Greetings and welcome to my first ever attempt to writing a fanfiction story. Since Kingdom Hearts was my first ever ps2 video game - in fact, I first bought a ps2 solely so I could play Kingdom Hearts as a kid - I decided to base my first story off of it. Inspired by Golden Zero16 and cornholio4, I have decided to make it a Fire Emblem Fates crossover.

Similar to cornholio4's Kingdom Hearts Birthright, this story will feature Sora as the lost prince of Hoshido, Corrin. Sorry man, but your idea was just too good and I couldn't help myself. This story will hopefully be the first in a series where Sora goes on harrowing adventures, some familiar and some changed, to save the worlds and discover his true identity. Here, we will cover the events of Kingdom Hearts 1.

So, without further adieu, I present to you chapter 00. Forewarning, the first section of this chapter is in 1st Person PoV and the second half is in 3rd Person. Let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts series, Fire Emblem series, the Final Fantasy series, or any characters associated with these video games.

Fates of Kingdom Hearts

Chapter 00 – What Happened Last Night?

Unknown Place, Middle of the Night

Unknown Year

As he stared down the cobbled street, the young boy could swear he heard someone walking amongst the many mist shrouded figures ahead of him. The faint sounds coming them were too soft to be anything but footsteps in the distance. Yet he couldn't see a single person move in the shimmering mist, which seemed to glow under the light of the full moon.

They were like shadows amongst the silvery haze, forming a blockade that kept the child from seeing the end of the street. The boy did not know why but he was afraid of these people and did not want to go anywhere near them. Yet, despite his strong desire to leave, something kept him from going back the way he had come.

He was stuck. He did not like it and wanted to do something.

Before the child had a chance to even decide what he was going to do, he heard a cold voice cut through the night air. It emanated from somewhere among the shadow-like people.

"Fire at will."

As soon as the hidden speaker finished talking, the mist clad figures unleashed a storm of arrows at the child. The young boy could only watch as death approached him in the form of wooden projectiles. Many wooden projectiles.

His heart was overcome with terror at the sight, preventing him from making a move. But he was not alone. And that person was not paralyzed by fear.

Seemingly stepping out of thin air, a tall man with a long mane of spiky black hair and a sleeveless obsidian coat over white armor placed himself between the boy and the onrushing arrows. Armed with only a single curved blade, which he carried in his right hand, the man attempted to deflect the approaching projectiles.

He managed to hit a few of them with his sword but it wasn't enough. There were simply too many coming all at once and they were coming too fast for him alone to stop them all. And the armored man himself was now directly in their flight path.

The swordsman cried out as he was struck over and over again by some of the wooden projectiles, each arrow piercing him in a different part of his body. Those remained firmly stuck to where they had hit him while their brothers and sisters flew past him.

A few of the latter group came dangerously close to hitting the terrified boy watching all this unfold. By some small miracle, none of the arrows even scratched the child as they all flew on passed him. All he felt was a cold breeze whenever an arrow flew too close to him during its voyage.

His eyes locked to the scene in front of him, the boy watched as the armored warrior – someone he felt he knew, though he could not recall the man's name – collapsed to one knee, his pain too great for him to continue standing. As if his fall was some sort of signal, the hail of arrows stopped. The sight of him like that nearly caused tears to start falling from the child's eyes.

"I'm disappointed in you, Sumeragi," the cold voice from before spoke again from amongst the crowd. As soon as that person started speaking, the sound of footsteps once again reached the child's ears. And they were getting louder with each step.

Swallowing thickly, the boy looked past the white armored man's shoulder and watched as a tall figure stepped out from the mist and the throng of people lurking within it. The newcomer was still too far away for the boy to make out any details in the darkness but this person was steadily approaching the boy's protector. Whoever they were, their voice identified them as a man.

As he came forward, stepping into the moonlight while doing so, this new person chuckled in a nasty manner. He said, "That wasn't even my best trap."

