Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Fire Emblem Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction / Pokemon Fan Fiction ❯ Empty Hand Loser ❯ roy ( Chapter 10 )

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. It's appreciated.

 

He had woken up with a start. It was the first thing he remembered. His heart was racing, and he didn't know why. He was in a strange room, lit by a small glowing lamp, empty except for a few personal artifacts. He didn't know who they belonged to. He didn't know where he was. And then he came to realize that he didn't know who he was.

 

The first few moments were panicked. When he saw there was nothing around that could harm him, he finally calmed down. He tried to think. He was alone and there was no one to help him.

 

He found a broken mirror lying by the sword with an elaborate hilt. He didn't recognize the reflection. It was the face of a teenaged boy with wild red hair. He didn't know him.

 

He spent a long time just sitting there, thinking and trying to remember. But he couldn't come up with anything. He could remember nothing prior to waking up there. It was as if he had not existed. His life was a blank.

 

The things in the room with him yielded no clues. Besides the sword, there was body armor and a red cape. He picked up the armor in his hands; he ran his fingers through the fabric of the cape. Still no recognition in his mind. He only knew these were things a fighter would have.

 

He stepped outside into the black night. He sat by the doorway of the old shrine, head in his hands, waiting for something to happen, for his memory to return. Dawn had arrived, lightening the overcast sky, and he still did not know who he was, where he had come from, why he was there.

 

Eventually, he came down from the hillside and went into the city. He wandered the streets. The place looked like it was decaying. There was a crazy on every street corner. Quivering forms huddled in dark blankets in the alleys, muttering to themselves. One of them attacked him, a thin man with illegible words written in black marker on his face. He had fought back, had known exactly where and how to strike to bring the man down. Since then he was never without his sword.

 

It was the fight that brought something back to him. Not anything as tangible as a memory, but instead an inexplicable feeling of familiarity.

 

It was the only thing he had. He found no one he recognized, and no one seemed to recognize him.

 

On his second day of wandering though, he came upon something. He had entered a tunnel that led into an underground arena. A loud crowd had gathered there. At its center was a cleared space where two combatants were fighting.

 

He had stopped to watch as the two fighters traded hits, knuckles bared, blood and sweat flying. Something came back to him then. It was like fighting the man on the street all over again. It was a sensation gnawing at his gut, urging him to go out and sink his teeth into something, tear it apart. He suddenly felt a rush of energy.

 

He wanted a fight.

 

One of the men in the ring went down. The match was over. Money exchanged hands—the losers paid the winners. They were calling for another contestant. The blind animal in his system took over. He pushed his way through the crowd and stepped into the ring.

 

They thought very little of him at first. A few chuckled. Here was a kid trying to play a man's game.

 

Bets were placed. At the sound of a bell, the match began.

 

He dodged a strong punch and delivered a hard kick to his opponent's head. It connected. The man went down. And didn't get up.

 

Dead silence filled the arena. He looked at his fallen opponent with a bit of remorse. The fight was still in him. He wanted to break something, but his opponent was already broken. The match was over.

 

The crowd parted away for him when he went to collect his prize money. Their whispers followed him. For the first time since waking up at the shrine, he smiled as the greasy coins trickled into his hands.

 

They didn't know. Hell, he didn't even know. He had the body of someone who had built muscle, trained hard, tasted bitterness.

 

He was back the next night and the following night. He fought. He made money. It left him with the feeling of hard satisfaction. His body burned.

 

And just when he was starting to believe he could live like that forever, a prince showed up at the shrine—a prince with blue hair and deep eyes, carrying a sword. He came with stories from the past. He claimed that they both had a master, that they were fighters for a great house. They had battled in tournaments in the past; they had fought side by side.

 

He even gave him a name.

 

Roy didn't question his motives. When he showed up, Roy had felt something. Like the feeling of familiarity whenever he fought, the sensation hit him in the center of his body. But whereas the other feeling was energizing, this one was calming. He felt at peace. It felt like home.

 

He knew then that if he kept Marth with him, he would always feel like this.

 

So now he sat on the floor of the shrine, by the soft glow of the oil lamp. Marth slept on the mat across from him. Directly in front of him, sat the small glass vial of dark liquid the Master had given him.

 

He wondered now just what version of the truth Marth had told him about his past. He stared at the vial. The Master's motives were less clear than Marth's. The Master was not a friend. Were these to be happy memories he would unlock? But if he had been happy, he probably wouldn't have swallowed the pill.

 

Roy picked up the vial. He held it up to the dim light, tilted it, and watched the liquid slide.

 

He had to make a decision.

 

x x x

 

On the day Marth was supposed to come back according to the Master's ultimatum, Link arrived at the house.

 

He placed his hands on the large, heavy doors and pushed them open. A bell rang, echoing through the chambers of the house. He stepped inside, boots sounding hollow against the floor.

 

It had been months since he had last stayed here.

 

It was quiet. The lighting was low. He wondered if everyone was still asleep, though it was already late in the day.

 

The far door into the hallway opened. It was Peach who stepped through, uttering a small gasp when she saw who had arrived.

 

“Link!”

 

Tiredly, he offered a smile. The princess ushered him down the hall and into the sitting room, where she practically threw him onto the sofa and told him to wait, she'd be right back. She took off in a hurry.

 

The Smash House was a world away from the world. Its location was remote enough to be removed from the troubles of the world outside. When there weren't battles to be fought, or tournaments to attend, it could be a nice place to for world-weary adventurers to stay in peace and quiet.

