Chapter Text
Sora twisted a large heart-shaped leaf in front of his nose as he considered his dilemma. He rolled the stem between his thumb and forefinger, watching light and shadows alternate on the flat planes of the leaf. If he squinted just right, the pattern of green and yellow veins running along the underside vaguely resembled a network of streets and city blocks. He angled the leaf above him to block out the glare of the sunlight in his eyes, then dropped his arm to the ground with a wistful sigh.
He was sprawled out on a grassy hilltop with warm sunshine in his face and nothing but open sky above him while a breeze encouraged the tall grass to tickle his arms and legs. A bee hummed somewhere near his elbow, and Sora turned to watch it land clumsily on a nearby flower. The boy and bee regarded each other for a moment, and Sora wondered how many flowers had been crushed beneath him by his spontaneous break in the meadow.
Well, that would be another point to consider regarding his dilemma, he supposed.
The dilemma, of course, was whether to stay on the hilltop a little longer or head back into town. It was not a particularly complicated predicament, but it nonetheless required a certain level of consideration.
On the one hand, Sora had managed to find a spot on the hill comfortable enough to lay down on without too many rocks digging into his back—which was quite an accomplishment given the fact that the hill itself seemed to be made almost entirely of sharp rocks. He’d also been working hard this past week, which Sora felt should always be balanced out with an equal amount of idleness. In fact, he’d been very close to perfecting his best impression of moss before being interrupted by a reminder of his obligations.
The reminder had come from the little yellow cat currently sitting on Sora’s chest, staring down into his face with narrow, unblinking eyes. The weight of the cat was a comforting sort of pressure, but the impatient claws beginning to pierce through the fabric of Sora’s shirt were not.
“Well?” asked the cat, ears flicked back in annoyance. “Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me.”
“When your boss gives you the morning off, you ought to enjoy every minute as much as possible,” said Sora reasonably.
“Your morning minutes have definitely stretched into the afternoon. Cloud will be mad if we’re late.”
“All the more reason to stay longer,” he grinned. “Cloud loves reasons to be grumpy, and it’s my job to provide them.”
The cat’s whiskers twitched. “That’s definitely not your job.”
“It’s an unspoken agreement. A collateral duty, even.”
The cat flicked his tail, amused but unimpressed by the argument.
“Whatever, Roxas,” Sora snorted. “Don’t pretend you’re some kind of model employee. You just want lunch.”
“Lunch is one of the most important meals of the day,” said Roxas with a lofty tail swish. “And the food vendor stalls will get busy soon.”
Sora supposed this was sound reasoning enough. “Alright,” he conceded, “we’ll head back.”
He stood and stretched with a yawn, then gathered up the bicycle he had dropped in the grass beside him. He paused a moment to look at the leaf still in his hand and decided it was worth pocketing.
Roxas jumped up into the basket attached to the bike’s handlebars and they set off. Once on the thin dirt path, the bike picked up speed as gravity pulled it along until they were absolutely tearing down the hill, avoiding potholes and rocks with a deft lean to one side or another and laughing as only dust was left where he had been a blink ago. Every small rock in the road had Roxas nearly flying out of his seat in the basket, and he dug in his claws and clung for his life, something he had grown very used to by now.
“Sora!” he howled. “You’re going too fast! We’re going to die!”
Sora only gave a joyous ‘whoop!’ and pedaled faster. But Roxas should have expected as much, really.
Quiet grassy hilltops gave way to bustling cobblestone streets and crooked rows of wooden buildings, and at last they had to slow somewhat to avoid a crash. Roxas could relax slightly, though his ears were still plastered against his head and his tail fur stuck out as thick as Sora’s arm. Sora sped down roads and over bridges, expertly dodging both stationary and moving obstacles with glee, receiving both friendly greetings and frantic cursing from the people he passed.