As the mysterious speaker came to stand before the injured swordsman, the terrified boy saw that he was a tall man with pale skin, dark eyes, and a long white beard with matching hair. A small black crown rested on top of his head and a massive axe was clutched in his right hand. The newcomer was covered in heavy black armor of a different style to the injured man's and he wore a heavy black cape with a thick white furred outlining over top of it.

'What… what is he going to do to?' the boy thought, swallowing thickly as he watched the newcomer smile down at his injured protector. There was nothing kind in that smile, even a child as young as the boy could see that.

Without saying another word, the mysterious man effortlessly lifted his axe in preparation to strike. His target was clearly the long haired man kneeling before him. Realizing what the stranger was about to do with his weapon, the child turned his eyes away from the scene. He couldn't bear to see the white armored man hurt any further.

Sadly, his refusal to see the event occur didn't stop it from happening.

A cry of pain erupted from the injured man shortly after the boy had turned his eyes away. This yell was much louder than the ones he had voiced while being hit by arrows. The child flinched at the sound, a powerful urge to cry blossoming in his small chest. He was forced it down while clenching his pants with his hands, resisting the sudden urge to cover his ears.

The child desperately hoped the kind man was all right.

Too afraid of what he might see if he looked up, the child stared at his sandaled feet and the cobbles below them. His body was shivering immensely now and it wasn't because the night air was cold.

His dread increased when he heard the stranger let out an unhappy sigh.

"Disappointing indeed," said the tall man with the large axe. He almost sounded genuinely upset about something. Perhaps he was expecting a better fight?

The boy didn't care. He just wanted this man gone and his injured protector to be all right. He wanted to be somewhere else right now.

In spite of his wishes, the black armored figure spoke again and his voice was again utterly cold. "Well… at least you did as I asked and brought the boy." Heavy footsteps immediately started emanating from his direction.

Surprised that the bad man was now talking about him, the terrified child turned his gaze upwards. His terror reached a new height when he saw that the swordsman who tried to protect him was now lying on his side in the middle of the street. And that the cape wearing man was advancing towards him, having already moved past the long haired man.

Not wanting to let the stranger touch him but too terrified to run, the child started walking backwards in an attempt to stay away from the man. The motion was of little help because the stranger's strides were much longer than his own and the boy's legs were slowed tremendously by his fear.

'What does he want now? What is he going to do?' were the thoughts running through the scared child's mind.

Not looking where he was stepping as he backed away from the nasty man proved to be a mistake. The boy stepped on a loose rock and it slid out from under him as he moved to take his next step. His balance lost, the child wildly waved his arms as he fell on his rump.

It was only his palms slapping against the cobbles at the last second that kept him from falling completely on his back. The boy cried out in equal parts pain and surprise at the impact, closing his eyes out of reflex. His hands hurt from the fall, the pain giving him a new reason to cry. An action he just barely suppressed once again.

"Now, now," the stranger spoke again, his voice coming from directly above the boy this time. "There will be no more running from you tonight."

Terrified eyes snapping open, the boy found himself staring at the stranger's armored legs. Shifting his gaze upwards, he immediately made eye contact with the bad man, who looked down at him with an unkind smile and dark eyes.

Seeing the stranger's face up close now, a small part of the terrified child's mind decided that the mysterious figure was quite old by how worn his skin seemed, never mind how white his hair and beard were. The rest of him did not find that information very important at the moment.

"Oh, you poor thing," the axe swinging man spoke, the tone of his voice telling the child that he was being made fun of. At any other time, the boy would probably have been annoyed by this. Now, he was just too scared to care. "Orphaned at such a… tender young age."

Bending down slightly, the strange man reached out for the child with his left hand while his right continued to clutch the shaft of his large axe. Gasping, the child started to push himself away from the approaching limb with his hands and feet. His desperate crawling wasn't anywhere near fast enough for him to escape the armored limb, which roughly took hold of his shirt's front.

With the tiniest of scowls on his face, the black armored figure pulled himself to his feet and lifted the boy off the street as he did so. Standing up straight, he didn't seem to have any trouble holding the lad up to his eye level with one arm.

