The stars were just beginning to blink awake above the island, but Kairi barely saw them. She sat at the base of the old paopu tree, head bowed low, her hands gripping the fabric of her skirt so tightly her knuckles had gone white. The world felt too big, too loud, too empty without Sora.
She sensed Riku approaching, but, she didn’t lift her head. She just spoke, her voice rough and hollow.
“Everyone keeps telling me to be patient. To be strong. To believe he’ll come back…” Her breath hitched, a shaky, broken sound. Kairi pressed her hands against her chest like she could hold herself together, but it wasn’t working.
“I’m tired, Riku.” Her words were almost a whisper now, choked and ragged. “I’m tired of pretending I’m okay. Tired of fighting for a tomorrow that feels like it’s slipping further away.” Finally, she lifted her head, and there was no hiding the devastation in her eyes — the way she shook, barely holding herself up.
“I don’t want to do this alone. I can’t,” she said, her voice breaking completely. “If you leave too… I don’t think I’ll survive it.” Without waiting, Kairi reached out — not with hope, not even with strength — but pure, desperate need. A silent, pleading request: stay.
┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆ starter — tenebrave

















