Beyond the Red of the Sunset (Axel)

The gossip of the Lantern Festival back in Traverse Town was enough to interest anyone. Light. Fire. Darkness - all of it combined into celebration signifying new beginnings. It was a perfect foreshadowing.

From his position along the top of the wall, hood concealing his zealous red hair and most of his facial features, sharp teal eyes glistened in the reflected light as they swept slowly across the large palace square below. Lanterns floated along the edge of the waterway or hung on sticks, crossbeams, poles, anything and everything that could house a little red beacon. The lights within them flickered, their unease soothing to the soul.

The banter of hundreds of people filled the square. Despite the gathering, their noises were somewhat quiet. A few awed gasps and sighs leapt from the throats of the onlookers as a few more fireworks exploded into the sky, their glittery flashes dancing into the night.

"The Lanterns bring a wonderful burst of life to the world. It's breathtaking... Like nothing you've ever seen before!" he'd recalled overhearing one of the older women in Traverse Town's Café reflecting about her travels as he passed smoothly by.

"What do you know? The old hag was right!" his voice was quiet, inaudible above the livened bustle of the locals.

The black cloak, a false evidence of the side he chose, did little to hide the silhouette's dead giveaway identity; that waist was undoubtedly unmistakeable. With arms crossed ominously across his chest, and stature saturated with the signature, straight poise of his pride, his presence screamed with all the self-respect of a Lion. Thankfully, no one's gaze had been on him, despite his pride, and his location.

Axel had taken this trip to the Land of Dragons as more of an escape, but he'd already come up with an excuse to be here, on the off-chance he were caught: Recon Mission. After all, this was one of the worlds that the Organization had very little information about, and thus it stood as enough of a justification to keep him out of (too much) trouble... Not that he really cared regardless.

Life was taking a different course now, though he'd kept his cloak, and some of his presence in the Organization, in order to keep the option of being destroyed or hunted at bay for awhile.

Even with the peaceful sights on the outside, his mind's eye was reeling with recent events. That cold teal gaze drifted across the flickering lanterns again, from the large red and gold paper Dragon, to the stars and circles. They stopped on a Heart-shaped lantern. “I get it. You're desperate for your heart,” Kairi's words came back to him as he thought about his newly-altered course. Part of his mind still questioned its probability for success, but he had decided to go with it due to preferable alliances, not to mention that the Organization had loads to promise, but little to make good on. So what was wrong with him taking a step in a different direction? “So how about this,” he'd remembered those stark, blue eyes staring up at his own. “I forgive you, and you let me help you find your heart..." There was a certain allure in those words. Those were the words that had made him take her bait -- and he planned to hold her to it.

His peripheral vision triggered a tilt of his head toward a break in the ocean of people. It was like a fisherman's line, parting the water in its wake. The figure wasn't like the commoners - not only in his choice drab, but also because, unlike the meandering citizens of the Festival, this guy had a destination. Just where was a mystery, but with a little observance, the Flurry got the feeling he could find out.

Even from his distance, the silhouette on the edge of the Western wall had a gaze that could slice steel. It watched the peculiar other continue to weave through the crowd, the splashes of red and orange from the sunset tinging the world behind the Nobody in a blaze of serene Fire.

The Sun always set in the West.

A gaze of teal daggers had never left its target, only faltering when a taller citizen meandered through the path of his vision, obscuring his ability to see his mark. Such diversions didn't last long. With a little waiting, the other hooded figure would emerge into his line of sight once again. And being dressed like that, it wasn't exactly hard to isolate him from the rest of the population. It wasn't exactly like this guy fit in very well.

A slight wind picked up, the breeze a telling breath of a Summer evening. With those hands on his tellingly small hips, Axel continued to analyze. The Nobody couldn't help but get a little bit lost in his memories at the other's choice garb. A bud of remembrance bloomed in his mind. It was a bitter prick, if Axel could even have the right to say he felt.

"Today makes 255."

He still remembered the wooden flavor of the empty Popsicle stick resting in his mouth, and his brow furrowing at Roxas's strange statement. "What's that about"?

"It's been that many days... Since I first joined the Organization. Man, time flies."

"So, you've got the number memorized, do you?" He pulled the small wooden stick out of his mouth, using it to gesture toward the other Nobody.