Despite how much he wanted to look away from the stranger's hard face and cold black eyes, the boy was simply too afraid to move. He didn't even kick or pry at the hand holding him in the air. The child was certain he had never been this scared before in his life.

"…Were it up to me, I would proceed with my original plan and make you my child now," the strange man spoke, his frown deepening with every word. "But alas… his orders are absolute."

There was something about the way the scary man uttered one specific word that struck out to the child for an instant. While the other words were delivered with what appeared to be his usual cold tone, that one had sounded different. The bad man almost sounded afraid when he said his.

The boy didn't have very long to think of it. In fact, a fresh wave of terror engulfed him when that cruel smile suddenly reappeared on the scary man's face.

"Still…" the armored figure spoke almost jovially now. With a twitch of his right arm, he lifted his large axe off the street. Speaking at the same time as he moved the weapon, the man said, "That doesn't mean I can't make… a few small adjustments."

When he was finished speaking, the stranger brought his axe into a new position. Holding it vertically off the ground, he pointed it directly at the boy's chest. The spike on top of the axe's head came dangerously close to touching the child. A simple thrust and the child would be skewered on the weapon.

'He's going to kill me,' the child thought. And though he did not make a single sound, he could feel his tears running down his cheeks. They were ice cold.

If the stranger even noticed, which was very likely given that he was still looking the boy in the eyes the entire time, the armored figure gave no sign that he did or cared in any way. After a moment of just standing there in silence while the boy cried, he spoke again.

"…This will probably hurt," the old man told his captive, sounding completely unbothered by the fact. He almost sounded like he hoped it would.

'Stop. Please stop,' the boy thought but his desperate pleas were neither heard nor heeded.

Without warning, what looked like purple flames suddenly appeared all around the tall man's armored body. They were at their strongest around his shoulders and the top of his crowned head, yet barely touched his legs and feet.

At the same time, the air suddenly became oppressively heavy for the child. Not only did it become impossible for him to breathe, but the lad felt as if he was caught in a giant invisible grip that was trying to crush him until he was the same size as a walnut or something even smaller. He couldn't find the strength to move his limbs for a completely different reason now. His body might as well have been stuck in a block of ice as the armored man held him off the ground.

He watched with wide eyes as the purple flames enveloping his captor quickly extended to the man's large weapon, unable to tear his eyes away from the stranger's now blazing figure. They seemed extra bright on the weapon's curved blade and an equally bright fireball, one about the size of the child's hand, came to rest on the tip of the axe's large spike.

'Don't… don't do this,' the boy pleaded, looking directly into the strange man's dark eyes. The rest of his body continued to prove itself to be unresponsive to his now desperate commands to move.

As if hearing the boy's thoughts, the tall figure huffed and slowly pushed his axe towards the boy. He made the smallest of taps against the boy's chest with the small purple fireball, the contact taking place directly over the lad's heart. And just like he said there would be, there was pain.

Lots and lots of pain.

For the first time that dark night, the boy shrieked. Loudly.

A soul rending cry of absolute agony erupted from his mouth as he turned his gaze to the heavens above, where the stars looked down in apathy upon his situation. His body twisted and turned in the man's unrelenting grip in spite of the crushing pressure coming from all sides. His four limbs now remembered how to move and they were swinging in every direction in an out of control frenzy.

But all his moving about and screaming did nothing to make the pain cease.

The boy continued to scream and thrash around as his body felt like something massive had suddenly started to grow inside of his chest. It seemed to be getting bigger with every second and it was tearing him apart from the inside as it continued to increase in size and attempt to force its way out of him. At the same time, his skin felt like it had been set on fire even though not a single ember could be found anywhere on his small form.

This was… this was complete and utter agony. The likes of which the boy had never experienced before.

And just as suddenly it began, the pain stopped. Along with the pressure bearing down on him from all sides. The boy's limbs fell limply around his small torso as he gasped for air, suddenly recalling how to breathe. Unable to keep his head up anymore, his forehead nearly slammed into the black gauntlet of his captor's arm. His clothes clung tightly to him, a sure sign that they were drenched in his sweat, but he was too tired to care about that.

