing this? Is it because of him? Or…” He seemed to glance towards the pod where Sora slumbered, though he could not see. “Are you trying to…atone? Like me?”

Naminè sighed. “A bit of both, I guess. I don’t know what DiZ would do if I didn’t play along. But mostly…I’m trying to make up for my mistakes. I haven’t been alive for very long, but in that short time I’ve caused so much trouble—for Sora, for you, for…well, everyone.” She looked back at Sora. “I have to fix everything I’ve broken. Just my existence has caused so many problems.”

“That’s not true.” Naminè turned back to him, surprised, and found that, for the first time since he had started wearing that blindfold, he suddenly seemed to look almost schoolboyish. A slight smile played across his face. “It’s been nice…having you around,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

A strange heat spread over Naminè’s cheeks, though she did not know what it meant. “Because I remind you of her?”

Riku chuckled. “Actually, no. You reminded me of her at first, but really, you’re nothing like Kairi at all. Not in a bad way,” he quickly added. She wasn’t sure if she were imagining it, but he looked a little pinker than usual. “In a good way. You’re…different.” He grew serious again. “I think DiZ is wrong. You, Roxas, Xion—you’ve managed to become your own people on your own. I don’t know how, or why, or what that means—all I know is what I can see.” He suddenly gave an embarrassed half-laugh. “Which admittedly right now isn’t a lot.”

Naminè couldn’t help but laugh at that, despite the fact that her head was spinning. Her own person. Did he really believe that? Could she ever be…?

Riku regarded her with a strange look on his face as she laughed. Then, he took her by the shoulders, saying, “Naminè. Do you still think you don’t have a heart?”

Naminè blinked. “Well, that’s what DiZ says…”

“But what do you think?”

She didn’t know. She didn’t know what she thought. All she knew was white walls in endless rooms, people in black coats, and an aching loneliness she wasn’t sure was real or just a product of having a hollow place where her heart should be. What did she know about hearts, really? No matter how much she might want to know what it was to love or hate to feel sadness or joy or anger, she never could—and whatever she think that she felt sometimes was a mere shadow of the real thing, ripples of energy she pretended were emotions because of how much she wanted to feel them…right?

“I…I don’t know.”

Riku frowned, then switched tacks. “What is it you want most?”

“I don’t—“

“—what is it that you’re drawing all the time?”

Her drawings. The drawings of him, of Sora and Kairi, of Roxas and Xion and Axel, sometimes daring to put herself among them, standing on the islands, holding hands. And smiling. Always smiling.

“I don’t think someone without a heart would want something like that, do you?” he asked gently.

Naminè just stared at him, eyes huge, unable to say a word.

He seemed to understand her silence. “I don’t think any of us really understands what Nobodies are—no matter what DiZ says.”

Naminè smiled. “Maybe not.”

Somehow, in his blindness, he smiled back. Then, letting her go, he turned and began to walk towards the door.

“Why did—why did you ask me all that?” she blurted.

Riku turned back over his shoulder, a somber heaviness coming over him. She instantly regretted her words—he had probably been trying to leave her on a lighter note. “…because when I come back, when I see you again, I might not be the same. I might have to give into Darkness to do this. I don’t want to, but if it’s a choice between giving in to Darkness or losing my best friend forever…” He clenched his fist. “…I know what I’ll choose.”

Naminè looked down, clasping her hands. “And…I’ll have to go back to Kairi in the end.” She looked up, staring into his face, getting the sense that he was staring right back, despite the blindfold. “You know that. You…you might not see me again at all.”

A sad, soft smile broke over his face, and she felt the weight of this moment, her breath hanging in her lungs, suspended, like a pendulum at the height of its swing. There was a promise in his words, the ones that she hoarded so. “Naminè…I’ll always see you.”

Then, he left.

She would never see him with her own eyes again.

“Riku…thank you,” she whispered after him. “For talking to me.”

#rikunami #fanfic

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