He skidded to a halt in front of a narrow building squished between its neighbors, where a large front window proclaimed ‘Cloud’s Delivery’ in faded lettering. Sora rolled down a short alley behind the shop, where he dismounted and propped the bike against a wall. He opened the back door, pausing slightly as Roxas weaved between his feet to enter first.
“I’m back!” Sora called, tapping chunks of dried mud from his shoes.
The back door led immediately into a small kitchenette complete with a sink, table, cupboard, and ice box. Every flat surface was covered in a mess of papers, boxes, cups, postcards, tape, and knickknacks, all coated in a layer of loose strands of yellow cat fur.
Roxas jumped up onto the table and settled himself inside one of the empty boxes. Sora headed straight for the icebox and peered inside, hoping some kind of food had miraculously appeared since the last time he had checked it. He found only the mostly empty jar of milk and wedge of cheese that had been there when he’d left. Useless.
“You’re late.”
Sora looked up to find Cloud in the doorway leading to the main office, arms crossed over his chest and a regular scowl etched into his face. Though thin and not exactly tall, Cloud struck a rather intimidating figure all the same due to the air of mild fury constantly radiating from him. He looked like a man who could kill you easily and whose ever-thinning patience was the only thing keeping him from doing so. Cold eyes fixed on Sora with a glare.
“Time is subjective,” Sora said with a wide, charming smile. “Also, look at this cool leaf I found! It kinda looks like a map of the western district. Weird, huh?” He took the leaf from his pocket to marvel over it again.
As expected, Cloud gave a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. The act shifted him from a formidable threat to something marginally softer. He shook his head and turned back into the office, but not before Sora noticed the amused curl at the corner of his mouth. Grinning at a job well done, Sora tucked the leaf away again and followed after his boss.
The office was much like the kitchenette in that every surface was covered in clutter and cat hair, but it was an organized sort of mess which its makers knew well enough. The main source of the apparent chaos were the piles of packages stacked nearly waist high in places to create a sort of miniature maze one had to maneuver through carefully, lest a stray bump of the hip topple a tower and mix delivery dates and locations.
Cloud picked up a clipboard from the desk and looked it over. “Average run today, mostly south. But enough in the north that you’d better be quick before they close the streets on you for that parade.”
Sora gave a cocky scoff. “As if they could stop me just by closing a street.” He took the delivery list from Cloud and navigated around to reach the day’s package pile. “Besides, I want to see the big parade.”
“No extra breaks,” Cloud frowned. “I already gave you the whole morning off. And to be honest, I’m not even sure why I did, considering how much work there is to do.”
“A healthy work-life balance is crucial for employee retention,” Sora offered cheerfully.
Cloud gave him a flat look. “No.”
“Aw, c’mon!” he whined. “I want to see some magic! People on stilts doing tricks and stuff! How can you be so cruel to snuff out a boy’s dream so easily?”
“You’re thinking of a circus,” said Cloud. “This is just a military parade. There won’t be any big magic tricks.”
Sora paused. “You sure?”
“Just soldiers and officers marching around. Maybe the cavalry. Nothing worth dashing your boyish dreams over.”
Sora deflated, looking very much like his dreams had been dashed anyway. He stooped to pick up his pile of packages and lumbered dejectedly towards the back door.
Cloud rolled his eyes at the display. “Aren’t you going to put on the company vest?” He gestured to the bulky tan vest hanging on the coat rack. It was constructed out of the stiff, itchy material used for potato sacks, with ‘Cloud’s Delivery’ printed in bold letters across the back.
Sora made a face at the vest like he’d just eaten a worm. He looked down at his own clothes, a dingy white shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows and loose knee-length trousers held up by suspenders.
“Nah, this is fine.” Sora gave a dismissive shrug and left the room as if the conversation were over.
And Cloud supposed it probably was. He shook his head, wondering how exactly he’d ended up with such an employee.
Outside, Sora strapped the larger boxes to the back of his bike and put the smaller packages in the front basket. Roxas appeared and hopped back into his place in the basket, sitting on top of the packages like he belonged there.
