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After all was said and done and the dust had settled, Sora had been left feeling more discombobulated and unsettled than ever. The keyhole was sealed, the people of Hollow Bastion had been returned to their own world, the princesses had been released from their individual prisons and Kairi had her heart back. Sora had been restored from a heartless and the day was essentially saved. All should be well, right?
Except it wasn’t. Riku wasn’t here to share in it.
This entire journey had been soured by the knowledge that Riku had been struggling with such darkness. That the pitch black that had swallowed him up back on the island had eaten away at him. That each meeting between them had gotten more hostile, until finally culminating into the most intense fight Sora had ever experienced. And that all the while, Riku had believed he was in the right. That he was the “hero” simply because the keyblade was meant to be his.
It was frustrating beyond belief! Why did he think he needed to do everything by himself? Why did he insist on being the leader? The one Sora and Kairi were meant to rely on? Why did he think he couldn’t lean on them too?
Now he was just…gone. No trace of him. Only a mention of the entity that’d taken him away. The imagery of this Ansem sinking into the darkness with a smile on his face. The horrified whisper that detailed Riku’s disappearance. Not that the princess had known it was Riku in the first place, but what did that matter? Sora knew.
Sora knew his best friend was slowly but surely slipping away from him. He knew that if he didn’t reach out farther, didn’t grip Riku’s hand tighter, he’d lose him forever.
Why couldn’t he have done so when the islands first fell? He was still kicking himself over that one.
Yet, despite it all, he knew Riku was still in there.
Despite the hostility and the anger and the mockery, Riku’s good heart was still in there deep down. Sora knew because he’d seen it. Sure, he’d been a heartless at the time, but his eyes still worked. He watched as Riku held that darkness back so his friends could get away.
He was seeing it right now, gleaming in an innocuous chest hidden on a ledge high above the keyhole platform.
It’d caught his attention when he’d first tried to lock the keyhole, and it’d piqued his curiosity when he’d succeeded. He’d told Donald and Goofy to wait a moment at the bottom of the stairs, and he’d climbed up to that ledge just to examine that elusively located chest. What an odd place to try to store something away, he’d thought. Odd yet significant. There’d been a creeping suspicion that it’d been left for him.
But that wouldn’t make any sense, right? Plenty of chests had been found in strange places, containing all manner of random items. Yet none of them felt like this one did. Like they were meant for Sora to find.
He knew why once he’d opened it.
Slowly, shakily, his fingers reached up to his chest to close around the charm on his necklace. Shaped like a crown and crafted with care, smooth and cool to the touch. A symbol of a deep connection. Sora certainly believed so; he remembered the night Riku had given it to him clear as day.
‘Hold on to this,’ he’d said.
‘If you’re ever in trouble, I’ll protect you! This is my promise to you!’
It’d been a silly little promise between a couple of kids at the time, but now more than ever Sora couldn’t help but hold his charm tightly and hope against all odds that Riku would come back. That he’d make it through this darkness before it consumed him entirely. That he’d remember that he wasn’t the only one with the strength to protect what matters most.
Clearly he hadn’t gotten this through his thick skull.
Sora chuckled, something soft and bitter and humorless, as he reached down into that chest and pulled out a crown-shaped keychain. Pitch black this time, but still familiar in shape and feel. Still recognizably Riku’s work.
What had he been thinking when he made this? What had he thought when he left it in this chest? Had he expected for Sora to find it? Did he hope Sora never would? Would he have ever mentioned it?
One thing was for certain, though. It gave Sora hope.
For all the nonsense they both had been subjected to over the course of this journey, this was proof that a little bit of Riku had been fighting back this whole time. After all, why would he have made a keychain for Sora if he didn’t believe in him? Maybe this was his way of protecting him now, what with his inability to do so in person. Maybe he believed giving Sora a stronger way to defend himself would still be fulfilling that promise.
Whatever his thought process had been, Sora wouldn’t know until he found Riku and asked him himself.
So it was time he got ready to do exactly that.
Summoning his keyblade, Sora unclipped its current keychain and fastened the new one on. In both a shimmer of light and a flash of darkness, it transformed into black, ornate steel. Intimidating to look at from its intricate teeth to its batwing handguard. From the chains that ran its length to the sharp tip at the end. It looked like the sort of weapon to tear its wielder’s enemies apart. Fitting.
A rustle from his hoodie reminded him that he wasn’t completely alone. Jiminy peeked out from his spot on Sora’s shoulder, examining the keyblade for himself with a sense of awe.
“Well now, would’ya look at that? That looks like quite the powerful key you’ve got there, Sora.”
“It is,” Sora nodded. He could feel it. This key would protect him well. And when he swung it, every lesson he’d learned from Riku from every spar would come to life through it. This was a gift he’d treasure just as fiercely as the necklace. And he’d make sure to say thank you the next time he and Riku met.
“What do you want to call it? I’ll add it to the ole journal.”
Right. He’d have to give this one a name too. Oathkeeper had been pretty easy: a promise to return a lucky charm that Sora intended to fulfill. But this key… This promise had no end. Sora expected to spend the rest of his life with Riku at his side. There’d never be a fulfillment to keep.
Maybe he’d name it for the darkness it was born from, then. A reminder for the rest of time of the trials he and Riku had been through to reach this point. An incentive to get stronger. To never let this happen to them again. To forge new memories over old burdens.
Then he’d name it…
“Oblivion.”