Part two of the double update! You're probably all going to hate me for how it ends. But hey - gotta get you guys to keep sticking around after I left for so long, right?
Disclaimer was in the last chapter. I might just stop doing those...
For the life of her, Falcon couldn't understand why Copperhead had sent them here, of all places.
The underground tunnels. Really? Of all the stupid places he could have found in the eighteen months since her parents' deaths, he had to have found the Shadowed Desert's underground tunnels.
History class had told the story of this place: of its role in the Keyblade War, and how Xehanort and his ilk had won the battle here because all his mages had used Graviga on the part of the cave his opponents were in. That had torn the Shadowed Desert fighters away from their search for Xehanort quickly enough; the cavern roof in that area had yielded to the gravity-intensifying spells at once and crushed them.
Falcon knew for a fact that Copperhead hadn't taken them here because of that history lesson; if that were the case he would have jabbed at her about how she knew so much more about this than him and Char.
At least the redhead had recognized this place, which had surprised Falcon until she remembered she was supposed to give Char the benefit of the doubt from now on. Only when Char had explained she had read it in a book – the same excuse for how she had known what the Behemoth Heartless was – did Falcon also remember Char had said something about being a researcher once.
She scanned the dimly lit area. Someone had thought to line the walls with torches, for some reason unknown to her. This place wasn't exactly a tourist spot, after all. Nonetheless, she found herself grateful for the source of light.
Her sense of foreboding returned when she heard a splash from below. Instinctively, her fingers clenched her Keyblade even more tightly, to the point where she nearly gasped in pain. An instant later, though, she felt moisture soaking into her boots and cringed in discomfort. Of course. I would step in the only puddle for miles around in here.
Char and Copperhead didn't seem to notice; the former did whirl around briefly, dual swords out to her sides. Falcon couldn't help the wry twist of her mouth as she kicked at the air, causing water droplets to fly in all directions. "Sorry to disappoint you," she said. "Just stepped in a puddle."
Char's shoulders slumped. In the dim light of the cavern, the irritated furrow of her brow was outlined that much more. "Don't do that," was all she said, and turned back around.
"A little high-strung, are we?" Copperhead asked, stopping in his tracks and grinning playfully at Char. How he could keep that blithe demeanor even this far from the world that so demanded it was beyond her – and Char, too, if her ensuing glare was any indication.
"Who's the one who had the bright idea of going down here in the first place?" she retorted. Her swords vanished so she could properly fold her arms and glower at him.
"I figured it's the one place we haven't looked. And correct me if I'm wrong, but you're slightly more desperate than I thought." Char's mouth opened, then closed again, and she turned her head away with a bulging jaw visible through the curtain of red hair.
Two counts for the history books: Copperhead actually reacting in frustration, instead of burying it beneath a smile and the figurative act of stepping down. And Char actually keeping silent, instead of offering up whatever snarky comment had been percolating inside.
Maybe the truce from this morning was controlling Falcon's thoughts, but she found herself thinking, Char misses someone too.
Seeing the redhead had no sharp jab ready for him, Copperhead turned back around and resumed his brisk stride down the tunnel. "And avoid puddles, okay, Fal?" he called over his shoulder.
Falcon's contemplative mood faded at once. "Don't call me that," she spat, though she kept the fury muffled. Much as the unnatural quiet down here rattled her, somehow, she felt like tearing the dream-like haze of it to ribbons would be worse.
Unfortunately, this left them in the same state as before: Copperhead keeping a steady gait up at the front, with only the slightest twitch in the scythe strapped across his shoulders belying any anxiety; Char with no weapons out, but with a tension in her spine that suggested she was ready to summon them at any moment; and Falcon straggling along at the back of the line, fingers clenched tight to the lifeline of her Keyblade and the reality it represented.
Not only did the silence's quality press down and instill regret for her longing for such quiet in her heart, but it was cold. Much colder than the spring air and admittedly-crisp remnants of yesterday's rain would have had her believe. Shivers rippled down her spine as the air bit through her jacket's thin fabric. Ice may be the only type of magic she had bothered to master back in the day – a decision she found herself regretting now, if only because the torches lining the walls failed to warm her up – but that didn't mean she enjoyed her Keyblade-free hand permanently set on the same path rubbing her freezing arm.
Just when the sound of three sets of footsteps alternating rhythm became too much for her, though, something jolted in her periphery. A startled yelp tore out of her before she could stop it, and the next thing she knew the flame-tinged shadows at her vision's edges had lit into solid white.
Quickly, she glanced over her shoulder. Char was focused straight ahead, as if in defiance of Copperhead saying she was "high-strung." If she had noticed whatever had startled Falcon into running ahead of her, she hadn't let it have the same effect on her.
"You see something?" Copperhead's voice rumbled next to her, making her glance over. Despite his brisk pace earlier, he had slowed down to accommodate her shorter stride and was regarding her with concern.
Talking tears warmth on his face fingers in her hair no apologies –
"N-no," she managed. "Just a rat in the shadows, I guess."
Damn it, where was Riku? He could easily rebuff Copperhead and fill the spaces the blonde had left behind.
To his credit, he only seemed to struggle with the desire to pry further before letting it go. Falcon breathed an internal sigh of relief. "I'm actually surprised we haven't come across any Heartless yet," he remarked, raising his voice so Char could hear him.
