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We Are The Sand Pt. One Chapter Five

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Chapter the Fifth:Shading

Where do we go from here? When these words have been unspoken.

Roxas had to admit he was rather conflicted about the whole stick thing. “Stick-kind” for a strifekind just did not sound overly impressive, yet it was really the best he could do on such short notice. Plus, impressive or not, it did seem to do some good against the mobs of ebony creatures that occasionally surrounded him on the streets. So there was that. Besides, there could be no Order of the Stick without a stick, Order of the Phoenix be hanged. After all, there was no Phoenix involved, whether Phoenix Down, Phoenix Feather, or any other kind of resurrection device. Which meant they would be in big trouble were any of them to die, but that was not something he really planned on doing anyway. Not that most people planned on dying in the first place, but never mind that.

Unfortunately, his mother insisted on keeping his impromptu weapon outside. Right. Good thinking, that. Really. It was not as though Roxas needed the stick (branch) to beat back the Darkness or anything. Nope. Just another dirty, germ-covered thing that belonged outside. Of course.

The fact that she insisted on simply referring to the weapon as a stick instead of a branch certainly did not help matters. Nor did her calling it Stick Stickly instead of the Stick of Destiny.  Really, was that her way of being “cool?” If so, she really should stop, since she clearly was not good at it in the slightest. It was most likely a reference to something, but his mother was really not good at references or anything of the sort. She should study Roxas and his group of friends if she really wanted to learn how to be hip with the young people. On the other hand, she would never be hip as long as she kept using the word “hip.”

It goes without saying that Roxas explained these things to his mother, albeit in a tone that suggested that she should know all this already. So, finally, his mother relented and allowed him to keep the Stick of Destiny in the garage, which really was not that much better, but was somewhat of an improvement, which was probably the best for which Roxas could hope. So there was that.

There really is no point in saying that Hayner's parents would let him keep the stick in the house, as Roxas was not, and is not, Hayner. And since Hayner is not the one with the stick, it really is moot.

Of course, this was the main topic of discussion when the kids returned to school the next day. Getting beat up by plush toys was not something one easily forgot, and the Order of the Stick was still kind of a big deal to them. Not to mention overrated boy sorcerers who did not even dabble in necromancy or the occult. Then again, Charles Dexter (no, not that Dexter or that Dexter.) Ward had done that, and look where that got him.

Selphie joined the group in the foyer after her mother had dropped her off at school. Having one's parents drive one to and from school is far less embarrassing when the reason for this is because little evil critters tried to kill you, but you were able to beat them off with a broom. Also, it beats having to take the bus by a long shot. Roxas almost envied her, then realised that she probably came close to dying, which would really botch up one's day, especially since it was just after her birthday, and she had not gotten a chance to watch the “Scream” box set she had received from her aunt and uncle. Hayner wished he had a cool aunt and uncle like that. The downside to this being that they occasionally forgot they even had a niece, (such an easy thing to do) and ended up spending lots of money on her to make up for that. But hey, cool presents when they remembered. That totally made up for not even getting a card from them for years on end.

Roxas' Aunt Aurora and Uncle Philip tended to send him mecha and anime figurines, so he really could not complain about what he got from them. No, he was truly the one with the “cool” aunt and uncle, as his friends were wont to tell him. Unlike Kari's maiden aunts, Anastasia and Drizella, who sent her the same sweater every year for her birthday and Christmas, with the only difference being the colour. Never mind that Kairi never wore sweaters. Ever. Roxas occasionally wondered how she was able to stay warm during the winter months.

