Disclaimer - I do not own Kingdom Hearts. This is made by a fan for fans. No money is being made.
Author's Note - I shall reveal the reason Roxas hates Sora so much...in a different chapter! cue evil laughter
Sora sat cross-legged on a large countertop. Red Cloak was sitting across from him, eyes visible through his strang glasses, studying Sora intently. Sora bit his lip. Much depended on Red Cloak's next words.
But Red Cloak was taking his time with it. It seemed he enjoyed torturing Sora. The wait in itself was becoming unbearable. He pulled out a toothpick, which, it might be interesting to note, was a dazzeling shade of purple and shimmered in the light. He toyed with his teeth noncommitally.
Sora could bear it no longer. He had to know... "So," he said anxiously, "which is it?"
Red Cloak put his toothpick down with a sigh. He looked Sora in the eye. And waited. And waited.
"Go fish."
Sora threw down his cards. The game was up. Red Cloak already had the most pairs. There was no winning it. Sora had insisted on continueing solely for the curiosity factor. How did he do that? How!?!
"How do you do that? No one can win twelve games of Go Fish in a row! No one!"
Red Cloak leaned back against a wall. "'Tis the fortune of Lady Green smiles upon me."
Sora scratched at his bandaged neck absently. "Well, I wish she'd smile on me every now and then. Namely now."
Red Cloak smiled. "Lady Lavender favors thou."
Sora didn't miss a beat, "I prefere Lady Navy Blue." He had no clue what he was talking about, of course, but if they're on the subject of Ladies, then darn it, Navy Blue was better than Lavender or Green any day. Duh.
The oddity across from him thought it was hilarious, in any case. He rolled around on the counter, eventually even falling on the floor, and still continued to laugh. Sora shrugged. Must've said something funny.
"Say," Sora interrupted. Red Cloak calmed down some and wiped tears from his eyes. "Would you be willing to tell me...uh," and here Sora stopped. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand, elbow jutting out to the side, unsure if he should continue.
"Say it, Youngster from the Reef," Red Cloak encouraged. Sora laughed half-heartedly at the nickname. Red Cloak had given it to him upon learning he was really, and in all actuality, a boy, and not a 'fair princess.' Red Cloak didn't understand why Sora had been so angry at the misunderstanding.
"Well," Sora said, "I want to know where my friends are."
Red Cloak's face grew dark. "Witches and vagabonds. They shall be hanged on the morrow." He stood up and dusted himself, suddenly very serious. "And their little dog, too."
Sora couldn't help himself, "Hey! What'd the little dog ever do to you!?"
Oh, how Sora regretted asking that question. Red Cloak immediately went into the injustice of dogs being allowed to roam free in the world, how skates were really demon made and should be banished, and how ropework was, contrary to popular belief, from the West Indies and not all that wholesome to chew.
When it was all over, Red Cloak calmed down enough to notice Sora looking to the floor and rubbing his temples. He inserted an appropriate comment, something about teething, and Sora responded that he was okay, don't worry about him.
"Well, good," Red Cloak said bouncily, "I'm off to the bonfire," and he walked out the door.
"The bonfire?" Sora repeated, but Red Cloak had already left. Sora was unsure of what to do. This was the first time in their three hours together that Red Cloak had left him alone. He pushed himself off the counter, landing silently on the floor in his bare feet. Red Cloak had left the rest of his outfit alone, but had taken away his shoes and socks. Said they were made by grimlins. Whatever. He took a few steps to test his strength. Red Cloak had done a good job bandaging him up, but face it, it takes more than three hours for wounds like the ones he sported to stop feeling sore. And it had been three hours, hadn't it? The clock on the wall was evidence of the passage of time, but Sora had trouble believing it was acurate. It was a Dora the Explorer clock, after all. Not that he ever watched that show as a kid, or anything...
Confident that he was strong enough to walk, but feeling the need to tip-toe, Sora made his way to the doorway. Red Cloak had left it open, and Sora got his first look at the outside world.
Mist. Nothing but a strange mist, fog like and thick as pea soup, in all directions. It moved and parted when he put a foot onto the damp ground. He took a few tenative steps. The door slammed shut behind him, causing him to jump and look back at it in alarm. He tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Sora frowned. He found the whole scenario reminisent of a cliche horror movie. Reminding himself that he was the Keybearer, albeit a rather keyless one, Sora squared his shoulders and moved into the mist.
"Steve!"
"Harry!"
"Tony!"
Donald's lower beak dropped. Just how many of these guys were there, anyway? Green cloak, yellow cloak, and now red cloak...was there any end? Would it ever stop? Still, this Red Cloak seemed different. For one, Donald was sure he'd seen him before, sitting next to Namine when Roxas had kept him from going after Riku. And another thing, he actually had a physical form. Green and Yellow were faded...ghost like...see-through. It was very unnerving.
Donald eyed the newcomer suspiciously. There was something very odd about him.
Aside from the appearance of the man, that is. The faded duo looked almost exactly like him, aside from the color of their robes, and they weren't nearly as alarming. The mere presence of the man spoke of power, despite how silly he was behaving, doing a headstand and declaring his name. A name, Donald noted, that he changed often.
"Loyyd! No...Fredrick! Aha, I have it. SUSAN!"
Now silly Donald could understand. He was used to silly. He was silly by nature, though he'd never admit it. Silly was fine. He glanced over at his friend, who had assumed an identical position as Red Cloak, and was trying to avoid stepping on his ears with his hands. His hat, for reasons unknown, appeared immune to the effects of gravity, and refused to fall off even when it was squished to the side of its owner's head. The knight tried, he really did, but headstands were not his forte. He fell on his rear, laughing good-naturedly.
