There's a strange exhilaration, a cathartic release in being able to just take that swing, even if it doesn't connect. Impotent frustration doesn't suit either of them. Vanitas offers a challenge and Riku cleaves to it like he's been waiting for one such opportunity, like it'll be the thing that saves him from the despair he's been staving off, looking and looking for Sora.

Neither of them bring to bear the weapons that might make this quick. All of this is happening fast, the first lunge and the counterattack, any bystanders probably only just now starting to realize a fight's broken out, and by then Riku's back has hit the edge of the bar. He arches into it, one sharp inhale sucked through his gritted teeth, his back one great bruise.

His hand grasps, not at Vanitas, but at the bar stool nearby. He finds the seat, flips it, and, grasping it by one splintered leg, swings it at the other like a bludgeon.