A black screen later, Roxas, Hayner, Chumlee, and Olette are sitting atop the tower again. Championship Daddy here has not purchased ice cream for them, so they’re sitting there admiring him as he admires the Struggle trophy. It must have been a pain to lug that giant thing all the way up here, but he has a purpose in mind: one by one, he plucks the marbles off the trophy and tosses them–when they’re on a ledge three stories high!–to each of his friends. Olette gets the yellow one, Hayner the red, Chumlee the green (of course he is the one who almost drops his), and Roxas pockets the blue one for himself. I guess this is what they all meant by splitting the Struggle prize four ways, because it sure doesn’t seem like any munny came of this exercise.
(Sidebar: does the town commission a new Struggle trophy each year for the winner, like the Lombardi Trophy, or is the same trophy passed from champion to champion, like the Stanley Cup? I hope it’s not the latter, because a gang of teens just dismantled it for parts, so they could all have a participation trophy! MILLENNIALS AM I RIGHT)
Roxas holds his blue ball–hee hee–to the light of the setting sun. “As promised,” he says. He’s a good friend after all! Good thing everyone else in this competition sucked so Roxas could win! Why, it’s almost like the very fabric of reality is rigged in his favor. NAH. His friends thank him, all holding their marbles out toward the sun too, and Hayner says, “One more treasure for us to share.” He is quite the sentimental sap, isn’t he? But Olette is the actual fucking MVP here, as usual, as she whips out her present for the group: four sea salt popsicles! YEAH GIRL. ICE CREAM. Chumlee really needs to come up with a contribution to the group or they’re going to replace him with Vivi.
Roxas gets so excited about this ice cream they’ve eaten damn near every day of his existence that he leaps to his feet, but he immediately stumbles on the ledge and, as static starts obscuring the view, he tumbles off the clock tower, probably to his death unless he’s secretly a cat. The static becomes a full blackout. Farewell, Roxas! You died as you lived–confused and horny (for ice cream).
This new Power Rangers origin story leaves a lot to be desired.
This time, the onset of static doesn’t lead to a restoration screen (probably since Roxas is dead now), or flashbacks to Junior’s adventures in annoying me. Instead, we open on a familiar girl in a schoolgirl uniform, walking down a dirt road at sunset as a familiar theme plays in the background. “Kairi! Wait up!” another girl calls to her from offscreen. Indeed, Kairi–the current version with longer hair and developing boobs–turns around and smiles as Selphie catches up to her. Selphie also looks older, but still has the same stupid flippy hairstyle, so the difference isn’t as pronounced. “Hey, do you feel like going out to the island?” Selphie asks. You know how enough years of hard living, scotch, and cigarettes can frog up your voice? There must be a similar effect from years of Fun Dip and giggling, and Selphie has it. “[Tightass] and Wakka are all wrapped up in their ball game and they won’t go with me,” she complains. Translation: Tightass and Wakka are necking behind the bleachers. (Sorry, everyone, but you know I’m right.) Kairi looks sad for a minute and says she has to pass today. Instead of going out there her damn self and having fun, Selphie’s all, “Aw, why not?”
Is that Mt. Vesuvius in the background, ready to cover this island with ash? If so, I am here for it.
Thankfully, Selphie’s (admittedly understandable) inability to enjoy her own company provides Kairi an excuse to ask about something that’s been on her mind. “Do you remember those boys who used to hang out with us?” she asks. Selphie immediately remembers Riku, and says she sure misses him. SAME. Kairi cryptically tells Selphie that Riku is far away, “But I know we’ll see him again.” So help me god, woman, if you are lying I will come for you. But Kairi insists there was another boy. Nope! Don’t remember another boy. You’re crazy and wrong. Selphie’s all, “What other boy?” and I could kiss her. Kairi replies, “The one who was with Riku and me all the time–we played together on that island. His voice always used to be there…but now it’s gone. I can’t think of his face, or his name. I feel awful about it.” I don’t know. Sounds like the universe did your ass a favor, Kairi.
“So I told myself–I’m not going to the island until I remember everything about him,” she says. But what if going to the island would jog her memories of him? Like, please don’t remember him, Kairi–you’ll be happier for it, I promise–but if you’re really invested in bringing that horror back upon yourself, this seems like a bad strategy. Selphie asks, “Are you sure you didn’t make him up?” Why have I spent all this time hating on Selphie? She’s fucking great. But speaking of voices, Kairi hears one now: it’s Roxas, and he’s all, “Naminé?” I can’t imagine why–the two ladies are TOTALLY DIFFERENT. Kairi frowns and massages her forehead as static blocks out this scene as well.
