[ In hindsight, Riku might recall that the worst detail is how there was almost no sound to it, the spirit's blade whispers into Vanitas and it's only when Vanitas chokes on the blood that splashes from his lips, the abrupt interruption in their skirmish that Riku realizes it's been decided all at once.
How bitter a taste when that is the moment the Keyblade at last responds to Riku's call, when it's too late to do anything about it. He'll be reminded because it rests so close to the chill that flashed through his veins when Riku found out that Kairi had drowned, somehow, just gone overnight, and not a childhood living by the water nor sleeping flanked by her protective best friends could keep her safe.
Another brick added to the growing monument of Riku's failure to protect the people who have come to matter to him, in some form or another.
Darkness billows out from Vanitas like he means to bleed a hole to drop the spirit into and Riku's chipped blade splinters apart in his hand as he lunges. There's no light because there can't be, there's just the glimmering impression of something condensing into a broader shape.
By the time he brings it down with a roar, like he'd slapshot the spirit into Vanitas' growing Corridor if he's able, what's gripped in his fist is Braveheart. ]
cw: blood
How bitter a taste when that is the moment the Keyblade at last responds to Riku's call, when it's too late to do anything about it. He'll be reminded because it rests so close to the chill that flashed through his veins when Riku found out that Kairi had drowned, somehow, just gone overnight, and not a childhood living by the water nor sleeping flanked by her protective best friends could keep her safe.
Another brick added to the growing monument of Riku's failure to protect the people who have come to matter to him, in some form or another.
Darkness billows out from Vanitas like he means to bleed a hole to drop the spirit into and Riku's chipped blade splinters apart in his hand as he lunges. There's no light because there can't be, there's just the glimmering impression of something condensing into a broader shape.
By the time he brings it down with a roar, like he'd slapshot the spirit into Vanitas' growing Corridor if he's able, what's gripped in his fist is Braveheart. ]