The Underworld, First Visit:
In Which Weakness Is Made Into Strength
Namine stirred with her whole body aching fiercely, and she realized slowly had no idea where she was, or what had happened. The disorientation didn't fade as she pushed herself gingerly up, guiding her hair back out of her face. She was in a cavernous room, and there was a patch of black-and-red flowers not far away--
"Aha, there's my girl," a woman's voice purred.
A voice she had never wanted to hear again. Namine went stiff, eyes flying wide, but as her head whipped around in the direction of the voice, a hand settled on the top of her head -- both solicitous and somehow menacing -- and then she couldn't move at all.
"Larxene," she whispered. Now what had happened returned to her with unwelcome clarity.
"You remember me!" said the blonde woman, her voice sweet and filled with pretend happiness. "After you've been through so much, you poor, poor thing. It must have been so hard for you, this last year, out in the big bad world outside your castle..."
Her fingers were petting Namine's hair, without moving her hand from its firm pressure on the top of her head, holding her seated where she was. No, no, no.
"I-- I can take care of myself," Namine said, but her voice was hushed, not convincing at all. What was it that made it so hard to breathe -- think -- when Larxene or Marluxia was so close to her?
Larxene didn't laugh. She said idly, "Ohhh? Is that right? I haven't seen any sign of it."
Abruptly her fingers tightened, twisting into Namine's hair in a painfully tight grip. Namine sucked in a tense breath, and it occurred to her that if she didn't do something now then she never would.
And -- there were things she could do, now.
It was ridiculous to even think about it; she wasn't bad, but she wasn't good, either. And Larxene was good. There was no way Namine could ever defeat her, but even as she told herself that she was summoning a protective circle of wind around herself, her spear leaping into her hands as if called solely by her determination. She jabbed up at Larxene's arm, but the older woman dodged, hopping back out of the way and laughing a little.
"I see you have new toys!" Larxene said, bringing her sharp fingers to her lips like a cat, tasting the trace of prey left on its claws.
There was space between them now, and that -- and the knowledge that even if only for the moment, she had driven Larxene off -- made it feel like her lungs were functioning again, and she could breathe. "I've been -- taking care of myself."
"But not alone, you haven't," Larxene murmured.
"I have friends now," Namine said stubbornly, not letting that get to her. All of the others... What had happened to Yuffie, to Aerith and Tifa? They weren't here. Were they with the other Nobodies...? Had Larxene singled her out just for this fresh torture?
Larxene put her hands on her hips and smirked. "You have a puppet. And as long as he's following you around, of course you have Axel's undivided attention."
She sounded bitter. Namine just didn't understand her. But she said angrily, "That's not true!"
"There's no need to defend it," Larxene said, eyes wide. "You have victims! I can admire that in a girl!"
"I don't!"
Larxene tilted her head, one eyebrow rising delicately. "Oh? Then what would you call Roxas?"
"He's-- he's my friend," she said, but even she could tell that she was less certain. Roxas was... a lot of things, hard to quantify. A brother and a friend and a helping hand and -- someone she had wronged, when she was confused and selfish.
The predator in Larxene picked up on that effortlessly. "He's someone you took apart and put back together in a way you liked better." The words hit like a blow, the reminder, but Larxene only paused for a beat, posing with exaggerated thoughtfulness, and said slyly, "Why, I seem to recall this isn't the first time you've done such a thing! Is it working better for you now?"
"I haven't manipulated him!" Namine burst, her chest aching. "I'm-- I made amends for what I did, and he forgave me! Roxas is the one who wanted me to come with him!"
"Of course he did," Larxene said easily, smiling so wide. "Sora would have, too."
Would he? she thought, and faltered for a beat -- just a beat, and then she brought her spear up. "That's... He's not Sora," she said, even though she didn't know what that was supposed to answer.
Larxene made a sharp gesture. "No, he isn't. He's what's left of Sora."
"Are you just what's left of someone else?" Namine responded, almost reflexive. Of all of them, Larxene had been one of the ones who had never seemed to subscribe to the idea that they were particularly empty, even though she used the idea like a dagger against others.
"Nope. And he wasn't, either, until you pulled him apart," Larxene said cheerfully.
"Everything I took away I gave back!" Her reactions were getting faster, more unpredictable. She couldn't explain this agitation.
The other woman smirked. "And did you take away what you gave to him?"
She meant the memories -- Sora's memories. Namine bit her lip. "It's no more than any other Nobody has to live with," she murmured.
She couldn't help him. She had told Riku and DiZ that taking Sora apart and putting him back together again and again had stretched him too thin, that doing it again risked breaking him apart, and in the same way Roxas was approaching too much. It would be too risky to play around in his memories any more, even if he'd asked her to do it.