Back to Roxas, still falling off the tower in slow motion. “Naminé…?” he thinks. “What’s happening to me?” Well, you’re falling to your death, for starters. I’d maybe focus on that. In his head, Kairi’s voice asks, “Who are you? And that’s not my name. I’m Kairi.” This rings a bell to Roxas, who identifies Kairi as “that girl he likes.” WE’RE NOT JUST OBJECTS TO BE COVETED OR DISCARDED, ROXAS. You ass. When Kairi wonders who “he” is, “I’m Roxas” is all Roxas can say. Again, maybe because he’s about to crack his head like a walnut on the pavement. “Okay, Roxas,” Kairi asks, fucking exasperated, “but can you tell me HIS name?” If I were either one of these kids I would have hung up the telepathy phone by now. This is not a functional conversation.
As if things weren’t fucking weird enough, a third voice gets on the conference call. “You don’t remember my name?” Junior asks, but his voice has apparently changed while trapped in that artichoke. Voice actor puberty is a bitch, right guys? “Thanks a lot, Kairi!” Junior, as Roxas’s unsecured blond melon is inching closer to Splatville, whines that he will give Kairi a hint: that his name starts with an “S.” Stinkbutt? Shit-Eating Grin Boy? Wait, is it…Steve Bannon? OH NO.
The screen goes black again, and to spare us the sight of Roxas’s broken body on the cobblestones, we cut to Kairi, who has fainted in the middle of the road, but in a very strong lady manner, I’m sure. Selphie helps her up and asks if she’s okay. She is, and the two of them stare off into the sunset, which is casting a glow on the island where they had all their childhood adventures and Junior and Riku fought over force-feeding a piece of fruit to a girl neither of them liked that way. And that girl smiles now as she takes off at a run for the shore. I guess she remembers Junior now? Or maybe this psychic Google hangout was so awful that she’s freed herself from worrying about remembering anymore. Time for a beach party with all her friends who still exist! Not you, Tightass.
At the shore, Kairi stoops and pulls a glass bottle with a cork in it from her bag, and drops it into the water. Selphie’s all, “What’s that?” like she’s never heard of a message in a bottle before. Or maybe she has, but she’d never seen anyone dumb enough to try it in real life. “A letter…I wrote it yesterday, to the boy I can’t remember.” Kairi replies. “I said that no matter where he is…I’ll find him. One day.” I mean, I guess if you don’t know his name or where he is or anything at all about him, there’s no way your chances of successfully delivering a letter to him could diminish, so you may as well stick it in a fucking milk bottle and throw it in the ocean. Can’t hurt!
Unfortunately, the promise was that she would never write Junior letters, because he can’t read.
“And when I stopped writing,” Kairi goes on, “I remembered we made a promise, something important. This letter is where it starts. I know it.” Kairi sounds absolutely bonkers right now, so Selphie just goes, “Wow…I hope he gets it.” Like Chumlee and Olette did earlier to Roxas, she is mentally downgrading Kairi to a sometimes friend as I type this. Kairi, of course, is confident this dude who’s barely on the edge of her consciousness like a fading dream will get this letter she wrote with no address or name and chucked into the sea. Sure! Why wouldn’t he? Static interferes again, and Kairi goes, “Right, [Junior]? Except her mouth gets all distorted and she says the syllables like an AI voice that’s pronouncing something unfamiliar phonetically. So I guess Kairi is a robot? Maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to go swimming on the island anymore.
Finally, we learn, “Restoration at 79%.” He’s almost there! He remembers Kairi, and she almost sort of remembers him. All that’s left is remembering what an intellectually barren fuckboy he is. Back in Saruman’s hacking hut, Saruman calls Junior’s progress “astounding,” as Ziggy plays catch behind him with the blue orb from the Struggle trophy. God, can they let this poor fake child have anything? This is getting cruel. He tucks the orb into Olette’s munny pouch–seriously, this is mean–as Saruman explains, “Naminé’s encounter with Roxas put his heart in contact with Kairi’s. And that, in turn, affected [Junior].” To be a fly on the wall when Christopher Lee had to record these lines. I wonder if his eyes ever unrolled.