Deciding Char was a safer person to keep her gaze on than this reminder of her past, Falcon looked over her shoulder. The redhead blinked at his abrupt change in tack, then relaxed as much as the environment would allow her. "To be honest, so am I," she confessed. "But it's better that way, right?" A beat, then she added hesitantly, "Or any Nobodies."
"Nobodies… Those are those white things that just started showing up, right?" Copperhead tipped his head to the side.
Char nodded. Every trace of viciousness toward this new foe gathered on her face, along with another shadow Falcon could only describe as bitterness. "They're the ones who took Master's machine."
Even though now she was only delving into what Falcon already knew, the dark-haired girl found herself listening more deeply than ever. Gods knew Riku had hidden that part of the story from her, though she couldn't bring herself to think he had done so on purpose.
Suddenly Copperhead halted in his tracks. The tails of his coat swung with that abrupt action, droplets of water sprinkling through the air as he trod in a shallow puddle. "Someone's here," he said.
Someone… or something? Falcon didn't dare speak that question aloud. Keeping it confined in her thoughts allowed her already-frayed nerves to stay intact.
Dual flashes of light rent the air as Char summoned her weapons to her side. The three of them backed close together, blades and scythes at the ready.
White spots stained Falcon's vision as she glanced around warily. The cavern widened out where they stood, forming a small clearing ringed by torchlight. Archaic machinery lined the walls, and as Falcon swept her gaze over them, she had an instant to wonder if what they were looking for sat among the vestiges of an ancient past.
Then something dark eclipsed the torches. This time, Char was the one who let out a surprised cry; Falcon flinched as the younger girl stumbled back into Copperhead and all but pushed his spine into hers.
As if their formation becoming unbalanced was a signal, the dark thing reappeared, this time set off by ice-blue lights. Falcon braced herself in fencing position – blade out, free hand on same hip, legs apart – in preparation to parry the blow, but the intruder had bypassed her entirely. Copperhead snarled with exertion at the pressure that dual, blue lightsabers pushed down onto his scythe's blade.
And as Falcon watched, eyes wide, the past immobilized her.
Dark cloak, hood up, lightsabers as weapons…
Before she could assess the situation further, the past set her free of its chains and propelled her forward.
She vaguely heard Char shouting for her to wait, and dimly saw Copperhead turn his head to stare at her. But the fury that had enveloped her senses and turned her world into little more than a cave bathed in crimson kept her from heeding either of these warnings. Only her heartbeat howling in her ears anchored her to reality, where the previous chains had just released her.
The shockwave that lanced up her arm at her Keyblade landing against one lightsaber roused her. Jarringly, the world came back into focus: Copperhead still straining against the single, wavering blue dagger's weight on his scythe; Char dashing forward, her own dual blades at the ready. The dark-clad shape had flung his arm out to meet Falcon's strike, easily blocking her reckless charge while still keeping Copperhead in check.
Falcon glared into the darkness where the figure's face should be, unconsciously seeking out amber eyes and strands of gray hair. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the past was rallying to restrain the rage it had brought forth – Xemnas has red blades, not blue, now get back before you lose your arm – but she couldn't care about that urgent voice.
She thought she shrieked his name – the name of the man who had helped Copperhead ruin her life; the irony of the two of them possibly being together in the same room would have made her laugh under normal circumstances – but could not be sure.
"How…?" Char cut herself off, shook her head; how Falcon knew Xemnas' name wasn't as important as the intruder's presence itself. She clutched her swords tighter as the nameless figure turned to her. It's not him, she had to tell herself, Xemnas has red blades, not blue, and besides this guy is too short to be him.
"A little help here!" Copperhead gritted out. Just as Char looked at him, he somehow found a spare bit of adrenaline that he wasn't spending keeping that single ethereal blade from goring his throat and lunged forward. In the action, he twisted his scythe around to point blade-first; before he could do any real damage, though, the mysterious figure had leaped back.
Char risked a glance at Falcon and saw the remnants of her anger dying down. Again, the chord of familiarity twinged in Char's heart, as did the mental replacement of the blazing green with gold; and again, she knew that the letter-rearranging could wait.
She spared the redhead a sidelong look, then narrowed her eyes fiercely, as though deciding the opponent before them took precedence over her ally's opinion. Falcon leaped forward again, Keyblade out and at the ready, and Char abruptly realized she should do the same.
No sooner had their opponent dodged Copperhead's attack than he recovered, slicing forward and easily meeting the whirlwind of red that was his scythe. The pale blue swords created a domineering shade of cyan and bathed the room in a glow that reminded Char disturbingly of the Space Paranoids' surroundings.
Although the figure met every swing of Copperhead's weapon smoothly, the blonde had no such luck. Dark liquid stained his white coat; the pale blue light illuminated his bulging jaw, as though restraining cries of pain. As the two of them clashed in the center of the room, black coat sharply contrasting the tails of Copperhead's white, Char dove in for a distracting blow. An instant later, though, she backpedaled, pulled up short and ducked to the ground to avoid the newfound blast of light that was launched her way.
The light burned an X-shaped blur into her vision; just as she spotted Falcon racing forward, agony flared up in her leg. Her eyes widened. You've got to be kidding me!
The ground came up to meet her, and a pained snarl ripped free from her as the roll back to her feet failed and her shoulder hit the concrete. Shockwaves of pain reverberated through her shoulder and in her calf, but she still managed to stagger to her feet and reassess her surroundings.
Copperhead had freed himself from the figure's overpowering assault. Apparently Char's attempt to distract their opponent from attacking had succeeded, a fact that sent wobbly triumph surging through her.
