The other could've stood still and the result would've been the same; if Riku hadn't hastened to close the distance, he would have. He'll be damned: Riku. Is he--? No. No. He's not seeing things--he's relatively sure of that. His mind has been his own for some time again, and when it hadn't, his visions had fixated on older chapters of his life, ones from the Badlands and beyond. He doesn't think his imagination has enough in it to re-produce Riku to the same degree of detail as the ring of flickering torchlight picks out when the other boy steps into it.

All intact, all accounted for. He rakes him from head to toe with his gaze, scarcely believing. "What do you mean what's wrong?" he snaps. "Where have you been!?"

His anonymous informant had said to expect as much--that Riku would likely reappear on his own time--but he hadn't embraced the words, only the gaps between them, the lies by omission that left room for doubt. The Badlands may be far behind him, but the marks it'd left lives on in the scars on his arms and his expectation of the worst: a hundred nameless, faceless people could him tell not to worry, but only omissions counted for anything until his eyes decided the truth.

"What happened to you?" Said eyes stay locked on the immediate cause for alarm--the one and only that matters. The sight of Riku whole and here loosens the torrent of questions that have been building up in his absence. "Where were you? Are you okay?"