She was still better off than Riku, who had the misfortune of being related to both Maleficent and Sephiroth. Even Lady Tremaine, nasty as she was, was no match for a witch, er, fairy, and a murderous swordsman. Which in retrospect, probably explained a lot about the silver-haired teen. No-one envied him his relations. Especially not Sora, whose cousin happened to be Sephiroth's arch nemesis Cloud. (And Neku, but no-one seemed to know or care about him, for whatever reason. It might have something to do with the fact that he was on the other side of the world.) Even Tidus felt sorry for Riku, and his father was Sin, an eldritch abomination.  Yeah. Thankfully, neither Lady Tremaine, Maleficent, Sephiroth, or Sin lived nearby, so they never saw them, except for family reunions, which were as awkward and uncomfortable as one might imagine. Especially since Sephiroth always insisted on bringing the same deli potato salad that no-one liked, but they all had to say it was the best potato salad they had ever eaten, lest he slaughter them all. All right, then.

“Those things better not turn us into zombies,” Hayner remarked. “Zombies are seriously cliché.”

Roxas thought for a moment. “No, I really don't think they'll do that. They don't look like the type of thing that would.”

Hayner groaned and rolled his eyes. “Duh, they wouldn't. That's how they get ya. If you think, 'Gee, I bet those things'll turn me into a zombie,' you'll know to avoid them and/or kill them on sight. If you think, 'I bet those things won't turn me into a zombie or anything lame like that,' you might feel a bit differently about them.”

Granted, zombies and the like were rather overdone, to say the least, it still did not make Roxas feel any better about the situation that these things seemed unlikely to turn him into one. Zombies or no zombies, he had no idea what those little things were, and he really was not certain he wanted to know. Even though they were admittedly kind of cute in a way, (he could easily picture Namine cooing over them, for example) he still did not trust their intentions. Besides, Namine was far from the best judge of this sort of thing.

The bell rang, as was its wont, sending all the teens scurrying to home-room, where they would undoubtedly continue this conversation, albeit with a different set of peers.

***************************

It certainly was difficult focusing on Miss Jane Porter's (yes, Miss, always Miss, no matter what Clayton wanted. And no, it was not because of her allergies to Clayton's cat, Sabor, no matter what Jane claimed.) English lessons when everyone was thinking about the monsters that had sprung up seemingly overnight.  Of course the pretty young teacher with the mink-coloured hair in a tidy up-do and the lilting British accent saw fit to ignore the events of the past day or so, which only served to make her students think harder about the creatures.

It did not help that she would often interrupt her lessons to speak of her attempts to gain the trust of a feral man named Tarzan, he of the shaggy golden brown dreadlocks and gorilla foster parents. After all, apes were cliché and dull. Had he been raised by wombats or weasels, one might assume the student body would pay closer attention to what the prim school teacher had to say. Those animals were actually interesting to some extent, though perhaps not as exciting as the beasts invading the town. Not that said abominations would ever raise a human as one of their own, one would suspect.. Perhaps they should have closed the school until they dealt with that problem? Or perhaps the students were safer in the brick building than they were outside or at home?

Too bad pretending the problem did not exist did not make it go away. Roxas knew that the hard way. So not talking about the monsters did not mean they conveniently stopped being a thing that was there. Too bad, that. Roxas could easily make a fortune off a book called Better Living Through Denial. Unfortunately, he would have to get someone to ghost-write for him, as he himself was far from being any kind of word-smith. Just ask Miss Jane Porter.  Or better yet, don't, as the most likely response the woman would give to such an inquiry would be a rather painful-looking facepalm.

Said attempt to sidetrack the student body might fare better had said students any interest in the subjects of anthropology, psychology, or sociology whatsoever. Sadly, they did not, aficionados as they were of such modern media outlets such as video games, movies, and television programmes of various and sundry genres. Perhaps, instead of regaling her pupils with her tales of reluctant friendship and the struggles to earn the trust of a wild man wearing a loincloth, she would do better to try to connect with her students by learning about them through their hobbies, reaching out via a shared connexion and a common culture. Or, you know, actually just teach them English. They were in secondary school, not uni.

