Ficcage: Kingdom Hearts with some Future Final Fantasy VIII
Rating: R for swearing and violent children
Pairing: None yet
Warning: Swearing, Cloud abuse, "Adrian" abuse, Zack abuse... abuse everywhere and there is Kairi if she scares you
Writers: (since there are now two sets) nikavia and xuxavier, who has never used her lj before except to use the storage for pictures... to use on other sites...
Present for tanoshi_ame. Based off another present for her, Spectrum, a one shot that she said she wanted to see an entire fic spawn from. So here it is... starting with a super long prologue.
Hope you like it. It is a bit serious but it needed to be... Humor will return very shortly as... well that is what we wanted... funny and then very very serious plot progression... but about 66.6% funny.
He thought it was a lightning bolt. A bright flash over his shoulder as he looked through the windows into the shops, telling himself he really didn’t need a new watch, even though his old one had gotten damaged earlier that week when one of the heartless in the lab broke containment. The lightning bolt however didn’t latch itself to the huge tree near the edge of the courtyard. Instead, he felt the heat and smelled ozone as the fountain in the middle exploded, one brick smashing the window next to his head.
He stared as the window evaporated into a shower of crystal before stumbling back, out into the rain. He turned, along with the rest of the foolish shoppers caught out in the storm, to the remains of the fountain. What had previously been a statue of the keyblade bearer was now a twisted, melted and charred mess, still glowing red-hot.
Curiosity got the better of him and he stepped further into the rain to get a better look, slowly moving around the remains, spiraling closer as the rain started to hiss and cool. One of the bricks shifted, tumbling. He stepped closer, catching a glimpse of something red before the rain washed it away. Another brick moved, then another, shifting and falling to the ground as more and more red appeared. Then flesh. Gasping, he realized there was someone in the rubble. Someone had been near the fountain when it had imploded. After a moment of shock, panic and then resolve, he cast a blizzard spell, hoping to cool the former fountain as he climbed into the rubble.
The body was small, the size of a child, causing him to shift the rubble faster, calling for help over the storm as he heard others approach. There was a cough, wet and gasping before a larger rock was shoved off, revealing a boy, hardly older then 13, bleeding profusely from a stab wound in his stomach where one of the “keyblade’s” accessories had lodged in him. Bruises were forming around his eyes, which were clenched shut in pain as he reached down and tore the accessory out of his own stomach. There was a cracking noise as he kicked, followed by another wet cough of blood, splattering his rescuers.
He knelt quickly, peeling off his white coat to press at the wound before he found a bloody crown shaped piece of metal shoved against his throat.
“Fuck off…” came a strangled voice out of the child, whose eyes were closed in pain.
“You’ve been severely injured. I can’t just let you die here,” He tried to explain even as the boy’s hand slid lower until it was resting against his chest. From what he could see, the boy’s arms and legs were broken and… he was bleeding so much. Far too much from such a wound. The amount of blood was equal in quantity to a lost limb, not to a stab wound by a “keychain”.
“Where are your parents?” Another rescuer asked as he knelt down. This earned a choking laugh that sounded wrong falling from a child’s mouth.
“I was watching,” came an awed voice from somewhere over his shoulder. “There wasn’t anyone at the fountain before this… he did this.”
“You can’t be serious. He’s just a child.” They started to argue. It didn’t matter. He was still bleeding. And it was a foolish thing to worry about now. If he was a local, someone would know him. As of right now, he was a very injured, if somewhat rude, child. His origin was of no concern.
The child didn’t seem to even be hearing what was happening around him, instead choosing to do something that his body should have stopped him from doing. The crown returned with renewed strength as the boy sat up, then crawled to his feet. He tilted there for a moment before lifting a hand out in front of himself, whispering something under his breath before passing out, barely being caught before catastrophic head trauma was added to his list of injuries.
When he woke up, he knew something was wrong. He couldn’t seem to get enough air in his lungs. He opened his eyes slowly, eyes taking in the room as he looked around, trying to place where he was and coming up empty. A man appeared over him with silver hair.