Ziggy deadpans that Naminé is a “wonder,” and Saruman explains that away, too: “She wasn’t born like other Nobodies. She can interfere with the hearts and memories of [Junior] and those aligned with him.” Oh! Well, don’t bog me down with details, guy. How that all works couldn’t be more self-evident! I am waving my arms around right now, to illustrate how much sense this all makes. “But whose Nobody is she?” Ziggy wants to know. Fucking really, man? How in the world have you not figured that out by now? Babies born an hour ago already know this. And I know this is the first we’ve really heard of Nobodies “belonging” to anyone, or for that matter, that Naminé is a Nobody, and that some Nobodies look like people and not Lady Gaga’s backup dancers. But Ziggy, for sure, already knew that stuff, so he still sounds like a moron.
“I could tell you…” Saruman replies. “But first, perhaps you could tell me your true name?” Ooh! TWIST. Or Saruman has deduced that someone who can’t figure out Naminé and Kairi are the same person might have problems with other core concepts. But in response, Ziggy whips off his hood, and with his face and his voice he tells us, “It’s Ansem.” Shit! Ziggy was Billy Zane this whole time! But not Billy Zane! My mind is fucking blown, along with yet another nickname. Saruman is apparently pleased by this answer, judging by the full-throated villain laugh he lets out. This man was a treasure. “It’s an honor, Ansem!” he says. I am like 99 percent sure this is sarcasm and he already knew exactly who he was, but then again, I thought Ansem maybe could have pieced together that Naminé was Kairi after she went through too hot a cycle in the washing machine.
Moving on! We transition from Saruman’s mirthful, bandaged face to a white room filled with white thrones on tall white columns (I’m not counting them, but I’m guessing 13 or so), around a white platform etched with the Heartless-adjacent symbol that’s come to represent the Nobodies. As the camera uses some truly stupid angles to show off this room, and I feel like I have an obstructed view seat at a football game, we can see that the chairs are all at different heights. Sitting upon one in the middle of the pack height-wise is Axel, and he’s looking up at two other hoods in the two tallest seats. Each throne also has the Nobody symbol on its back, and when it’s upside-down like this it really looks like this group took a scrotum attached to three dicks as its sigil. Or three dicks crossing each other like swords, but only one set of balls. I don’t know–I’m not the artist they commissioned for their club logo.
Axel is in the middle of yelling at his two bosses, as sad piano music makes it clear this isn’t a happy meeting, and there will not be cake served. “No way! It’s too soon! You can’t seriously get rid of him.” The “him” here is certainly Roxas, since Axel is all worked up about it. He’s gesticulating and everything! The guy on the highest perch replies in a gravelly voice, “It’s an order. Why do you hesitate?” Because THEY’RE IN LOVE, idiot. “You, who has been ruthless towards those who turned their backs on the Organization.” Axel insists Roxas is different because he can’t, rather than won’t, come back to them. I don’t know, it sure seemed like he was consciously refusing, but again, I am so far in the weeds on this story that I have dandelions in my hair.
Sure it isn’t.
El Jefe doesn’t care, and simply tells Axel that he knows what must be done if Roxas doesn’t come back, either way. To make his point–ha, good one–he summons a floating blue spear, with a point shaped like a wolf’s head, and casually lets it fly at Axel’s head. It lands with a thunk in his throne, an inch from his ear, shaving off a few precious beautiful red hairs. This fucking jerk marred my man! Burn him. But apparently this wasn’t even the real threat. Once he’s magically retrieved the spear, he conjures up a bolt of black lightning and holds it in the air between them. “So you’ll turn me into a Dusk…” Axel mutters. El Jefe says nothing, but he doesn’t have to–Axel is back in line. He must be worried about fitting into one of those tight zippered jumpsuits. They leave nothing to the imagination, and he’s been stress-eating since Roxas bounced on him. Pouting, Axel finally says, “All right. I’ll do it! If that’s what you want.” And scene! Nothing like ordering a guy to murder his boyfriend to really boost morale. Cake probably would have helped.
Roxas, meanwhile, is falling head-first through inky blackness, and I hope to god he’s kicking himself for that “I’m Roxas” answer he gave Kairi earlier. I mean, smooth move, Ex-Lax. He’s about to wake up for another day of mindfucking–or he’s dead! Who even knows anymore? Maybe we’re all dead. Whatever. Assuming he’s alive for his fifth day, join me for that–and hopefully the end of Roxas’s existential nightmare–in part 3. Should be a laugh a minute!