But now he was focusing on Falcon, lashing out with his blades and trying to catch her. Copperhead was trying to catch the dark-clad man off guard, but every swing of his scythe carried less force than the one before.
Quickly, Char dug around in her pockets for a healing item to offer him, before the idiocy of that move hit her. With a foe like this, a moment's pause could be the death of any of them.
And as much as the guy annoyed her sometimes, Char didn't want to risk his life just to stem his blood loss a bit.
She readjusted one sword back into her grip and charged forward. It occurred to her, in the part of her mind still capable of dry thought, that were she facing this Xemnas wannabe with Sora, Donald, and Goofy at her side, shouts of encouragement and grunts of exertion would be rending the air relentlessly.
But Sora, Donald, and Goofy weren't there, and only the snarls of battle sounded, and the only relentless things in the room were the black-coated figure and Falcon.
Falcon lunged, heedless of the deadly whirlwind of pale blue spiraling in her direction, and formed a cyan cascade of her own. Even though every blow landed on her made her steady attacks falter, still she pressed forward, teeth bared and viciousness resonating from every angular strike she aimed.
No Heartless they had fought had elicited a response that ferocious.
Maybe that was the moment Char's mind finally allowed her to connect the dots and tell her bluntly who exactly Anxclof's Other was.
For some reason, that realization – the reminder that Sora aside, her rational mind had yet to vanish completely – spurred Char to another.
"We can't win this!" she shouted. Not even with Riku.
Unfortunately, it came out a desperate croak, one accompanied by a twinge in her shoulder. Dammit, but that fall had hurt. Hurriedly, she tried again.
"What the hell does that even mean?" Falcon spat. With the words came a globule of something dark, something that splattered against the floor. Somehow, just the few minutes they had spent fighting had sufficed to coax forth that degree of injury.
Copperhead stilled his weapon, staring at Char. She glared challengingly back at him, knowing how this must seem to him: she had barely participated in the battle, had been held back by the reminder of who her heart belonged to, and was relatively unscathed while his and Falcon's every step heralded a miniature, bloody waterfall.
Besides that, their unspoken leader – the one who had led their charges into battle before, the one who had left for a still, frustratingly unknown reason – hadn't said it.
Char made a mental note to appreciate the irony in her usurping Riku and not Sora at a later date.
Uncertain, hazy violet locked onto determined, firm ice blue; then he twitched in response to a rivulet of blood tracing down the line of his forearm.
"Char's right, Falcon!" he roared. His hand trembled as he pushed his scythe toward the sheath still hanging heavily along his spine, only for him to stop and curse shakily when he realized he had tried to insert his weapon curved blade-first. "We have to get out of here before we get hurt any more!"
But Falcon shook her head furiously. "It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" she screamed, suppressed ire and attempting to surpass her lung capacity turning the sentence hoarse. "We're already hurt, aren't we?"
Char could only look on, eyes slowly widening, as Falcon actually whirled around from the dark figure lifting its arms into the air and fixed a fierce glower on Copperhead. The room's main source of light – those blue lightsabers – faced away from them, but the torches still remained to light the cavern.
Firelight swathed the bloodstains and lines of crimson on the others' bodies and reflected in the whites of Falcon's narrowed eyes. Falcon's words seemed all too literal to Char, but Copperhead froze, staring immobilized at her. The side of his face turned toward Char offered her a view of horror – horror and desperation and emotions so different from his normal blithe mask.
Masks.
Something scrabbled at the back of Char's mind then – screamed you're so close you can find out what happened oh crap what is he doing with his lightsabers –
At that moment, a new kind of fire joined the torchlight entirely.
Immediately Char put out her arms, ordered her swords to vanish as quickly as she had ever done, and, with her hands free, darted forward. Terror throbbed in her heart and tugged her muscles to run away, cursed her fear of fire more fervently than ever; but the knowledge that getting the others out of here took precedence over her stupid fears kept her from bolting.
But Copperhead stood closer and had longer legs. The scythe clattering as it dropped to the ground mingled with the crackling of the fiery pillars now surrounding the intruder. Fortunately, Copperhead wound his arm around Falcon's middle quickly enough that Char could indulge her phobia and flee.
Her world became little more than the sound of her feet pounding the tunnel ground. The occasional increased staccato-bursting of her heartbeat when she trod in a puddle. The heat of the fires blazing along the ground behind her. The thought that whatever machines had lined the walls down here, they had to be falling before the fire's attack.
Beyond that thought, though, her instincts shrank down to flight flight flight and the increasing disk of light in the distance.
Then the firelight enveloping her silhouette in orange and red converged with the sunlight, and she mustered up the energy her fear hadn't killed off to make that one final stride.
No sooner had she charged into safety than her rational thought returned and told her to look for the others. It took her a few humiliatingly long moments to stop striving to find a different shade of dark gray amidst the smoke – and even longer to put the instinctive tugging toward brown spikes – before she could scan properly.
In the full light of the sun, the stains mottling Copperhead's jacket and matting his honey-colored hair to his head were visible in all their bloody glory; one of the injuries along his chest heaved with exertion and fading adrenaline. It hit Char, abruptly, that with the threat having passed, she had time to give him the help he so desperately needed.
However, she found herself approaching him warily anyway, because the other member of their party remained locked steadily in his grip, a struggling blur of black and translucent blue.
To Copperhead's credit, he kept the much smaller girl in a firm grasp, even though every movement resulted in her squirming right against his belly and her Keyblade missing him by mere inches.
