A/N: Right, here goes once more. You know the drill, Kingdom Hearts isn't mine. Still.

This story, unlike the rest, wasn't actually another random idea, or something inspired by a passing thought at three in the morning. This story was inspired by a bit of artwork by a friend, who let me see it before it was finished. And as far as I know it still isn't finished, and isn't online yet if it is - so you'll have to wait to see what that artwork depicts.

I was going to make this an AU one, but decided it worked better this way instead. Though, I guess it still kinda is AU anyway.

Lastly, to cut off my rambling, a single dedication: You got me started at writing these things, and look at how far I came since then. All thanks to you. (You know who you are too!)

Right, that's all. I'm off to go write some more.

Roxas had thought his story was over, when he'd given Sora back everything he'd taken. But his other half still needed him around for a time yet. Until he'd finished off the Organization at last.
Then his part was done, and Roxas was left without anything to do, any reason left to be – even if it was just as a small part of Sora.
There is a saying. Be careful what you wish for.
Roxas wished he could have a life again. That he could see his friends again.
He wished it upon a passing star he noticed Sora seeing.
The star heard that wish, sending it to another star out there, the star of a world where he could make a difference.
Roxas, unaware of this, wondered if he'd ever get that wish.
Wishes are dangerous things. You never know when one might get granted.
You never know what twists comes with them when they get granted.
Unaware of what was happening, as Sora turned to sleep, so naturally did Roxas.
And in that sleep, something separated all that was Roxas alone from Sora, and gave him a form that was his own alone, taking nothing from Sora.
As he slept, not realising he had been created anew, Roxas was taken to the world the wish had gone to.
The wish altered the world, not much, small amounts, to take into account the newcomer that came into their midst.
Memories were distributed around that showed he had lived there for all his life, all sixteen years, born and raised. He was given a family, friends. Would they be the friends he wished to see, or would he have to find those friends?
He was given a life, and all he needed with it.
Roxas slept through the night in his own bed now, innocent of the consequences of his wish.
Outside, high above his new home, a large shadow flew through the night time skies, a black that was only seen by where the stars were no longer visible, blotted out by it's shape.
Friends weren't the only thing brought here by his wish. And this owner of this shape wasn't brought here because of him. This had been brought here by a small bit of Sora that had come along for the ride. Only a small piece. Small enough that Sora would never know. Nothing about him would diminish in the slightest.
This was Roxas's own story now, free from others. He had the life he'd wished for.
Wishes are fickle things. Suggest that you regret having one come true, and they could turn on you, or they could try to alter things, try to make you change your mind.
This wish watched now, waiting to see what Roxas would think of what it had wrought.

