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The moon of this world is different.
Saix noticed it immediately upon exiting his summoned Corridor, and the peculiarity of it has plagued him since he set foot on this world. It was not the same shade of citrine that permeated the castle walls back at his home, nor was it the same dusty gray of a moon that exists for him only through the memories of another.
He stands on the shore of this world and allows the ethereal glow of a cornflower blue moon to bathe him in light. Salty sea air kisses the artificial skin of his replica housing, and the stimulus triggers a stolen memory of sea salt kisses upon the skin of another. His stomach twists with a longing that he’s long since become accustomed to, and Saix grimaces, cursing for the millionth time the Other whose betrayal led to Saix’s creation.
Everything about Saix was borrowed- stolen and ripped from the heart of another. His appearance, his memories, everything that belonged to him was merely a reflection. A piss-poor imitation, the familiar voice of one that Isa once called friend hisses to him, you’ll never be him- you never could be him. As if it weren’t enough that Lea- that Axel spent his days reminding Saix of each glaring defect of his existence, the assassin has the gall to infiltrate every waking thought of the replica.
And with a dry chuckle, Saix considers for the thousandth time how even the sole thing that he has which Isa does not- the singular person the Keyblade Master cares for above all else- will never truly belong to him.
In a sense, that’s why he’s come to this place. This world, with a magic all its own, boasted a legend that was potent enough that word of it had bled into the surrounding worlds and caught the attention of the Organization’s dusks. A fairy, they had whispered in his ear one night after the castle’s denizens had retired to their quarters, with the power to give life to that which did not already possess it. She had done it once already, they told him- bestowed life to a puppet made of wood and turned it into a real, living, breathing child.
A foolish, childish part of him had wondered if such a feat were really possible, and Saix had spent weeks agonizing over the thought that there were others like him- hollow, broken puppets- who were lucky enough to be given a life of their own- to be made real. The foolhardy part of him had eventually decided that hoping, that wondering, that thinking, was no longer enough- and so he slipped away from the Castle at his first opportunity.
Tipping his head back, pleading jade eyes lock with the moon, and Saix sighs. His Kingdom Hearts holds no answers for him; the incomprehensible screaming of the hearts within it offered no clarity as to his true purpose. Since his inception, he’s spent countless hours praying to the false moon for truth, rendering himself open for divine inspiration, but there is no divinity in vacuousness, and all the replica has managed to do is become a conduit for the moon’s own rage.
But here, it feels different. Beneath the soft blue glow of this world’s moon, Saix feels a serenity that he knows only from implanted memories. And again he wonders.
Scanning the midnight sky, he looks for the star and finds it off to his right. It’s brighter than all the others, almost supernaturally so, and looking at it now fills Saix with a renewed sense of fortitude. The dusks had sung the spell to him in his sleep, ingrained it in his memory, and Saix cannot help but wonder- what if?
“Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I make tonight.”
He swallows thickly as his voice trails off, vanishing into a mere whisper, and waits. A minute passes- sixty agonizing seconds- but nothing happens. No bright light envelops him, no fairy descends from the heavens to greet him; there’s only the crashing sounds of the ocean waves to break the silence following his prayer. Fingers curling into tight balls within the sleeves of his coat, Saix bows his head and squeezes his eyes shut.
Please, he thinks- harder than he’s ever begged before, please. I cannot sit idly by any longer; I must have purpose. Something, anything…
“It doesn’t work like that, y’know.”
Xigbar’s voice breaks the tension in the silence of the scene, but Saix has grown so accustomed to the other man’s sudden appearances that this one offers no surprise. In a way, the replica is amazed that the Freeshooter took so long to track him down.
“Are you here to bring me back?” Saix replies, his voice listless and hollow.
From behind him, Xigbar breathes out a heavy sigh, and Saix can feel the other man’s steady gaze on his back.
“...nah.”
“Then why are you here? I am permitted to leave the Castle, per Lord Xemnas. What I do in my free time is of no concern to you.”
“Easy there, Sai,” Xigbar approaches Saix, setting a gentle hand upon his shoulder- but it’s the tender, near kindness with which he speaks to the replica that causes Saix to jerk away. “I’m not gonna rat on you.”
“Then why?” Saix scoffs, finally turning to face Xigbar, and crosses his arms tightly over his chest. “Moreover, how-”
“How’d I find you?” Xigbar finishes with a soft laugh. He opens his mouth to answer but hesitates, his mouth tugging momentarily into the wisp of a frown. “The dusks told me. They didn’t mention you were trying to call the Blue Fairy; you should’ve mentioned it earlier- would’ve told you not to bother.”
Traitorous creatures. Saix flushes red as he averts his gaze, heat rising in his face as his replica body responds to what would be shame and embarrassment, had he a proper heart.