Goofy and silly were synonymous.
Green Cloak and Yellow Cloak had already declared their names. Steve and Tony, if all was to be believed. Donald had a feeling they were just as serious about their names as Red Cloak was about his. It was best to go by color here.
Goofy, undetered by his failure to mimic the actions of the other three, joined in the game anyway. "Goofy!" he said, declaring his name like the other three just did.
Everyone turned to Donald.
Uh, no.
"Ahm not gonna!" he quacked.
"Ahm not gonna!" everyone else quacked.
The duck was not amused. Everyone else was in stitches. Goofy caught sight of the look in Donald's eyes, and quickly shut up. He found the nearest solid object and hid behind it. Out of sight, out of mind.
Just in time.
Donald had a angry breakdown. He thrashed around wildly, randomly grabbing onto things and ripping them to shreds. Smart people would've gotten out of the way like Goofy did. Everyone else gathered around, popcorn in hand, and watched in fascination.
Red Cloak sent a questioning gaze to his comrads, a 'does he do this often' look. He had just recently arrived, and hadn't viewed Donalds previous breakdowns, which were frequent and could be counted on at least once every ten minutes.
Yellow Cloak answered with an emphatic nod of his head. Green Cloak joined in. And then Red Cloak decided to. They all nodded their heads with passion for about ten minutes. Donald had ended his little spasm by that time, and sat glaring at them with crossed arms and angry blood shot eyes.
Escape was impossible. He had found that out the hard way. Run away and they chased after you, but not only that. Oh, no. They had decided to use him as a golf ball of sorts, hitting him around with their glittering rods till they got him back to this stupid spot.
And that stupid music. The 'music' aka the singing Riku and Co. heard was, in fact, a recording. Or rather, it was something like a recording. From what Donald could see, it was coming from a singing rock, -yes, a singing rock- and kept repeating itself every half hour or so.
And that stupid stove that doesn't cook any stupid food. It was more like a grill, really, and although it wasn't doing any cooking, it put off plenty of smoke.
It doesn't make any stupid sense. It didn't.
Goofy was well aware of his partner's mood, and although he didn't want to make it any worse, he couldn't help enjoying himself. They played all sorts of fun games together. At that very moment they were all making snow angels on the ground.
Donald's eye twitched. You can't make snow angels on rock.
Sora wasn't one to get discouraged, but after walking around aimlessly with nothing in sight for what felt like a long time he felt his optimism begin to waver. It came back with a vengence with one simple thought.
Hey, it's better than spiders.
A grin spread across his face. No spiders, no sandpits. No suffication, no Kai...
He stopped himself short, the grin disappearing. No Kairi? There was always Kairi. And...
Was he really that glad she wasn't here? Now? Standing in front of him?
The thought threatened to overwhelm him, and his gaze wandered upward, looking for relief. Stars. The mist did nothing to hide them. Their light shined through and reflected in his eyes. It was the one constant in his life, the one thing he could look to and know it'd be there for him. Wherever he was, whatever world he visited, there were always the stars. Sure, sometimes it would be rainy, and sometimes the stars couldn't pierce the choking smog of the cities, but they were there nonetheless. Out of sight, not out of existence.
Sora pursed his lips. Well, they were not the only constant, persay. There was always Riku. He was always there for him. Hey, if he had one munny for every time Riku had saved him...he'd have a lot of munny.
Do you know what my constant was, Sora?
Sora's mouth went dry. Kairi... He shook his head, trying to get rid of her voice. Guilt drove him to his knees before she even finished her thought.
It was you.
"Your weapon," Larxene spat, "is lame."
"I could care less about your opinion."
Larxene crossed her arms, angry at how easily he had pushed aside her jibe. It was supposed to hurt, dammit! He should hurt!
Zexion was far from hurt; however, he was annoyed. It was hard for him to keep his face stoic. He hated this woman. Why did Kairi feel the need to team him up with her? He shook the thought from his mind. Kairi had told him to do it, so she must have a good reason. Mortals had no place questioning gods.
"I'm your superior in this mission, and you WILL respec-"
"Shh, someone's coming."
The anger inside of Larxene died away instead of bubbling up, and not by any will of her own. Someone was coming, but that had nothing to do with it, either. Zexion had 'shhed' her, and angry as a part of her was about it, she had a strong urge to jump him right there. Have her way with him. Zexion, blissfully unaware of her thoughts, was saved by the coming of the 'someone' previously mentioned.
It was Sora.
"Jackpot," Larxene smirked, thoughts of her and Zexion and some time alone were pushed from her mind...for the moment. "Let's kill him." Sora was barely visible in the haze, but the spikey hair was a dead giveaway. He stopped some distance away and looked up to the stars. As they crept closer, the image of him became clearer. The mist itself was proving good cover, but it was unneeded. Sora was so immersed in his own thoughts, he didn't even hear them coming. Zexion put a hand on Larxene's shoulder to stop her. Now that he had a good look at the boy, he thought for sure there was some sort of misunderstanding.
"That's him?" Zexion asked, confused.
Larxene glared at him. "Yes, that's him. I know, he's small, but trust me...he's stronger than he looks."
Zexion was shaking his head in disbelief.
"If you don't believe me you can try to fight him by yourself."
"It's not that. It's just..."
Larxene gave him a quizical look.
"Nevermind."
She snorted. The time for talking was over. With a shake of her arms, eight deadly knives appeared, four in each hand, small but deadly missiles resting comfortably in between her fingers. One would be enough. She let it loose with a flick of her wrist.
Author's Note - Hope you enjoyed it. Constructive critisism is appreciated. I intend to update once a week from here on out, so the chapters ought to be longer from this point on.