Kingdom Hearts: The Dark World

Chapter 8-2: Aster

Aiden continued to wrestle with the thought of having to sit out being able to intervene with the various situations going on simultaneously. From the Dark World, to Xerxes, to the countless worlds he would have to save from the darkness once he does recover, it consumed his thoughts much more rapidly than any heartless ever could. Now, all he could do was lumber about the hut to try to get his bearings, and to distract himself from the invited guest that would be coming to see him. Whatever Aster may have come for, there's a good chance it couldn't be important, he thought. Part of him did want to see her though, if for no good reason than to have a distraction.

"He's right in here," Master Ghent said to someone, motioning that they go into the hut. Aster came from behind the curtains, giddy with her bright smile, still wearing blue and purple all around. Her smile dispersed when she saw Aiden's state.

"Aiden! What happened to you?", she screeched.

"I....got in a fight."

"Who were you fighting? You've been roughed up pretty bad."

She didn't know he was a keyblade warrior. She also didn't know he had a heartless. Aiden, remembering this, didn't know how to proceed. Would it be a good idea to let her in on what he does for a living, along with telling her there's a doppelganger of himself that's world hopping and causing disarray for every place he visits? His eyes fell off to Master Ghent for direction. Ghent shook his head. Therefore, Aiden abstained telling Aster the truth. About anything.

"Just some guy," he finally said.

"Well this guy needs to be taught a lesson. Where is he now?"

"That....ugh....won't be necessary."

"What do you mean? Look at you. No, he needs to know that this isn't okay. If there's one thing I can't stand it's a bully."

"Trust me, it's not worth it."

"Hmm, well, if you say so," she relented, "Still, I'm going to make you some herbal medicine. I'll be right back."

Aster disappeared for an hour. As he waited for her, Aiden's eyes became heavy, struggling to stay wide open for the duration of her absence. Before he could, she came back with her "medicine". This medicine she had brought for him was inside of a small wooden bowl. When she bent down to her knees to feed it to him, he saw it was just a blue gooey liquid. There was no smell to it.

"What is it?", he asked.

"An old family recipe, cliché as it is to say. Something my mom used to make me whenever I fell ill. Works wonders for most symptoms. Open up."

She spoonfed Aiden the soup. The soup had an extremely bitter taste to it. Enough to make Aiden spit it out on the carpet next to her.

"UGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!", he repulsed, "Disgusting!"

"Were you expecting sea salt ice cream?", she asked him sarcastically.

"Anything else."

Aster shook her head. "Sorry, the berries used to make the soup are very bitter to the taste. Adding any sugar or sweeteners to the soup would cancel out any of its medicinal properties. If I could make it taste better I would, but this is the most I can do for you."

"No," Aiden sat up, "Thank you. It's very generous of you. What do you call it?"

"We....actually never named it."

"You didn't? But I thought you said it was a family recipe."

"It is. We never thought to name it because there was no reason for it."

"You're going to have to call it something. It can't just be be called healing soup."

Aster chuckled shyly, "Why don't you help me come up with one then?"

"I'm.....not so great at naming things. My own ship doesn't even have a name."

That one slipped out.

"Wait, you have a ship?"

"No, no, no, I meant...."

"Where is it? I wanna see it!"

Master Ghent stepped in and cleared his throat, "Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Aster, but Aiden must go back to resting. You may leave the soup by the table to your left."

"Oh....", Aster was a bit stunned. Visiting hours have always been a thing, she thought to herself. She left the soup on the table as instructed and walked over to Aiden. She picked up his hand and held it in her soft palms. "I hope you feel better, Aiden. I have to get back to my shop anyway, but whenever I have free time, I'll come see you to see how you're doing. If that's okay with you and your......"

"I am his teacher," Ghent said to Aster.

"Your teacher," she finished. "Teacher, huh? Fun lessons I hope."

"The fun never ends," Aiden said sarcastically.

"Heh, okay then. Feel better, Aiden."

"Thank you for coming."

"You're welcome," Aster's palms slid across Aiden's hand as she let go, and she wandered outside of the curtains. Aiden had been puzzled by Ghent's reluctance in revealing their affairs to her.

"People know who I am except for her," Aiden said to his master, "Why didn't you let me tell her?"

"True, everyone knows who you are. But they don't know what you do. Not all of what you do. That's the part we must keep secret, especially from prying or wandering bodies. What we do ensures the safety of all others. And the people of this city know not of our affairs outside of the wars. Not the planets, not of the castle, not of Nobodies, and.....not of Stitch."

"You think it'd be a source of disorder don't you?"

"There's no denying the ramifications of it. That's why we must keep what we do, what we actually do, a secret."

"I....I think I understand."

"Mmmm. Help yourself to the soup."

Aiden reached for the bowl to finish the soup. For as bitter as it was, he knew finishing it would be beneficial to his health. His master left him a lot to think about though. The citizens of Lunar City only knew so much about the Keyblade Wars. Only as much as the Council of Masters would ever want them to know. For their own safety, much of the details of the war were kept under wraps, particularly the many chronicles detailing the heartless. Excluded were the numerous worlds, newfound heartless forms, heartless created from the deceased, the existence of nobodies, and the locations of the fallen warriors. Things were very black and white. Light and dark have always been at opposite ends of the spectrum. Separating these powers was the neutrality of the color that they forge. A necessity of all wars; the gray.