“How are you feeling?” He asked. After a pause of self reflection:
“My forehead hurts.” His voice sounded strange, squeaky.
“Really? No kidding.” The man smiled, though he didn’t see what was so funny.
“Looks like your eyes are focusing,” the man muttered as he followed the pen waving in front of his face. “Say your name for me.”
He opened his mouth to reply and found… nothing. Just like when he looked around the room. Nothing. Nothing at all. Panic gripped him and all the air left his lungs. He tried to move off the bed, to get away to find someplace he recognized.
“Whoa. Hang on a second,” the man grabbed him about the waist and pushed him back, which just felt so wrong for some reason he couldn’t remember. “It’s okay. You’ve been through a traumatic event. Just… just breathe.”
He tried to obey he really did but he was making this horrible noise and he was shaking. There was a hand in his hair and that felt wrong to. The hand was… too big? He struggled valiantly, panic escalating as he realized that the struggling wasn’t working, which was ridiculous because the man wasn’t that big.
The lack of air caught up with him and his body gave out. He went limp, hyperventilating and wide eyed, eyes taking in the strange angles and the strange mans strange… painfully un-normally unflawed features, reminding him more of cartoons than a real person.
“It’s okay…” The man was attempting to be comforting, but it was obvious from his tone and awkward movements that he had no idea what he was doing. How comforting.
“Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here? What day is it? How did I get here?” The questions fell from his mouth like it was something he had practiced, though he couldn’t remember ever practicing. After a pause he realized that the most crucial question he had neglected to ask. “And… and who am I?”
The man let him go so he could scurry over the (rather large and very comfortable and… was that a tapestry on the wall over there?) bed to the other side, eyes warily watching the man.
“My name is… Xehanort and I am a lab technician, which isn’t very reassuring I know. You are in one of the Castle rooms in
Numbness while he tried to absorb, speaking without thinking. “This is a strange looking Garden…” This isn’t what Garden’s look liked… What they did look like was… a total mystery but they didn’t look like this.
“No no… the name of our world is called
“Ah… World? I don’t understand. You call your planet
“Planet?” Another void where there should be a nice and neat definition. The man, Xehanort, gave a soft smile. “Never mind then.”
“What were my injuries?” that sounded awfully cold coming from such a child sounding voice. Should have a deeper voice.
“Broken arms and legs. I am not too good at naming bones but I am sure Ansem wouldn’t mind telling you if you asked. You also suffered a stab wound when you destroyed a statue about landing. You actually pulled the metal out yourself, though you don’t seem to remember that.”
“… Not at all… I wish to speak to this Ansem person… Later though…”
“Of course.” Xehanort looked almost sad as he nodded.
“… I had no ID?”
“… No… Nothing… well nothing that we can recognize. However if you remember how to talk and move, what gardens are supposed to look like, perhaps you will find meaning in your belongings… Would you like me to fetch them for you…?”
“Yes please,” that sounded like an order… a ridiculous sounding order with the not deep voice. Xehanort nodded before rising. “And… Thank you Xehanort… Something tells me I would have died if not for you.”
“Died?” that was an incorrect facial expression for accepting gratitude, even when belaying the fears of some one who could have died. “Turned into a Heartless you mean?”
“What does a lack of sympathy have to do with dieing?” The man seemed to realize this was another gap in the knowledge and sighed.
“Don’t worry about it. I am sure your memory will return in time.”
“… Really?” he answered, voice quiet as the gravity of the situation started to sink in and he felt (oh Hyne no, not tears, haven’t cried in forever) tears well in his eyes.
There was a comforting hand on his shoulder, causing him to look up into the man’s gold eyes, which were filled with concern.
“I… I want to be alone please…” He whispered. Xehanort nodded, ruffling his hair before leaving the room. He waited until the door had closed before he fell back on the pillows and burst into tears.
Ansem watched the boy as he seemed to have some sort of breakdown as he looked at himself in the mirror. He was running his fingers through his hair, twisting his body in circles as he tried to place something only he seemed to know about. He spent a good few minutes staring at his own eyes with a puzzled expression, one conveying that there was something wrong with the vibrant blue eyes. Fingers returning to the hair again, tugging on the short but shaggy locks. Tracing over the single scar slicing between his eyes.
