Categories > Games > Kingdom Hearts
There are things she can't replace.
She thought reaching for the sky would be like holding Sora. Sand on her back, arms up to the clouds - she counts every shape they would have seen. First her own - thalassa shells, brimming buckets full of stars. Then Sora's - swords and dragons. Closet-creatures.
(The monsters in books are real, Kairi, he had said in Traverse Town, face almost-serious and sparkling eyes determined. But the books told us too - monsters can be beaten.)
She counts no shapes for Riku. He would say, there's Sora's palm-tree hair, there's your hands making a charm. But he had told her once he saw nothing 'real' at all - just concepts, ideas. Possibility.
She thought falling on the sand would be like holding Riku. Sky on her back, arms into the beach - she counts every word they might have said. First her own - wondering giggles, brimming baskets full of stories. Then Riku's - confidence and challenges. Promises.
(The worlds in books are real, Kairi, he had said on the islands, face almost-joking but shadowed eyes determined. And the books told us too - worlds can be connected.)
She counts no words for Sora. He would run, bridge to boards to paopu tree, thumps and yelps and scuffing shoes. But he had smiled at her once without any sound at all - just feeling, warmth. Certainty.
She thought she could replace their shapes with sky, their words with sand.
She can't.
She thought reaching for the sky would be like holding Sora. Sand on her back, arms up to the clouds - she counts every shape they would have seen. First her own - thalassa shells, brimming buckets full of stars. Then Sora's - swords and dragons. Closet-creatures.
(The monsters in books are real, Kairi, he had said in Traverse Town, face almost-serious and sparkling eyes determined. But the books told us too - monsters can be beaten.)
She counts no shapes for Riku. He would say, there's Sora's palm-tree hair, there's your hands making a charm. But he had told her once he saw nothing 'real' at all - just concepts, ideas. Possibility.
She thought falling on the sand would be like holding Riku. Sky on her back, arms into the beach - she counts every word they might have said. First her own - wondering giggles, brimming baskets full of stories. Then Riku's - confidence and challenges. Promises.
(The worlds in books are real, Kairi, he had said on the islands, face almost-joking but shadowed eyes determined. And the books told us too - worlds can be connected.)
She counts no words for Sora. He would run, bridge to boards to paopu tree, thumps and yelps and scuffing shoes. But he had smiled at her once without any sound at all - just feeling, warmth. Certainty.
She thought she could replace their shapes with sky, their words with sand.
She can't.
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