KH2: Flames Rising 2

[tsaiko]

I really did try working on Race the Wind, but after staring at the screen for thirty minutes, I gave up. Instead I decided to write Axel because... well because. He's an obnoxious bastard. Maybe now that this part is done, I can work on something else.

Can you beleive I'm half way through writing this series? There's only two more parts and an epilogue.

I took World Music in college. Never did I imagine when I was learning about the music of India that I would be using said knowledge six years later to write fanfiction. o_O

Prologue | Part 1



Flames Rising: Spark to Flame

Axel had been all over the First District of Traverse Town, and it was boring. He'd been thrown out of all the shops, mostly because he couldn't stop touching things. Personally he didn't see what the problem was. It wasn't like he broke anything. All he did was toss them around. He always caught it.

So far.

Right now he was exploring another set of mysterious doors. A small plaque announced that they led to Second District. He'd tried asking someone why they were closed, but for some reason people in Traverse Town tended to avoid him.

He couldn't imagine why.

"Well, not going to find out what's behind them by standing here." Axel put a hand on either door and pushed. This time he was expecting them to move easily. He didn't even stumble. "Which just means I'm getting to use to this crazy world."

The architecture was different, which Axel found a relief. More silver white stone, arches and neon. "I wonder if any of these places has a porn store?" It seemed likely. The signs were certainly tacky enough.

"Wonder why everyone is crowded into First District?" The light pollution didn't quite drown out all the stars, and Axel tilted his head back until it made him dizzy. "I mean, I like people as much as the next person, but being packed in like sardines isn't my idea of fun. Too much close and personal. I need a little room to move."

There was a soft sound behind Axel and a taste to the air that reminded him of darkness. He turned around in time to see shadows bubbling up from the ground. The word "Heartless" floated through his mind. Were these things Heartless?

"Whatever. They're pathetic. Time to get rid of them."

Axel held out his arms waiting for... something to materialize. A weapon? Why did heexpect a weapon to come to him? Anyway nothing came. Axel was left feeling vaguely stupid as Heartless swarmed towards him.

"Right. Screw this. New plan. Run like hell."

So he couldn't go into Second District? That was fine. He'd spotted another set of doors. Maybe they would lead somewhere interesting.

***

"This is fucking retarded," Axel snarled. He was back around Demy half listening as he played scales and arpeggios on his sitar. The musician had already made comparison between him and a stalking, caged cat. Axel had told him to go fuck himself. "I can't go anywhere except First District without being attacked. I can't defend myself from the attacks. I'm stuck."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Demy asked because Axel was looking at him like he had all the answers.

"I don't know," Axel threw himself into a chair. The proprietor didn't care because there were no customers. There were never any customers. It was one of the many things that drove him bat shit insane about the place. "Distract me."

"I could play..."

"I'm tired of hearing you play," Axel said. Demy drew back a little, obviously hurt. "Tell me about the music. I can listen to it all day long, but I don't get it. You never repeat the same song."

"I do," Demy said.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do." Demy laid his instrument down so he could better talk with his hands. "Okay, so most people make songs by putting notes together. Then you write down the notes. Then people can read the notes and play the song just like the first person did."

"You don't play the sitar like that. You play ragas, which are rules on what you do. Like every time you play a certain note you have to follow it with a note three steps above or below it. Some notes are played flat. Some are played sharp. There are certain melodies you should use, and certain ones to avoid. When you play a raga, as long as you follow the rules, it's considered the same song."

"Which is where I kept messing up before. I wrote down exactly what I played once and then tried to repeat it. That's not how it works on a sitar. The songs are composed of the rules and what the player feels in his heart. If you don't have one of the parts, it doesn't work."

He really didn't get most of what Demy was saying, but it was fascinating to watch him come alive when he spoke about his music. Then something Demy said caught his attention. "Before?" Axel asked.

"What?"

"You said that that was where you kept messing up before. Before what?"

"I..." Axel watched as Demy's face drained of all emotion. He knew that feeling. Axel felt it himself when he hit a black hole in his memory. "I don't know."

