Prologue:
Day 3: In Which Roxas Meets And Loses His Heart
Roxas paused against the edge of the platform, hovering for a quiet moment in the black nothingness all around him. Behind the door had been only another platform, and beyond the platform had been a staircase leading to another platform; something (the inexplicable hope that maybe one of these stained glass mosaics wouldn't depict Sora) kept Roxas going, upward and upward. But each staircase only led to another shade of Sora, and each platform only illuminated yet another staircase. And each staircase, each platform, was riddled with hidden enemies, the same silver creatures that had plagued him for the last few days.
It felt like he had been climbing these stairs for hours, fighting off monsters every step of the way. The keyblade should've been heavy in his hand. He should've been shaking with exhaustion.
Roxas lifted his head and eyed the door across from him. He hadn't seen a door since coming into this seemingly endless spiral of stairs and platforms, what felt like so long ago.
He wasn't tired at all.
It's natural. This place isn't the real world. You don't get tired the way you would there. And the door is so close...
Roxas's feet were moving before he even knew it, quickening his pace to rush across the mosaic. He was almost there. Finally something was about to change. He was so close...
"Don't be Sora," he whispered as he put his hand on the doorknob.
...hey.
He entered the new room with some trepidation, the only sound his sneakers squeaking on the stained glass floor and his own heartbeat in his ears, but hesitance quickly gave way to indignation. The door only opened up onto another platform with no doors, no stairs: only Roxas, and blackness, and the same cruel pattern -- Sora again, darker in color, twilight evoked by the stained glass panels.
It was ridiculous to be angry. No one had told him that there would be anything special beyond the door, only that whispering certainty in the back of his mind, but he still felt betrayed -- manipulated.
Yes, manipulated was a good word. And he was so sick of being manipulated.
He strode out into the center of the platform and looked around, scowling, almost daring something to happen. Answering his challenge, something flickered in the corner of his eye; Roxas whirled around, keyblade at the ready, but he caught only a hint of something dark, what might have been a figure vanishing into the black surroundings. Eyes narrowed, Roxas kept himself ready, and realized with alarm that the door he had come through was gone.
As he watched, something large and white spilled up from beneath the platform, curling around the mosaic almost like fingers... Roxas regretted the thought the moment he had it, because the fingers levered up the rest of the creature -- vast, enormous, looming above him like the buildings of [_____]. It resembled, in a way, the silvery creatures that he had fought on his way up, in the way that a grown dinosaur might resemble its newborn counterpart -- so much stronger-looking, so much more vicious, so immense.
It was reaching for him with its other hand, twisted and boneless and undulating.
Something snapped into place, so natural and so strong that Roxas hardly even noticed until he was lunging for the monster fearlessly, raising his keyblade high to strike the creature's hand away. Suddenly nothing seemed to faze him; he was filled with a cool detachment, and pain and shock seemed miles away -- when stinging white-and-black energy bound him high in the air, he tested his restraints and used the give to strike the unwary creature, and when the creature knocked the platform swinging and sent Roxas plummeting through the air, he righted himself with a cat's instinct and hurled the keyblade straight at the monster, sending both of them crashing hard to a platform far below.
Despite himself, that landing knocked the sense out of Roxas for a heartbeat. When he felt like he had control of his limbs again, he pushed himself awkwardly to his feet, still dazed, and found the keyblade had landed beside him. The sight of it returned his determination, and his features set. Roxas grabbed the keyblade and darted across the floor for the stunned monster, laying into its head ruthlessly with a flurry of blows. When the creature finally straightened, it spat more of the black-and-white energy at him, more self-defense than offense this time, but Roxas knew, he knew how to twist the energy passing beneath him, how he could use it to propel himself up, and up, closer to the monster's face to strike again, hard.
When he heard its silent cry ringing between his ears, he knew he had won. Roxas landed on his feet again lightly, a cool smile twisting his lips up as the creature reeled away from him, shuddering and shaking in its death throes. That's what you get, he thought, or maybe that was him thinking, Yeah, I got it! Finally!
