Everyone is unique, they say. But Roxas, he is especially unique—even he knows it. He knows it excruciatingly well, in fact. He has all the time in the world to reflect on himself and his life, now that he no longer has one. It's dark inside Sora, dark and alone. Yet, he's never alone. Not really.

When Roxas was born, it was with a blank slate. He remembers trying and failing to remember that time in his life, yet now he remembers it clearly. He sees himself walking like a zombie. Not responding, not sleeping, not doing anything besides moving on a whim. Then one day, without reason, he was there. Words made sense, as if he were a sponge that had been soaking up language while in that state.

It was strange the things he knew and the things he didn't. He knew words and decorum. He knew what could hurt him and what he should do to stay healthy. More were the things he didn't. Things like friendship, love, morality. His past.

He remembers the feeling of alienation at being the only Organization member without a memory. It was as if he didn't have a past to remember—which he now knows was half-true. Unlike them, he had to learn from the ground up. Learn about life as well as his place in it.

Just when he was finding an equilibrium—with two wonderful friends beside him and a purpose for living—everything fell apart. Losing both, he felt the real grip of pain and sorrow. Anger, something he had felt before, gave him a new purpose, yet even that faded away along with his memory of Xion.

The next he awoke was in a fabricated reality with all sorts of knowledge at his fingertips, an entire lifetime of memories behind him. Not only was he a normal fifteen-year-old kid, but he had new friends. And for the first time he actually understood all the things Axel had been unable to explain. Life had been good, but only a beautiful lie.

Then Axel came and broke the dream. His memories returned, cutting through the false ones like a knife. His head was a swirling mess. Nothing made sense in that moment except for the rage, still coiled tightly in his belly, which shot out at the only thing it could then, which was Axel. If he had been angry at him specifically, it was only slightly. The one he was angriest at in that moment was himself for failing. For failing to see through Axel's lies, to beat Riku, to realize that everything had been futile from the start.

He willingly joined with Sora, knowing that it was the right choice, the only choice. There was nothing else in life he could do, nowhere else he could go. Again his memories swirled like paint on a canvas. Sora's memories mixed with his own, a merging of two minds-two selves. The memories were both his and not his, and they swam in his mind, overlapping and blending. With them came the memory of Xion, whose existence should have faded away entirely. Roxas has realized by now that he has access to memories not even Sora does due to his position. Namine cannot erase memories, only hide them.

His life has been exceedingly short, yet he has been through so much during that time and changed drastically. He's learned and lost, and loved and hated. He's remembered and forgot. He's adapted and grown. If anyone is unique, it is him, who lived but a year yet remembers so much.

Now Roxas stands alone, but complete for the first time. He's no longer ignorant, a puppet, or even a Nobody. He's whole, and knowledgeable, and free from future pain. Yet, he's alone and bound. Bound to the background of Sora's consciousness. Sometimes, when the light hits just right, he can make Namine out in the edges of Kairi's portrait. It's in these moments that he feels at peace, because he remembers that he isn't alone. He's done the right thing. He's made his own choices. And, though he is bound to an Other he never asked for, in his own way, he's free.