The first time Roxas saw someone get their heart stolen was nothing spectacular. He didn't even remember what world he'd been in at the time. The mission had been to hunt some heartless down and he had found the monsters only slightly slower than they had found their victims. But by then it was still too late for Roxas to do anything other than quietly watch from the sidelines – not that the thought of even trying had once crossed his mind.
It was only until later, after something of an uncommon remark from Xion, that he really thought about it and he realized something. What she had said was that they looked normal. She had been right.
If you took away the black robes and admittedly unorthodox weapons, Roxas would probably look like any other normal teenager in any of the myriad worlds out there, bored and trying to pass his days without the threat of the future encroaching, hurrying him along and trying to get him to form priorities.
He had never once consciously considered himself such but that one comment somehow managed to remind him that, that's right. They weren't complete monsters. People didn't run in terror at their approach. Some of the denizens even actively spoke to Roxas once they recognized him from his recurring missions in their world. He wasn't composed of shadowy flesh that could dissolve into the earth at will nor was he encased in armor so complete that it distorted any type of humanoid figure he might have had.
Roxas just looked like a boy.
And maybe that was the worst part.
Roxas looked just like a boy yet on the inside he was lacking even the most human of things; not even enough compassion to care about the death of someone he didn't know yet had been forced to witness anyway. Not even enough empathy at the fact that one day that could be him to bother looking at the victim's face closely enough to locate any features that could be considered vaguely recognizable.
And he found it sad…that he couldn't find that sad.