The smirk on Roxas's mouth at that instant was priceless: it whispered of hope, despite the probabilities of a Nobody actually feeling such a thing. "Yeah. You have to hang onto something, right?"

He blinked, the memory fading away. The empty spot in his mind where it once was would give birth to a plume of anger: anger at his inability to keep Roxas with him. Anger at the fact that, for all his work, he still had no heart to prove for it... And most of all, anger at Roxas, for ever having left in the first place.

The Nobody's brows scrunched together, almost painfully, and he touched his gloved palm to chest. This wasn't the first time echoes had come back to him. It was likely that it wouldn't be the last. Strange, though, that the echo of a feeling would come to him now: here, of all places.

He brushed it off, gaze returning to the out-of-place stranger. The attire this stranger chose to wear was remarkably similar to Number Thirteen's choice clothing. Similar enough to Roxas's own attire to resemble his cherished blonde friend, yet just different enough to tell Axel that it wasn't the same. And therefore, despite his drive to find his best friend, this couldn't have been the same pers --

!!!

-- A familiar glimmer of white sparkles brought a Keyblade into existence. It was a short, sweet few seconds, but enough time to totally derail the Flurry's previous thoughts, and start him off with a new train: You see, Axel knew two people with that model of Keyblade. And both of them would've been good subjects to find alone. If it were Sora, he'd have a reunion to tell Kairi about. Of course, he knew she'd immediately ask him why he didn't bring Sora back to her himself. But if it were Roxas, which seemed far more likely, well...

The Flurry froze, his prideful posture with all the arrogance of a young Lion. He had sensed that the familiar stranger below locked onto his position. To some extent, Axel was aware that the bright red of his hair could've been an illusion - a play on the fractured light from the scarlet sunset behind him; enough to bend the light just right. Perhaps what caught the other's attention was only a trick of the eye.

Regardless, the Nobody wanted to know if he'd been recognized. From this distance, facial features were hard to distinguish, but with the sun at the Number Eight's back, it played perfectly off of most of the citizens in the Court. Highlighted in the warm glow of the final rays of sunlight, Axel thought he could see a few blonde locks, brushed to the side of the distant face that stared back at him.

A flair of irritation was welling up inside of him as the last of the sun's rays dimmed on the horizon. He wasn't comfortable with being looked at directly on, as the prey of his gaze had chosen to do. So, he waited for the other's interest in him to be lost. And, just like a Lion after its target, so were his movements once his prey had looked away.

He slid down the ramped wooden roof of a closed kiosk - the manager was probably on a bathroom break. A few of the ornaments hanging inside shuddered and fell to the ground as the light Nobody padded his landing. Feet hitting the ground, Number Eight's posture curled like a hunter after its victim, and he proceeded to make his way through the crowd, black hood concealing his features. His rate of approach was alarming, but he knew he could get away with what he was about to do.

On any other day of the year, it would have been taboo, but today, it would've been played out as either a ploy between friends, or perhaps a part of the experience: a dramatization, perhaps?

The tall Nobody emerged from a wave of citizens, now standing a mere thirty feet from his target. A few meandering locals still cluttered the court yard between him and his mark, but it was nothing he couldn't work around.

A plume of flame shot from the Nobody's hand, and it raced along the ground as though on a predestined track toward its destination. The Fire rolled across the cement, arcing around the citizens in its way, and hurdling straight toward the prey.

Axel, in all his flashy appeal, would get to the bottom of this. There would be no more hiding. No more evasion. It was everything or nothing.

Like a spark in a dry forest, so was his anger. It had caught, and was rapidly burning. Through thick, hazy smoke the kind Axel had been clouded over, lost in the heat of his anger, the bite of his perceived betrayal, and his own confusion.

Axel had given himself the liberty of summoning up his Charkrams as the initial welcoming statement was sent to Roxas's attention.

A blink of light behind his target as he wove through the crowd had confirmed what he had already known; this was, in fact, the friend he'd died once to find; and unlike their reunion in the Sandlot of Twilight Town, this time, Number Thirteen was ready to fight back.