Roxas began to wake up. Hands gripped the sheets under the covers tightly.
I'm dreaming. I've gotta be dreaming. There's no way... this is real. I'm just with Sora.
"Roxas!" a voice called. "Your breakfast is on the table! I'm off to work – don't stay in bed all day again!"
Without thinking, he called back, "Alright Mom, I'm getting up already."
Did I just...
Eyes snapped open, seeing a room he didn't recognise. It was similar to the room he once had in Twilight Town. Well, the simulation of it, anyway. Shelves along one wall, taken up with books on the bottom two shelves, then just various odd items and things. It looked like he put anything on there at all, except for the top shelf – that had two trophies on it. Without getting up to examine them, it wasn't clear what they were for.
Desk and chair in one corner. The desk showed that he followed that most common of filing systems, known simply as 'First Available Surface'. The floor too showed a similar filing – or lack thereof – with his clothes scattered around. It was some consolation that there was at least some floor visible around the patches of clothes and other belongings.
This was his room... except he'd never seen it before. Everything in here was both familiar, yet new to him. It was as if he gained the memories he never had, just by looking at or thinking about something.
But his room or not, where was we? Where exactly was this place. Almost as soon as he thought the question, the answer came to him.
Dragonbarrow. This was the town of Dragonbarrow. His home. He had a family here, a life, friends... though not many, it seemed, thinking about it. And none of them he recognised – well, none he'd met before this life, anyway. He was known as the odd one out more often that not, because he liked dragons where everyone else was afraid of them.
He couldn't see why – they were impressive beasts, though their numbers were dwindling. Most thought this a good thing because of the havoc they would and frequently could cause, but he reasoned that it couldn't be intentional. Not all the time. If people would just try to talk to them, befriend them and help them, then maybe they wouldn't be dying out. Maybe there was a way to live with them peacefully.
It was that last thought that made him stick out. He remembered knowing well not to mention it lightly, as few people would even hear of these kind of views.
His line of thought was disrupted by a rumble from below. Breakfast was calling to him, and his stomach was answering.
Roxas dressed himself, matching the appearance he'd had before joining Sora, then headed out of his room, down the stairs. He didn't even have to think about where he was going, like everything else it seemed to come to him naturally.
The lower floor of the house was one open space, kitchen, dining area and lounge in one. Smells of breakfast reached him almost before he could see it.
Waffles, of course. It would be. That, with baked beans. Others told him it was hardly a real breakfast, but that hadn't stopped him before. And he wasn't going to now, either.
As he ate, he thought about the newer things he was getting with this new world, new life.
He recalled his line of thinking, trying to follow it again. Dragons. There were dragons here?
No. Had. There had been dragons. But something had wiped out many of them, and those few that were left were seen as highly antagonistic. Humans were often seen as prey by them, not worth trusting. Using, but not trusting.
That's right. He remembered now, if that was the right word for something he'd never remembered before. The town was at threat of a dragon, only kept at bay by periodic sacrifices made to it. The dragon allegedly contacted someone within the city, informing them of the one selected to be the sacrifice, and if it didn't get who it asked for, then it threatened to attack.
On the up side, as long as it did get someone, it was known not to be too disruptive when it wasn't the one asked for, but this hadn't happened for a long time. As usual, it was generally agreed that matching the request was in better interests. When it was talked about at all.
The tribute to the dragon had been paid regularly, on time and without fail for many years. A dragonstrike was something only read about in the history of Dragonbarrow now, and the residents tried to go about their life as best they could, pretending not to notice or know anything of the brutal payment they had to endure, once every month.
People who became sacrifices were usually given time to set their affairs in order, then spoken of as if they had just vanished. No one ever talked about what really happened to them, he thought perhaps because it meant they wouldn't have to think about it.
Most sacrifices, though unwilling, accepted that they had little choice if they wanted the town and the residents to remain safe. Roxas had already decided long ago that if he got chosen, he'd do anything he could to get out of letting it happen to him.
What about me? What do I usually do?
Go to school, the usual answer would have been, but this was the summer vacation. He had savings from his allowance, along with odd jobs he did around the town, more than enough to survive whatever plans he came up with until school started again. Not that he wanted to go, but no one ever did.
It was decided. Even though his memories told him he knew this place, he also knew he'd never been here before today, and that meant the first thing to do was to explore it, learn about it.
Breakfast was finished quickly, then a skateboard was fetched from under the bed – about the only place where it wasn't going to get lost to the mess slowly colonising his floor. It was identical to the one he'd had back in Twilight Town – white, with wings on either side, and the black designs on the top.
One brief pause to make sure he had the keys to get in again when he got back, and then he was away down one of the many side streets of Dragonbarrow, headed, if his new memories were accurate, for the Third Market Plateau.
It seemed that like Twilight Town, Dragonbarrow had been built on a mountain. Unlike Twilight Town, it had not only been built on one side of it, but on all sides of it. It had been sculpted into many flat terraces that stepped up the mountainside in rings around it, culminating at the top with the imposing marble façade that made up the Governmental Offices.
What was more, it had even been build into the mountain, forming tunnel networks inside. The tunnels closer to the edge were still used for all manner of purposes, but the deeper ones were uncharted, unused and generally forgotten about.
They'd once been used in the event of a dragonstrike, memories of a history lesson told him. Whenever one happened, the populace scrambled for cover inside, usually hoping that what they owned didn't get toasted. One of the finer points of it was that even if you lost everything in the strike, you still had your life at least.
But with the agreement with the single dragon threatening the town, dragonstrikes had ceased, and there was no longer any need for the caverns inside.
Roxas paused at a wall on the edge of one of the terraces, looking down the mountainside to the town below and beyond. Most of the surrounds were forests, with only a few carved routes through to distant lands, none of which he'd been to.
At the base of the southernmost face of the mountain, the woods gave way to the massive entrance that had once been a coal mine, once rumoured to be connected to the tunnels inside the mountain. The well worn, rocky path from the south gate led to it, and past it toward a second, smaller but far more rocky and barren mountain. Or more accurately, volcano. The dragon's lair, and the one place no one wanted to end up going, unless it was as an escort for the sacrifice.
Yet another memory surfaced, and Roxas realised there really was something he was meant to be doing today. He'd taken a job a few days ago to cover for a watchman who'd fallen ill. He wasn't meant to be on duty in their place today – not normally, anyway. But today was the first of the month. Sacrifice day – and the watchman he was replacing was assigned to escort duty.
There was nothing for it, if he wanted to collect the pay for the job, he'd have to go through with this. He wasn't late, not yet anyway, but he was going to be if he didn't get down to the watch house nearest the southern gate. At least another dozen terraces down, and each terrace was fairly large. The mountain hadn't been steep, or if it had been it wasn't any more.
At least one of the better points of having a skateboard in Dragonbarrow was that after a recent petition had been approved, the middle of streets were generally kept clear for those like him, allowing him to dodge the foot traffic easily. Even others on boards weren't that much of an issue, so long as he paid attention where other streets crossed this one.