A large, round, blue...thing appeared at one of the windows. It was at least four times the size of the usual little black creatures running about and making nuisances of themselves, with a gigantic, well, body, clothed in a purple bodysuit that exposed most of what could be considered its chest, which was emblazoned with a red outline of a heart crisscrossed with barbed wire, and a tiny head crowned by an equally small hat. It peered inside with its beady yellow eyes.

Miss Porter wrinkled her pert nose when she caught sight of the thing, (or perhaps when she heard the class erupt into screams of fear; it is so hard to tell with her) and crossed the room with a decisive stride suitable for going into battle with the monstrosity, her tan, sensible heels (no higher than an inch, if that, albeit relatively slender) clicking loudly against the pinkish-beige linoleum, a relic of a bygone era that had long since seen better days. Her feet missed every crack and bubble with a practised grace.

Instead of waging war against the creature, however, she yanked on the cord to the shade and pulled it down on all the windows. Because obviously if you can't see it, it can't get you. Of course.

She strode back to her desk the same way. It would seem more impressive had she actually done something instead of simply ignoring the problem, but what are you going to do, am I right?

“Well,” she huffed, “that certainly was unexpected, eh, class?”

Not half as unexpected as the giant fist covered in chains smashing through the safety glass and mesh that made up the window. The screams and shrieks that followed, however, were totally predictable. Also the glass that ended up on the floor thanks to the previously mentioned window-smashing, but that goes without saying. Clean-up on Aisle Three, anyone?

Miss Porter stood up from behind her desk and smoothed out her knee-length tan pencil skirt. “All right, class, I will pull the fire alarm, and we will make our way to the gymnasium. No pushing, no shoving, and no panicking, okay?”

Right. No. Following the teacher to the gymnasium was fine. No pushing, shoving, or rough-housing, (not mentioned, but still very much a thing) sure. But no panicking? Ha, ha, yeah, no. Hey, princess, why not tell your precious Tarzan not to worry whilst you're at it? Oh, wait, he isn't here, is he? A right bummer, that.

However, since lining up single file was still a thing, that was what the students did. Ah, schools, will you ever stop brainwashing our students? No? Good, keep it up.

The pupils threaded their way in lockstep down the crowded hallways, meeting up with lines upon lines of other teenagers heading in the same direction. Somehow, the ranks remained separated as each set locked onto their erstwhile guardians. Insert the appropriate “I need an adult” joke here. No? Too soon? Too bad, that.

“Are we gonna get sent home early?” Namine whispered to Roxas, who stood behind her. Seriously, where else could he stand? Single file, remember? Okay, so he could have been standing in front of her, but that really is about it.

“I dunno.” Which is probably the only response he could really give in this situation.


At last, the procession made its way to the gymnasium/auditorium/whatever else it was needed for. There was a blond wood podium in front where the principal, not Skinner, whether B.F. or Armin Tamzarian (yes, those really are his first and middle names) but Ansem, stood.

The man stood with his back ramrod-straight, as befitted a man like him. Dressed as he was in an expensive charcoal suit that was clearly not off-the-rack, but equally not a flashy hey-look-at-how-much-money-I -have suit, he looked more like the CEO of a Fortune 500 company than a principal of a working-class high school. Or, more fancifully, the deposed king of some fantasy kingdom, what with his features that seemed carved out of fine marble and his thick golden blond hair. There were more than a few girls in the school who wondered what lay under the crisp white dress shirt he always wore under the aforementioned suit jacket. (An equally crisp white tee-shirt, of course. What did you expect, a ripped wife-beater? As if!)

Teenagers lined the bleachers on either side of the massive room, the largest one in the entire school. Which, considering the multitude of uses it encompassed, made a fair bit of sense, even though it still felt cold and empty in spite of holding the entirety of the student body within its walls. Bennington High School never had a huge population.

Chattering away as they were, the noise echoed in the otherwise-empty space, until Principal Ansem silenced them with a look. Yes, the dreaded Look for which he was well known. Even former Vice-Principal Xehanort trembled at that look.

