That bent back clad in black and white and gray drags up a reflexive reaction, a knee-jerk surge of anger that collides up against the wall of cold logic: he can't possibly be here. His heart has returned to that place all hearts go, where his will one day go if it can ever leave this dead and dark place.

Revenge, if not closure, has been denied him and Sora and every other heart that old bastard tried to subjugate, every soul hurt by his machinations. That fact - that he isn't available to scratch that particular, vengeful itch - is what makes Riku pause. Anything he does wouldn't change anything back home.

But he sees Vanitas. He sees him struggle on the ground, his armor rent into bright slashes, pale except where it's mottled with bruises and scars, where the slashes leak black vapor. He can't see the tears at this distance. He can see the pain and hear the old man's laughter. Both set his teeth on edge.

The blood smeared across Vanitas's cheek summons Braveheart into Riku's waiting fist.

"HEY!"

His voice carries, clear and loud across the vast and empty wasteland. Riku swings his other hand out ahead of him in a slash through the air, balls it up in a fist as he draws it back, taking a step forward, "Just can't get enough, can you?!"