That entire awful experience left him completely exhausted, too tired to even be afraid of the stranger anymore. He hoped never to experience anything like that again.

And yet… something felt different about the boy now. Said boy could feel it, even in his exhausted state. A certain weight he had not even noticed he had before seemed to have disappeared from his body. It felt important that such a thing was gone but the child did not know why.

"Hmm, yes," his captor suddenly spoke, sounding quite happy for some reason. The boy was too tired to wonder why. "This will do nicely."

Still huffing slightly, the boy found the strength to lift his head slightly. Lifting his gaze from the stranger's armored forearm, he saw that the mysterious person's body was no longer shrouded in those strange purple flames. His large axe, which he was holding up in the air and examining with a pleased smile, was also no longer surrounded by flames.

Except for one small piece.

A single small fireball was still attached to the weapon, resting directly on the tip of its large spike. However, it was no longer the same menacing purple color it had been before. Instead it shined with a bright blue glow, its edges flickering with silver as it as its form was altered slightly with each passing second.

It looked… quite beautiful now the child had to admit. And, though he didn't know why, a small part of the boy felt as though it was calling out to him. He had an inexplicable urge to reach out and touch the flame with his hand. To hold it close and never let go.

The boy must have made some sort of noise without realizing it, because the old man turned his gaze back towards him at that moment. His smile grew as he looked at the exhausted child.

"Oh ho, still awake there boy," he called out to his captive. A dark chuckle burst out of him before he said, "You might actually be tougher than I thought."

The boy gave no response to that statement, too exhausted to speak. He was quite certain even his tears had stopped falling from his cheeks. He didn't feel either happy or annoyed by the evil man's words. It was a struggle to pull his eyes away from the blue fireball and look the stranger in the eyes. He was just… so very tired.

His captor didn't seem to mind his silence.

"Either way… your part in this story is all over," the crowned figure told the boy. As soon as he finished speaking, he once again started moving the axe.

As thoroughly exhausted as he was, the boy didn't even twitch at the sudden motions of the large weapon. But he did find his gaze drawn to it. Or rather, the fireball lodged onto its spike. As his eyes followed the weapon's movements, he slowly realized the scary man had no intention of hitting him with the thing.

Instead, he merely pointed it at the air behind the child and held it so that the curved blade of the weapon resided directly beside the child. If the child wanted to, he could reach out and rest the palm of his hand against the flat side of the axe's blade. Unfortunately what he really wanted to touch was still out of his reach.

The boy's head was in the right position for him to watch as pitch black smoke suddenly erupted from the cobbled street directly behind him. As quickly as it appeared, the smoke took on a roughly oval shape. While the edges of the strange construct retained their smoke-like condition, the interior more closely resembled a swirling mass of black and purple water. Strands of the smoke would peel off the edges, only to fade away into nothingness after climbing a very short distance.

At a glance, the boy figured that the object was taller than the mean man holding him off the ground but extremely thin in comparison. A round shadow rested beneath the object, perhaps connecting it to the cobbled street and somehow keeping the thing upright at the same time.

'What… what is that thing?' the boy wondered, struggling to think the question through his exhaustion. Sleep was becoming increasingly harder to resist and it was only the strange pull the blue fireball seemed to have over him that kept him from closing his eyes.

"Do try and have a pleasant voyage, child," the stranger suddenly spoke up.

Before the child realized what was happening, the armored man let go of his shirt and pushed him towards the strange black construct. Gravity had a chance to assert control over his body and bring it to the ground as the child flew into the black construct and slammed right into its center. A sensation akin to colliding with a large body of water, like a lake or a calm river but much colder in comparison to this stuff, over took the boy as the black thing started to absorb him. In an instant, it became utterly impossible for him to breathe again.