And to erase the last of Sora... She didn't know if she could do it.
"How in the world would you know what the rest of us have to live with?" Larxene scoffed.
Namine felt her fingers tighten on the spear. She was so scared that it was hard to breathe, hard to think more than a few beats ahead, but it still felt like -- somewhere inside her, there was a core of steel that hadn't weakened with the rest of her.
"I can see her in your memories," Namine murmured. "Nerale."
Larxene's face went blank, pale and expressionless. Namine hardly saw her move but suddenly there were daggers flying through the air with such speed that Namine hardly had time to flinch, to bring her spear up hopelessly and call up wind before she realized that they had already landed, thudding deep in the wall around her.
She'd be dead if any of those had been aimed for her.
The blonde woman was done playing games, and started to dart forward, more daggers appearing between her fingers, but she drew up short as a keyblade slammed into the ground in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.
Roxas was leaping down nimbly from the top of the long staircase leading into the chamber, barking, "Stay back, Larxene!" There was naked anger on his face.
For a brief, wild moment she was filled with relief. He'd come, finally. Roxas could fight equally with Larxene, something Namine couldn't even dream of, and even though she could hear her heartbeat ringing in her ears like strikes to an anvil -- or maybe it was his heartbeat, or maybe it wasn't either of theirs -- she had no doubt that he would win.
And Larxene turned to face him, taunting over her shoulder at Namine, "And here he is again, come to save his princess from the dragon."
Her pleasure evaporated sharply. Just like Sora, noble and misguided, someone whose faith in her she had never earned. She was weak now, helpless, just like she had been then.
Nothing had changed.
The air seemed to pulse, distort, in time with that echoing heartbeat. It felt as if her vision was going dark -- like maybe she was falling, vanishing, turning back into the nothing she'd been created from.
Forever, until a mosaic lit up far below her.
The Station of Calling. She'd only ever seen it in their memories: Sora's and Roxas's, but there was no mistaking it. Beneath her fingers, the brightly-colored glass seemed to glow with its own inscrutable light. If she looked up, she might be able to see the pattern it painted, but she didn't want to look up. As if by staying on her knees, staring at the floor, she might never have to see what was here.
"Namine?" said Roxas, and she heard him step closer to her. "This is-- We're in the Station of Calling. It's... It sounds strange, but I think this is inside my--"
"I know," she murmured. She knew where they were. And she couldn't think of anywhere she wanted to be less.
"Aww, c'mon, Namine..." Hands settled on her shoulders, but it was Sora's voice, so gentle, that made her stiffen. "Don't tell me you believed any of that."
Finally, she looked up. He was behind her -- she wouldn't have to see him. She murmured, "I don't know what to believe."
Everything she had ever thought was right or good had turned out to be wrong. All she had left was despair: her own failure, her own unhappiness, the only constants in the universe.
"Believe that Larxene never says anything unless it's to hurt someone else," Sora said, his voice darker than she had ever heard it.
Something in her chest tightened, and she managed a small laugh. "That's true," she admitted.
Roxas's voice, more strident but not as angry as it should have been, added, "I knew this would happen. Just -- forget about it. You were doing okay before she came around, right?"
Namine said nothing, her shoulders curling in slightly. Okay... She hadn't been okay. She didn't know if she'd ever been okay. But she couldn't let him think that.
"So, screw Larxene. Go back--"
"Roxas."
There was a beat of silence, something unspoken passing between Sora and Roxas, and then Roxas's expression twisted slightly, confused or dissatisfied, and he turned away, glancing at something on the other side of the mosaic.
Sora tugged on her shoulders, bringing her closer so that she could feel him against her back. It was -- strange. Maybe he was as afraid of looking at her as she was of him. Or maybe he just... understood.
"I've been meaning to tell you," he murmured. "Thank you, Namine."
He's saying that to make me feel better, she thought, closing her eyes to struggle against the feeling that she was splitting open. He'd said that he would thank her, but she'd known better than to believe he would ever remember -- or that anyone could be that generous. He was just... smiling for her.
"I didn't do anything that deserves thanks," she managed.
"You did," he insisted. "You were all alone -- in that terrible place with just those people for company. I was your first friend, wasn't I?"
She didn't want to remember, had spent so long not thinking about it. Castle Oblivion, and what life there had been like, and how stupid she had been, stupid and gullible and selfish. "That doesn't excuse what I did-- That doesn't make it okay!"
He was going to make her cry, and he would hate that.
"I didn't say it did," Sora said firmly. "But giving up on that -- letting me go -- must've been the hardest thing in the world for you. Especially knowing I'd forget all about you. So... thank you."
