A/N: After careful consideration, I have decided NOT to abandon this fic. This is only because someone asked me in a review if I was going to continue it. Then I felt as though it would be rude to the people who read this (no matter how few they are) to just abandon it. It's not perfect, it still makes me wince in places, but it's not totally horrible. So I'm going to try and finish it, if only for the fans. Thanks for your comments and support.

Disclaimer: The following contains characters and concepts that are NOT the property of the author. They are the intellectual property of Nintendo, HAL Laboratories and their associates. The author has received NO monetary benefit from this piece of shit.

Chapter 11

"He can't do this to us!" Roy cried.

"He is the Master," Marth said. He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, head bowed.

Roy shot him a look. "How can you be so fucking calm?"

There was no answer from Marth.

Roy cursed. "I didn't go through all that trouble just to fight you. The whole point is that I get to beat on his ass, and everyone gets to watch. Last time, no one said anything. They just went on like everything was normal. If I beat him again, they'll have to say something this time. Then I'll be Master. I won't have to answer to anyone but myself."

Marth lifted his head. "Fighting me is no different than fighting him. The end result will be the same."

"What do you mean, it's no different? This is completely different!"

"Would you treat me differently than you would treat him?"

The question was spoken with a neutral tone. Those eyes were unreadable. Roy scowled, unsure of what to say. What did Marth want him to say?

"I don't want to fight you," he said.

"Will you back down from the challenge?"

"That's probably what he wants," Roy muttered. He ran a hand through his hair. "Goddamn it!"

"Those are your choices," Marth said. "Either fight me or back down."

"You're acting like you don't have a say in any of this."

"I don't," Marth replied.

"You do!" Roy said heatedly. "Stop acting like a mindless drone."

"I serve the Master."

"Of course," Roy hissed. If given the choice of either the Master or Roy, Marth would of course choose the Master, he thought with contempt. Did he have to take the title of Master in order to command the same loyalty from Marth?

"He was right about you," Marth said.

Roy glared at him.

"I would suffer too under your rule," Marth whispered.

Roy went up to him. Marth was looking at the floor, blue bangs obscuring his eyes. Roy reached out with one hand, as if to touch him. But he stopped and seemed to change his mind. Instead, Roy made his hand into a fist, pulled back, and drove it into the wall next to Marth. The wood splintered and cracked. The fragments fell away, leaving a hole.

Marth brushed his hair out of his eyes, unfazed. He gave Roy a look. "Satisfied?" he asked.

"No," Roy said between clenched teeth.

Marth ran over him with his eyes. Then he glided away from the wall, toward the door of the dojo.

"Don't do it," Roy said.

Marth paused and looked behind him. They made eye contact. Then, without a word, Marth turned and slipped out the door.

---

ONE YEAR AGO

Stretched out on his back in the grass, he tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He heard the sound of the door opening, then footsteps in the grass. He didn't have to look. He knew who it was.

"So this is where you are," said a calm voice.

"Someone wants me?" Roy asked.

"Yes. You were supposed to meet me at the dojo for practice."

"We train everyday," Roy muttered. "What does it matter if I miss one practice session?"

"You are expected to show up to practice according to your schedule."

"Expected?"

"By the Master. By me, your partner, and anyone else you might be training with."

Roy opened his eyes and turned his head to the side. He was staring at a pair of blue boots. He scanned upward until he met Marth's face.

"Question," Roy announced.

Marth simply blinked at him.

"Do you ever get tired of that line? I mean, with you it's always about the Master. The Master says this, the Master commands that. How come it's never about you?"

Marth turned away. "He owns this house, and so he owns all of us."

"I don't think so," Roy said, sitting up. "I signed a contract with him, meaning I have certain obligations to fulfill. That doesn't mean I signed my life over to him or anything."

"Maybe that's the way you choose to see it."

"It's the truth," Roy insisted.

Marth sighed. He turned back to Roy. "You fail to understand. I owe the Master a debt."

"Really," Roy said, his curiosity peaked. "How big of a debt?"

"It is fairly substantial."

"I see," Roy murmured. He thought about this. "So what would happen, if say, someone were to help you pay off that debt? What would you do then?"

"It is a life debt," Marth said. "It cannot be paid off until I am dead."

Roy stared at him steadily. Marth held the gaze for a few moments before turning to walk away. "If you refuse to train with me today," Marth commented, "there is nothing I can do."