Newfound terror erupted within the child's breast but it was too late for him to do anything as the blackness wrapped itself around him at lighting speeds. Tendrils of the stuff started to fill his vision, covering his sight. Before he could even think of struggling, everything start to fade away at fast speeds. His sense of smell, his hearing… everything fell into darkness.

The last thing the boy saw was through the black tendrils covering his eyes was the old man looking at him with scorn. The small blue fireball still attached to his large axe and a mob of shadowy figures residing in the mist behind him. Before his vision fully faded, he saw the stranger start to turn away from him.

The last thing to go away was the now almost desperate need to touch that small blue flame. When it vanished, the child knew and felt nothing else. There was only the all-encompassing darkness.

Destiny Islands, Early Morning

Present Day

With all the grace of a charging rhino, a loud groan suddenly erupted from the mouth of sleeping teen. The sudden noise shattered the silence that had enveloped his bedroom throughout the night. Shifting under his blankets, the spiky haired teen laid down on the right side of his body and turned his back to the bedroom's sole window and the rising sun lurking beyond it.

Regardless of the reason why the teen had the urge to make such a sound, it was a clear signal that his latest voyage into the land of sleep and dreams had come to an end. He could already feel the fabric of his blanket on his bare hands and feet. The warmth of the sun's rays touched his face as they filtered in through the window. Both were clear signs that he was returning to full consciousness. Something that went against his current desires.

'What is so wrong with being allowed to sleep for as long as I want,' the teen thought to himself, upset with having one of his favorite activities cut short once again. With his left hand, he pulled his tan colored blanket over his head in an attempt to block out the sun and drown himself in shadows. 'It's too early to get up.'

Alas, despite his clear desire to return to sleep, his mind refused to allow him to do so. It had received too much energy during the night and was forcefully dragging him to full awareness. After a minute of stubbornly attempting to go back to the land of the dreams, the spiky haired teen realized his quest was a lost cause. Another groan erupted from his mouth at the realization.

'Fine. I'm up,' he thought to himself, dejected.

Twisting his body around so that he would lay on his back, the teen pushed his blanket off his face and shoulders, uncovering the upper half of his body for all the world to see. He was of average height and build for a lad that was roughly fourteen years old. The spiky mess that was his brown hair made him seem taller with how the majority of his spikes jutted in an upwards direction. His skin possessed a faint tan, a result of the long hours playing under the sun with his friends. The tan sheets still hid his waist and legs from view but the boy was clearly wearing a light blue shirt with short sleeves over his upper torso.

Eyelids fidgeting slightly, seemingly stuck together after the long night, it took a few tries before the boy could open his sky blue eyes and glared at the ceiling above him. He had to blink several times to bring clarity and precision to his vision, finding the world uncomfortably blurry when he first opened his eyes.

'Waking up sucks,' the boy thought dejectedly to himself. A soft sigh soon erupted from his throat as he stared at the ceiling, lying on his back with arms spread to the sides.

His friends tended to joke that if he could, the boy wouldn't hesitate to sleep forever. While an interesting thought, the teen in question found that unlikely. There were too many fun things to do and interesting things to one day see.

Speaking of his friends, namely his two closest ones, the teen remembered that this was the day they all agreed to start their secret project. Building a raft in order to set sail and see the world, if not worlds, that lurked beyond the oceans surrounding the Destiny Islands. Even in his still somewhat exhausted state, an excited grin worked its way on the boy's face at the thought of the three of them soon starting a real-life adventure. Just like they had always said they would. Hopefully, it would be the first of many.

Exhaling through his nose, the spiky haired teen thought, 'Well, time to get up and see if mom's made breakfast yet.'

The thought of food made the boy's stomach rumble and an even bigger smile to work its way onto his face. Waking up after a good sleep might have been a chore, but breakfast always made it worth it in his mind.

Reaching up with both hands, the boy started to lightly slap his cheeks to help drive the rest of his lethargy from his mind. After the third set of slaps, he stopped and stared at the ceiling with wide blue eyes, having found something unexpected. Slowly, he peeled his hands off his face and held them up for him to examine. They were covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"…You've got to be kidding me," the teen spoke to himself, a groan erupting from his throat as he threw his head back and tried to bury it into his pillow. After a moment, with extreme reluctance in his demeanor, he pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked down at himself.