“Yes, well... If you plan on making fun of me for this, I would appreciate the courtesy of not doing so in front of the others.”
“C’mon, I’m not that heartless,” Xigbar speaks plainly, without the usual stress on the irony of the fact that he is, in fact, that heartless. There’s a melancholy wistfulness writ across his scarred face as he inhales deeply through his nose. “I get it, trust me.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
“Hey, believe it or don’t.” Xigbar threads his fingers behind his head and begins to stroll closer to the shoreline. “I know a thing or two about wishing you were something else than what you were meant for.”
“Say for a moment that I believe you know even a fraction of what I feel.” Saix’s voice hitches at ‘feel’, and he has to swallow the indignance of his rising emotions. He trails after Xigbar, incredulous and oblivious to the way the other man’s gaze has glazed over- the way his face distorts for a moment into the ghost of his own emotions. “You expect me to believe- what, that you’ve tried it? That you’ve attempted to call her?”
Xigbar’s answer is not immediate and, for a moment, Saix thinks he’s been had. He nearly expects Axel or the Superior to appear from nowhere, gleeful to have caught the replica acting untoward, but no such moment comes.
“You have to have a heart to wish.” His eventual reply is distant- tone sobering and eerily unlike his usual slick pretension. “Without one… she won’t show. Hell, even if you had one- she never shows.”
Saix‘s eyebrows knit together, intrigue tinged with an air of concern, but he remains silent. This is seemingly a rare moment of candor from Xigbar and it is one that Saix is not eager to spoil. He does consider pressing Xigbar for more, for any scrap of information that he can use to win favor with Xemnas, or with Axel- like a dog lying a dead bird at its masters’ feet, but- the Freeshooter turns to face the replica and their eyes lock. Under the powder blue wash of the moon’s pale glow, Xigbar’s steely gaze softens, and Saix could almost swear that the other man’s eye glints less its usual shade of warmed honey and closer to the deep mocha that he hasn’t ever had occasion to personally see.
“The kind of magic you’re asking for and the kind of magic she does are totally different. Even if you could call her, she doesn’t have the kind of power it would take to do what you want.”
Saix swallows hard against the newly-formed lump in his throat and breaks their eye contact. He feels a tightness in his chest that he’s only ever felt in the memories of another, and again, Saix balls his fists in a vain attempt to quiet the swell of emotion that’s pushing against the empty cavern of his artificial chest.
“I only- want to be useful.” Saix finds himself speaking aloud before he can stop himself, and is surprised to hear how meek and timid his voice has become. “I cannot stand the idea of being nothing more than an empty shell. Is it-”
Saix’s voice cracks under the pressure of emotion and- for the first time since he was brought into this existence- his brilliant eyes well up and spill over, running down the soft contours of his cheeks.
“Is it so wrong to desire to be more than the role I’ve been appointed? Am I so misguided for wanting a fraction of what he has? Do you have any idea how- how-”
“Lonely it is?” Xigbar finishes the sentence for him, a wistful smile appearing across his face for a single moment before disappearing into the night. “Yeah, I got some idea.”
“Then you know why I need this.” Saix breaks their eye contact, shame washing his cheeks a stubborn shade of pink, and reaches up to wipe stray tears from his visage. “If I cannot be him- if I cannot be right, I-
He falls to his knees, the cumulative weight of shattered expectations and disappointment dragging him down. Saix digs his fingers into soft, pliable sand and for a moment, can do nothing more than glare at the earth.
“What purpose do I have?”
Xigbar doesn’t say anything for a long while and, were it not for the shadow cast on Saix by the other man’s gaunt form, he would think Xigbar has left him to be alone with his own despondency.
“If I know anything,” Xigbar finally says with a sigh, “It’s that sometimes playing your role doesn’t always work out like you think.”
He bends with a soft grunt and grabs Saix gently by the shoulders of his coat so that he can pull the replica back to standing. As the two men stand, they avoid the eyes of the other: Saix keeps his gaze trained on the patch of earth where he kneeled not five seconds ago, while Xigbar’s attention remains zeroed in on the seams on the shoulder of Saix’s coat.
“What you think you’re meant for- what everyone else thinks you’re meant for- that’s not always how it is.”
“So am I meant to relegate myself to ghosting throughout the halls of the Castle? You mean me to wander aimlessly without a hint of purpose indefinitely? That seems as cruel a fate as any other.”
“Nah, that’s not it at all. What I’m saying is,” Xigbar whistles low, scratching the top of his head, and as Saix looks up at him, he can see Xigbar searching for the right words to say.
“When the time comes, you’ll know what your purpose is. You’ll know what you’re meant to do.”