No-one was exactly eager to discuss the rumours surrounding the Vice-Principal's dismissal, and the instatement of Vice-Principal Eraqus in his place. He was linked to everything from a white slavery ring to a Satanic cult and was supposedly deeply involved in Vanitas' musical career. No-one truly believed the last one, however, as the swarthy, hairless man was noted primarily for having a tin ear. Also, for not having any hair, as half the school called him “Chihuahua Man” behind his back. Not to his face, however, as that was just plain rude. Yappy as they were, they deserved better than to be compared to Xehanort.  Yes, really, I actually said that.

“It has come to my attention that the town has been overrun by strange creatures,” Ansem intoned.

Hayner snickered. “What was your first clue?”

Ollette turned to him, her finger over her lips. Hayner huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and made a show of rolling his eyes, but shut up. Which was the best response he could possibly give to this.

“The governor has declared this place a State of Emergency, and has sent FEMA to come in and take care of things.”

Insert Hurricane Katrina joke here. No? Too soon? Ah well, I tried. Picture me throwing up my hands and shrugging. Except don't, because that's stupid.

“So are we going home or what?” Riku demanded, as though the man in charge of the school, and to a lesser extent their futures was not going to tell them in a matter of seconds. Kairi shushed him, which did little more than to cause him to pout. Pouting being the exact opposite of useful in most situations, including any and all that involve one's home-town being in the process of being destroyed by a myriad of ravenous beasts, not that that would ever stop our resident bully. Because bullies are by definition useful and contributing members of society, and are in no way brought about by lax, lazy, and overindulgent parenting. Nor do they ever grow up to be spoilt man-children, demanding everything their way, and not heeding the wishes of others. Nope. And since all of these things are true, it is certain that this Riku will grow up to be an upstanding member of society, unlike another Riku we all know, who only went from being a jealous weak boy to a self-sacrificing young man, willing to give up nearly everything to save his closet friend who never gave up on him, despite all the mistakes and bad choices he had made. Right. Seriously, who cares about him, am I right?

As I have said, this is totally sincere, and not at all sarcastic, so it should totally be taken at face value, no, really.

Because Ansem could not hear Riku from his position behind the podium, which was just as well, since what the boy had said was completely inane and unnecessary, he went on, as people are wont when they have something to say. Often it is their wont, even if they have nothing to say, so there's that. You know what I'm talking about, even if you don't want to admit it. You may very well be one of those people, which is why you do not want to admit it, even to yourself.

But enough of this. After all, from green to red, our days pass by waiting for a sign to tell us why are we dancing all alone. Although that seems a bit silly, since the answer is obvious. It's because no-one is dancing with us; ergo, we are dancing with ourselves. Which is all a bit ludicrous, if you ask me, unless the dancing thing is a metaphor, of course. Which in retrospect it probably is. No matter.

What's that? Get on with it already? Fine. I mean, I could very well be making a powerful statement about the human condition here, (but not the Human Stain; that's a song by Kamelot. You wouldn't have heard of them, I'm sure.) but no, you would rather hear about a bunch of high school students and their problems. Very well, then. I shall oblige you just this once. You're welcome. Although, frankly, I don't see why you'd want to; it's not like they're facing the complete and utter destruction of their world. Oh, wait, they are. Boom. Plot twist. You did not see that coming. Didn't I blow your mind this time? Didn't I? Didn't I?  

So, in light of the fact that the end of the world is, in fact, a thing, I shall, as it were, get on with it already. You happy now?

“We will be evacuating the town as soon as possible.”


Well did not see that coming. Here, have a chorus of kids angry and scared by the whole thing.

Boos and hisses rose from the stands at these words. And there you go: one angry mob just for you. You're welcome.
The fifth chapter of an alternate universe "Kingdom Hearts" fanfiction. In which our protagonists encounter strange beings and talk about their relatives.
© 2015 - 2024 EsotericAngel
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