Char knelt down and offered the Hi-Potion whose glass cap her fingertips had caught back in the cave. "You all right?" she asked shakily, at the same time trying not to wince at the undue strain on her bad calf.
Stupid Sora, she thought, he's the reason I'm like this, but like the times before she couldn't bring the bitterness her weakness deserved into that thought.
Despite both Falcon's valiant attempts to get free and his draining strength, Copperhead managed to look up at Char. The movement served two purposes: both to see what the redhead was doing and to dodge a clumsy hurl of the Keyblade at his skull. "Thanks, Blaze," he rasped.
The nickname was back; that had to be a sign that his injuries weren't as horrible as they seemed. Char seized that fact and clung to it, rather than the knee-jerk irritation brought on by anyone calling her anything besides her name.
Freeing one arm from his hold around Falcon's waist proved a mistake. The instant the Hi-Potion passed from Char's hands into Copperhead's, accompanied by a fierce eye-narrow from her as their fingers brushed and a nervous chuckle from him, an incensed screech tore itself from his burden. Char and Copperhead both glanced up, surprised, as with one roll away from them Falcon seemed to transform from angry beast to angry girl again.
Char wasn't sure which one to fear more.
About two seconds later, she got her answer. Falcon shook with repressed anger for a moment, gloved fingers digging into her palms on her knees; the grass beneath her trembled hard in the distorted view of it through the Keyblade in her hand. Just as the last drop of sparkling, blue-green fluid had vanished from its vial, Copperhead rose to his feet, stumbling a little at first but then getting his balance back.
As if this were some sort of signal, Falcon leaped up as well. Char stood as well out of impulse, already opening her mouth to say the other girl's name.
But then Falcon's Keyblade disappeared in a flash of light, she curled her now-free hand into a fist, and drove it forward into Copperhead's jaw.
The force of the blow made him stagger back, one hand flying up to the already-reddening area. Flecks of sparkling liquid, remnants of the Hi-Potion he had just followed, arced through the air before settling on the grass around them.
Startled, Char stepped forward, tried to speak again; only for Falcon to cut her off again, though this time verbally rather than physically. "Why did you stop me?" she demanded, trembling with suppressed wrath.
"Would you rather he'd just let you die in there?" Char found her voice and folded her arms. The look she appraised Falcon with carried more than a little annoyance; truce that had formed barely four hours ago aside, staying behind to fight an opponent that could do… that would have killed her.
And, Riku's friendship with Falcon aside, Char didn't want to have the older girl's blood on her hands.
Thinking of the fight they had only narrowly escaped, the redhead shivered, a violent spasm along her spine born of dying fear more than the spring breeze. That guy wasn't Xemnas. Definitely wasn't Xemnas. As far as she knew, Xemnas couldn't launch beams of light or engulf the area in columns of fire.
Thinking of the fires that had chased them out, Char gave the cavern a sidelong glance. But no sooner had she seen that the tunnels had not, in fact, collapsed behind them did the heaving, raspy breaths beside her form a voice.
"You stay out of this!" Falcon spat. In a few strides that belied the extent of her wounds, she had marched right up to Char, and the latter turned just in time to narrowly avoid bumping noses with her.
The thought from this morning – about having lost all her progress in breaking down Falcon's cold shell to her trusting side – echoed fleetingly in her mind.
Falcon whirled back around to glare at Copperhead, who had just regained his balance. He lowered the hand still rubbing his red-marked jaw and stared back at her. Char tensed, expecting a sardonic remark from him to stoke the already-leaping flames of Falcon's anger further, but he remained silent.
"Well?" Falcon cried at last, throwing up her hands. Her action's abruptness heralded a series of rustles from the trees behind her. Char turned, half expecting Riku to have materialized there, only to sag in disappointment when it was only birds flying up into the sky.
She hadn't realized how badly she wanted him to be there and mediate where she couldn't.
"Come on!" Falcon snarled. "Give me –" She stopped, swallowed audibly, took a ragged breath, then tried again. "Give me a damn good reason why you stopped me."
"It's like Char said," Copperhead replied. His quiet tone sounded unnerving compared to Falcon's explosive fury. "I couldn't just let you die in there. We were outmatched."
As he spoke, Falcon had stared challengingly at him, a childish demand for him to justify his saving her blazing on her face. The last part, though – about the Xemnas lookalike far surpassing them in speed and skill – pushed her tensed shoulders down and relaxed them, if only for a second. For that second, Char saw her green eyes lose their fire and her mouth open slightly. Maybe his logic would succeed where her own, muted by surprise, had failed.
But Falcon ended up shaking her head and bristling again.
"What if I wanted to die?" she hissed.
Ice blue and violet eyes alike widened.
Wanted to die? Char thought incredulously. But no, Falcon was serious; her anger swelled up inside her, carried over to reality and took up the previous fire's mantle of roaring across the area. Burned up any chance of theorizing and left no room for lies.
In all honesty, she herself had shared that desire once upon a time, the strongest moment being when she had locked eyes with Xehanort just before the Heartless ate away at him entirely. In a twisted way, she could understand Falcon's words; could understand the grip the past had on someone.
Now, though, after everything she had gone through, after seeing how many of Sora's friends had been willing to fight at his side no matter what happened…
How could you just give up?
Incensed by the others' lack of rebuttal, Falcon clenched her fists and turned on her heel. As she stormed past, she made a point of leaning down to pick something up, which confused Char until she saw the sunlight gleam off glass.
