A Kingdom Hearts fan fiction, following the events of KH2 (influenced by 358/2 Days).


Nothing can last forever.

A boy without a name remembered that, and thought it sensible, but what was forever? What was nothing?

He’d responded to a word like that once, yet Nothing wasn’t quite right. What other ways were there to say the same thing? Nothing, naught, nonentity, nobody. Nobody. This new word resonated better in the boy’s mind, and he distinctly stirred. However, even the familiar call of his designation didn’t pull him completely from slumber.

The boy whose name was starting to return was comfortable in the afterlife; after death. He’d had no expectations of what lay for him on the other side, and so he had received exactly that when he passed on. Now he seemed to be in a deep sleep that had lasted for as long as he could recall, except he could recollect just one other sleep. He’d been held unconscious for something important then, he thought. He’d been acquainted with someone important. They’d been related in a way. Gaps pervaded the boy’s reminiscing, frustrating him. The blank space was not so dissimilar from the oblivion surrounding him.

Oblivion. There was another word that struck a chord within his soul; he would have said his heart, instead, but somehow he knew he didn’t have one. Oblivion conjured an image of a foreboding weapon that he simply knew was his, once. The outline that lingered in his mind transfixed him, and drew him away from his brief, child-like emotional distress. It was quite unlike him, to be so unreasonable, that is. “Darkness,” Roxas whispered, reading the character contained within the teeth of the imaginary blade ().

As he invoked the aura that suited him much more than light, Roxas’ consciousness shifted wholly to this strange limbo; his remaining spirit no longer reached towards Heaven, or whatever that place might be called. All the pieces to his brain’s fragmented puzzle-form abruptly began to fall in place once more. Riku was Sora’s dear friend, whom Oblivion served in remembrance of. Sora was the reason for Roxas’ existence, and subsequent lack of being. Namine and Axel...were faces that had eluded him, though he hadn’t been aware he was actively seeking them.

A Roxas with a fully regained consciousness recovered movement in one world, and where he woke was an alien place.

Roxas stared around him at the forest of sky-high mushrooms which blotted out the morning’s sun. The growths were of monstrous proportions, all at least six feet above his height, if not more. White polka dots decorated the broad surfaces of red caps, and somehow the particular shade of carmine managed to convey the message, “I’m not poisonous”. That was a relief, at least. Artfully bright green grass blanketed the solid ground beneath his feet, and somewhere in the distance Roxas could trace the scent of smoke blowing his way. What his senses took in was, plainly put, too overwhelming. Roxas’ first reaction was to draw forth Oathkeeper and Oblivion.

The feel of each respective hilt in the dual set was reassuring. A different weight pulled down his hand on either side. He hadn’t lost himself to Sora completely if he could still summon his own unique Keyblades – though a good question to ask would enquire why he was still separate from his other half. Roxas cautiously brought Oathkeeper down on his left, while he gave Oblivion a brief twirl in his right palm. Despite the fantastic qualities of this alternate universe, he was sure it was real. This wasn’t another of DiZ’s fictions; this was an honest-to-goodness authentic dream. Only, whose was it, and why was he here? He remembered becoming lost.

“You’re not where you think you are, Roxas.”

The End

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