The concept was a blindside that the Flurry had very little time to react to. It would be typical for Axel to dodge faster than the enemy could figure him out, but what the Nobody had failed to take into account was the element he was pitting himself against: the speed of the projectiles had outmatched his own pride and glory. Despite his quick attempt to dodge, both streaks of light had met their mark in blindingly quick succession, one below Axel's left set of ribs, the other just below the right collarbone; and he growled through the pain and anger, but it would take more than this to bring Number Eight down: his pride would make sure of that.

A Somebody might declare that Nobodies didn't feel, and therefore couldn't understand the thrill of battle; but Axel would beg to differ. He had a kind of heightened muse when it came to a good fight, and not just due to wit. And now, either out of thrill or out of simple instinct, his body and his mind had empowered him to fight on, coating his wounds with a numbing agent. That wasn't to say that the wounds didn't hurt, but that he could will himself to fight on in spite of them. In keeping with his style, he would keep the opponent at bay, except when making direct stirkes with his Charkrams. His willpower re-harnessed after staggering from the blows of Light, the elusive Nobody leaned backward. He narrowly avoided Roxas's Keyblade, sharp green eyes focussing momentarily on the familiar weapon. The dull and bent reflection on its silvery surface mirrored very little in the darkness, outside of himself, and what fires still glistened lightly around them.

With momentum, the thin and flexible Nobody pushed himself backward, tossing his Charkrams flat on the ground. They scraped with a metallic sound across the pavement below, shifting under his hands as he used them for stability, executing a quick reverse flip.

His new injuries whined with jolts of pain, somewhat dulled in the heat of the fight. He knew fully well that they would hurt worse once the battle was over and he was tending to them, and these two would be quite enough; he had no desire to gain more, but Axel's anger had hardly been sated. As futile as it was, fighting Light with Fire, a greater element with its lesser, Axel was using this fight to cope with scars much deeper than physical injuries could ever reach.

Right after coming to his feet, the Flury coated both weapons in a light layer of flame, and sent both Chakrams to spiral around each other, one right after the other, toward his target.

What Axel had difficulty understanding was how his loyalty and friendship could be put on the back burner without so much as a second thought. Was he really that low on Roxas's priority list? Well, he wasn't about to go down without a fight, and if he'd had to remind the other Nobody of his presence and importance, he was going to do it with force. "Am I ringin' any bells yet?" the sentence was laced with venom.

The last time they'd fought, Axel had lost to Roxas. There was no reason it would be any different this time -- but this time Axel wasn't fighting to win; he was fighting for other reasons entirely... reasons his conscious mind may not have been fully aware of.

Once deflected, the wheel-weapons returned to Axel's hands, one right after the other, as faithfully as they'd ever been, resting, and ready for Axel's next move, but his planning would be cut short. A keyblade was at the Flurry's throat before he could figure out what was going on. His eyes shifted backward, trying to get a look at the Blonde, and a growl escaped him, irritation seizing his expresion. True to his Cat-like nature, Axel hated to be caught, hated to be cornered… and hated to be bested.

He was still turning over in his mind the rancid reward he'd received for his loyalty; it was illogical. The patterns: his loyalty, the well-played cards he'd been setting up since the beginning; By rights, he should've been winning. By rights Xion and Roxas should've remained at his side, working toward the mutual goal of Kingdom Hearts together, preparing in the long-run for a friendship trio that would last a lifetime, the sweets of their efforts to be fully recognized when they'd all received their Hearts. But those two never were very good at seeing things in regard to the long run…

…Another memory assaulted his mind as he was muscled through a portal, and out of the range of the clapping audience, who had undoubtedly witnessed the best performance of their lives. The memory's grasp was far beyond unwelcome. It was there and over in the blink of an eye:


"Why do I always get stuck with the icky jobs?"
"Axel…"
"Xion, what are you gonna do?"
"I've decided that I have to go back to where I belong."
"Well to be honest, I always felt that was best right from the very beginning. But you know, it still really bugs me. Something about this just stinks."
"It's for the good of everyone"
"But how do you know that?" Everybody thinks they're RIGHT…"
"This is right"
"They're gonna destroy you!"
--The sharp sound of a drawn keyblade--
"Please don't hold back Axel. Promise."
"WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? You both think you can do whatever you want… And I'm sick of it! Go on. You just keep running…"

"…but I'll always be there to bring you back!"

