In Media Res: Equal Value

They didn't seem to notice the fact that the sky was darkening outside.

"There's another attack?" The younger boy raised an eyebrow in worry. "But wasn't the last one just last week?"

There were no windows in the stuffy office they were in, after all, and they supposed that they were far more concerned with the bloodied corpses that could have, hypothetically, been lining the streets any minute—the weather seemed like a trivial issue compared to that.

Neither of them dared to say anything. The temperature of the room seemed to plummet a few degrees despite the golden light attempting to fill it. His captain clutched at the sheet of paper as if it was a lifeline.

"Well," the man sighed, "You know how Hoenn is. They're not going to lighten up anytime soon." His eyes glared at him contemplatively. "You know what that means, right?"

Both of  them stood, paralysed as they did little more than stare, the dingy room illuminated by nothing but the waning flicker of an oil lamp, and they continued to have their momentary petty battle for the next few moments. 

They were interrupted by a single, exhausted huff escaping the younger boy's pursed lips. He reached for his sword with a reluctant arm, ending the period of harrowing silence between them with a single noise and a few uttered words.

"I don't want to kill anyone, if that's possible." He stared down at his feet. "Please."

"What?"  His leader could only glared back down at the younger male with tired eyes, and he questioned the judgement of the officials just then; their judgement to involve a child with such a personality into the dangerous world of war that was only meant for hardened professionals.

"This is Hoenn we're talking about," he muttered back, his tone heavy. "They're not going to give a shit if you show them mercy. If they're going to go all out in this, then we have to as well. There's no choice."

"What a pity," the soldier replied, and he called for his Pokemon to come to his side with a low whistle. His navy eyes held a certain pitiful touch to them, and he stroked the Heliolisk with a tender hand as he shot his superior a sorrowful look. "I will do as you say, but I will not waste any innocent lives if I can."

The taller man had to wonder once again just how the teenager was able to claw his way to the top of their ranks, what with his foolish naivety and kindness that a soldier absolutely could not possess, but he didn't have the luxury of time to dwell on that. "Just defend Kalos," he answered. "That's your top priority."

"Got it," the heather-tressed male replied—and the dingy boards of the office's wooden floor made a protesting creak as he spun on his heel to leave. "Thanks, Captain."

With that, he was gone, and the last that was seen of him was the fleeting billow of his cape.

§

"I'm telling you to surrender!" the soldier yelped out, dodging yet another clumsy strike from his opponent. One glance over his shoulder told him that he was winning, and that the burly Hoenn soldier could die if he kept it up. "You've already lost!"

"Like hell I'm going to," the Hoenn man snarled, and tried to aim for his heart again—but he had been injured by a strike to his side earlier, and if they were to compare skill, he was the inferior one. "I'm not going to yield to a country that destroyed part of my hometown."

Stepping back, the boy flinched at his harsh words. He told himself to keep dodging the warrior's attacks, however as he spoke again, daring to add a sympathetic touch to his tone. "I'm sorry to hear that, but it wasn't us," he tried to protest. "We're confused by this too, and if you gave us the time to figure it out—"

The soldier opposite him lowered his sword for just a second, and the Kalos fighter hoped for a second that the man was considering the option of surrendering, that he was considering the option of stopping this pointless battle that would only result in the blood and chaos he hated, but that thought was evaporated in an instant.

Of course he had failed to notice the furious tint to his dark eyes; the malicious edge to his expression as his opponent lunged forward.

He didn't expect it to have been a ruse, and he didn't expect that he would have fallen for it—and he let out a strangled choke as his enemy's blade found its way to his heart, feeding with delirious greed off the crimson of his blood as he crumpled to the bloodied tarmac.

Letting out an annoyed grunt, the Hoenn soldier nudged him with his foot to check his injury—and that small action sent spikes of pain shooting up his body, causing him to convulse and spit more of the thick liquid onto the ground.

"You're too soft for your own good," the larger man growled, snatching his blood-stained sword out of the boy's chest and watching with little remorse as the younger soldier let out a small hiss of agony. "What a waste of talent."

The man then left—he could feel the vibrations of his footsteps fade away—and the boy tried to move himself, hoping that someone would find him; that he was going to be fine, but he soon collapsed back to the rough ground, his body going as still as a rag doll.

He couldn't see much with his vision being blurred from the pain, but he spotted bloodied figures around him—he didn't know whether they were alive or not, but there was a mixture of Hoenn's steel-blue and Kalos' white.

The last thing he saw clearly was the crimson liquid around him, clinging to his skin and mocking him just as the man had done. It was enough to form a small puddle, and he wasn't quite alert enough to recognise the blood as his own.

His cheek felt wet. Had it started to rain, or was it just more blood?

His eyes closed, and whatever life he had faded away as his sight was met with a canopy of black.

§

The boy woke to a series of rapid knocks on his door.

What type of asshole would come in the middle of the night? He shot upwards at once, only recognising the knocking pattern as that of the Kalos officials a few seconds later, and slipped out of his nest of tangled sheets, slate-blue hair messy and ruffled as he hurried to welcome the guests.

He could sense his parents behind him, chattering in anxious tones that he couldn't care enough to listen to because why would he trouble about people who had left him behind years ago?

But he pushed all those thoughts aside as he wrenched open the wooden door, hiding trembling hands behind his back as he glanced up at the stone-faced men that studied him with a scrutinising eye.

Biting his lip, he opened his mouth with understandable nervousness, aware that it had to be something serious if there were officials visiting at such a late hour—and he made sure that he sounded as composed as possible. "What do you want?"