He glanced up at it with a frown and realized suddenly that it was about to fall again -- right on top of him. He brought the keyblade up quickly in self-defense, but it vanished right out of his hand... and with it his last shred of whatever control he'd held over this situation, whatever surreal calm he'd possessed up until now, as quickly as if it had never existed at all.
Roxas gaped at his empty hand, then at the rapidly-descending monster. "Sh, shit--" He scrambled back, but too late -- the creature hit the platform and exploded into smoke directly above him.
No, Roxas realized. It was too thick to be smoke, and when it rushed out to envelope Roxas it was like ice numbing his skin
(no not the ice not like this)
"Come on!" he cried, struggling against swirling darkness that seemed to be dragging him down against his own sudden swell of panic. He was reaching out, but he couldn't find purchase. The keyblade will come, whispered the voice in his head. This has happened before, and the darkness couldn't take you. The keyblade will... Wait... It isn't coming? But why...?
Roxas took a deep breath and held it tightly as his head sank into the frigid vapor, held it for as long as he could, praying for something. But he never expected a small, cool hand to take his, tugging him gently as if to lead him down a sunlit path, and only that somehow managed to chase all the darkness away.
All at once he could breathe again, and he sat up sharply -- he was lying on a white marble floor. The whole room was white, almost oppressively so, but he was grateful to be able to see at all after all that emptiness. When he finally focused enough to look around, his eyes caught on the only spot of color in the room.
It was her, the girl from before: in her simple white dress and with her slight little smile, perched on the edge of a dais with her hands knotted in her lap, as if she'd been waiting for him all this time.
Kairi?
"Who?" Roxas said, numb.
"My name is Namine," said the girl serenely.
Namine. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and it took a moment before he realized that she'd answered his question. Roxas seized on that desperately, demanding, "What's been going on? What's all this about?! Tell me!"
"It's not about what, Roxas," she murmured. "It's about who." Namine watched him for a moment, and then added, more gently, as if the words might hurt him, "Do you remember your true name?"
He was so goddamn tired of feeling lost. Roxas's hands curled into fists at his side, and he echoed, "My true name-- What's that supposed to mean?"
Namine leaned forward, her fingers curling tighter, so that they looked white against her pale skin. "Think about it, Roxas," she urged. "There can only be one answer."
Behind her there came a sharp swell of darkness, almost out of nowhere and man-height in less than a heartbeat. A figure in a black robe strode through and caught Namine by her arm, pulling her to her feet and twisting just enough to wrench a small, distressed sound from her. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.
A reflexive protest -- 'you can't treat girls like that' as much as 'hey I want her to answer me' -- caught in Roxas's throat when the man spoke. Wait just a damn second, he knew that voice. "Hey! You're the guy who stole Olette's wallet!" Roxas's jaw tightened: now he was pissed off.
The dark figure turned to stare at Roxas from deep beneath his hood -- nothing was visible of his face -- and then suddenly released Namine, who staggered back and curled her arms around herself, watching. She didn't do anything as the man in black approached Roxas.
Who... Who is he...?
Who cares?!
With almost casual, astonishing strength, the man in the black coat lifted him by the collar of his shirt and tossing him through the portal while he was still trying to wish the keyblade into his hand with nothing for his troubles but frustration.
Roxas stirred vaguely, aware of lying prone again, and this time -- ugh, there was dirt in his mouth. He spat it out and rolled to his hands and knees dizzily. Damnit-- Damnit. Where was he now?
A sudden snap alerted him, and he glanced up to see Fuu with a camera, waving a photograph to dry it.
"C'mon, Seifer, strike another pose-- Aww, he's waking up," Rai said from behind her, crestfallen.
She took a picture of me, while I was unconscious? What the?
"What the hell are you doing," Roxas demanded flatly.
Are these my friends?
Seifer turned to him with a smirk. "We figured, after you brought those freaky things here and got us all agitated... You owed us a little something." He passed Fuu's picture to Roxas.
The picture showed Seifer flexing over his unconscious body. Are you kidding me-- His hand clenched around it and he scowled. If they wanted it back, they'd have to pry it from his cold dead hand.
Seifer only shrugged. "Keep it. We've got more." He headed back to the bench.
...No. Do I have friends?