“Cloud said the parade isn’t going to have magic,” Sora complained to the cat.
“Why would a military parade have magic?”
“Because it would be cool! If the city is going to have some big event going on, there should be some excitement!”
“Take that up with the planning committee,” Roxas snorted. “When are we getting lunch?”
“We’re on a time crunch here. Lunch will have to wait until after our deliveries.”
The cat gave a pitiful sigh in his basket, and Sora ruffled his ears in apology.
Packages secured, Sora pushed off from the ground and in one smooth movement steered his bicycle back onto the city streets.
Sora moved as if his bicycle were merely an extension of himself, gracefully swooping through traffic without fear. Muscles flexed and stretched as he channeled his beam of limitless energy into motion. No ounce of Sora contained even a trace of caution or doubt, on wheels or otherwise, and this confidence was largely responsible for the business success of Cloud’s Delivery. Sora loved a challenge, and tight timetables and tricky delivery routes were no match for his boyish enthusiasm.
The southern district, for instance, might have been considered a hazardous route by more sensible cyclists. It was rather poorer than the rest of the city, with cramped buildings and narrow streets squeezing out every last inch of usable real estate from the turbulent undulation of hills the district was built on. The neighborhoods were rife with activity, and therefore a limitless potential for accidents; Run down automobiles stalled in traffic, women shouted conversation at each other from across upper apartment windows, old men wheezed in laughter together on crowded porch stoops, and wild children darted about underfoot.
But the southern district had the best hills, so of course Sora came by as often as he could.
The only issue with the southern district, as far as Sora was concerned, was the significant population of dirt sprites. Dirt sprites grew large in that part of the city from the collection of dust and grime, and were strong enough to cause more trouble than usual. They typically gathered in corners and gutters and empty rooms where they went about their mischief. Lately, though, they had taken to the steep rooftops where they managed to dislodge the flat clay roof tiles to fling at people below. Pedestrians had to be careful not to get hit by falling roof tiles, and warning notices were displayed every few blocks.
Sora swerved his bike easily to avoid a tile that smashed into the sidewalk in front of him. He had suspected for some time now that the dirt sprites had marked him out in particular to hit, being a fast-moving target and therefore a challenge.
“You’ll have to try better than that!” he called to the sprites scuttling about on the rooftop gutter above.
"Don't encourage them," said Roxas.
Sora darted through the streets and made his deliveries with a somewhat uncharacteristic efficiency—packages given, receipt signature received. Most of the recipients knew him well, and Sora might have been tempted to linger and chat had it not been for his determination to beat the parade schedule.
His resolve wavered, however, as he pulled up to Cid’s Mechanic Shop.
“Hello! Cloud’s Delivery!” Sora called as he dismounted his bike.
A boy appeared in the doorway, grinning. He had tan skin made darker still from smudges of dirt and grease, and shaggy blond hair that had been bleached further by excessive amounts of time spent in the sun. His overalls were permanently dirty and his work boots were tired, but his smile was wide and friendly.
“Hey Sora,” said the boy. “What’s new?”
“Every day is new, Tidus!” Sora declared.
Tidus nodded, as if he’d expected that sort of offbeat answer.
Sora had a way of moving through the world that was always a slant step off from everyone else. There was a directness to his gaze that would have been unnerving were it not for the sincere smile he offered everyone he met. But even then, most people hardly knew what to make of him. Something about his genuine enthusiasm and complete lack of inhibition caused people to react with some combination of confusion, irritation, and bemused indulgence.
Tidus fell firmly into this last category. Having known Sora for a while, he humored Sora's antics patiently the way one might with a young child, despite the fact that they were close in age. He and Sora unloaded the boxes from the bicycle while Sora described an encounter with an interesting beetle he’d found that morning. Tidus nodded along in interest, but it was more the telling of the story than the content that he found amusing.
