Vanitas. [ Riku peers up at M.K. through the silver veil of his hair and says flatly: ] We're not friends.

[ Even if he looks like something a little more than a bizarre palette swap of his best friend - bulkier, harder, as if he spent his years in battle against everyone and everything for the sake of it instead of in the warmth and light of childhood friendships and footraces on the beach.

They're not friends. Not enemies, either.

He hasn't tried to define what it is, that makes him want to butt heads with Vanitas and yet concerns himself with the fact that he seems to be actively grieving in his own way. Riku doesn't try to. Not everything needs a name, not everything has a slot suited perfectly for every piece.

Riku sits because if these guys were going to rip him to pieces they would have, and he takes calculated risks trusting anyone already. ]

They're not shadows and they're not puppets either. I've met both.

[ He controlled the darkness in a way I haven't seen before. ]

You have a lot of experience seeing people control the darkness?