Roxas bristled defensively, although why he -- wasn't quite sure. He couldn't shake the feeling he was missing out on a conversation with someone. Instead, he asked Seifer, "What happened to the monsters?"
"Monsters?" Rai burst out laughing. "You've got some imagination, y'know?"
"Shut it," Seifer told him, sharp. Without looking at Roxas, he said, "Who knows? They were here one moment, gone the next. Probably scared." He smirked.
Roxas rolled his eyes. "Of you?"
"...Roxas?"
Shit! He spun around, wide-eyed. Hayner and the others didn't look too happy to see him.
Wait... I don't... Who are these people? ...where am I?
All at once Roxas felt suddenly different -- free, in control of himself, and at the same time isolated and calmer. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, h, hey guys." God, it was forever ago -- where was he supposed to be? Well, he's obviously not there.
Hayner stared at him, his expression taut but unreadable. His gaze flickered between Seifer and Roxas. On noticing him, Seifer called avidly, "Hey, chickenwuss. You didn't come to play, by any chance?" He spread his arms, encouraging, and seemed to ignore Roxas standing between them, like his presence was nothing unusual.
Fury twisted Hayner's face in the instant before he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Sandlot, snapping, "Let's go."
"Hayner--" Pence started, but the taller boy didn't hesitate, and with an uneasy glance back at Roxas he followed, Olette equally anxious on his heels.
"Hey-- Wait up!" Roxas called, sparing one last glare at Seifer. He was not helping. He had to run to catch up to Hayner's speed-walking, and said breathlessly, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Was I-- Did I hold you guys up?" He glanced up at the station tower and almost did a double-take when he saw the time.
Olette tried a weak smile. "You... played with Seifer today?"
"What? Come on! No way. That jerk was just trying to get on my nerves," Roxas said, a little rushed, a little pleading.
Pence finally looked at him, but Hayner was still ignoring him steadfastly.
"Well," Olette said, as if determined to keep conversation going, "where did you go, then?"
After a beat, Roxas glanced down at his sneakers. "Someone wanted me to meet them at the mansion. But I was jumped by some more of those-- the guys that took the picture, remember?"
"Really? What'd they want this time?" Pence said, almost curious.
"As far as I could tell, they wanted a fight." He was definitely not going to give Pence even more conviction that they were after him in particular.
More like herself, Olette frowned and asked, "A fight? Were you hurt?"
All the injuries and pains he'd suffered during the battle with the giant monster were gone; he hadn't noticed until she asked. "No... No, I think I'm okay." That didn't sound very plausible, so he added, "It looks like Seifer's gang got away fine too." There. Witnesses were present.
"What, they got attacked, too?" Pence said, now caught up in the story. "For their photos?"
"Uh, no, the -- thieves didn't seem to be looking for photos this time. Maybe they wanted revenge," he tried, joking a little.
"Revenge? Man, these guys are totally out of hand," Pence said, shaking his head in amazement. "Someone should tell the police!"
"Yeah, someone should." But Roxas wasn't really interested in the police. He was walking beside Hayner now, and the other boy still hadn't said a word, his jaw tight.
After a few beats of silence, Roxas's covert stares became obvious. Hayner said, grudgingly, "Glad you're not hurt."
Well, that was something. Roxas murmured, "I'm really -- really sorry, you guys." He had to stop apologizing, or defending himself lamely. It was all going to look pale in comparison to not getting to go to the beach.
And ditching his friends.
Roxas said avidly, "Hey-- how about tomorrow? We can go tomorrow, right?"
Hayner stopped walking completely, his expression shuttered tight again. "...Tomorrow?"
Roxas stumbled to a stop, realizing he had made a terrible error and not sure why. "Yeah-- what? No? No good?"
"...No." Hayner glanced away. "I promised I'd be somewhere tomorrow."
He-- what? Roxas tensed, now outraged in his own turn. These were their last free days before the summer ended. How could Hayner just -- do something without him? They did everything together, as a group. He hadn't been so bad that he deserved to be ostracized.
And none of it was his fault.
They had no idea what he'd been through.
But still... they wouldn't meet his eyes.
NEXT >>> Prologue (Part 8)