“Quit yer yappin’! I ain’t paying ya to chit chat all day!” came a gruff shout from within the shop.
Inside the garage, Cid stood at a worktable taken up by a variety of inscrutable machine parts. He was a stocky, muscular man in his middle age with a thick neck and a pinkish sort of face. He wore a shirt that may have once been blue and a pair of pants held up by a complicated utility belt. At his feet lay a large, fierce-looking dog with a spiked collar.
“Hey Cid!” Sora smiled from behind the boxes in his arms.
“That’s Mr. Highwind to you, brat. Just set those down by that table there.” They did so, and Cid came over to inspect them. The dog followed, sniffing the boxes in interest, then sniffing Sora in interest.
“Your autograph, please,” Sora grinned, holding out a paper and pen.
Cid rolled his eyes but scribbled a signature on the receipt form, then barked at Tidus to get back to work.
Delivery complete, Sora crouched down to scratch the dog’s ears, and the dog responded by attempting to lick as much of Sora’s face as possible. “Hi Red,” he cooed. “Are you working hard in your doggy job? Have you gotten a pay raise yet?”
The dog gave a loud and frankly ferocious-sounding bark and Sora laughed.
“Quit talking to that dog like he’s a baby,” Cid snapped. “You keep doing that, he’ll get soft. Then what use is he gonna be at guarding the shop?”
“Aw, that could never happen, could it, Red?” Sora said to the dog. “You’re a very professional guard dog! Everyone is impressed!”
But Red perked up suddenly and froze, pupils large and eyes focused unwaveringly on the doorway.
“Red, get over here!” Cid slapped the side of his leg. “What’s he looking at—aw dammit, now the cat’s here.”
Sure enough, Roxas was sitting in the doorway, looking inside cautiously. Red crouched low, ears back, and growled.
“What’re you always bringing that damned cat around for? You know Red gets all worked up. I never seen him get so worked up about a cat as he does about that one!”
Sora grinned. “It’s because Roxas is special,” he said, as if it were obvious. He grabbed Red’s collar to make sure he didn’t bolt after the cat.
“Yeah, well, something’s special alright,” Cid grumbled to his tools.
“Are you guys going to the parade later?” Sora asked, steadying himself as Red tried to pull towards the door.
“Naw, the old man won’t let me,” said Tidus.
“Yer damn right I won’t let ya! We’ve got work to do! I’m not letting you laze around just cuz we’re all supposed to get excited about the military. Damn foolish waste of an afternoon! Like we’re supposed to be excited about war just cuz some idiots march around in uniform.”
“You really think there’s going to be a war?” Sora asked. His shoes slid several inches on the smooth workshop floor as Red tugged with all his weight.
“Ugh, don’t get him started! I’ll never hear the end of it!” Tidus moaned. But it was too late.
“If Sephiroth Jenova doesn’t get his act together, we’ll have no choice!" Cid spat. "Idiot nobles don’t know how to do a damned thing. They sit around in their fancy houses drinkin’ tea all day while hard-workin’ folks like me foot the bill. If I ever see any of those Jenova boys, I swear I’ll pop ‘em right in the jaw. Maybe they’ll be more diplomatic with their jaws wired shut. Hah!” Cid screwed a bolt into place emphatically.
“What kind of tea do you think they drink?” asked Sora. Red was now successfully pulling Sora around the room like a one-dog sled team, and he wobbled slightly to maintain his balance.
“What? Why is that the one part you listened to? If you’re gonna be an idiot, why’d you even ask?”
Sora shrugged. “I dunno, just curious, I guess.” Roxas finally ducked out from the doorway, and Red gave up his struggle at last. Sora steadied himself, ruffling the dog’s ears.
Tidus paused in thought. “Probably something that goes with biscuits,” was his conclusion. “Rich people eat biscuits, don’t they?”