"And throw this away, you stupid litterbug!" She slapped the empty vial into Copperhead's hand and continued her haughty departure.
The foliage swallowed up her boots and the dark tails of her jacket.
Surprise, and the steady throbbing of her heartbeat, froze Char in place. Only the return of bird song to the air jarred her from her shock-borne trance.
Almost unwillingly, she looked at Copperhead. If Falcon's outburst had rooted her in place, it was nothing compared to him.
She took in the way his brows had drawn down over his eyes, the way the veins in his knuckles bulged through his gloves, how he was clutching the empty Hi-Potion like it was the only thing chaining him to the present.
He had something to do with Falcon's past. They both knew it. It had been obvious from the moment he had saved their lives in the glade and Falcon had demanded to know why he was following her.
But never before had the past hung so thickly in the air. Never before had it replaced the air so thoroughly.
If this was how Sora had felt in the face of all her secrets, Char couldn't help thinking, then he was stronger than she had ever given him credit for.
Copperhead looked up at Char, seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. Then his shoulders slumped, as much under the weight of resignation as of the memories he had strung a brash, happy mask over.
"Go," was all he said.
Char blinked. "Huh?"
Oh, very good, very intelligent, but before her dry side could chide her any further for her lack of response he elaborated. "It's time you knew," he chuckled, self-deprecatingly. "But I think it's better you didn't hear it from me."
For the second time in as many minutes, an internal struggle took place, this time within the lone outsider, the girl whose best friend had dragged her so unwillingly into this situation, the woman who had found it in herself to bear the burden of concern for someone other than the brown-haired, dorky boy with a key. She should have rounded on Copperhead and demanded what he had done, how he had broken this other girl so thoroughly.
Eventually, though, something else won out over that.
Ask Falcon, the Sora-like voice in her head urged, and just like that, she found herself turning on her heel and dashing off after Falcon, leaving the boy gazing after her.
"Sora, you're gonna put a hole in the floor," Donald said, watching with round eyes as the Keybearer paced in the Gummi ship's main room.
Sora didn't answer at first, only kept his eyes on the floor. Somehow, looking up at his friends' concerned faces would materialize the situation into something he wasn't ready for yet.
Four steps later, the wall loomed up before him and forced him to turn back around. Under normal circumstances, no hesitation would be plaguing his heart; he would have just asked Donald to take them down to the Pride Lands and been done with it.
Now, though…
Knowing Axel's identity – Nobody, Organization member, Kairi's kidnapper, a friend in another life – made him balk.
"He wouldn't trick me," Sora heard himself mutter to himself. "Right?"
"Sora?" Goofy tilted his head to try and look into the brunette's eyes.
Sora lifted his head and glanced from duck to dog. The former was tapping his foot almost impatiently, only the loose set of his brow belying his true worry; the latter had the fingers of one hand pressed tightly over the fist of the other.
"I don't think Axel would trick us," he said, more loudly than before.
"Are you sure?" Donald asked, squinting. "I wouldn't put anything past the Organization anymore." Although he sounded suspicious enough, something in his tone hinted at a deeper hesitation, one that mirrored Sora's own.
Things were so much easier, was left unspoken in Donald's remark, when our enemy was more predictable. When it was just the Heartless, mindlessly scraping hearts together, and the occasional villain fighting our friends in each world.
And Riku, who I know better than anyone else.
Or at least he thought he had back then. But that was another headache added to an already-pounding migraine, so Sora left it alone.
Besides, it was true, he thought with a veiled wince. Xehanort's Heartless had only shown his true face right before their decisive battle with him. They had had no time for moral dilemmas to take place.
Goofy's widened eyes and lowering hands suggested he was having the same thoughts as Sora. Rather than voice them aloud, though, he addressed Donald. "But he told us what the Organization was really doin'," he pointed out. "And that he was sorry for takin' Kairi."
That last part sounded almost tacked on for Sora's benefit, but, misgivings aside, Sora let it pass without comment. He hesitated – Roxas was tugging at him, hard, at the notion of what he was about to say next – but in the end, his own will won out over the other, strong though it resonated, drifting in and out of sleep in his heart.
"Axel used to be friends with Roxas. And Anxclof, too, I guess," he added reluctantly, after a moment of balking at mentioning the other person – Nobody – who sent so much conflict burning through his heart.
Goofy clasped his hands together again. "Char didn't tell us about that part," he murmured.
Quickly, before Donald could do much more besides narrow his eyes in renewed suspicion, Sora cut in. "She probably didn't know," he said. Even though she knew about everything else. "I just know because…"
And then he stopped. It occurred to him now that he had never told Donald and Goofy about his dreams of Roxas, about the real reason why he had regarded the pale golden lion who had appeared in the Pride Lands with so much shock. About how it seemed like his dreams had twisted and rolled and assimilated into the fabric of reality.
"Because?" Donald prompted, almost aggressively.
Sora looked from one to the other and then back again. Not for the first time, he felt himself wishing for ignorance about Roxas' existence; longing for the days when his objectives and finding his friends had been blissfully single-minded. The piece of his heart that was Roxas voiced a faint objection before receding, as if sensing his presence wasn't wanted right now.
Then the Keybearer sighed. What was even the point of keeping this secret anymore? Hidden as it had stayed from him before, now that he had become aware of how he had never told Donald and Goofy, he could not hold it back anymore. "I used to have dreams about Roxas and his days in the Organization," he confessed. "That's how I knew he existed. That's why I was so freaked out when he showed up in the Pride Lands."