Finally done with his self evaluation, the boy sat down in the chair on the opposite side of the small table. The boy kept glancing over at Xehanort, as if to reassure himself that the pale haired man was still there.
“Anything?” Xehanort asked as the boy shook his head, fingers reaching up to trace his scar again before his eyes focused on his hands, as if they were alien in nature.
“Perhaps there is something here to help,” Ansem said as he pulled out the boys belongings, having got the blood out of them so as not to disturb the boy. The brunet reached out, fingers tracing over the silver trim on the shoulders of the jacket. Ansem thought it looked like a uniform, but he didn’t want to suggest it.
“… Uniform… standard looking…” the boy whispered under his breath as he turned it in his hands, taking in as much of the blue-grey fabric with his eyes as he could. Fingers tracing over the belt, tapping it a few times as the boy lost himself in the void inside his skull for a moment. “Standard combat boots…” That caught Ansem’s interest. Though he had his suspicions about the boy, hearing that the boy was somehow associated with combat only seemed to solidify the idea.
The boy then shifted his attention to the other things on the table, reaching out and grasping the heavy silver chain there, slinging it around his neck and fastening it as his eyes continued to wander. He tugged at the beastly form hanging from it before he picked up a similar ring and attempted to slide it onto his ring finger. It slid off so the boy settled for having it on his thumb. He then turned expectant eyes to Ansem.
“Is this it?” The boy spoke with conviction, authority, like he didn’t view Ansem as a king but merely some man that he viewed as an equal, though the tone said that position could be easily altered.
“Yes, that is all that was on you.”
“Something is missing…” The boy turned back to the table top. “What….”
“You can go looking later when we are sure you will be fine. First… let’s have a talk…” Ansem said with a warm grandfatherly smile as the boys blue eyes turned back to him.
He could not believe that Ansem had just dumped a destiny on a… well not innocent or defenseless but certainly confused child simply because he happened to fall out of the sky.
Said boy was deep in thought as they walked back through the castle. The boy stopped suddenly, making a slight noise of surprise before running over to the large window and looking out over the town.
“What city is that?” He asked, turning to look back at Xehanort for a moment.
“I already told you, remember?
“Oh…” The boy reached out to touch the glass, head tilting slightly. “If this is a castle, shouldn’t the city have better defenses?”
“We do have defenses… but there is nothing to defend ourselves against right now.”
“That wall over there has a gaping hole in it… That isn’t very defensible.”
“Walls… walls don’t do much good against an enemy that swarms,” Xehanort replied with a shrug. The boy thought for a moment, face becoming much older somehow.
“Sure they can… You just don’t know how to defend your walls properly,” The boy said firmly and coldly, sounding like an adult rather than the prepubescent child he was.
“And I suppose you do?” Xehanort pressed gently. The boy gave the walls a long look before nodding.
“I remember that for some reason. I see where you can correct your silly assumption that swarming cannot be stopped. I can’t tell you why I know it though…”
“You said you thought you wore a military style uniform… perhaps you were in training.”
“For some reason… that doesn’t sound quite right.” The boy stared at his hand now, again, like it was a nervous habit. “Do you think I am this key… whatever?”
“Keyblade Bearer? Well… as angry as I am at Ansem for just… shoving that onto you within hours of you waking up… I can see some minor details of his point. You fell from the sky, have some sort of training, which I could see when I found you. You are strong, wise beyond your years and seem to be more grounded then other children your age… If you are the keyblade bearer… Then I would prefer you over the current candidate.”
“Thanks… I guess…” The boy said, not absently tapping his fingers against the window, expression dark.
There are two legends of the Keyblade… One legend said the wielder saved the world, while the other says he wrought ruin and chaos upon it. Ansem hadn’t known that Xehanort had been poking through his research. The boy, if he was the keyblade bearer… could be a destructive force. And with his personality… it seemed more likely. Should he warn him? Tell him to prevent him from walking down a dark path?