If anger were possible to trigger before, it had now evolved into full-blown Fury. Perhaps because of the truth he told Xion that day: the truth of his dogged commitment to his friends and the goal of their Hearts. Truth was a funny thing though, because the truth was, despite his best efforts… his unrequitted attempt to keep his friends --everything-- together, he was about to lose them both.

He was aware of his Captor's quick release as the cold metal Keyblade stock pulled away from his neck but he was a little slow to fully come to, blinded by what was going on in his mind; the memories silently driving him mad. And the pieces of his sanity were beginning to falter.

An explosion of pain slapped his consciousness back to reality, and the situation he had to deal with at present. A loud grunt came from the redhead as the first orb of Light struck his back. He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be possible for a Nobody who couldn't feel, all he knew was what was happening now; he'd been turned to the point that his blood was boiling. Right before Xion's defection from the Organization, things were beginning to fall to turmoil, one by one…

…And since then, they had hardly improved on any front. His brief association with Kairi a few days earlier was a small glimmer, but the Darkness for him was outweighing the Light. Pure frustration was evident in his shout; as his voice often did, it embodied everything he was thinking inside. "WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM? I thought we were friends." Roxas had already demonstrated that he'd won this duel, and still he continued to reign down his judgement.

And as the attacks continued to come, Axel did his best to dodge the next spheres, blocking two with his Chakrams -- one headed in a Bee-Line for his torso, the other just above his head. The sheer force of the attacks were driving him backward an inch or two at a time. He'd successfully blocked two with some effort, but luck would betray him on the next four.

The attack was cruel and constant. One right after the other, the compact orbs slammed into his body, exploding upon impact with the Nobody's ribs, back, and stomach; it was a very unpleasant experience. Did Roxas intend to make him suffer, or was that just a side-effect of those victims he was slow to kill? Either way, the Flurry of Dancing Flames had had enough.

One of the Chakrams that had slid out of his hands during the assault fell to the ground, vanishing in an array of silver sparkles. The ginger was sure to quickly re-summon it. Having survived that attack, he used the Chakram to catch his weight. The explosions had left him staggering, body now harshly battered. He was panting for breath, eyes sharp, brooding, cold, but sincere: if a Nobody's ever could be. His words were stark, blunt, and despite his natural element, acerbically frigid. His voice was filled with both venom and the truth he hoped would bite as hard as he was hurting. A forlorn growl arose deep in his throat, justly expressing his confusion, frustration and helpless before he made his point… the words were sharper than a newly-sharpened sword. "Xion died for you, Roxas! And so did I…" His gaze flashed with the fury contained within, deep-seeded anger apparent in his cold face. He didn't know why Roxas was choosing to act as he was, but one thing that Number Eight had decided was that he was going to take another stand, despite the odds. He'd give this train wreck one last ride.

Axel staggered to his feet, straightening his posture. Flame wove up his arms, accumulating around his Torso and his back -- this was the visual statment that he was about to use his powers to their most potent extent. "…Don't expect me to do it again!" For a Nobody without a link to emotions, his words were so powerfully deceiving; so strog, so pungent… so loaded.

The enraged Flurry leapt toward his attacker, slamming both Chakrams onto the ground as he landed. The force of the counter-attack erected a wall of Fire much larger than he had ever created before. It would be followed by several pillars of red and blue Flame, each attack aimed for his opposition, each intended to knock Roxas off his high horse: to make him see that Axel wasn't the enemy.

And perhaps, each was for naught.

In his mind it was slightly justifying to let Roxas absorb a few waves of flame, though he could not really say how it felt; for such notions were out of his jurisdiction.

To be fair, despite his feral streak, a suicide and a murder were not on his agenda today. No, he had come here on his own accord, simply to sight-see based on hear-say. And then, to his surprise, he encountered Roxas, and on the point of a needle everything changed.

Axel had hardly comprehended the reasoning behind the escalating turn of events. Hardly had he realized the gravity of the situation until the retaliating light that Roxas had unleashed as his counter attack bleached everything around them in an explosion of pure white.

The Flurry had prepared another barrage of attacks in his mind, the line up perfect for a second combo; he would arch around, and unleash his Chakrams after flanking Roxas, then he'd set a ring of fire around the blonde, and use his elusiveness to jump in and out of the ring, like a Lion pouncing from his ready positing in the reeds. Plans solidified, he leapt forward to unleash the follow-up.