Roy had to say something to make him stay. "It's not worth it," he called out to Marth's back.

Marth stopped and turned around. "What do you know of these things?" he challenged quietly.

"I know," Roy said. He looked out over the landscape, over the grass and the drop and the endless blue sky. He took a breath. He glanced to see if Marth was still there, and he was.

"You think there's something out there for us?" Roy asked. "I mean, after death."

Marth said nothing.

"You think we have souls?" Roy continued. "Do you think that's even a possibility? I'll tell you what I think. I don't think we do. We were created by lesser gods. Humans don't have the power to give anything a soul."

"Your point, Roy?"

"My point is that you shouldn't waste your life trying to pay back a debt. You'll run out of time. When it's over, it's over. You should just live life like it means something."

When Marth didn't respond, Roy tucked his hands behind his head and fell back against the grass. "Of course," he said, closing his eyes, "you don't have to listen to me."

A moment passed in silence, and then Marth murmured something beneath his breath. Roy opened his eyes and shifted them to the side. Marth was looking up at the sky. "Got something to say?"

"I said, 'Can a fool understand things that the learned man cannot?'"

"This fool can," Roy replied with a grin.

"It may be better to be a fool then." The grass shifted as Marth took a seat next to Roy on the ground. Roy repressed a triumphant smirk.

"But you get what I'm trying to say?" Roy asked. "Now is all we have."

"I can't accept that," Marth said quietly.

"Eh?"

Marth sighed. When he spoke, his tone was contemplative. "We were not created by humans, but by the universe itself. We are the universe, the universe trying to understand itself. Because of this, everything that is material is tied to the spiritual. By putting together pieces of code, our makers were toying with the fabric of the universe. It is only natural to assume that this fabric can come together and give a soul to a being such as we are.

"We perceive the universe, so we contain the universe. We are the universe, so we must have souls. That is undeniable."

Roy laughed gently. "Okay, philosopher. You win. I can't argue with that."

Marth turned to him. "I've noticed that you have a tendency to yield to me before the fight is over, on and off the mat."

"I know when I'm outmatched," Roy said, pretending it didn't irk him that Marth had noticed.

Silence, and then, in a voice quieter than before, Marth said, "About last night…"

"Oh, that," Roy said dismissively. "Forget about that. Wasn't anything important, really. A mistake on my part." He forced a laugh, keeping his eyes on the sky above. "Let's forget it ever happened."

He watched the clouds go by in the simulated sky in the time it took Marth to reply.

"What if I don't wish to forget it?"

Roy sucked in a breath and held it. His pulse started racing. He couldn't turn to face Marth, not yet. It had only been a kiss. "Sometimes, I forget what I am," he said awkwardly. "I forget that I'm not really Roy of Pharae, and you're not really Marth of Altea. We're just carbon copies of historical figures with dabs of artistic license added onto our personalities. For the more intimate details they used someone else's real life memories. Neither of our lives is real."

"I remember my childhood," Marth said. "Outside the palace there grew these white flowers my sister used to pick and make garlands. The same flowers I scattered over her grave. I remember that most vividly."

Roy nodded. "Someone else's personal memory, tacked onto the historical facts of the real prince of Altea. I remember my childhood too. When I realized what I truly was, I felt cheated, my life stolen from me."

"It doesn't matter," Marth said. "Or it shouldn't. Even a fake flower is still something."

"But not a real flower."

Marth said nothing. The sky was starting to burn a hole in Roy's eyes, so he turned away from the brightness and sat up. He turned to Marth to make a comment about something, simulations within simulations, illusions upon illusions. But Marth silenced him by slipping his hand into Roy's.

"It isn't that I don't enjoy your company," Marth said without looking at him. "It isn't that I don't know what it is to have feelings. It's just that I have obligations that cannot be ignored."

"Do whatever makes you happy."

"If only it were that simple."

Roy lifted Marth's hand, turned it, and kissed the inside of the wrist. Marth pulled away. He rose to his feet.

"I'll see you at practice tomorrow," he said to Roy, turning to leave.

"Sure," Roy responded, his voice thick.

When Marth left, he couldn't go back to staring at the clouds. The peaceful summertime had been significantly disturbed. Maybe, he thought to himself, one of these days…

As long as he could keep his other personality at bay…