For all the good it had done either of them. Why didn't he really forget, she almost thought but didn't mean, her eyes squeezing shut.
"It was all I could do to make up for it," she whispered.
He squeezed her a little, "I also -- think I should apologize."
Namine lifted her head, baffled. The idea that Sora had anything to apologize for... She was the one who needed to apologize. If she'd been stronger, Sora would never have been taken apart in the first place, and Roxas would never have been involved at all.
"You're too strong," Sora said quietly, a trace of sadness in his voice. "I shouldn't have asked you to smile for me. It was a selfish thing to ask, and -- you haven't stopped smiling ever since. Even when you're not really happy."
Namine stiffened slightly. It felt -- like he could see right through her, like without ever being there he'd been watching her the whole time she had been struggling with right and wrong. She glanced up uneasily at Roxas. He had to know what they were saying, they were inside his heart, but the blond boy was looking away deliberately.
"But..." she whispered, letting it trail off.
He hadn't been wrong, back then. Smiling made people feel better. It didn't hurt them the way it did when you seemed depressed or sad. And she didn't want to hurt anyone.
What was she supposed to do?
"See?" Sora said. "You're too strong. You're the kind of person who -- would rather make other people happy than be yourself. Even if it means sacrificing yourself. ...so I'm sorry that I asked."
"But--!"
"It hurts you, and I don't want that."
Such a simple statement, and it clutched tightly at her heart, made heat sear her eyes. He had so many reasons to hate her... She curled her arms, not defensively but to find his hands anxiously with hers. "...you don't?"
"No." She heard him laugh. "C'mon, Namine. You know that."
She felt the tears build up again, this time without the frustrated, stressful feel of before. It was like she really was -- happy, in some way, even though she wanted to cry. She couldn't. Sora would hate it.
"Then I'll try," she said tightly.
More gentle than she ever would have given him credit for, Sora put his hands on her shoulders and steered her around to face him. Namine kept her head bowed, unable to stand the idea of looking at him -- not yet -- but the tears started flowing out of her control. She let her head fall onto his shoulder, her arms cling to him the way she'd always wanted, and just for a moment, she indulged in bittersweet relief.
She wished everything could be different.
It was longer than a moment, and by the time she managed to blink the tears away Sora's arms were around her as well, comforting, a little awkwardly. Although it made no sense at all, she felt... almost good.
"Crying's not all bad, see?" Sora murmured, and she smiled slightly despite herself.
Well, maybe -- crying could make someone feel good, too. Once in a while. Finally, Namine managed to make herself look up, really look at him. He was exactly as she remembered him. That same unruly brown hair, and the trusting blue eyes, and the... wonder.
"There's something else I'm sorry for," he added, his grin unfaded.
Something else? She started to shake her head, refusing to believe that there could be anything else he needed to apologize for. She didn't want him to apologize.
Sora braced his arms behind his head. "It's not really an apology. I'm just sorry because I can't fulfill the promise we made."
Namine knew immediately what promise he meant -- it came rushing back to her with almost painful familiarity. In the stark white of Castle Oblivion, the only color in its pale halls coming from Sora and his friends, she had been little more than a pale shadow herself. And even though she'd known it would never be possible, he had insisted, "This isn't goodbye! When I wake up, I'll find you again. We'll be friends for real. Promise me that!" With such fervor, such certainty, that she had wanted to believe in the impossible, no matter how much disappointment would hurt.
"I don't-- I don't need a promise," she said, feeling flustered. Namine knew that she had clung to that promise, ridiculous though it had been -- like a child to her blanket, a foolish, inconsequential source of security.
"No, it wasn't!" Sora said intently, and then lowered his eyes briefly, maybe self-conscious about hearing something she hadn't said aloud. Of course you can, she thought as warmly as she could, and he looked up, a sheepish grin on his face. "Well, Axel thought it was weird," he explained.
"I don't," she said, her lips curved up. Axel may not have known any better, but she did.
They were still close, and her face still felt hot from the tears, but it was like Sora didn't even notice. "I want to fix it, Namine. Let's make a new promise," he said.
Namine stilled, her fingers twisting into her long sleeves. So many things to say in response to that -- how could you fulfill a promise? why would you want to? does it really matter? -- but the questions didn't matter, as long as it was what he wanted. "You don't have to," was all she said, softly.
"That's what's great about it," he said, grinning wider. "I don't have to. Even Larxene can't pretend that I didn't choose this. But what can I promise...?"
For a moment Namine thought that she was imagining the shivering beneath her feet, but as she glanced down at the floor of the mosaic it grew more intent, an obvious shaking.