Sure enough, the teen's sleeping shirt was drenched in his sweat. Its normal bright shade of blue was now a much darker tone then it should be and it clung to his skin in a manner he found slightly uncomfortable. He didn't need to look to know his sleeping trunks were in a similar state and he could see from their new dark sections that large amounts of his perspiration had infected his blanket, pillow, and bed.

"Just great," said the boy, hands coming to rest over the back of his knees as he shook his head. It was an absolutely disgusting scene to wake up to for the teen. Sadly, it wasn't the first time he had done so either.

A small frown worked its way onto the boy's face as he turned his gaze towards his bedroom window. With his house located on the outskirts of the small island settlement, most of what he could see was the great wide ocean that surrounded their island on all sides. The morning sunlight had caused the water's color to become a brilliant orange shade instead of its standard blue scheme. A short distance away, the teen could see the two small islands where he and the other kids would often go to play poking out of the water. The larger one completely dwarfed the smaller one in size.

"It's been a while since this happened," the blue-eyed boy mused out loud, talking to himself while looking at the two islands as if they held the answers for why this occurred during the night. "Maybe… a year or so since the last one."

Reaching up to rub his left forefinger over his chin, the spiky haired teen thought about it for a while before amending his last statement. "No, it was definitely a bit longer than that."

For as long as he could remember, the teen would occasionally wake up to find himself drenched in his own sweat. Sometimes it would be in the middle of the night. Other times, just like today, it wouldn't be until morning when he would discover what had happened. When he was younger, the boy would often feel a mixture of exhaustion and a splitting headache whenever he woke up in such circumstances. Now he felt just the barest hint of a migraine on the back of his skull, one that was fading fast.

As he grew older, much to the boy's relief, these events happened less and less frequently with every year that passed. His adoptive mother and the town doctor figured he was born in a place with a different climate to the Destiny Islands and that his body was just trying to adjust to the humidity in its own way. The teen was willing to agree with them on that account now but when he was younger that wasn't always the case.

As a small child, whenever he woke up like this, the spiky haired boy would feel for a few minutes like something important had slipped through his fingers during the night. The feeling faded over time with each incident and now he didn't have such a sensation at all. But he did have an unpleasant idea about what might have slipped through his fingers during the night back then.

Lowering his gaze to his still blanket covered knees, the teen asked himself, "What was I dreaming last night?"

Pursing his lips as his left knee came to rest against his chest, the teen wrapped an arm around the blanket covered limb and tried to answer his question. Sadly, attempting to recall what he had dreamt only served to strengthen his small headache. Sighing, the boy admitted defeat and said, "I can't remember. Again."

It was another strange piece of these unusual events. In general, the spiky haired teen was a heavy sleeper but he could always recall what he was thinking or dreaming of during the night when he woke up. Not perfectly, but the general gist of it would be right there waiting for him to recall it when he returned to full wakefulness. His mother called it a sign that he had a very imaginative mind.

The nights where he woke up drenched in his own sweat were the only times when he couldn't remember anything he dreamed or thought about while asleep. In truth, the teen often felt like he had only slept for a few minutes instead of several hours when he woke up covered in sweat, though not as much as before.

Like many things in his young life, the teen just lost interest as time passed and he got older. He did, after all, have many more important things to do and think about during the day. What he and his friends were going to do for fun, for example. If there was going to be anything he could do to help around town. And occasionally, what were they going to learn in school today. That sort of stuff.

Today, however, the teen was feeling oddly curious about his lost dreams. Raising his gaze so he could stare at the bedroom ceiling again, he asked himself, "Was I dreaming… or thinking about my past? From before I came to these islands?"

Much like his closest female friend and fellow adventure conspirator, the spiky haired teen was not born on Destiny Islands. At least, that was the common assumption because no one recognized him as a child after a nice woman happened to find him washed up on the shore one day following a rather vicious storm. She had just been taking one of her usual morning walks along the beach and found him lying face down in the sands, wearing badly drenched clothes and completely out of it.

