XIII Things That Never Happened To Sora
By tsukinofaerii
Beta: lyakahime
Rating: SNAP
Genre: Generic/Generic
Warnings: No Pairing, Violent, Disturbing
Spoilers: KHI & CoM
Series: Kingdom Hearts
Pairings: None
Summary: Thirteen drabbles following Roxas through the Organization. Complete series.
This story is a work of transformative fiction, such being defined as a work which incorporates characters and situations which have been created by other authors/artists. No infringement of copyright is intended and no profit is being made from the creation or dissemination of this work. Kingdom Hearts was created and is owned by Tetsuya Nomura and Disney. It is used with respect and admiration for the work.
Blue eyes open just in time to see a blade coming straight at his face.
As an introduction to existence, it's pretty much spot-on.
He rolls, toppling off the dais he'd been stretched out on like some sort of science experiment. It's not quick enough. The blade slices through his bicep, spilling light like blood down his arm. Cold marble bruises his knees as he scrambles away, clutching at the wound. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
The man holding the blade—sword— steps around the table and sneers at him, deepening the lines in his face that make it clear the expression is more or less permanent. The x-shaped scar between his eyes pinches as he lifts his sword for another strike. "Killing you. Hold still."
"What? No!" Instinctively, he raises an arm to block any blow that might fall. Something glints briefly, then flares to life in his palm, turning into a giant key. He's so grateful for a weapon, any weapon, that he doesn't waste time wondering where it came from before bracing it with both hands. The sword comes down on the shaft of the key with a clang. The impact makes his shoulders ache.
A bright, feminine voice laughs somewhere above. "Look, it's awake. Can I have it, now?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Larxene," a deep, slow voice drawls in reply. "It's dangerous. It needs to be exterminated."
Even though his attacker is still only a few steps away, he looks up. Eleven people in black with deep hoods perch above him on thrones, like angels in judgment. They're points of hyper-reality in a white-on-white room, nailing everything to the front of his brain with rusty spikes.
"I think you're all being idiots. Look at him." With all of their hoods pulled up, it's almost impossible to tell which was talking, but one of them flicks his fingers at the floor below. "He's clueless. And kind of cute. Like a puppy."
The man holding the sword swings it down near his leg, aim so far off from a hit that it has to be deliberate. "He's the keyblade's master," he growls. "See how it comes to him?"
None of it makes any sense at all. "What the hell are you people talking about?" The boy pauses, then glares upwards. "And I am not a puppy!"
"Hold, Saïx. Number Eight may be correct, for once." One of the figures pushes back his hood and leans forward. His hair is the shade of bone china, or the rest of the room. It's a contrast to his tanned skin, which is made even worse by his eyes. They belong to a lion, all predator gold and merciless. "What's your name?"
"Roxas." The answer is automatic, from some source so deep he can't even identify it. But it sounds right, and so he repeats it as something to cling to. "I'm Roxas."
"Welcome, Roxas. I am Xemnas, your Superior." His smile is like his eyes. A shiver not caused by the cold marble traces down Roxas' spine. "Welcome to the Organization."