“Well, whatever is it, I’m sure it tastes like piss!” Cid barked. “Now get the hell outta here! Some of us have work to do, ya know. And quit messing with that dog!”
Back outside, Sora adjusted the remaining packages on the bike while Roxas resettled himself in the basket.
“So, what’d he say?” Sora asked as he mounted his bike and took off again.
“What’d who say?” Roxas dug his claws into the basket as they turned a sharp corner.
“Red. Did you talk to him?”
“No!” Roxas snapped, annoyed. “I didn’t talk to him! I wouldn’t want to even if I could! You always ask and it’s always the same answer.”
Sora chewed his lip, unsatisfied. “Maybe you just need to practice more. Then you might get the hang of it.”
“It doesn’t work like that. Dogs don’t form language like people do. You got your greeting barks, you got your warning barks, you got your ‘I’m-an-idiot-dog’ barks, and that’s pretty much it.”
“So you can talk to Red!”
“Anyone could come to that conclusion about dog barks!”
“Fine, fine. You’re such a spoil-sport, you know that?”
“Whatever. You’re the one who never listens.”
Their southern district deliveries complete, it was time to head to the opposite end of the city. Their route north led them past the city’s central train station, and the train pulled up just as they arrived, rumbling, screeching, and billowing smoke. Sora was caught in the heavy foot traffic of people departing and boarding the train, and he swerved and skidded through the crowd, whisked about by the sea of harried passengers.
Just when he thought he was free, Sora lurched to a halt as a large woman rushed in front of him with luggage and a brood of children holding hands trailing behind her. The abrupt stop nearly threw Roxas out of the basket, and it was only his claws embedded in its fiber that kept him from flying. The woman didn’t appear to have noticed that Sora was there at all, or that they had all come quite close to a collision.
“Eeh! That surprised me!” Sora said. He watched the family force their way through the crowd toward the train, practically pushing people aside in their haste.
“You’d better take care not to get trampled, kid,” someone chuckled behind him. “You nearly lost your little kitten.”
Sora couldn’t help but gawk at the tall, wiry young man suddenly towering over him. His hair was a shocking red mane and beneath each bottle-green eye was a dash of tattoo like a semi-colon. He had a wide, mocking grin and carried a small bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sora said, on the brink of outright staring.
“There are few things more terrifying than a person late for a train. And being trampled to death seems like such a pathetic way to go, don’t you think?” The man’s grin widened, but it was only a little sinister.
“Definitely,” Sora agreed. “It wouldn’t be a heroic death at all. You alright, Roxas?”
Roxas huddled in the basket, ears flattened. He gave the stranger a baleful glare.
“Roxas? Is that his name? Can I pet him?” the man asked, reaching a hand toward the cat.
Roxas growled. The man hesitated.
“He doesn’t like other people much,” said Sora.
“That’s too bad. I’m usually pretty good with animals.” The man was clearly disappointed by the rejection from the cute little cat in the basket, but Roxas continued to glare until the man’s hand was safely at his side and no longer a threat.
“Nah, don’t take it personally,” said Sora. “He’s just picky about people he likes. He has to get to know you first.”
A loud, wailing lump of luggage collapsed in a heap at their feet. They watched as a figure disentangled itself from the pile and turned into a young man. He was about the same age as the first, though not nearly as tall, with light-colored hair cut in a curious, modern sort of style.
“Axel! Quit leaving me with all the bags!” he whined at the first man. “Most of this is your stuff, anyway!”
“Hm? I could have sworn you said you wanted to carry them all,” said the red-headed man, not an ounce apologetic.
“I said no such thing!” his companion squawked. “I’m not here to be the bag-boy, you know, and even Siax said—” His diatribe fell away abruptly, having noticed Sora and the cat. His face flicked to a smile like a light switch. “Hi! I’m Demyx, nice to meet you!” He grabbed Sora’s hand and shook it enthusiastically, as if that was what he had come for. “Aw, what a cute kitty cat! Look at him in his little basket!”
