Categories > Games > Kingdom Hearts > Sentinel Trinity

Shima I

by Luna_Tiger 0 reviews

Riku witnesses the death of a star, a world, and reminds his Compass none-too-kindly who is in charge. Dips slightly into the past. Mizu's present at the start of the end.

Category: Kingdom Hearts - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Sci-fi - Characters: Riku, Other - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2005-10-02 - Updated: 2005-10-02 - 2406 words

Disclaimer: I own Kingdom
Hearts! ...No, literally. Do I own any of the characters in it? Chya, right. That's
a big, fat no. But, while we're taking about owning things, I own Mizu and the
three sprites (Shima, Kiri, and Yama).

This story was inspired by one, single realization: the Japanese word 'riku'
means 'land'. Yes, a whole fic inspired by one little essay I wrote. Oi.

Also, this is a spin-off from the 'secret ending', so spoilers for it and
the game abound.

Three swords to light the heavens
protect the Trinity of sentinel Worlds.
Stand firm on polluted Land
Bathe in the murky Water
Gaze up to the cloud-covered Sky.

See how the most pure
have surrendered their hearts
to Darkness.

Sentinel Trinity

In the End of Time, the universe will die. Along with it, everything it
strived to create. At the End of the World, the universe is already dead. Along
with it, the hopes and dreams of destroyed memories and broken souls, ready to
move on but trapped in the endless Darkness so bright it's pure and painful.
The Light is Darkness; they are one. They are Final. They will be Void. The
Darkness is nothing, the Light is everything, and between them, the grey of
Emotion, Elements, that period of time when you hover between living and dying.
The grey that is joy and agony, painful and vivid. No two creatures can
compliment each other...without giving rise to a third, for stability's sake.

The stars were visible tonight, but if one looked closely, in the far out
west, they could watch one slowly fade, fade into nothing. As though it never
existed. Never lived, or even died. Only gone. But who would notice such a
minuscule event, when thousands of other stars littered the night sky?

A soft curse thrown into the damp, chilling breeze announced that the
vanished spectral of light had, indeed, been taken note of. Taken note of...and
feared. With this single light snuffed out, every moment in the last three
years meant nothing now. All the hard work, his scars...

The Door was open again.

"What is thinking, Shima wonders, hm?"

Slowly, a man stood up from his crouch, the hem of his cloak damp from a
puddle formed earlier that afternoon. From his spot in the center of the city,
everything was available for his scrutiny. The noisy streets, the dirty
buildings, the night sky. What was wet clothing to -that-?

"I think," came the bitter reply, "Shima still has a lot to
learn about respect."

A bright weight settled down on his shoulder, and the fuzzy-green pixie
folded its arms, insulted. "Is knowing what Shima thinks?? Is thinking
rude man very grumpy. Is thinking rude man need break, sleep, food, and friend.
Lonely is rude man, for Disney champion."

A black glove shooed the pixie off his shoulder and Shima fell with a sharp
cry; he disregarded it. "We have a lot more to worry about than Sora right
now. He'll be joining us shortly, but at the moment, we have to return to
Traverse Town."

The green light started to swarm around him, and Shima stopped in his face,
visibly upset. "Is driven nuts over rude man, Shima feels! If rude man not
made responsibility of mouse king for Shima, mad and gone Shima be!"

The little sprite did not have access to her companion's eyes, but he had
access to her aura and that was all he needed to respond. "Start talking
sense. And I'd prefer it if you called me by my name."

And still, she was mad. "Are only rude man! Is not Legend hero Riku!
Are only rude man!"

Shima didn't feel it, and was caught off guard when the same gloved hand
that knocked her down came whipping out, trapping her water-dewed wings and
tiny arms between a palm and five fingers; she blinked, startled and shocked

Riku did not squeeze her into suffocation. No, his grip was just tight
enough to keep her still. The ice in his voice, however, was much worse than
whatever he could do to her physically. "You're supposed to be my Compass,
Shima, but I've done much and many without your help. All you've been to me is
a hindrance and local nuisance. And if it wasn't for King Mickey telling me I
would need you, I would have cast you aside and never given you a second
thought. Now, our third's destiny finally nipped him in the heels." For
real, this time.
"...We're going to Traverse Town, and you finally get
to do your job: find him and hope to God that he has his own Compass with him.
Got it?"