Now that he brought up the Pride Lands, he remembered the black-and-white sphere that had surrounded the Nobody: how, instead of floating up toward the sky like the others, it had dived into Sora's chest.
"You told us that at Hollow Bastion," Goofy reminded him.
"But not what Axel had to do with you," Donald pointed out. He regarded the Keybearer with a mixture of confusion and resignation. "So… that's why you feel like he won't lie to you?"
Sora nodded, pushing back the burning embarrassment at Goofy's words. At the same time, though, he couldn't help thinking, Char told me who Roxas was that day, and then later on, after we had that fight –
"Yeah," he said, before reminiscence of her could drown out his resolve. "I think if we meet Axel, we might actually get some straight answers." Ironic, considering what his dreams had told him about the pyro.
He thought about Axel: the tear-shaped marks under his eyes, the acidic green whose shade rivaled Anxclof's in brightness and sharpness, the wolfish smirk that softened around the two people who seemed to be his lone friends in all the worlds.
More importantly, though, the memory of Axel's genuine contrition when he told Sora about Kairi – about how Saïx had snatched her away – rose up to the forefront of his thoughts and lingered.
"Can you take us down to the Pride Lands, Donald?" he asked, turning to the duck.
Donald blinked, then indignation brightened his eyes. "Can I?" he huffed, sounding affronted at Sora's apparent doubt. Grumbling affectedly, trying almost too hard to recover a lighter atmosphere, he lifted the broom and closed his eyes in concentration.
Sora had a split second to recall, with more than a little discomfort, how the trip down to the lion-dominated savannah had felt: like something was squirming inside him, splitting away from him, like something was rending his entire being in two.
Then the light enveloped his vision.
Something stained the inside of Sora's eyelids a pasty orange, and he hesitantly opened them. Dizziness had woven through his body and marked their descent from the Gummi ship down to the Pride Lands; he had to squint at first to accommodate that dizziness ebbing. Once his stomach stopped feeling as if it would fall out of him, he widened his eyes fully.
Donald flapped his wings nearby, hovering close to Sora. Only now did he notice his muscles had unconsciously bunched together, pushing his lion form into a crouch. He straightened as best he could, shaking his head with a groan.
"You all right, Sora?" He turned to see a tortoise with Goofy's head staring at him.
With a startled cry, he leaped back; but the advent of two more legs made the normally-fluid movement clumsy, and he tripped over his own paws to fall flat on his back. He peered over the tuft of white fur on his chest sheepishly, as Goofy ducked his head in embarrassment. "Sorry, guys," he said. "I forgot how different you both look in this world."
"And you apparently forgot how to move around in it," Donald remarked, eyeing the prone lion with both derision and sympathy on his feathered face.
"Aw, come on, Donald," Goofy said, padding up to stand beside Sora. "It's kinda been a while since we've been here."
"Not that long," Sora pointed out. He flailed his paws around for a moment, awkwardly trying to get upright; much to his relief, he managed to do so even with his lack of coordination. "Maybe five days, tops."
Five days… He'd had no idea so many things could happen in such a short time. Finding the virtual world, learning all of Char's secrets and some of his own, fighting for Hollow Bastion's survival, kissing Char, expanding the desperate search to include her after her disappearance…
Then he brought himself up short with a frown. At least his facial muscles still worked the same. It was the first time he had managed to think about what had happened between him and Char with only a hint of heat swelling up within his cheeks.
Axel, he told himself firmly, find Axel.
"Where are we?" he murmured aloud, glancing around. Now that his initial vertigo had faded, the orange light's source became clear to him: someone, or something, had placed torches all around the area, casting the bones strewn about in a sickly pallor. He shivered as his gaze followed one curved, ivory bone up to its origin; it wasn't a bone, it was a tusk, and one that led up to an unnaturally large skull.
Naturally, when a couple of gray shapes crawled out of the hollows of the elephant skull's eyes, all three of them jolted and cried out in surprise.
"Well, look who's back," one of the gray creatures chuckled in an unmistakably female voice.
Sora gasped. "You!"
The shapes loped into the firelight then, revealing them to be the hyenas who had tried to make the group into their next meal. "Aw, there's not as many of you this time," one of the males sighed in disappointment.
"That's all right," the female replied, fangs gleaming. "We'll take what we can get nowadays." She stopped right in front of the trio, who immediately tensed; Sora frantically tried to remember how he had summoned his Keyblade in the past, but then the female hyena drew herself up, glittering smirk curving into a snarl. "After you took out Scar, we got chased out. Now we're back to living on table scraps."
Scar… Now Sora remembered, how Simba had returned to take the throne his tyrant uncle had usurped. Shame prickled along his spine, hot and real as the torches that had taken up residence here. Of course he needed to check up on the new king as well. "I guess Simba's doing well for himself as king, then," he said.
His words garnered a completely different reaction than he had expected: the last male hyena threw back his head and cackled, practically collapsing to the ground with the fervency of his amusement. The action's abruptness pulled a surprised grunt out of Goofy.
"What's so funny?" Donald demanded, thrusting his head forward aggressively.
Now the other two joined their comrade in laughter, and Sora narrowed his eyes. "We just gotta laugh every time we hear that dude's name," the first male grinned, wiping imaginary tears away from his eyes.
"And why is that?" Sora demanded, wishing more than anything that he could summon the Decisive Pumpkin and teach these jerks a lesson.