Ignoring his insolent question, the leader of the group chose stare at the teenager with a passive glance that chilled him to the bone, and he tried his best not to cower under the man's impervious gaze.

"I presume you are Avis Ichos," the man started, and his firm tone made it clear that he was not waiting for the boy to answer his statement. "We have bad news for your family."

Avis didn't know just why, but he felt apprehensive at that statement. Some instinct in his body told him that something was very wrong, and the wayward lurching of his heart didn't help to shake off his agitation.

"What is it?" he snapped, masking his concern with an uncanny spitefulness. "Just spit it out."

He felt his mother glare at him from the corner of her eye, and he was sure that she would chide him for his tone—but she was interrupted by the man who shifted and glanced at them from beneath his cap.

"It is your twin brother Aiden," the official then confessed in a hesitant tone, and that shut the teenage boy up for a few moments—he cared for the his sibling more than he did for anything else—and he froze, choosing to remain silent. "We regret to inform you that he has perished in a battle against Hoenn."

The young male felt his eyes widen against his will as he tried to process the information; his heart was making dull thumps against a chest too hollow from shock and his mind couldn't think at all.

"W-What are you talking about?" he stammered, refusing to believe in that statement at all—he could tell that the house was too small for him to back away—and he vaguely registered a shocked sniffle escaping his mother's throat. "Isn't he one of your best soldiers?"

The man wrinkled his nose in response. "Even our best can fall in battle," he stated. "His body was recovered earlier today—" Avis was too aware of the gag his mother produced, and that sound made him want to throw up as well from the horror of the news.

He could feel the tears starting to fight through his earlier state of shock, and he was too frenzied to even hold them back. He just stared at the messenger in silence, mouth parted open from the situation as crystalline liquid ran down his cheeks against his will.

Aiden can't be gone, right? He was always so strong—dammit, he was always better than me at everything! How did any of this even happen?

His father was talking to the official now—the older man's calm voice betrayed the anguished look in his eyes, and his parents conversed in hushed whispers that he couldn't even begin to make out.

"Thank you." He didn't get it at all now. Why had his mother stopped crying? Why was his father so collected about this whole situation—what was even going on in the first place? "We'll bring him to the castle right away."

And as the group left, his father grabbed hold of his son's hand, his large palm enveloping the boy's smaller, shaking limb and dragging him out of the door.

"Out," he ordered, and Avis recoiled from the touch—when was the last time any of his parents bothered to even hold his hand?—but there was no time for questions as he was forced to walk behind the man. "We're going to the castle."

§

"The Lords will see you now." A butler nodded to the family, signalling for them to enter, and it was then that the teenager noticed just how out-of-place they were against all the elaborate decorations of the palace.

He was hesitant to go in, but his mother settled that decision for him by pushing him into the room and whispering for him to be polite—and dazed by the whirlwind of events, he complied, shakily kneeling and mumbling a stuttered greeting to the creatures before them.

Then, he felt himself being escorted forward by two Espeon that had remained hidden in the corners of the room—and despite his efforts to resist, he was brought right in front of the two Legendaries that studied him with a practiced eye.

The Xerneas on the left let out a pleased noise. "So, Brother, what do you think?"

Her voice was warm, and it took every cell in his body to remind him that the Guardian of Life was not on anyone's side anymore, that Legendaries were doing their best to keep safe and that they helped only in dire situations.

"He is quite sufficient." The Yveltal beside her was much colder than his counterpart, and he let out no form of emotion or bias in his judgement. "That is to be expected, Sister. They are twins, and they are expected to hold equal value."

What do you want with me? He was too afraid of the two towering beasts to even think of asking any questions, but it seemed that the Legendaries had long noticed his confusion. What's going on—why am I here?

"It appears as if he wants to know something," Destruction noted. "Very well, my child—I shall try to explain. Have you heard of reincarnation, young Avis?"

The teenager startled, casting his gaze downwards and giving a slow, suspicious shake of his head—and Xerneas cut in to defend him. "You know that he wouldn't know," she scolded. "That's a very classified matter to talk about, and Arceus wouldn't permit this if he wasn't so busy."

Ignoring his sister's rant, Yveltal turned back to him once again. "We would usually have to enlist the help of other Legendaries in other to revive someone," he admitted. "However, we now work by ourselves, and with only the elements of death and life...the process is tricky."

Before he could ask any further—the matter grew more and more confusing as the Legendary spoke—Xerneas spoke up. "You beat around the bush too much," she snapped. "What he means is that we are going to bring your brother back. Our sources have told us that he is important to securing many people's lives."

The red-and-black monster made an annoyed growl as he saw the hopeful expression on the boy's face; the way his hunched frame seemed to grow straighter and how a stone seemed to be lifted from the very bottom of his heart.

"Don't celebrate," he warned. "I am not finished yet."

That elicited a choked sound from the back of Avis' throat, and Yveltal ignored him as he continued on. "Because of the circumstances, a human of equal value has to be sacrificed in order to bring someone else back."

The teenager stepped back, feeling his shoulders tense at that sentence—why did he have a sinking feeling in his stomach?

"Avis Ichor...you are the shadow to your brother's glory," Xerneas muttered. "You wouldn't be missed by many if you were gone, and you do not hold a place of great importance in this world. And so, we will be using your body as the substitute to bring your beloved twin back from the dead."

§

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I hope you enjoyed~

~ nyxia