Roxas was immediately on the defensive again. He hissed and swiped at the approaching hand, claws flashing, and Demyx snapped back with a startled yip.
“And I am Axel, at your service,” said the first man with a flourished bow.
“I’m Sora. Are you two new in town? Looks like you just got off the train.”
“Indeed we are,” Axel replied in a lofty voice. “Demyx and I are but two humble traveling performers wandering from city to city, seeing the world and providing entertainment where we can. At last we have arrived in this wonderful city of Nomura, though I doubt we will stay long. Ours is a rootless nature, you see.”
“Performers?” Sora brightened. “What do you do?”
“We are well versed in song, dance, story-telling, juggling, and magic,” Demyx declared. “Few can match our talented diversity!”
“Magic? Really?” Sora’s face lit up with delight. “Oh man, I’ve been I’ve been wanting to see a magic show for ages! I thought I was gonna get to see one today, but turns out it’s a bust. Lucky that I met you two, then!”
“Lucky indeed!” Axel said with a friendly clap on Sora’s shoulder. “Nomura has never seen a show quite like ours.” He paused, glancing over the pile of packages beneath the cat in the bike’s front basket. “Say, I bet you know your way around town, huh?”
“Sure do! I’m the expert delivery worker for Cloud’s Delivery—Number one delivery service in the city!”
Axel’s brows raised at the overly chipper response. “Are you really?” he said, grinning indulgently. “Well, lucky us, then. See, we’re looking for a particular address in town, and my colleague here happened to lose our directions.”
“I did not!” Demyx balked. “You never even gave them to me!”
Axel’s head snapped to Demyx. “I did give them to you,” he insisted, teeth bared in an annoyed grimace. “In fact, I specifically handed you the directions and said ‘here, don’t lose this.’ So where are they now?”
This was clearly a sore argument that had been going on between them for a while. Demyx stammered through a series of plausible excuses before Sora interrupted.
“Where do you need to go?”
“We’re looking for a print shop,” said Axel. “It’s very important that we get there as soon as possible.”
“What do traveling performers need a print shop for?” Sora asked.
Axel paused. “Does it matter?”
Sora shrugged. “There’s more than one print shop in the city, and they specialize in different things. If I know what you need, I can figure out where you should go.”
“Why don’t you just list off a few, and we can shop around.” His wide grin was becoming strained.
“That would probably waste a lot of your time, though, wouldn’t it? If you’re in a hurry, I mean.”
“That… is true,” Axel conceded. He was trying very hard to keep the annoyance out of his voice, though. “Fine. We are looking for a print shop to print some documents. Just normal documents. The kind anyone might need.”
Sora raised a brow. Even Roxas looked up from his basket to frown at him.
“We’re printing flyers,” said Demyx brightly. “To advertise our show!”
“Oh, of course!” Sora nodded. “A traveling show needs to have good advertisement. You probably need a big banner and everything, too!”
“Yes, of course. That’s exactly what we need,” said Axel, relieved.
“In that case, you’ll probably want the shop in the eastern district. There’s one in the south, too, but I wouldn’t recommend them. The one in the western district does mostly newspapers so that wouldn’t work. And the one in the north is probably a little too pricey.”
“Perfect,” Axel grinned impatiently. “How do we get the shop in the east?”
Sora launched into a detailed series of directions through the city, and Axel nodded along, focused intently.
“I’ve got some extra paper if you want to write any of that down,” said Sora.
“No need, I’ve got it memorized.”
Which Sora was suitably impressed by.
“Thanks for your help, kid. We’ll see you around.” Axel adjusted the small bag over his shoulder and turned to leave.
“Wait!” Sora called. “Where will I find your show? What’s it called?
Axel paused, looking at Demyx.
“We are called the Melodious Nocturne and the Flurry of Dancing Flames!” Demyx declared with an excited flourish. “And you will find us wherever you find music and intrigue!”