"See for yourself," the female hyena purred. The trio followed the hyenas with their eyes as they strode past. "Simba is one wishy-washy king."
"I've even heard about some ghost popping up 'cause of him," the first male added over his shoulder. "Only pops up around fraidy-cats."
"Simba isn't like that!" Goofy said.
"Yeah," Sora agreed, "you've probably just heard wrong." Yet something like doubt twitched inside him at their words. True, Simba had ascended to the throne well enough, exhaustion and triumph mingling dually on his face and in the blood on his coat; he had fought the caricature of his uncle, and won.
Winning the battle and winning the war were two different things, though.
Oh, come on! he argued with himself. These guys are probably just trying to psyche us out.
As the pale green of the savannah swallowed up the hyenas – whose gray shoulders still trembled with suppressed laughter – he turned to Donald and Goofy, about to tell them of his skepticism.
He froze instantly, though, when an all-too-familiar, arrogant voice sounded nearby.
"Geez, I thought they'd never leave."
Sora registered the "wak!" from Donald, but the sound had to force its way past the sudden throbbing of his heartbeat in his ears. For lying atop the elephant skull, dangling his paws and looking for all the world like he had declared himself king of the graveyard, sat a vibrantly crimson adult lion.
Axel regarded them with a single narrowed eye – the feline equivalent of a raised eyebrow – and a vague smirk. He idly dangled one paw over the skull's rounded edge, eventually pressing that paw against his makeshift throne as he rose.
"What took you so long, Sora?" he queried lazily. With a few sinuous movements, he had leaped from the skull down to the ground. Donald immediately swooped forward at the sudden movement, staff materializing in his talons at once and bill formed into a growl, but Axel slid his gaze toward him only for an instant before looking at Sora.
For some reason, the brown-furred lion took immense comfort in the fact that Axel's disguise wasn't perfect. When Anxclof had appeared in the Pride Lands, consumed by fury as she had been even then, she had scraped together enough knowledge of this world to swathe herself in a suitable lion form. However, Axel's vibrant red fur gave the first hint that he didn't belong here. At least when Donald had made Char's form, he had turned her into a tiger, which fit her equally crimson hair a bit more than a random red lion.
Axel gazed down his strong muzzle at Sora, something flickering in his acid eyes, before he seemed to recover himself and shrugged as best he could. "Fine, give me the silent treatment. I understand." Turning with a flick of his tail, he padded a couple of steps away; frustration stirred inside the Keybearer at how much this form suited the pyro, who was fluid and nigh feline in grace anyway.
"Unless you want to find out about Kairi?" he tossed over his shoulder.
That proved the exact wrong thing for him to say. In an instant, all thoughts of trying to dig up the memory of how to summon his Keyblade in this form flew from Sora's mind and into the lukewarm air whose heat he could smell more than feel.
Somehow, just thinking of his heightened senses injected a fresh flood of anger into his veins, because if this – this – Nobody hadn't taken Kairi he would at least be somewhat closer to home –
Donald and Goofy yelped, springing apart as much out of shock as to give their leader a clear path, as Sora's face contorted in rage and he charged after Axel.
The pyro-turned-feral cat swiveled his head around. Sora found immense gratification at how Axel's eyes widened, just before the grunt that tore free from him at the moment of impact.
"Where is she?" he shouted. Somehow, his cub-like form had managed to pin the much larger adult lion to the ground; his front paws had settled at Axel's shoulders, and his tail lashed freely behind him.
Axel's calm arrogance returned as quickly as it had fled, albeit tempered by an odd nostalgia. What is he thinking? That even as a lion, I look like Roxas when I'm mad? Sora found himself wondering, through the red veil that had enveloped his vision.
Red, red, everything came back to red, didn't it? Axel, Kairi, Char…
"I already told you," the Nobody said. "And I already told you I'm sorry for letting Saïx get her. Now if you could just, you know, let me up –"
Suddenly Goofy cried out. Sluggishly, just remembering the others who still stood there, Sora looked up, only for shock to force him up onto his hind legs and gasp. Even Axel's eyes widened.
Before them stood a figure Sora had never wanted to see again. Darkness swirled around the phantom, the same kind that had marked him in their last battle with the monster this being emulated.
Scar.
Before long, Char had found Falcon's tracks. In her haste to escape the scene, the older girl had left a trail of dried blood in her wake, reminding Char of just how many injuries she had sustained before their forced escape.
The other sign that she was on the right track came in the form of a solid thump close by, which then heralded a series of curses. Char's mouth twisted wryly. Found her.
She followed the continuous stream of angry expletives, worry tainting her dry amusement when that stream became incoherent with more than just ire. The foliage thinned out, and she pushed a few leaves that had strayed into her line of vision aside just in time to see Falcon lowering her fist from a tree.
"Not that I don't share the sentiment, but punching hard surfaces is a really bad idea," she commented, stepping into full view.
Falcon whirled to face her, injured hand flexing at her side. "Oh, great," she spat, though the prevalence of angry tears in her eyes negated any intimidation. "Are you gonna lecture me now? Say 'we need to get along if we're going to find the machine, Falcon. Go and apologize to that bastard if you want to help Riku, Fal –" Halfway through the mocking rendition of her own name, her voice completed its journey from trembling to completely shattering.
Char watched Falcon turn away and glare fiercely at the ground, her eyebrows drawing down over her horrified eyes. "I wasn't going to say that," she said, voice little more than a whisper. As much lying as she had done over the last few months, at least that much rang true.