Lovely. Axel pushed the candle around the table and then moved his fingers through the flame. If he did it quick enough, it didn't even hurt. "Hey Demy. Those raga things. You were playing one the other day and you said it was about the sky, right?"

"Yeah. There are hundreds of them. Some about rivers and water and earth..."

"What about fire?" Axel said. "Is there one about fire?"

"Yes." Demy started digging through his pockets. "I have some of the rules here. I haven't tried to play that one too much..."

"Play it," Axel said. "Here. Now."

"Let me..." he pulled out a pad of paper, but Axel snatched it before he could do anything with it.

"You don't need to look. You know the rules. Play it." Demy opened his mouth to protest, but something in Axel's expression made him think twice. Axel licked his lips. This was important. He knew it. "Come on."

Seconds later Demy plucked the first few notes. Axel closed his eyes, swaying to the music. There was a beat to it, a pulse behind the notes that called to him. He could feel the heat from the flames. They were dancing in shades of crimson and gold on the inside of his eyelids. Soon Axel was moving with the music, his steps mimicking the fire in the notes.

Then Demy played a wrong note.

"Fuck," Axel cursed. The spell was broken. "Wait, wait. Stop." The music ground to a halt with a clash of notes that set Axel's teeth on edge. "What the hell was that?"

"What?" Demy sounded too innocent when he said that. Axel knew that the musician knew exactly what he was talking about.

"That note you played. It was wrong. You know it was wrong. Why did you play it?" Demy's mouth flattened into a line, and Axel realized from the way he set his jaw that the musician was going to refuse to answer. Like Hell. Axel stalked over to Demy, grabbed him by the front of the shirt, and hauled him to his feet. His sitar hit the floor with a shiver of not notes. "Why?"

"The fire raga is dangerous," Demy yelled. Axel leaned back, surprised by his vehemence. "You always deliberately mess up. If you play it exactly right, you can set things on fire. People have died playing it. Is that what you want?"

"Yes!" Axel said. "I mean... shit, no one is going to die. I promise. Just play it." The next word almost hurt to say. "Please."

Axel felt like Demy was looking for something in his eyes. It made him paranoid. He felt exposed, lacking. Whatever Demy found in his eyes seemed to satisfy the musician, because he nodded. "Okay. Put me down, let me check my instrument, and I'll try again."

"Thanks," Axel said. He set Demy down on his feet and brushed imaginary dust off his shoulder.

"If I catch on fire, it's going to be your fault," Demy said as he picked up his sitar and began to check the tuning.

The raga started again and Axel could immediately tell the difference. If the first time was a dancing fire then this time was a raging inferno. Axel could feel some of Demy's anger bleeding through into the notes. It was anger and rage and the sheer delight in destruction.

He could feel the heat rise in him. Axel stretched out his arms, his feet moving through a series of dance steps he didn't have to think about to know. Yes. Yes. This was what he wanted.

Notes chased one another, throbbing, crashing into one another. Axel clenched his fists and felt his fingers contract around something solid. The grips were familiar. He twirled one, then the other, and felt fire respond to the implicit command.

That's when he started laughing.

It took him a few minute to realize that Demy had stopped playing. Axel could still hear the melody in his head, but it wasn't being played on any instrument invented by humans. He opened his eyes. Demy was staring at him, clutching his sitar like it was a weapon.

"I remember this," Axel murmured. Then he laughed again, twirling one of the chakra that had appeared in his head. "I remember fighting with these. It was like dancing. Do you remember what it was like, Demy?"

"Axel?"

Axel remembered. The chakra were his weapon. He battled with them, sometimes throwing them like discs and sometimes using them like bladed weapons. He could call fire, warping it to his will until it formed walls of flame.

He remembered dying, pouring the only thing he had, his soul, into one massive attack. Born by fire. Death by fire.

The memories poured into his mind, leaving him light-headed and unstable.

"You know what I'm do?" Axel asked Demy. The musician shook his head. "I'm going to go into Second District and I'm going to set things on FIRE!"

At the last word, all the candles flared leaving melted puddles of glass on the scorched tables. If possible Demy shrank further from him. Axel didn't care.

He had some Heartless to destroy.