Sora frowned. “Huh?”
Axel rolled his eyes. “You’ll know it when you see it,” he assured him. “Now hurry up Dem, we’ve got work to do.” He started off back into the throng of train station pedestrians.
“Hey wait!” Demyx called after him. “Don’t leave me with all the bags again! These aren’t even mine!”
But Sora couldn’t linger to help Demyx as he stumbled pathetically through the station. Sora had work to do, too.
The northern district was a refined, rich, and outrageously clean part of the city. Long blocks of proud apartments lined the major boulevards with elaborate facades and ornamentation. Though not as hilly as the southern district, the northern district was constructed on a significant incline, with neighborhoods rising higher in tiers the further north you went. At the top of this large hill stood the Jenova Mansion, the house of the governing nobles of the city.
Sora dashed about the tidy streets and stately homes as best he could with the growing crowds. People were preparing for the parade, but mostly getting in Sora’s way. He wasn’t exactly tired, but the incline wasn’t easy on a bike. And with the crowds, the going was rather slow. Roxas, at least, was pleased by this.
Finally, Sora dropped off the last of his packages. He decided after some debate with Roxas to watch the parade after all, figuring that even if there wasn’t a planned magic demonstration, there might still be some excitement. So he locked up his bike and joined the onlookers near the main plaza.
He could hear cheers and marching tunes played by trumpets and drums as he pushed through the crowd in search of a spot to stand. This was easier said than done, however, as the sidewalk was densely packed with people who all seemed to be unreasonably tall. And since the parade apparently lacked people on stilts, this was a problem. He managed to insert himself just behind the front of the crowd, where he could watch the parade through a gap between the elbows of the people in front of him. Roxas settled down by Sora’s feet, apparently content with seeing the parade only from the knees down.
Blaring trumpets and pounding drums announced that the parade procession had reached their stretch of street. The plaza became a stream of green and silver uniforms, with glossy black boots marching perfectly in time. Soldiers did their best to look stoically ahead, though a few succumbed to the urge to smile at the crowd.
A cluster of decorated officers on horseback rode past in a break between the troops, and the crowd cheered. The Army General rode just behind the others, distinguished by his highly decorated uniform. Unlike almost every other person involved with the parade, this man did not seem at all happy to be there; A murderous frown darkened his features beneath his uniform cap, intensifying a fierce scar that ran across his face.
The next troops that passed wore uniforms of green and black, identifying them as the renown mage troops. Sora marveled at them, wide-eyed, willing them to display some of their magic as they passed. But they merely marched with the same patriotic rhythm as the other soldiers, much to his disappointment.
Something odd in the street ahead of him caught Sora’s attention, though. He blinked and frowned, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. There seemed to be a small dark shadow about the size of a coin darting around between the soldiers’ feet as they marched. Sora wouldn’t have thought much of it of it until it bumped against a soldier’s boot, causing him to trip slightly. The soldier seemed to blame his stumble on the soldier next to him and gave an irritated glare in response. But the shadow spot continued zipping through the parade, sliding fluidly through the dips in the cobblestones underfoot. The strange shadow was not aimless in its movement, though. In fact, it seemed to have a very determined trajectory—and it was heading straight towards Sora.
Sora jolted in alarm as the shadow zoomed directly at him. At the last second, the shadow turned in a crack in the cobblestones and aimed to the side instead, where it crashed into numerous unsuspecting feet. People in the crowd stumbled and tripped, assailed by something they couldn’t quite make out at their feet.
“Hey, watch it!” yelped a man as someone else bumped into him
“You watch it!” was the agitated retort.
“Ew! Something touched me!” shrieked a woman.
The man with her turned to the person behind them in outrage. “Keep your filthy hands to yourself!”
The accused blinked at him in offense. “How bout you quit stepping on my toes?”
