”… What flavor did you say it was again?“ Memory was a flaky thing in his own case. To remember and forget were such simple, intertwined concepts that it was terribly easy to forget just about anything. He was certain she had told him before, when they were first there and he’d commented on the clock tower sharing the same up-ended arch as the symbol of his country, but what remained in its place was simply a void.
Could he even remember what the clock tower looked like?
So to follow after her was all he could do, to make small talk and to attempt to coerce some lighthearted tales of small adventures and new worlds out of her small, silent persona. It’d be hard, he knew, but that was the pain of having somebody so similar to him.
There would always be the desire to say everything and yet nothing at all.
”Sea salt,” was her response, given readily and easily. Responding to simple questions like that were as easy as breathing, as blinking and moving, they required no excess thought on her part because they were simple fact. They did not require the spinning of tale or edging around a lie, there was no defense that had to be given on her part.
So she liked those kinds of things.
Though at the same time that meant that her conversations were stagnant. One sided and difficult to navigate because it was hard for her to keep up a flow of dialogue, hard for her to respond accordingly and as to be expected. Ace seemed to understand that but, in the end, that meant that it could be difficult to talk to him.
Nonetheless she made her way downstairs and out of the mansion, nose wrinkling only slightly at the dust and musk as she glanced back at her companion. Sea salt ice cream probably sounded discomfiting compared to more regular flavors, so she smiled encouragingly, ”It’s good though, salty but then sweet.”
An almost redundant explanation, but it got her point across.
And a solemn nod was given to that statement. He never lied, not all that time ago when he said he wouldn’t die. There was no way, not a chance he would let something happen to himself, not when so many counted on him just as much as he did them. Besides… it simply wasn’t an option.
Eventually a hand rose to place itself atop her head, to lightly ruffle the strands that were longer and a little more in-the-way than before.
“… I’m not leaving. But if I’m going to be here for a while, maybe you should treat me to that ice cream?”
The touch atop her head was both foreign and familiar all at once—neither of them touched each other very often, only when it had a meaning associated with it. Still she felt pleased by it and peered at him at the suggestion of ice cream, which she hadn’t had in far too long.
Naturally that meant that she had no qualms whatsoever about getting some.
”Of course,”
—there was a brief thought to bring her bag, but it didn’t seem important—
”follow me.”
Striding past him easily she felt oddly nostalgic, thoughts cast back to the day that they first met, when she led him around Twilight Town, showed him different places and people and mentioned sea salt ice cream. It had been so long ago… yet not very long at all.
”You have other places to be, with other people that want to see you, right?”
I’m used to that, really.
”Not really…”
Words said thoughtfully, but they were true. Sure, there were places she wanted to go, things she wanted to see, but no people really. Or at least, not very many of them.
For one reason or another the darkness would not carry her to his world.
He was always a little cautious, even if it was his own stubborn will that had got him into a situation. Small box in hand, though, he lightly paced around. What was he even going to say, anyway? That he’d really just used the holiday as an excuse to force the young woman to acknowledge her existence and appreciate herself just a bit? Just leave it at “Happy birthday” and act as if he hadn’t forced it upon her? By custom of White Day, however, the day of recognition for affections received on Valentine’s, he had to return the favor in chocolate. It just seemed… convenient.
He felt a bit lame, anyway. All he ever seemed to procure for her were paints, pencils, art supplies, and so on. The parcel was white, tied with a pink ribbon that he’d spent a rather long amount of time to perfect, and held three things: two bars of marble chocolate and a new set of colored pencils in nonstandard hues. Given, he was never one to know what supplies she was running low in otherwise, or where her tastes lied outside of art. The thought of music had come to mind, but other than the habitual anthem of birthdays universally, there was very little he knew or could offer. Material possessions did little for her wandering tendencies, he already lent her books, and despite having skilled hands, he lacked the creativity to truly make anything of impressive quality.
So, art supplies it was. The chocolate was a custom, but he probably still would have gotten it anyway. Foot tapped against the ground, hopes that she would appear at her usual time slowly turning into paranoia that he would be left alone, holding onto the present he had no other way to deliver until the next time she wandered into his life. Naminé was like that, a person to escape situations that generally made her uncomfortable. Just the idea of a birthday had made her so jumpy… The boy couldn’t blame her if she had decided to skip out.