Shocked and scared out of her mind, the woman had wasted no time in trying to rouse him from his slumber. When that didn't work, she scooped him up in her arms and took him to the town doctor as fast as she could. It was not until two days after she had found him that the then small child had actually woken up. But while the doctor had deemed the spiky haired boy quite healthy in the physical sense, there had been a rather morose discovery pertaining to his mind during his medical examination.

The blue eyed child from the beach had no idea who he was, where he was, or where he had come from. His memory before that day was a complete blank slate. Even his own name, the one his biological parents had given him, escaped him. Attempts by the boy to mentally force the issue had failed, resulting only in splitting headaches plaguing his mind whenever he tried. The doctor had hoped that his memories would return in time but after almost nine years it did not seem likely to ever occur.

After his medical exam, when it became clear that no one on the island recognized the newly discovered boy, the woman who saved him took him in as her own son and gave him a new name to call his own.

It was Sora.

There had been no proof to support the theory but most of the townsfolk believed Sora had been on a boat with his original family before he lost his memories. A boat that got caught in, and possible sunk by, the vicious storm which ravaged the islands the day before he was discovered by his adoptive mother. Sora was just luckily enough to get thrown overboard in the chaos and the waves pulled him to the islands before he drowned.

The town doctor was among those people. He believed that Sora's loss of memory, due to him finding no evidence of any sort of bruising on his head during his exams, was a result of trauma from experiencing such a thing at a young age.

To this day, the fact that no one ever came looking for him was a little upsetting for Sora but he tended not to think on it overmuch anymore. While it may seem selfish and thoughtless, Sora no longer cared for who he was before he lost his memories and came to these islands. He was quite happy with who he had become and his life here on the Destiny Islands.

He had good friends, his closest ones being a slightly older silver haired boy named Riku and a red haired girl named Kairi, with whom he had a lot of fun with every day. His adoptive mother was very kind and an amazing cook. The townsfolk accepted him as a part of their small community without batting an eye and loved how willing he was to help around town with all sorts of small chores. And his teachers often made their lessons interesting enough that Sora was able to bear having to sacrifice time better spent having fun in order to go to school.

He wouldn't trade this life for anything. Not even his lost memories, he told himself. And he meant every word.

His adoptive mother decided, at that precise moment, to remind him of her continued existence.

"Sora?" she called out, her voice filtering into the bedroom through the closed door. Lowering his head, Sora was about to respond but she continued yelling before he could even say a word. "Are you up yet? Breakfast is ready? Sora?"

A wide grin broke out on the brown haired teen's face when he heard the news. His mind threw aside all thoughts of what he might have been dreaming and who he was before coming to the islands in order to wonder what sort of meal his mother had cooked for them now. Blueberry pancakes? Waffles? Bacon and eggs? He needed to get down there right away.

As if agreeing with him, his stomach chose that moment to let loose another growl, this one much larger than his previous one. Realizing that he was indeed feeling very hungry right now, and privately very happy his mother had not heard the sound his belly just made, Sora placed his right hand over his abdomen. He held his left hand up to his face and called out an answer to her query.

"I'm up. I'm up. Coming right now," he called out to her, forgetting to mention his currently soaked condition in lieu of both his hunger and excitement. He barely heard her verbal acknowledgement as he threw aside his blanket, uncovering his bare feet and black sleeping trunks.

Sliding his body to the right and twisting around so his feet would go first, Sora sat on the edge of his bed for a second as he pushed himself on to his feet. Having been looking at the floor while doing so, he saw that he almost stepped on some discarded yellow shorts while getting up. Other articles of clothing were also scattered around the bedroom floor in a disorganized mess through which he just barely had enough room to step through.

A small part of Sora thought that maybe his mom was right about him needing to clean the place but it was drowned out by the desire to go and eat breakfast right now. He could always clean later. The food wasn't going to stay fresh for long and a fresh breakfast was the best breakfast.