A number of small skirmishes were breaking out amongst the crowd. People started arguing, flashing stern elbows and swift heels over perceived slights to their personal space. But everyone was so tightly packed together that every shove rippled in waves to push people at the other end of the crowd. Sora was squished on all sides, and he grunted, trying to maintain his balance. But the pushing was only growing stronger.
“Hey, watch it, pal! Can’t you see I’m standing here?” snapped a man standing behind Sora.
“You’re the one who needs to back off. I was here first!” said the man beside him.
“Well I’m standing here now, so deal with it!”
The two men shoved at each other, which bumped the people around them and caused the people in the front row to stumble slightly off the curb. When a violent thrust knocked into Sora directly, he was sent careening through the people in front of him and into the street. He landed hard, flat on his back, right in the middle of the parade.
The cavalry troops had arrived at their stretch of plaza now, and the clop of horse hooves on cobblestone reverberated down the street.
Sora looked up to see the oncoming cavalry horses nearly on top of him. The closest horse reared, and the rider gave a startled yelp. Sora scrambled to get out of the way, but the horse’s hooves were flying and coming back down fast.
The crowd watching gave a collective gasp.
Strong arms wrapped around Sora’s waist and snatched him out of the way. The rearing horse landed on all fours with a thud, but no bone-crunching accompanied it.
Bewildered, Sora found himself now on the curb of the sidewalk. The surrounding crowd had parted in a wide circle, peering down at him. For a brief, upside down moment where anything was possible, Sora wondered if Roxas had saved him somehow.
But when Sora looked up, he found jade-green eyes gazing down at him in concern.
“Are you alright?”
The eyes belonged to a startlingly handsome boy with fair skin and long, silver hair. He was leaning down over Sora, close enough that they were nearly nose to nose. The proximity allowed for an appreciation of his soft eyelashes and high cheekbones.
Sora blinked at the boy, slightly dazed. Then he considered the question. He wiggled his fingers and toes and found all to be in working order. Other than a sudden flutter in his chest, he felt about as good as ever.
Sora’s face erupted into a brilliant smile. “You saved me!”
It was the boy’s turn to blink in surprise. He seemed unnerved by Sora’s smile. Or perhaps he had just realized how close their faces were. He stood, adjusting his waistcoat self-consciously, and cleared his throat.
“Who knew spectating could be so dangerous!” Sora said as he stood and dusted himself off. “That would have been a very un-heroic way to die.”
“You, um. You dropped this, I think.” The boy held up the heart-shaped leaf that had fallen from Sora’s pocket, frowning uncertainly. He seemed to be working to keep his expression carefully neutral, as if to pretend that he couldn’t care less about the situation—Which was rather undercut by the fact that the boy had apparently cared enough to pull Sora out of danger in the first place.
Sora beamed at the leaf as if reunited with a long-lost treasure. “Wow, thanks!” He twisted it tenderly between his fingers before pocketing it once more.
The boy’s impassive expression might have trembled against a grin, but his long, silver hair shifted to hang like a curtain over his face, so it was difficult to tell.
“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” the boy said. “Good day to you.” With that, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
“Wait!” Sora called after him. “Who said you could leave?”
But the boy had already gone.
A cat’s yowl alerted Sora to Roxas pawing at his feet. He scooped the cat into his arms and together they made their way away from the crowd back to his bike.
“When you said you wanted some excitement at the parade, I didn’t expect you to become the main event,” Roxas said, purring to keep his nerves at bay.
“I know! It was very exciting.” Sora was grinning like a fool, stars in his eyes and a bounce in his step.
“You could have been killed!”
“Sure, but then I was saved! All thanks to that mysterious masked man! I wonder who he was…”
Roxas frowned. “Sora, he wasn’t wearing a mask.”
“Yeah, well, if he’s going to run away and be mysterious, he might as well wear a mask. Plus, I’ve always wanted to say something like ‘who was that masked man?’ and now I got to!”
There was a pause before Roxas responded.
“Can we get some lunch now?”