You know, (or don't) I just realized how funny the title for chapter one really is.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

What One Loses

Chapter Two : Come On

As he stands in front of the three, their weapons drawn and their stances ready, he is already thinking, 'there's no way I'm going to win this.'

Even so, he still summons his element, still pulls out his instrument from the unsteady bubbles that have formed above him. He swings it around surely, a gesture of confidence, supposedly, before letting the sitar land into his palm. One quick glance towards his opponents and he decides, if there really is any chance of him surviving the battle, he certainly doesn't see any.

To initiate the battle, he plucks one of the long solid strings; the twang sound it makes fills the air and immediately, he knows what should come next. More notes follow the first and suddenly, everything falls into place, beat after beat.

Water clones emerge from the vapor present in the air and he supports the shapes by continuing to play. The Keyblade master and his friends move about their battlefield, tearing apart one clone after another and, when the last drop of water evaporates into the air, they head straight from him. Taken by surprise, he accidentally lets slip an "uh-oh" before reminding himself to watch his mouth. He plays a few more notes, a quick preparation, and braces himself.

When the blows land, he is ready. After a few strikes, he evades the next by pushing his way past his opponents, triggering a rush of water through the air. Once his feet are back on the ground, he calls a few pillars of water around him, just in case. He pauses for a while, tilting his head to the side ever so slightly as he listened.

And just like that, he finds the rhythm again. Desperately, he grasps it with both hands and repeats his previous action, leading the Keyblade master and his animal companions in a roundabout circle whilst keeping track of the soft, steady beat at the back of his mind.

Keep the pace, he tells himself. Maintain it.

The boy strikes back and a spell just barely misses his foot, grazing the sides of his boot and darkening the spot of tile it had landed on, cracking the marble. He reminds himself not to panic, to keep up the steady rhythm with his fingers. When they charge forward again, he forces them back with a rush of water, pushing them further and further away. Then, he himself jumps forward, attacking with more pillars; they move out of the way in time, but that hardly matters; it's his pace now.

He plays with the water some more, toying with them now more than he has ever done before. At one point, he moves forward with an invitation, proposing a quick match of fingers and reflexes. He keeps up the flow, moving around on whim and letting his fingers make the decision as to what should be done next. Inside his mind, he thinks that, so long as the battle remains in his rhythm, he might stand a chance of making it. He might not, but he just might.

Then, when all is going so well, he misses a step; a common but deadly mistake. As a result, the rhythm falls apart and he loses his counting. He barely has time to blink when the Keyblade wielder swings his weapon. A shield strikes his side and there is a quick rush of pain. He winces; the stupid metal thing the dog threw has probably just broken a few of his ribs. They finish and he grips the neck of his sitar with vaguely shaking fingers; it's now or never.

When he moves, the water responds readily to him. They rise up to one side, and then the other, before repeating the attack back from the first side, like a little dance. He moves fast, giving his enemies no time to properly counterattack as he consecutively strikes again and again. Once more, he finds the rhythm; again he follows the steady throbbing he's sure he feels in his chest.

"Come on," he says. "Keep to the beat!"

For a while, it works; the fight goes his way for moments more, him being at the advantage. He attacks, he evades. They defend, they get hit. Beat, beat, beat. It goes on in such a way that, for one brief moment, he almost lets himself think that he's winning. His movements pick up, the tempo of the beat increases, and the fight goes faster.

He's putting his all into it now. His fingers are aching from the pressure he's exerting onto the strings. Amazingly, he does not trip over his feet; this time around, they move with him with ease, cooperating obediently for once. Sweat trickles down the side of his face, his neck; his throat is demanding for rest. Ignoring the senses, he pushes the silent needs aside, repeating over and over again to keep up with the beat, though he thinks the words are more a plea to himself than a reminder for the other three.

Focus, stay focus. Keep counting.

Then, suddenly, the beat disappears from the ceiling of his mouth, his stomach sinks in a agonizingly empty way, and the hollow part of his chest, the place where his heart should be, tightens a million times over. Unnerved, he stumbles, and that is all the Keyblade master needs to finish him off. The Keyblade comes own one last time, merciless and unbearably painful. He flinches back violently from the shot of pain that races up is spine to every other part of his body, and, in losing his concentration, feels the instrument in hand vanish; it dissolves, leaving him empty-handed and alone.

Defeated, he sinks to his knees, announcing his loss. As darkness begins to lick his feet, rustling underneath his clothing, he can't help but shiver, knowing what happens next. When his very self begins to fade away into nothingness, he realizes that he's still counting. He's still searching for that beat he lost.

End of 2nd chapter

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