Disclaimer: Repliku, Kingdom Hearts, Namine, Zexion and Xion do not belong to me but to Square Enix. If they did, Axel and Roxas will still have been alive and would have shared their one thousandth sea-salt ice-cream on top of the Clocktower by now and Sora would have solved his own problems. For once. ;P
Confrontation
Light bent and danced inside a golden bead, as a boy held it up to the setting sun. It shone brightly, contrasting sharply with the mute dark leather of the glove. A prize, that's what it was, but competitions felt meaningless to him. Just like those who took part in them. Meaningless. There were much better things in life than wasting time trying to live up to some foolish standards someone else made up.
He tossed the rest of the prize, a tree with several crystal beads still on it, into the trash can nearby, and it rang loudly in protest as it sank into the depths of the empty can, never to be seen again. The bead was pocketed and a boy continued his trek down the beige and crimson colored road underneath the blazing dying sky.
His clothes were meant to help him blend in with those who inhabited this carefree place. A set of blue jeans, a simple green shirt with a clover, and black sneakers were what he wore. But try as he may his silver hair left little room for remaining unnoticed.
Over his shoulder was thrown a simple black backpack. They traveled light, not staying in any place for long. They couldn't. As hard as it was to always have someone constantly on their tail, one got used to this strange existence after a while. Perhaps, if they haven't left it would have been easier. But then, perhaps if they haven't left, they wouldn't even be alive by now. Between that and running, one would naturally choose running.
He jumped over the railing, and left the path, landing on the smooth gray sand of the beach. He kept walking, as dusk slowly enveloped the land, and first stars came out in the skies above.
Puppet…Tool…Fake… how about none of the above? He scowled, as the old, but never resolved, questions found their way back. The soft sand crumbled underneath his shoes as he walked leaving behind a shallow trail of footsteps. Copy… I…am a Copy…But I know that I am. They tried to re-make me. They tried to wipe clean my very being. As if I am some sort of experiment, they can cancel at any time it pleases them. They are…unforgivable. I won't let them catch me. Not me not Namine. Not…Xion. ..They lied to her too...Lies…Lies are all they know
Wind carried a waft of familiar scent. Faint, but unmistakable. Thanks he silently thanked his namesake, even though his gratitude was shallow. Nobody asked him if he wanted to be a copy. But since he is, having a couple of useful skills was a plus. Actually, he was thankful for a few other things too, but he'd rather die than admit it to his "original's" face. And it could have been worse. He could have been a copy of that weakling Sora or Goofy or something equally abominable. Why was there no Copy of Sora? He didn't know. And didn't care. Now was not the time to idly contemplate. But to dodge.
So he did. A blast of cold air rushed past him and an ice missile hit the sand nearby, transforming summer instantly into winter in that one small patch. "Too slow" he remarked. "Your stench far precedes you, Zexion." As he talked, a dark wing-shaped sword responded to his summon, and Repliku tightened his grip as it rested solidly in his hand. The weapon pulled lightly, since just like its master, there was more than one, and it was equally drawn to both. Riku was too far, though, for the effect to be of any considerable significance.
Funny. I wonder if he figured out the same thing. Probably not, he still fears darkness, and no matter what he says, somewhere deep inside that fear will persist. That's why I'll always be stronger.
He smirked silently at that thought and weighed the blade carefully in his hand. Darkness. The power it held was refreshing, and knowing that he was the only one, who was truly close to possessing that power, turned his smirk into a deviant self-congratulating smile.
It was comforting to know that Riku was alive and well somewhere out there. Why then, if he despised his very existence, was that so?
"My, that's not very nice." Zexion frowned, with cold malice flashing for a mere moment in his eyes, replaced just as fast by his usual emotionless expression. There was a mission in need of being carried out. The dark book with a tri-sigil of Organization rested open in his hand, with letters still glowing on its pages. "But you won't be able to keep this running game up for long. There is no escape from the Organization. You will surely..." Zexion had to interrupt his speech to raise a shield, just in time to block an attack. He could feel the force of the impact, even though the shield blocked the attack perfectly. Zexion's expression showed no change.
Reckless…No one in the organization spars quite like that. Is it because..?
"You don't know…anything! Organization is nothing but a collection of empty puppets…who fail to recognize that truth! Struggling to fulfill empty dreams, dreams you don't even understand." Repliku snarled, as he pulled back. "Try lying that you do. Organization is weak. Talk about illusions."
"What are illusions to some, to others mean everything. What is everything to you might easily be just an illusion. A dream, intangible and frail. We deceive and are deceived every day. Luckily, it is not a dream which defines who we are." Zexion smirked as five more Zexions surrounded the small area and all finished the sentence. "As far as I know, existing is a rather decent goal, something I refuse to not be allowed a chance to gain."
"Fair enough" said Repliku, quickly scanning the area, analyzing his options. The Cloaked Schemer had more than a few tricks up his sleeve, but unfortunately for him Repliku thought things through far in advance. In a battle he never did once let his attention slip or wander; never did he do anything less than his absolute best. If he did, he wouldn't forgive himself. "But you can't ask me to betray my friends. You can't ask me to give up who I am just to become the good little pawn you thought I will be. I answer to no one, and I follow no one but myself. Darkness, the true power of darkness, is at my disposal. I know you don't believe me." He smirked and vanished.
A gust of wind attacked Zexion's cloak violently, and the blue-haired man shielded his eyes from the sand which rose briefly into the thin night air. All of the copies were eliminated in less than a few seconds and Zexion felt a blade of the Soul Eater hovering dangerously close to his neck. As the sand settled, Repliku glared with deep disgust into the older man's cold night-blue eyes.
"I will not be stopped. Send your cavalry and infantry, it won't matter. I won't let you or anyone else hurt Namine or Xion. I won't let you get us back. I can't stop the Organization from trying, but I can promise you, that I'd rather draw my last breath as I am now, defending the ones I care about, than be changed like your kind friend Larxene threatened I would be."
Zexion frowned. "Namine and Xion are important to the Organization. You made a mistake by taking them with you. If you were alone, you might have had better chances. Where are they? Somewhere nearby?" his tone of voice turned almost mocking by the end. "Ah…I am sure they are"
Repliku scowled and sent a dark lightning orb straight into Zexion's chest, causing him to fly back and land a few feet away. "Leave us alone. I will hate to have to fight you to the end. I have no desire to kill. Just to exist." A sharp, short sound hissed in the night, and just as suddenly, it was gone.
As Zexion rose on his elbow to help himself get up, Repliku was already gone. The man picked up his book from the sand and gingerly dusted it off, making no move to pursue. He learned what he needed. Next time, his opponent won't get away quite so easily.
Darkness, the true power of darkness….Can he really believe a mere Replica may have access to such power?...Ridiculous...Even if he does, Namine won't betray Sora…She can't.
Zexion smirked and let the darkness of the portal envelop him, before it all disappeared. The silence once again enveloped the beach, only to be disturbed by the soft sound of waves in the distance and crumbling of sand under silver-haired boy's boots as he continued his silent trek.