 

Link stood up, uncomfortable sitting. The shield on his back came off, set down on the floor, followed by the sword. He went to the mirror and checked his appearance. It struck him then that he seemed more than a little worn out. The tunic had taken a beating. He had earned another scar, just barely visible on his neck. He was surprised at the tired look on his face. Maybe he should have come back sooner.

 

It couldn't be helped. When someone needed help, it seemed that Link was the first one they called. And Link, being Link, never turned anyone down.

 

He heard the sound of light approaching footsteps. He turned from the mirror. Zelda stood in front of him, beautiful in lavender. She was carefully composed, but a tremor of emotion stood out. It looked like relief written on her face.

 

“Link,” she said, coming forward, “it is so good to see you.”

 

She came and took his hand in two of hers. She smiled, running her eyes over him. He was able to meet her eyes, though uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He realized he looked like something that had crawled out of the woods, and there she stood before him, a princess….

 

Before he could say a word, Zelda forgot about her restraint for a moment and threw her arms around his neck. He gently wrapped his arms around her.

 

“I missed you,” she confessed.

 

x x x

 

Her breathing was ragged. Samus grunted as she took a blow to the chest. It knocked her onto her back, but she placed a hand against the floor and pushed herself up. The last wire frame wasn't going down without a fight.

 

A kick flew passed her head as she twisted out of the way. She dashed forward and smashed it in the stomach with her fist. It took the hit and fell off stage. But it recovered.

 

She kept it back with a flurry of punches and kicks. She rammed it with her shoulder, throwing it off stage again. It jumped back on. She blocked a kick, threw punches to its head. It knocked her back. She stumbled but didn't fall. She put some more distance between them as it tried to advance. Then she charged at it, slamming her entire body into it. The wire frame flew off the stage, into the darkness. It didn't come back this time.

 

She paused to catch her breath. Someone was clapping. She turned her head.

 

It was Captain Falcon, standing at the edge of the stage. The cosmos flew by around him.

 

“Not bad,” he said. “Especially since you're missing your suit.”

 

She shrugged. “I don't suppose you'd like a match?”

 

“Not right now,” he said.

 

“All right.”

 

She made to walk past him to the exit. He stopped her with a hand on her arm.

 

“Did you hear that Link is back?”

 

She nodded. “Of course. Heard it from Peach.”

 

“Well?”

 

She stared at him, apprehensive. “Well, what?” she said. It sounded defensive, even to her. She knew exactly what he was getting at.

 

Falcon's face was unreadable behind the mask. “I wonder if you've had any more private time with the princess to tell her how you feel.”

 

“We are not having this conversation,” Samus snapped.

 

Falcon was silent a moment. “I guess I was right about you,” he said. “You're better at being a bounty hunter than you are at being human.”

 

“We don't always get what we want in life, Falcon.”

 

“Why not?” he asked. “I've known you a while, Sam. I'd be surprised to see you back down from anything. Life's all about getting what you want out of it, isn't it?”

 

“No, it's not,” she said quietly. “Life's about doing what you have to do, not what you want to do.”

 

“Uh huh. I feel like I've had this conversation before. Not with you though.”

 

“No?”

 

“With Roy,” he mused. “I wonder if that kid's got the sense knocked into him yet.”

Samus was grateful for the subject change. “So you think there's a chance?”

 

“For you and the princess? Sure.”

 

“No, for Marth and Roy.” Her tone sounded defeated. It had been such a long time since she had tasted defeat that she had forgotten what it felt like.

 

“Who knows with those two.” Falcon shrugged. “But Roy's got an excuse for fucking up. He's inexperienced. You ain't got no excuse.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” she asked, looking away. “She's the princess of Hyrule. I'm no one. Just Samus Aran.”

 

“That's right,” Falcon said. “She's the princess of a kingdom that no longer exists, and you're the Metroid killer.”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

“What I know is that everyone around here is acting like they've got some kind of a disease. No one's acting right. Everyone's got to complicate everything.”

 

“Really,” she said. “You think it's that simple? What about Link?”

 

Silence from Falcon.

 

“That's what I thought,” she murmured. “You have nothing to say.” She took a breath. “I'll bet it's not easy being the Hero of Time. I'm not going to make things worse for him by putting the moves on his girl.” She moved past him for the door. “We're friends. That's all. I'm fine with that.”

 

The cosmos and all its stars disappeared when she stepped outside the room. She leaned against the wall and took a breath. She wasn't sure how much of her own words she actually believed.

 

She was friends with both Zelda and Link. Things would stay that way.

 

Samus walked down the hallway, heading for her room. She turned the corner and noticed a group had gathered up ahead. They were in front of the Master's door.

 

Ness and the Iceclimbers were there, staring at the door. Included in the group were Kirby, the Pokemon, Peach, Zelda and Link. Samus noticed that Marth was back, standing in front of the group, by the door.

 

“What's going on here?” asked a voice from behind her. Falcon.

 

“That's what I'm trying to find out.”

 

As they got closer, Samus was surprised to find that sitting in front of the group, his back against the door, with a confident smirk on his face, was Roy. Then she noticed the huge banner-like sign posted on the door.

 

It was written in Roy's hand.

 

“What's up?” Falcon asked Peach.

 

“The Master's going to be angry,” she said.

 

“Huh?”

 

“It's a challenge,” Samus said, reading the poster. “A formal challenge over the rights to the house.” She turned to Marth. “What's the meaning of this?”

 

He looked down, somewhat embarrassed. “Roy is challenging the Master to a battle. He's going to sit by the door and wait for him to arrive.”

 

“Over the rights to the house?” Samus pressed. And to all of us? she thought.

 

“Yes,” Marth said. “The winner becomes master.”

 

Roy… Samus turned her eyes to him. He was smiling. “How's it going, Samus?” he asked.