"Sora!"
"Riku!"
"Pull me onto the boat!"
"I can't reach your hand!"
"Sora!"
"Riku!"
The boat shifts suddenly under Sora's feet, picked up by the swelling of the waves, and the boy flies backwards, cracking his head on the stern-most wooden bench. His vision grows blurry, then black…
Hot sun beating down, going days without water. Why had he grabbed that giant key? Almost chucking it overboard. If he'd left it Riku would still be…still be…
"Sora!" Winds rushing, debris flying. He'd stayed behind to make sure the others made it to the boats. One boat left.
"Riku!" Why didn't my boat capsize? Where are the others?
"Pull me onto the boat!" Waves overwhelming, rising, trees screaming and whipping—
"I can't reach your hand!"
"Sora!"
"Riku!" Sora bolted upright in bed, breathing hard. No! He had been so close this time! So…close…With a whimper, Sora curled up, clutching his head in his hands. It didn't matter if he'd made it this time or not. Riku was gone. Sora had abandoned him.
The boy's hands began trembling, and when he could no longer contain himself, he allowed quiet streams of tears to trickle down his cheeks and onto the sheets. Gradually, his shudders and suppressed sobs began to subside, and Sora sat up, leaning against the wall his bed was backed up to. He closed his eyes, listening. If he had woken up Mister again, he'd feel awful, but not worse than if he'd woken up Missus. She'd been so kind to him the last few nights, coming in with a grape soda or two. He couldn't remember how she figured those were his favorite.
Exhaling long and slow to steady his breath, Sora rested his head on his knees. He was the only survivor that he'd heard about from Destiny Island; the other islands that had severe weather had had few more. But why him? There had been other boats that had left the island, Riku had made sure of it. Where had they gone? The doctors who had examined him after his rescue reassured Sora that he was a lucky one, having been adrift for only four days and having but a few light abrasions and dehydration to show for it. Only four days. His eyes welled up and leaked over, imagining if any of the other survivors were still out there, trapped on those cramped little boats and starving…only four days for him, but now it had been two weeks.
What was interesting about the boy is that he did not blame the mainland—though they had failed to send the evacuation ships in time—nor did he blame the villagers—though they had ignored the warnings of the impending storm. No, what the boy did instead was think of the last moments where his fingers brushed against him companion's, about how he shrank back when a shard of wood flew at his arm and sliced through his skin. Sora flexed his fingers and stared at the peeling scab. It was hardly deep or painful, but he'd used it as an excuse to lose his friend. That wasn't the only thing Sora resented. With full disgust, he glared at the glinting metal key which lay propped up in the corner of the room. That was the oversized thing he had snatched from his small, one roomed hut. He'd been carrying it in both arms when he'd vaulted into the boat. Instead of grabbing Riku by the arm and forcing him to safety. This hulk of metal.
And Riku thought that it meant Sora was destined for great things! He'd been jealous of Sora's find, and tried to find one of his own! Why did this convince Sora that this key was more important than his friend's life…? Ashamed, Sora buried his face in his knees again. He'd have to get rid of it. Mister wanted him to find a job now that Sora was becoming a burden to his family, and this meant Sora leaving the house for the first time. And this meant very clearly to Sora that it had to be the last time he would see this key.
"I certainly won't give him a referral. I refuse." Sora opened his eyes blearily to the sound of an argument from downstairs.
"Darling, have pity on the boy. He doesn't know anyone on the mainland, and he has no family—"
"Hardly an excuse! I know everything I need to know about him: Sora is lazy and unreliable. Just look at the time, it is well past noon!" At that, Sora winced and peeked at the clock. Overslept. Again. Not wanting to cause further strife within the household that had volunteered for his sake, Sora struggled to dress quickly. There weren't many homes open to refugees, especially one that contained a family. It was almost as if he had a real fam—…Well, Sora had never been without companions and comfort, and since he had washed up on the shore of Destiny Island in a beaten up bassinet, the island had been like a family to him in its entirety. Especially Riku. Once he had discovered their similar ages, he had pressed Sora for any kind of details about life off the island. Sora regretted not being able to tell him more.