To hear the slight sound of footsteps behind him caused him to turn, eyes so full of concern turned lighter and with relief at just the sight of blond crown that sat just about at his eye level. So she came anyway. A smile crossed his visage, followed with a tilt of his head and a light hum as the box was extended outwards. “Happy birthday~ ♪”
His voice had wavered, an act unusual juxtaposed to his confidence, but… the candidate was nervous. He wanted to make it special, for it being the first birthday she’d celebrate, and all he could think to do was get her a gift and smile. No cake, nothing elaborate, no decorations. Something simple and rather unimpressive, but more than what she was expecting anyway, or so he expected. “It’s not much, but… I figured we could share the chocolate, at least.”
Being given a birthday was strange and something that she was unsure how to truly react to when it came down to it, but she supposed that it was alright. After all she had already accepted it as it was, and said that she would not keep denying the idea of giving further meaning to her existence. And in the end he was so—not earnest, not quite—persistent about the idea and she could not keep saying no to him, and no one else would really know anyways. One day was not much to give, and while she was tempted to stay hidden and not continue onwards with any sort of celebration, the temptation was not so strong that she was actually going to follow through with it.
So she went with only a touch of reluctance, and wondered where the time had gone. Not so long ago it felt as if it were Valentine’s Day, the holiday that she did not fully understand but went along with because it was easier that way, and suddenly it was already March 14th. What Ace had referred to as White Day, a day that he had dubbed her day of birth, even if that was not accurate. On its own it was already a holiday, so she didn’t understand the point of coinciding celebrations, so to speak, but then again there were others that were born on holidays, and their birthdays were hardly dismissed lest under dire constraints, or so she supposed.
All the same she walked lightly and slowly towards where the blond male she was seeking out most likely was at. Surely he would not be too difficult to find, and it was to her relief that he was not at all, eyes spotting a familiar head of blond hair, a familiar face and uniform. Keeping pace she strode closer to him, only taking a moment to glance at the box as she approached before stopping a comfortable distance away, offering a warm smile. ”Hello,” a simple greeting, given out of courtesy and little else.
Being wished happy birthday was strange but—she supposed that it was a nice feeling, also, something that made her chest and very bones feel warm. And for only a moment she let her mind linger on the cadence of his voice, the confidence that it seemed to lack as strange as that was on its own, before moving on. It was not the time to question that sort of thing and wonder why he seemed to be lacking in his usual poise, particularly not with a box being handed to her that was wrapped in white and tied with a pink ribbon. Simple and clean and beautiful and she held it in her hands, feeling the weight of it before lifting her head and gazing at him curiously.
After a beat she smiled again and nodded, because naturally she was going to share the chocolate with him, though that was hardly enough thanks for everything that he had done for her, had been doing for her, and likely would do for her. Out of everyone in the universe, Ace was perhaps the one that she was closest to, even if their meeting had been by pure accident and little else. It was strange, to think that not very long ago she did not know of his existence, yet there she stood with a birthday present in her hands that felt weighted, but not horribly so.
There she went again, avoiding topics and speaking of other things. What a heart was or wasn’t was far beyond what he wanted to speak of, to enunciate or to discuss, because the honest truth was that he didn’t truly believe in them. Good people held hearts, and so did bad ones, and if he felt things because some thing in his chest said so, then he wasn’t really him in his opinion. He was just a vessel for an object, and that seemed wrong. So, of course, his chin dipped as she spoke, tried to excuse herself from his gifts and thoughts and with a sigh had he shaken his head.
Until she’d thanked him.
His gaze returned to her then, widened slightly with interest at such words, despite having heard them several times before. Stuck in his own stubborn ways, the boy’s weight shifted to the side with a cant of his head, a belief that he would still have his way firmly held in the back of his mind. It was just a birthday, a day to celebrate the life she held and rejected, whilst continuing to tell him to value his own. They were just a pair of hypocrites, it seemed, but they were comfortable that way. They would always look out for others more than they did themselves, and it made them content. “You’re welcome, but I’m not accepting no for an answer. It’s just a day. You can handle that.”
The idea of a day celebrating a birth was a nice one, and at the rate that they were going it wasn’t like she could continuously deny his giving her an official birthday. After dodging the entire subject once she had no choice but to accept it this time, and if she tried to escape the topic once more it probably would not end well. Hence the thanks that she gave, because in spite of her resistance to the idea she was still touched nonetheless that he wanted to give her a date that was labeled for her own birth. Proof of her existence, even though she was never supposed to exist to begin with.
That was something that she had always accepted—
Yet Ace seemed to deny that.