Hesitantly, Shima nodded, yellow eyes wide and fixed on the pale face before
her. Riku flattened his empty hand and place it under the pixie's feet, then
let her go. Shima steadied herself on the offered platform and fluttered out of
Riku's way, as he made to stand on the edge of his building. With a leap of
faith, the boy fell into destiny's net, letting instinct guide him to safety,
with Shima streaking a neon-green trail behind him.

For once, she was silent.

Two days earlier, on a world called Demesne...

From space, it was a polluted, lifeless planet, with dirty water and thin,
nearly unbreathable air. Worthless, but to the survivors who were struggling to
live, it was home.

Follow any shattered road, cracked and up-heaved, and it will lead you to a
ruined town or city every time. Houses burned down by fires that may still
breathe, buildings nothing but foundations and broken walls, and trees, lamp
posts, vehicles all rotted, rusted, and smashed. Time and battles that could
not be fought back had taken its toll on the wilted land.

People were nowhere to be seen; they remained hidden, scared and frightened
of the horrible beasts that swept their once-upon-a-time homes for stragglers
who either escaped them before or was unfortunate enough to get caught outside
the safety of their new haven. The beasts didn't care, however, for they had no
memory. If they missed someone, they could not identify the same person a day
later as being familiar. It was the very reason they roamed the surface; they
could not remember if it had been cleaned out... The ruin and destruction,
however, -was- a memory. A constant memory to how they laid siege across
defenseless rats.

But today, there were no beasts out, only a child-turned-man scavenging the
demolished treasure troves.

At 17, he was a scrawny thing, half starved and jumpy. If it wasn't for the
dark skin caked in dirt and mud or the untamed hair that hadn't seen a comb or
brush in years, he might have been considered handsome. Black irises set in
almond-shaped slits, framed with greasy grey-black locks, and accented by tiny
scratches and scabs everywhere on his face. He didn't wear a shirt, only a
cloth that was always falling off of his thin shoulders; it was barely enough
to keep warm at night...or even during the day for that matter. The same cloth
that made up his shirt was practically his pants too. The ragged thing was tied
around his waist by a thin rope and sewn together coarsely between his legs,
the ends not even reaching mid-thigh. And it was not possible to miss how badly
the rest of his body was banged up.

All things considered, he was better off than most of the others he denned

He was determined to find something worthwhile this time. The last time he'd
gone out, his day was put on hold for the sudden appearance of the beasts. He'd
been lucky to escape, but hardly learned from the experience except to run just
a little faster.

And now, he was flipping over slabs of sheetrock, concrete, tossing away
bricks and pipes, and progressively digging his way down to the bottom of a
pile barely touched by the others, due to said pile residing in a still
partially dangerous building that threatened to collapse at any time.

He hardly cared.

The first good thing that came to view was a stuffed bear, missing a button
eye and losing some of its stitching in arms and legs, with fluff peaking out
of the rips. Its brown fur was worn and dirty and there was a gash on its left
side. He cocked his head at it, curious, and tucked it away into his makeshift
belt before continuing his search.

"Hey, hey!"

The call, so out of place in the subtle creaking and distant squawking,
disturbed the air and the boy's concentration. He froze, heart racing faster
than it should, and the chunk of stone he was lifting away slipped from his
hand, crashing down into its previous resting spot. Somewhere in his mind, he
knew it wasn't a threat, but it wasn't until he turned around did he begin to
relax. "Furiol."

And the other boy climbed over the slabs, practically using the same route
he himself has used to get to the top. And this new boy, Furiol, was smiling.
It wasn't a big smile; they had long forgotten how to smile in such bleak
times, but Furiol was learning. "Mizu!"