Now, though, the issue remained as to how she would voice the question. The one that had been on her mind for the past few days, that had tunneled deeply enough into her curiosity for her heart to quiver with unwilling anticipation at getting an answer.
"Good," Falcon huffed.
"I just…" Char stopped, hesitated. She wanted so badly to exercise her right to bluntness and ask what had happened, but something inside her told her to wait.
Not Sora. Her loyalty as a friend, maybe.
Sure enough, an instant later, Falcon looked up at her. The identity of whatever had restrained her desire to ask right out was confirmed as her loyalty at that moment, at seeing the brightness in Falcon's eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks.
Wait, her mind breathed, just wait –
"You can't expect me to forgive him," she ground out. "Not the man who killed my parents."
Char's breath caught.
Riku stepped out of the trees in front of the tunnels. His prayers that the townspeople he had asked about Falcon's whereabouts had directed him right broke off instantly at the sight of two things.
The first was Copperhead, whose white coat he almost didn't recognize at first. So much darkness obscured that formerly-pristine shade, and Copperhead's normally confident shoulders were hunched.
Falcon and Char had vanished.
Riku's brow furrowed in bemusement, but just as Copperhead turned around and straightened as he spotted him – he could almost hear the older man thinking better act like everything's okay – the second thing happened.
A whirlwind of dark brown flung itself out of the trees and slammed into Copperhead. Instinctively, Riku summoned the Soul Eater and dashed forward, ready to carve the Heartless into pieces; if he was right about the identity of the darkness on Copperhead's coat, he knew he had to act fast.
The blur pushed Copperhead back against the nearest tree, and Riku followed, raising the bat-shaped blade in preparation to drive it into his assailant… then stopped, his arm tensed in midair.
It was Char.
Riku could recall seeing her this profoundly furious, this darkly angry, a scant few times in the year and a half since he had met her; he didn't dare term it known her, because ever since he had brought her here from her journey with Sora he felt like some parts of her had become too different for him to know anymore.
A few arguments they had had in the early days of their friendship had seen her like this. The day he had pinned her to the castle gates at the Land of Dragons had seen her like this.
The Soul Eater vanished in his grasp, but despite the dark light that differed so much from that of the sun, neither Copperhead nor Char noticed him at all.
"Damn, Blaze," Copperhead laughed, strained amusement in his voice. "I knew you secretly wanted me, but this is just –"
"Why?" Char demanded – screamed, really. Riku could only stare, slack-jawed, as she shook the blonde's shoulders in a way that made a few droplets of blood free themselves from his torn jacket. "Why – how could you hurt anyone the way you did to her?"
The grin sloughed off Copperhead's face at once. The color there drained into some invisible abyss as well, some darkness born of the past and everything it brought.
Even with dread permeating him so thoroughly, though, he craned his neck and spotted Riku still standing behind them. "Riku," he greeted breathlessly.
"He has nothing to do with this!" Char shrieked, pressing forward so her nose practically slammed into his. "Do you – did you get off on making other people miserable? Was she just so happy having a family that you had to tear that apart? Some of us never even had parents, Copperhead – some of us were just cast away like nothing! Was that you, too? Were you jealous of her?"
Her voice shook to the point of near incoherence, but Riku was only dimly aware of this. He tore her family apart?
"Char," he said hoarsely.
That one word was like a red flag, a hammer that shattered into the glass panes of the window between them. She spun around, and it was all Riku could do not to flinch. Fortunately, though, he stood his ground against her ebbing rage, only staring down at her.
Never before had he experienced this degree of gladness toward the height this form had on her.
Copperhead slumped down against the tree, wincing and gripping one shoulder. More red oozed out from a wound there, as if Char's jostling him had opened it back up; sure enough, the half-gloved hand Char fisted to point at him had blood staining the green fabric. "You make him explain," she hissed. "Make this murderer give me a reason to not sink to his level."
Riku appraised Copperhead, who gazed back at him almost pleadingly. It was a look Riku had seen before, and it was a look that resounded down to his very core.
It was a look that, barely a year ago, when the darkness had first begun to work its damaging effects into him, he had seen in the mirror.
Maybe that was why he relented, in the end.
"All right," he said, offering a prompting hand, palm-up. Copperhead misinterpreted the gesture as an offer to help him to his feet, and took it; the grip felt slippery with blood and sweat at first, but eventually the older man stood upright, albeit with one hand against the tree.
Char quirked one incredulous eyebrow. "You're going to let him explain."
"If he wants to," Riku confirmed. He slid his gaze across at Copperhead, whose eyes lit up in relief. Despite the pity he had just shown, the dark boy felt his nose wrinkle. Pathetic. "We're not going to sink to his level, though."
Copperhead's shoulders slumped. "Thanks."
Don't thank us yet, Riku wanted to say, because Char still had more than a sliver of that murderous cast darkening her face; but he remained silent.
A pause, during which the Shadowed Desert native seemed to gather his strength. Then he straightened and fixed a calm, albeit pain-clouded gaze on them.
"All right," he said, and the next sentence, with how casually he uttered his crime, made Riku tense. "I'll tell you why I killed my best friend's parents."
Finally, the SD arc has come to something. Only took, what, 10 chapters and 200-something pages?
But we're finally gonna get some answers.
And Axel. Oh, Axel. I'm going to have a TON of fun with that little snark demon. Before, you know, he dies. Sob.