“So… if I am a keyblade whatever… master, wielder, sage… how exactly does me landing in the middle of your town, destroying a monument to myself and then promptly forgetting everything work into the master plan of world saving?”
“Now I prefer the other candidate. He never questioned it.”
“Then he is a fool. To be handed incredible power such as this… thing… such things lead to temptation and downfall if you are not prepared. And to be handed them after a series of destructive to the cause events… caution and clear thinking are the best ways to approach. Joy over attaining power, never questioning where that power came from, means you are either arrogant and believe yourself infallible or too stupid to realize that every rose has its thorns. Or perhaps a combination of both. And the whole legend sounds a bit off if you ask me. Great power leads to chaos before it leads to peace.”
“I kind of wish he was here to hear you call him an arrogant fool.”
“There is no point in making an enemy out of him yet. Thus far, you cannot prove that either he or I are what this… ‘legend’ needs. Perhaps it needs the one who never questions. Another would argue that questions are merely uncertainty and that this Key cannot function without foolish determination. And I do believe it rather arrogant that of all of the places, the keyblade bearer must come from this place. Is that in the legend somewhere as well? Or merely the preaching of a hopeful old man.”
“Ansem was told by a crazy old wizard that he would see the keyblade bearer… Perhaps when you are feeling better the other candidate in Ansem’s mind can show you around. He’s around your age.”
“What did he have to do to earn the honor?”
“Strong, clever and capable of taming the wild beasts that are his peers.” This earned a snort of laughter. “
“You don’t remember your name… And Ansem will probably give you a horribly arrogant sounding one. So how about
The boy blinked blue eyes at him for a moment before nodding. He offered his hand out.
“My name is Xehanort. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
The boy hesitated before taking his hand.
Xehanort felt it would be just cruel to leave the boy without help to introduce himself, so he took some extra time during lunch and took
“Cid!” Xehanort called out, causing the older teen to look up.
“Yo,” he raised a hand in greeting, eyes falling on
“You may call me Adrian, until I remember my true name,”
“Brat, I call you what I want,” Cid replied gruffly, shaking
“It is a pleasure to meet you. If you don’t mind me asking sir, what were you drawing?”
“Nosy and polite…” Cid placed a hand on
“That would be nice. Don’t let them pick on him.” Xehanort warned.
“Hey, if he picks back, he is fair game to them, got it brat?” Cid used the hand on
“I’ll see you at dinner
“Yes, see you then.”
“I am curious about what you were drawing sir.”
“Don’t call me sir, makes me sound fuckin’ old,” Cid grumbled before letting
“It’s rude to stare,” Cid growled.
“Is that a ship? Like an airship?”
Cid looked surprised at the comment, looking up at him before he gave a roguish smile. “Have you seen an airship before brat?”
“I guess I must have…. Hasn’t everyone?” Airships sounded like they should be common. Cid laughed at that.
“Are you crazy kid? Last airship in
“Whaddya mean you guess you must have brat? I think you’d remember.”
“Or not… I’m… kinda new to the area.”
“’The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“I… have amnesia. I recognized those as airships… even if in the past few days, the word never once crossed my mind. But… if I know the word I must have seen one before…”
“Amnesia? Damn Ansem picks up the weirdest people. I see why Xehanort is keeping an eye on you. Another other worlder blank slate like himself. Course Xehanort was a lot worse then you kiddo. Nothing in there except remembering how to do math and speak.”
Interesting… Xehanort had amnesia as well. And he was from somewhere else. He made a note to ask Xehanort later.
“Wait… You got here a few days ago?” Cid asked, closing his sketchbook.
“I can only assume I didn’t mean to. I have no memory of anything before waking up in a room in the castle.”
“Hey brat, as far as I am concerned you did us all a favor getting rid of that thing. Makes the people around here crazy. And makes certain brats a bit worse than your average brat.”
“The keyblade wielder candidate?”
“Ah… Ansem couldn’t resist telling the boy who fell from the sky could he?”
“No s-… no…”
“Too bad. Come on,” Cid stood up and grabbed