"I'll get back to you on that," Sora said, quick.
"I'm happy," she rushed to say, "whatever it is!"
Sora looked past her, at Roxas behind her shoulder. "Don't let her smile any more unless she means it," he scolded the blond boy.
"I know, I know," Roxas said reluctantly, and when Namine turned to face him he was closer than she'd thought.
"C'mon-- It's time." He caught at her hand, and a small, almost rueful smile crossed his lips. "We'll both try to do better, okay?"
Yes, she realized, surprised. We can do it together.
And then the light began to brighten around them, a white glow suffusing the air, and she didn't even feel it when they began to fall this time.
The first thing she was aware of was Larxene, because Larxene was the first thing that Roxas was aware of: the woman was edging back, her eyes wide and perhaps nervous, taking in the crackling white haze surrounding Roxas's body, bleaching him out. He hovered several inches above the ground and gazed lingeringly at her. The anger had been drained out of him. Now he was just -- waiting. Steady. Patient. His heart moved in the same slow, even rhythm as Namine's.
"What the hell is that supposed to be?" Larxene demanded, her voice rising. She was struggling for control, Namine thought distantly. She'd always been able to recognize it, but now it felt like opportunity.
Calm, Roxas told her, "It's called a Drive." He smiled. "It means you've lost."
He lifted his keyblade and summoned the second to his other hand. In an instant he surrounded himself with wind and slid forward, gliding over the air with unexpected speed. Larxene stumbled and then swung into motion, a handful of knives clustering in the fingers in front of her face, but Roxas was moving fast -- as fast as she was, to her visible surprise.
Namine watched them move, as if from miles away. Larxene threw her daggers and Roxas deflected them, and she barely recovered from the throw in time to block the slam of his keyblades over her head. She hurled lightning across the chamber, but he dodged almost effortlessly, as if he could feel it coming before she even sent it arcing from her body.
"When did you get so fast?" Larxene snarled. She flipped lithely away from him as he made a second pass at her, but he was right on her heels and his keyblades were there to meet her when she descended.
"Is Marluxia behind this, Larxene?" he asked, gentle even as she went sprawling and had to skid back to her feet. "Where is he?"
She laughed shortly, winded but still defiant. "You are just too funny! You think I'm going to tell--"
"Ah. Thank you."
The smile slid from Larxene's face into a stunned expression, and Namine knew that even though she hadn't been consciously a part of it, Roxas had used her ability to sample memories. She drifted slowly in their wake, following them as they moved across the chamber, Roxas slowly driving Larxene back, step by step.
Larxene's daggers slashed Roxas's arms, but he didn't even flinch. The pain didn't even register to him.
"I know you've never cared about gaining a heart, Larxene," he said simply. "But hearts are more powerful than you think."
He slid his feet, and from out of nowhere they created a wave of water, fanning out from the soles of his boots and smashing into Larxene with blunt force. She shrieked, an agonized sound, and threw her arms up to shield her face.
He murmured, "Do you know whose strength this is?"
This time was not like the last time, with Axel. He didn't enjoy causing pain, didn't enjoy the fight, but there was a lingering pleasure, a warmth that suffused him, and her by proxy -- filling the emptiness that she had been so sure was all they would feel.
Larxene couldn't answer as the water pelted her, but she was saved by Roxas's keyblades, slamming into her ribs and knocking her slight body out of the spray of the fading water.
"It's not mine. It's not Sora's," Roxas murmured.
Namine came up alongside him, her legs moving numbly -- she felt she should be close to him, felt that he wanted her near him for these last moments. It had been such a shockingly brief fight, but intense -- and Larxene's defeat was obvious. She was lying there, breathing and shaking and twitching with her own energy, her blood flowing so heavily that it dissipated into black smoke as it hit the air. The only thing left about her that was frightening was the glare of her stubborn blue eyes, and Namine found herself thinking, from very far away, Was that what I was afraid of?
"Shut up," Larxene hissed.
"This is Namine's strength, in our heart," Roxas told her, ignoring her impotent lashing. "Think about that -- after you return."
He slammed the keyblade into the woman's body, and another shriek ripped the air as she spasmed against the stone. Her body vanished in a torrent of black smoke, clouding the air around them and seeping away in the next beat, as inconsequential as the smoke it resembled.
She would probably be back when the shock to her spirit -- her soul -- whatever she had wore away, but it wouldn't matter.
"Come on, Namine," Roxas said, his voice echoing oddly in her ears. His gaze met hers, flat like hers, sad like hers. "We need to hurry. Marluxia is with Axel."
NEXT >>> The Underworld, First Visit (Part 5)