He was younger, less haunted by the rampages of the beasts, and people
wondered if it would be right to expose him to their horrors, or keep him
clean. Mizu didn't know either, as Furiol tended to be just as much as a burden
as he was a welcome sight to sore eyes. But now, Mizu sighed, and idly thanking
whoever was looking after him that his foot hadn't been where the stone had
fallen. "Furiol," he chided when the other plopped down beside him,
"how many times must we tell you to be quiet? You could alert predators or

"Sorry..." But as Mizu rose to retry his lifting, Furiol noticed
the animal at Mizu's hip. He wanted to giggle, or laugh, but it never came into
existence. "I didn't know you needed a comfort toy, Mizu."

"What are you--oh." He gave a brief look to the little creature
before giving a slight shrug. "I don't. I found it a few minutes

"Are you suuure?"

Mizu glared at the child. "If I did need a toy like this, do you really
think I'd take it outside in its ratty condition? No. I'd take better care of
it instead of dragging it everywhere I go."

Furiol's small smile brightened, but said nothing and quietly watched Mizu
work. Half an hour later gave them a system of rusted pipes, an easy chair
damaged beyond repair, and a torn blanket. Mizu tossed the blanket at Furiol,
telling him to run along and make sure Jeomn got it. And the boy ran along to
fulfill his mission, leaving Mizu alone once again.

But another sound, not common at all, caught his ears, and he hissed at it.
He ducked behind the pile, sheltered by the three surrounding walls and left
only a window as large as the walls around him to spy. It was footsteps, light
and human, but with a slight off-beat to them. Mizu lifted his head higher,
slightly more assured of his safety, but didn't call out.

Soon, a body accompanied the sound and Mizu's eyes narrowed darkly. It was
Shelique, limping along the dirty path. Mizu lowered himself again, scowling.
He never liked the look in Shelique's eyes; she was too shifty, too suspicious
looking to be considered safe. It was just his opinion though. No one else saw
anything wrong with her. In fact, they would pity her ten times over than ever
accuse her of being 'suspicious looking'. A bone in her leg had healed wrong,
hence the limp...and the pity.

He didn't like her. She seemed darker than the others, meaner, uglier. The
very sight of her left a bad taste in his mouth. But for the life of him, he
couldn't put his finger on why.

And even this was suspicious. Shelique, in the broad daylight, out in the
open, where if a beast were to appear, she would be helpless. He knew it, she
knew it, they knew it, everyone knew it.

So why?

A growl bubbled in his throat and he waited until she vanished to the other
side before hopping over the crown and slipped down to the ground, silent as
humanly possible.

It wasn't impossible to follow her; all around there were small nooks and
crannies to duck behind and hide in. And him practicing stealth since the
beasts' demolition, it was like taking food from a helpless blind man. The sun
was beginning to lean toward the western horizon when Mizu finally realized
where Shelique was heading. He cringed at the sight of it.

It was a place they were forbidden to be near, let alone enter, because it
wasn't built by native hands. But alien claws didn't make it either, which made
it only the more dangerous. Mizu's expression twitched as he watched Shelique
step into the black-stone, trapezoidal...thing. Once she disappeared into the
darkness, Mizu split.

He ran back down the same path Shelique had taken, past his digger's
building, past the last standing street-marker, and into the tunnel well hidden
in the rubble. He slowed down, if only to keep the people he passed calm and
unworried. What he should have done was go straight to Jeomn and retell the
short tale needed telling. Mizu wasn't a liar and Jeomn knew it...but even
Jeomn might not believe the tall and unbelievable story of Shelique, of all
people, entering that evil tomb.

So he didn't. He didn't go to Jeomn and, instead, went straight to his
makeshift 'room', a small cubby in the wall, with padding to sleep on and very
few valuables. He flopped onto that padding, confused and tired; it wasn't even
night time.

The toy was still sheathed in his belt.

A/N: It's...short. Yes, this is going some place. I've got the start and the
end all figured out... I'm just...not too sure what the middle'll be like. I
want it to be a short story, ...but I hate things being short, 'cause I feel if
it's short, it's lacking in skill and enjoyment, so...tell me what you think?
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