So she nodded agreeably, because there was no harm in it. The only person who would know of this would be him anyways, her friend who gave her such a thing—March 14th, that was coming up wasn’t it?—and if anyone else knew it would be a pure coincidence. This knowledge was not the kind she would share freely, mostly because people would not ask to begin with. Asking for a date of birth occurred between new friends, most often, or were announced by the person themselves. ”Okay. You’re right, I’m sure that I can handle a day.”
Time passed. It always had. For the dealer, the expanse of only two hours felt like an entire day. To run through the halls he knew so well, dyed a shade of black that blocked out all of its extraordinary radiance and golden shine, in avoidance of creatures that wanted what laid beating in his chest to find those who would last no longer than a few seconds, seemed to only slow time down. As he wasn’t even obliterating the shadows that crawled up to him, clawed at his ankles and in some aberrant occasions, leaped at his torso to only be knocked down, they were following him in what would appear to be a wave.
When he did finally arrive at the school’s main entrance, the grand lobby that branched off into several other rooms, the situation was only more severe than he thought. The inky black bugs that could be dealt with in minimal effort had seemed to evolve, into beasts that dominated the ground, that took up space in their large, round bodies, ones that flew, and much to his own dismay, into small, colorful lantern-like magicians that used Suzaku’s own strength against it. Candidates were simply being overwhelmed left and right and the concern over whether his own Class was safe did, for a moment, cross his mind. His hand had to reach out though, to draw on the phantoma that was leaking out into the arm as cordial spirit, lingering magic, and much like pulling a rope towards himself, the connection between soul and body was severed. The explosions from the shock were brief, and nothing was left in its place, but all the same, he knew very well what was going on. Two minutes, he’d forget them, and he’d move on.
Ace was never one to particularly enjoy the idea of battle and the stealing of lives, anyway. Not on his own, at least. He wasn’t fighting, however, and that did make things easier. Occasionally the mob of black, with beady yellow eyes, behind him grew to a size he no longer found safe for himself to proceed with and the cards would come out to dice through their rubber-like bodies, but otherwise, to get rid of the heartless wasn’t his concern. To save lives right now would put him in an unending cycle of protecting whichever soul he’d chosen. It would only cause more phantoma to be lost rather than gained.
But it took hours. Several of them, dedicated to nothing more than running about the school and stealing lives before the heartless could. By the time he’d returned to the classroom, his legs ached and his breathing was labored, though eyes desired just to return outside, to continue what he’d been doing, and to hopefully, at some point, drive the creatures away. They wanted hearts. If there weren’t enough around, they’d leave, right?
What a horrible thought. Palm pressed to his forehead and he sighed with the agony of the realization that his Devil’s Abacus was faulted in too many ways. It would only solve the current situation. When it came to battles later on, in the war where manpower would be required to turn the tides against the technology that so outwitted them, Suzaku would fall like this. Orience would be under Byakko control. Those were things he wasn’t allowed to have happen. There had to be other safe rooms, places he could guide people other than this one location. But was making people live their lives in fear of what lied outside such a good thing to do, either?
No. The numbers were beyond his strength to fight off alone, as well. Magic would run out before he had the ability to even decrease their numbers by half, and with how much animosity was running around, and who knew how many had already fallen into their numbers, it would take no time at all before everything fell to ruin. What Sora had been trying to prevent, what he’d promised not to allow to happen… was upon them. How many believed this was Finis? The candidate pried himself from the wooden door and made his way down to where the blonde had situated herself for the time being. A few moments later, his gaze went to the window, an eye watching the now-grey sky swivel to tones and colors that only indicated what he was slowly realizing: If there was a way for a world to end, this was how it went. Fighting, struggling, clinging to survival. Was it so different from death?
Etro knows. He cursed in his mind and proceeded to place a hand atop yellow crown. Visage was a pained porcelain, but with a hint of a smile so that hopefully, what he said next wouldn’t hurt her too badly. Feigned innocence rang in his tone, but it didn’t change how melancholy he actually sounded. “You should go. You can get out of this, after all.”
The candidate was rarely a person who actually said farewells, but when he hadn’t a clue of how what was occurring to the state of things would hold for him, it only seemed appropriate to say it to somebody. Fingers left her head and returned to his side, just as his chin dipped half an inch and gaze lowered just below her face. If he really was the Agito, this wouldn’t be happening, after all. Orience would be fine… if he had the power to actually stop these things. “Go back to Twilight Town, Naminé.“ I need to find a way out of this, but just in case I can’t… I don’t want you to be lost here, either.