Quickly putting his feet into a pair of soft black slippers, Sora started heading for the door only to freeze after two steps. He felt like he was forgetting something important again. An almost instinctive pat of his chest with his right hand while he wondered what that was gave him the answer.

Turning to look at the other side of the room, his eyes came to rest on a small corner of his desk. The location where he had left his favorite accessory before going to bed last night. And it was right there waiting for him, exactly how he had left it.

The item in question was a small chain necklace, one slightly large for a boy of his size and build at the moment. Attached to one section of the silvery metal construct was a small pendant in the shape of a three pointed crown.

It had been a gift from his mother almost four years ago on his birthday. Given that they had no clue when his real birthday actually was, Sora and his adoptive mother instead celebrated the day that she had found him as his birthday.

For some reason even he couldn't quite explain, Sora had fallen in love with the object from the moment he laid eyes on it and had treasured it ever since. Aside from school, which had a strict no jewelry of any sort policy, he took it practically everywhere with him these days and only took it off when he was going to bed, swimming, or a shower.

The latter two because he didn't want to risk getting it wet, and subsequently dirty, and the former had been a household rule laid down by his mother. She had caught him sleeping with it wrapped tightly around his neck one morning. Tightly enough that it came dangerously close to choking him. A result of all his twisting and turning that night. Sora had been quite against the idea of sleeping without but eventually relented to his mother's stern command.

The teen frowned at himself, debating over whether to put the thing on or not but ultimately decided not to at this time. He was drenched in his own fluids right now he just remembered and didn't want to risk damaging it. With a reluctant sigh, Sora turned and walked out the door, his mood dampened slightly by what he perceived as an act of betrayal.

His mood did not stay down, however, once the smell of breakfast reached his nose. With a wide beaming smile, he closed the bedroom door behind him and raced down stairs eat. Not realizing he had forgotten to do something other people would say was much more important that deciding whether or not to he should put on his favorite necklace.

"SORA!" his mother shrieked at the sight of him in all his sweaty glory.

He had forgotten to tell his mother about his condition.

Yet even as she rushed over and reprimanded him for not saying a single thing, Sora knew one thing in his heart. Lost memories and strange sleeping problems aside, the teen was completely convinced that life was good and nothing could ever change that.

If only he had known that everything as he knew it was soon going to change completely. And not in a way he would ever expect or welcome.

So, what do you think? A little long, I admit, and I think the mystery thoughts/dreams Sora is trying to recall is pretty obvious to you, the readers, at this point. Next chapter we will be exploring the prologue of Kingdom Heats, The Dive To Heart. As this is fanfiction, I will be adding in my own twists and turns to it as I write.

That said, I will be accepting submissions for OC heartless. I feel like making the number of heartless Sora will fight a lot more diverse and already have a few lined up. Feel free to submit them in the reviews in a format like this.

Name: Shadow Hound

Appearance: it resembles the Guard Hound seen in Final Fantasy: Dirge of Cerberus in body shape. Its head is a longer and more traingular version of the Neo Shadow heartless and the whip-like construct on the Guard Dog's back has been removed. Instead, this heartless has a long whip like tail. It is a Pureblood heartless so it lacks an emblem and is completely black in color, except for its glowing yellow eyes.

Abilities: a purely physical heartless, it charges forward at high speeds to perform speedy tackles or claw at Sora and friends with its forepaws. Beware its long tail. It can not only function as an effective whip when the Shadow Hound spins in place, it can also latch onto people's limbs and toss them a considerable distance. Like the common Shadow heartless, it can also sink into the ground and become invulnerable to attacks as it moves about.

World(s): Traverse Town, Wonderland, Deep Jungle, Olympic Coliseum, Hollow Bastion, End of the World

All OC heartless will receive a sheet similar to this at the end of every chapter they first appear in. If you are submitting a heartless I like and decide to use, please submit a name for yourself in reviews so I can give you credit for the idea.

Thanks for reading, I'm off to get started on the next chapter.