#asifiisms

Keen blue eyes rove their surroundings, searching for the familiar writhing and squirming of black creatures, for the bright yellow orbs that came with them. He’s trained for this, he knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it. Well, good enough, he supposes. He’s young, in terms of his body’s age, and even younger in terms of how long he’s been in existence, but age has nothing to do with experience, and that is something Roxas has a lot of.

He steps quietly along the paved road, glancing up and around to locate every faint sound he hears, hoping he can soon find what is sought after. Maybe if he can get this done quickly, he and Xigbar can meet up at the rendezvous point quicker, and get back sooner. The scarry-faced Nobody had been very particular about the location, insisting that Roxas repeat it to him multiple times after he said it, so that he knew the blonde was good.

Roxas has come to appreciate the almost fatherly demeanor that Xigbar displays towards him, and is glad to have any sort of shoulder to cry on, so to speak. Xigbar could be a seemingly indifferent, uncaring asshole, but Roxas often has the privilege of seeing a different side of him. He’s grateful for that, amidst the sea of often unkind ‘comrades’, a term he uses loosely.

Suddenly, there’s a loud shuffling racket.

The blonde’s head whips around, eyes widening when he sees a silhouette creeping nearer. He relaxes when he realizes that it’s only a human, a random Somebody in this world, that bears no threat to Roxas. He sighs quietly and continues to move.

It’s quiet for some time after that, but then the boy reaches a small alleyway, foreboding and badly lit. He shakes his head, exasperated by the cliche`, and then stalks into the area, glancing around for movement. It’s barely a moment later that he hears something behind him and goes to turn around, only to have two massive arms, he thinks, wrap around his midsection and lift him clean off his feet. He gives a loud, shocked cry as he’s roughly carried backwards, out of the dark, and into the yellow evening light.

Fear surges through him once he realizes he can’t twist and turn himself free. Whoever it is, they’re big, strong, and obviously determined to get Roxas somewhere. He’s panicking, and struggling with kicking, wriggling his arms, and even jerking his head back to slam it -- hopefully -- into his captor’s chest in offense. It’s continuously unsuccessful, and he begins crying out every time he sharply draws in a breath. By now, his chest and stomach hurt, and his head begins to pound in terror, confusion, and dizziness. His rapid and scattered breathing make him start to feel lightheaded, and weak enough to pass out.

“Xig - Xigbar!” the boy screeches, his voice shaking. “Xigbar! Help! Help me—!”

With no warning, Roxas is flying through the air, only long enough to crash head-first into the ground. He cries out again, his vision flashing white for a moment, followed by feeling as though everything is spinning, but nothing’s moving around him. He mutters out his colleague’s name again, but it’s weaker now, and too quiet to be worth anything.

Suddenly, he’s on his back, flat out and forced to look up. Roxas feels a wave of panic, fresh and new, when he sees his attacker, and recognizes him to be the silhouette he had seen earlier. He had expected the human to be no risk — no threat, no danger, nothing to be concerned about. He had been wrong, apparently.

“Stop screaming for help or else I’m going to make it worse!” the human hisses, reaching down to wrap his hands around Roxas’ throat.

“No, no no—! Stop it!” the boy shouts, trying to roll from side to side to at least hinder the guy, until he’s able to open his eyes without constant spinning.

It’s mostly feeble, and he feels fingers close around his neck, sealing off his windpipe swiftly. He coughs and splutters, eyes opening wide in fear as he fights desperately for air. Hands weakly rise to claw at his attacker’s arms, and again, it’s just useless, and his hands fall to the ground again. His wrists will be busted up, he knows, and that’s going to be a pain to wrap up and deal with, if he even makes it through this.

“Pl… please,” the boy wheezes, eyes flickering between open and shut.

“Keep begging,” the man chuckles, and then suddenly he lets go.

Roxas’ mouth opens wide and he gasps loudly for air, chest rising and falling rapidly as he forces himself to actually breathe again. His hands curl into fists and he moves to sit up again but there’s suddenly something flying at his face and once it makes impact, the boy can feel the welt build up and the thin trail of blood slip down his cheek. His head hits the ground again and, still trying to regain his breath, a cry is not on his lips.

There’s a ringing in his ears, a painful throbbing in his head, and he almost wishes he could be unconscious right now. It seems to be the less agonizing route.

“Please, just stop,” Roxas pleads softly, slowly rolling over onto his side where he begins to curl into a ball. He has only a moment’s rest before more hits are delivered to his back, probably by a foot, and that’s what the boy comes to suspect hit his face.

It feels as though it continues on for hours, nearly every hit eliciting a shriek from the blonde, until finally, it suddenly stops. Fearing that it’s only to be followed moments late by more torture, Roxas remains in his curled position, reaching now to clamp his hands over his ears; he only expects more pain, so he prepares himself for it.

That’s when he hears the man above him let out a loud scream.

It’s only after he hears an equally loud roar from a familiar voice, and multiple sounds of a fist hitting a face, that Roxas opens his eyes. His hands fall away from his head and he looks over warily, without moving. Blue hues are that do, and they find a face that he’s been praying would show up again.

“Xigbar,” he whispers softly.

It’s very soon after the sounds of a struggle that Xigbar is kneeling behind Roxas, muttering quietly in anger, and confusion. He shakes his head and one of his hands gently hover just upon the boy’s side. It’s not sore, but Roxas jumps ever so slightly at the touch, considering every previous physical contact had been malicious and rough.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here now,” he murmurs calmingly, his other hand moving to rest atop the boy’s head. “I’m gonna lift you up now, onto your butt, so you can start stretching out the main sores. You good with that, pipsqueak?”

“I wanna go home,” is all the child replies with, his voice trembling with hints of indication that tears will follow. He’s trying with all his might to stall that, and to be professional and whatever, but it’s so hard and he’s so scared and in so much pain.

He hears a soft ‘oh, oh, no, no, no’ out of Xigbar, and is then lifted as the man had said. A searing pain lances through him, every new bruise and scrape beginning to throb and hurt all over again, even stronger. Roxas inhales sharply and then releases it with a loud scream, squeezing his eyes shut instinctively.

Xigbar shakes his head, carefully holding the boy close to his chest as he looks around, trying to decide whether or not they were surrounded by more men that planned on ambushing them. “I’m going to choke the life out of that son of bit— son of a… bad person.”

“I’m sorry,” the blonde suddenly whispers. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention, I thought he wasn’t gonna be dangerous, I should have tried to fight harder, I got scared an-and-and—”

There is no warning for the tears that suddenly begin to fill Roxas’ eyes and slip down his face. He opens his mouth, trying to make something come out once he feels the warm droplets, trying apologize or defend himself, or just… anything. But nothing comes out, and he just starts to sob. Xigbar’s arms are carefully wrapped around Roxas, holding him close to his body to warm him up before the shock gets any worse.

“It’s okay,” the man says comfortingly, wincing with every cry the boy in his arms made. He bows his head, pressing his lips against the top of the child’s head once he begins to scream.

And wow, does he scream.

He’s just coping, Xigbar knows. He’s trying to get it all off his chest, and it’s apparently a lot, because Roxas doesn’t quiet down until he just completely passes out from it all. Xigbar figures that now, with the blonde being asleep, he can get the boy back to his bed, without causing as much pain were the child fully conscious.