There was little that was more awful than the feeling of being able to do nothing, which was something that she was well acquainted with. Even with the freedom—a false freedom, nothing more than something that she created within her own mind to make her feel as if she were more independent, as if she could continue onwards and be happy in this fake reality that she had created herself that would end soon enough—to do what she wanted when she wanted, she still could only do so little. Protection was something that she could offer but only in certain ways, in little and insignificant ways that meant nothing in the end. Standing in front of someone to protect them from a physical blow was reckless and her body was too small to act as a true shield.
Quietly sitting down on a desk in the front of the classroom she watched the door quietly, hands flexing against the wood of the surface she was sitting on. Darkness flickered somewhere deep inside of her and she could feel it rippling at her fingertips and she tried to breathe softly, steadily, ignored the tight feeling of panic that felt as if it were beginning to fill up her chest, her throat. Breathing was hard but she managed it and she watched the door quietly, trying to figure out what she could do—if she could do anything. Could she do anything? After all she was so small and weak, there was nothing she could do against the Heartless except act as a buffer, but she would never last very long as one.
Knowledge was something that she had, certainly, but that would not help in the situation at hand. Tricking Heartless was one thing but only when there were few, or a singular powerful one, not when there were dozens and hundreds and probably even thousands swarming the world outside of that door, outside of the classroom that she sat in. A safety that was not true, and could be breached so easily, but Heartless were motivated to capture hearts and she did not have one. They would not be drawn to that room, not when she was the only one in there.
Time passed and she was unsure of how long it was, and at some point stood up and began pacing the length of the room, arms crossed tightly just underneath her chest, head tilted down, bangs obscuring some of her view of the floor. After some point it felt as if she were wearing a hole, a pathway through the carpet and she thought about her powers, her abilities, the things that she could do. Memories were powerful and memories were the foundation of a heart, but Heartless were created from darkness and she could not use her abilities on them. In the end she could not use her abilities on anyone except Sora and those close to them—and for a moment she thought about how Ace said that he knew Sora, once, stated briefly in passing and never paid much attention to after that, but then she let go of the thought because she would never touch Ace’s memories—and that was the true limit of her powers. Running after Ace, finding him wherever he was in that school, would be dangerous and would likely instill a feeling of irritation and anger in the blond and she knew that she could not do that, not right then and there.
So she waited, and she paced, and her eyebrows furrowed and her hands balled into fists against her sides and then relaxed again until finally, finally the door opened again and she whirled around, something that was absolutely relief flooding her at the sight of Ace. And then the relief faded, just slightly, because it occurred to her that he looked exhausted and pained, and there was a smile on his face that filled her with a sense of dread and perhaps even a small piece of irritation and her mouth turned downwards into a slight frown. The words did not necessarily hurt, and she had expected them to some end—how could she not? Of course he would insist that she leave and go back to Twilight Town, get away from the world that seemed like it was ending all around them, and she stared at him for a few moments before turning away. Instead her gaze found the window as well, which she had tried her best to avoid looking at, and peered at the sky that hung over them. Felt the dreary darkness that was falling upon that reality as if she were not standing inside of a building. The air stank of darkness, deep and cloying and perhaps not full of death, not as she thought darkness would smell like as it destroyed a world. In fact it was almost welcoming, an embrace that pulled a person closer and deeper and let them fall into it, fall into the abyss that was waiting for them, taunting and offering a peace that was true but—
Letting oneself fall into it was signing a soul away.
A heart.
Darkness was neither good nor bad just as light was, and she could feel her minimal power over the darkness that laid between worlds prickle at her finger tips again. With a soft noise she bowed her head down and let her hair curtain her face and laced her fingers together in front of her for a moment, even though she had already known what she was going to say. They both knew, surely, and after a few beats she turned on her heel and gave him a smile in return, one that was not true and was rather forced. On her face it felt wrong, but there was no harm in that, nothing to fear in how she had to place something positive on her face even though inside of her mind, her chest, her veins and bones and muscles and the things that made up her impossible body itself, everything was a mess. An ugly mess, one that should never be seen by anyone else, and yet as a Nobody the first emotions she had ever experienced were negative—feeling those things was as familiar as coming home.
”I can get out of this.”
There was no use in denying it, they both knew that she could leave, that she could get them both out of there now that her powers were responding to her touch again, itching and aching for her to use them. And yet the thought of leaving and going elsewhere, going back to Twilight Town, was twisted and an impossibility, something that she could not bear to stomach and she took a few steps closer to Ace, pausing several feet away from him still. The false smile on her face softened just slightly into something more neutral, almost amused even though there was certainly nothing amusing about the situation that surrounded them.
