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The boy in front of him does not have Seraph’s face. It is unfamiliar: his eyes have diamond pupils, and he’s got a snaggletooth at the corner of his mouth.
However, it’s undeniable that the color of this boy’s eyes—red like blood, familiar and haunting—is the same as Seraph’s, as well as everything else about him. He’s seen this very image in the water’s reflection every time he stepped out for a break during training before he decided to change everything about himself.
Darkness ripples around him, and the boy’s expression scrunches up like he’s in pain. His figure flickers in and out, as if not knowing whose form to take: Seraph’s, or someone else’s.
Seraph frowns, bitterness creeping up his veins. He knows that all too well, trying to be someone he’s not. Issues with his own identity aside, he grips his Keyblade, avoiding looking into those eyes. “Who are you?”
The boy frowns. “You and I both know the answer to that very well.” He points at himself, then finally at Seraph. “I am you, Ares.”
Seraph grimaces at the name. “I’ve cast that name aside years ago.”
Ares tilts his head, arms crossed. “Your heart says otherwise.”
Seraph doesn’t budge or flinch. Ignoring the cold he feels, he asks another question, “…What do you want?”
“Master said I should lay low for a while,” Ares answers, and Seraph files that information aside. Seems like the boy in front of him is working with someone else. Ares then shrugs. “Wanted to see for myself what you’ve become, though.” Suddenly, Ares is right in front of him, tapping the area where Seraph’s heart is. “You know, now that I’ve taken a look at you, it seems that you and I are the same.”
Seraph takes a staggering step back. His hands are shaking. “You know, for someone who says that we’re the same, you really aren’t good at following orders,” he quips, trying to calm his breathing, but his heart is pounding and the sweat rolling down his back is ice cold.
Ares raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. “Where else do you think I got it from? I’m you. You’ve always wanted to, you know.” Seraph goes quiet at that. “We both wanted freedom. You’d do anything to get it, same as me…” Ares pauses. “Even lie and deceive. Just like what you’re doing right now.”
Seraph grits his teeth. He doesn’t want to hear any more of this. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ares smiles at him. It’s full of pity. “How many times do I have to say it so that it gets through your skull?” He tries to take a step forward, but Seraph points the Keyblade directly at his face. “Even with this Keyblade pointed right at me, you won’t even look at my face. You’re shaking. Aim at me properly,” Ares taunts, and this time, Seraph flinches. “It’s our face, you know. Our eyes. What’s got you all scared stiff?”
Seraph tries, and all he sees is the color red piercing into his heart. It’s cold—so, so cold—and he doesn’t know if he can distinguish the differences between this boy’s face and his own anymore. “Get lost,” he growls and slashes at Ares, who effortlessly jumps back.
“Fight it all you want, but we both know you and I will end up the same.” Ares’ voice is emotionless, none of the taunting lilt earlier present, and Seraph once again feels a familiar ache in his heart. A portal of darkness opens behind Ares, and he steps inside. “No use running from yourself, after all. I just need to catch up, and we’ll see what happens from there.”
With that, the portal closes and Ares is gone, taking all of Seraph’s strength with him. Gasping for air that he should know is there, Seraph finally collapses. A creeping familiarity takes hold of his heart, its grip tight and punishing, and it takes everything in him to not throw up right then and there.