But his surroundings only, rapidly, got brighter. He could feelt the warmth of the light, and the blinding brightness had cranked up so far that it was beginning to burn his eyes.

While his thoughts said to muscle through it and fight back, instinct forced him to pause mid-leap and cover his eyes before he went blind. And, as the light continued to grow, he was forced to toss up his arms and protect his vision.

All he remembered after that scene was a harsh pain on the back of his skull. Then blackness.

The Curaga spell that Roxas cast on him did its part to bind the major wounds: it would definitely keep him alive, even if less than comfortable. As an added side-effect, whether it was supposed to or not, it also brought him to.

His vision blurred a few times, brows furrowing to try and make sense of the swathes of grey and orange. He tried hard to make out the colors he was seeing, and after forcing his vision to clear, and a brief analysis, it clicked: he was in a cave. Well well, looks like it's not the end of the road for me after all.

It was uncomfortably cold in here, but the gently flickering candles and lanterns gave it a homey touch.

His thoughts sobered as the pounding headache beneath that mess of red hair voiced its frustration. And, as the blonde had made his apology, they were further brought to a stand-still, taken aback by Roxas's chosen method of departure. Wait, so after all that he'd just been though, he wouldn't even get to catch up?

Luckily, the Curaga spell had finished working into his wounds, and by now, had even helped clear his mind. Well, cleared up for someone who'd just come to, that is.

He drew in a quiet breath, jade gaze catching the dark silhouette of his old friend against the shafts of moonlight illuminating the mouth of the cave. For some reason, whatever it might be --mercy, loneliness, some third party-- Roxas hadn't destroyed him. But, that didn't make everything right. Roxas was still planning to leave. And that meant he wouldn't be able to tell Roxas the truth about his decision. About meeting Kairi... or any of that.

"So that's it?" planting his feet on the ground below the chair he'd awakened sloppily upon, he pushed himself to sit up straight. He could feel the gentle scarring on his chest slide open in that movement and he grimaced. A few shadowy ribbons escaped the wound in his torso in protest, bleeding softly from somewhere inside. Holy dang, how that first attack had hurt!

"You're going to beat me down, apologize, then walk out on me?" his pointer finger tapped the arm of the throne; a Cat, ears back, twitching his tail in frustration.

"Someone who died for you deserves more than that," as Axel had been so good at doing in the past, the way the sentence came out clearly expressed his disappointment. The phrasing was gentle, but the words would find a way to burn like a concentrated flame. He let his disregarded disposition sink in for a moment, and then made a poor attempt to stand up. His body had taken a beating, and it trembled when he used his arms to push himself to stand.

If his strong words hadn't made his point as clear as crystal by now, his icy gaze told of the frustration in his mind... the growing bitterness of his memories. He hadn't come this far to lose, and the Flurry wasn't ready to go home empty handed.

"Sorry to burst your bubble Roxas," it was like bitterness rolling off of his tongue. The words escalated, the fire behind them igniting a strong, infuriated blaze. "But this time, sorry's not enough!" One hand reached up, shooting a ball of flame toward the mouth of the cave. The fire erected into a thick plume which quickly grew to block Roxas's exit.

Roxas was going to have to explain, or finish the job he'd started in blood.

The glower remained in those fiery eyes as crimson brows furrowed with frustration. The Flurry's expression softened, in part, with time. He listened, however platonically and gratefully, to Roxas's explanation... Not that the kid had done him any favors: everything was still clear as mud. What was his old friend even blabbering about?

_{'Don't you understand? Everything they told us was a lie. Everything we did was all lies. So how could you go back?"}

Me? Go back? How much there was that this youngster didn't understand about the sly Nobody who'd taken him under wing in the first place. Not much has changed since the good old days, eh buddy?

_{'Look at us. Is this really what you wanted? Chasing after things for reasons you don't know so that you can kid yourself you're not running away?'}

Sometimes you gotta fight for what you want in life. The lithe Nobody continued to think, body slumped forward, left hand holding his chin, the right hand holding the left elbow for support. Those eyes - green daggers - wanted to say so much that his tongue refused to spill. If there wouldn't have been repercussions, I would've told you and Xion about my plans back at Headquarters.