"I'm up!" Sora called, then tripped over himself as he mistakenly tried to force both feet into the same leg of his shorts. At the sound of Sora's "Oof!" and the thud of his body hitting the ground, an audible sarcastic moan emanated from the ground floor.
Sora heard something along the lines of "Don't know why we even—" before he bounded down the stairs, skipping three at a time with his long stride. "I'm-I'm up," he panted, offering a smile. Missus returned it, but Mister gave him a cold look.
"Job, got it," Sora gave him a double thumbs up. "I'm on my way!" The door fell closed behind him with a distinct slam, and Sora could hear the argument resuming. He grimaced with guilt, knowing that the whole thing was overwhelmingly his fault. But, as he shifted the weight of the sheet bound key to his shoulder, Sora hoped he could ease some of that fault today.
This was not the first time that the boy had been driven to find work, as it was a common complaint on the island about his state of being. Sora had taken it optimistically as concern for him, and was eager to become a productive member of island society. However, as he was shifted from one occupation to the next, each employer seemed to have the same things to say about him. While he had "energy" and a "desire to please," the boy was "incurably lazy, easily bored, and distracted." He was "prone to dreaming" and "asking unnecessary questions," though at the same time was "simple minded" or even "not of this world." The last was the kindest of the criticisms Sora received, who instead spent his time fishing for his food, whittling and making up songs and stories of adventuring heroes. For this he was great entertainment to Riku, who patiently endured Sora's ramblings and trailings in a tale as long as Sora enthusiastically answered his pressings for details. Truth be told, though the boy was miserable at holding a job, Sora had an advanced and expansive imagination. Riku took full advantage of this, having such a longing for a greater world, and an inclination to get into trouble that would sometimes need lying out of.
It was amazing now to Sora to see this large, bustling town and to think of the quietness of the island. It hardly got this hectic during festival time, let alone an average day, and now Sora was navigating through it somewhat nervously. Most of the crowd had their head bowed and were rushing off to what seemed to be a very important item on their agenda, not making eye contact and certainly not smiling. It took Sora a moment to become accustomed to seeing unfamiliar faces, especially scowling ones, but soon he did, and grew comfortable enough to adopt his broad, swaggering walk and whistle a merry tune. In the daylight, the town was magnificent, he saw. There were shops built on the roofs of other shops, roads lined with buildings packed with people, and an old black church building. It was the latter which caught Sora's attention, as it seemed out of place amidst the general business of the area. He approached it slowly, suddenly filled with apprehension. The steeple was tall and gangly, arched like a crow's beak, while the rest of the building seemed unusually uneven. There was no one coming in or out of its dark mahogany doors, and though there was no light in the window, Sora felt certain that people were inside because of a faint humming sound. He crept over the rose bushes in the garden and up to the long front window, attempting to peer inside. "Huh?" Sora withdrew his hand and found it covered in soot. Someone had tinted the windows. With a more than peaked curiosity, Sora struggled to haul himself up onto the ledge of the window, when suddenly the package he was holding began to vibrate violently. Crying out, Sora released both it and the ledge, landing sorely in a patch of thorns. He groaned, and gingerly picked apart the twigs which bound him. Once he had made his way back over to where he had dropped the bundle, Sora found that the key had freed itself almost entirely from his crude wrappings, and was now shivering uncontrollably.
Without being able to explain it, Sora felt a twinge of empathy for the thing, and knelt down next to it in an effort to console it, ignoring a nagging feeling that this was pointless to do to a piece of metal. "Hey, it's okay, calm down," and he picked it up by its interior handle. "Re-…relax…" It was the first time Sora had lifted the key in this way, and all at once the vibrating stopped. A sense of warmth spread from the handle to his fingertips, along his arm and resting somewhere deep within his chest. In spite of himself, Sora felt the corners of his mouth twitching, and he smiled. He began to admire the length of the silver shaft of the key and its golden hilt. It was lightweight, despite its size, and could conceivably be used…as a weapon…? Testing this theory, Sora gave the key a few practice swings. The shaft sung beautifully through the air, leaving Sora grinning as the warm sensation extended to his face and cheeks, making him laugh out loud. He then became aware that someone on the stairs of the church was watching him.