The walls were a dingy yellow. There were two corridors that formed a cross. There were no stairs leading out, no doors leading in. The light was faint and eerie, the floors covered in dirty footprints and garbage. Sora, it seemed, was in a train station.
There was no explanation, no reasoning. One moment he wasn't, one moment he was. At first panic gripped him, hands clawing at the wall before him. He shifted into annoyance, acceptance, sadness. Finally, it became curiosity, and he turned to explore his new home.
Shortly, he met a girl. A girl with no name, no story, and no happiness. They were Heartless now, she explained. Stuck in the empty train station, doomed to forever watch the comings and goings of others without ever being seen. For them, there was no exit, but for the rest of the world, life continued.
For a while, Sora and the girl watched in silence as people walked past them. So many faces Sora had never seen, so many colours in clothing and skin that his mind was both in awe and terrified. He tried to reach out and touch them, but the girl pulled back his hand. No no, she chided. We cannot touch them anyway. We exist only to ourselves and to others like us. We are trapped.
All the same, Sora tried to get their attention. He stood in the middle of the flow, and was walked through. He tried to throw garbage at them, and his hand couldn't grab the paper. He beat the walls, told jokes, tried to escape with them, but was always ignored. The girl watched in silence, with sad eyes and sad smiles.
Sora asked if anyone else had ever been there. The girl said yes. Many people had been there, many more than just her and Sora. That's how she knew they were Heartless, though she didn't know what a Heartless was exactly. So where had they gone? Sora asked. The girl's face became twisted with envy and hatred. They were saved.
There was no escape, no exits, and to the world they did not exist. Sora asked her to explain, to share the story she knew. In the end, it seemed, only the one person who cared for you the most could save you. Only if they found the train station. Sora smiled. The girl cried. Guilt wrenched the boy's body, and he didn't understand. How could this be a terrible thing?
Time had no meaning; there was no day and night, only the flow of the train users and the silences in between. But down the line another boy appeared, and another girl, and soon there were seven of them, telling jokes, staying positive. Sora was not going to lose himself here, especially when he was sure someone would come find them.
But there was always the girl, and she was always crying. Sometimes, Sora would try and stop the tears, but he was always pushed away. What did he understand, she would shout. How could he know what her pain was like when no one had come for her? When she had to watch as she was left alone?
Floors became wet and slushy, and Sora knew it must have been winter. The season brought more travelers, more train users, and the arrival of a man. He stood out in the flow, more alert, more wary. He stared right at the group, and ran over to them, embracing one of the Heartless. She cried, kissed him full on the mouth, and sobbed about how much she loved him, how much he meant. It was only a few moments later that one of the boys tried to talk to her, and she didn't turn around.
It took only another minute before she had left the station, and there were only six of them. That night, Sora was filled with joy, as the girl cried herself to sleep again.
Another member left them, leaving the numbers down to five. She had gone the same way: a boyfriend or husband had come and picked her up, there were tears, and she left without a backwards turn or a goodbye. Sora began to wonder if the moment he was saved, he would forget about the people here. He asked the girl, but she didn't know.
There had been many winters now, although Sora didn't keep track. Time didn't seem to affect them as Heartless: they never aged, they never changed, they never had to eat or use the washroom. They didn't have to sleep, but the girl did for her own reasons. Heartless just seemed to be outside the flow of everything. On one day, when the floor was wet from rain, another Heartless left them.
He left in a much different way, however. A man came for him, a smile on his face, tears streaming down an older face. When the boy ran to him, he yelled father over and over. Like the others, he faded and left. Sora turned to the girl, stating he didn't know family could save someone. The girl bitterly replied that the person who cared for you the most wasn't always your true love. So long as they cared for you the most, they were the one to save you.
They became five again when another boy joined their ranks, and dropped quickly back to four when another girl was saved by her brother. The boy left almost as soon as he got there, when a little girl came and dragged him away, and their third member left when her twin embraced her and they cried together.
Much like Sora's adventure had started, it was just him and the girl. She watched him with sad eyes, and he watched her back with hopeful ones. He didn't understand, but now he really wanted to. Why was she so sad? Why couldn't she hope?
Why? Her reply was quiet, with a voice so full of despair Sora felt a twinge of hopelessness. Sora didn't count years, but she did. She had been there for forty winters, although that wasn't necessarily the same number in years. She had seen countless people come and go. She told Sora he had been there for six, but he didn't believe that.
It had been so long, she continued. She didn't know if she had a name, or even a life before being a Heartless. She had no memories outside the yellow of the station, the changing of the floor. Sora wanted to inspire her, to make her see she would leave too, but she pushed him away.
After that, the silences were longer and more drawn out. The flow would lessen at times, and it was only Sora and the girl. The two of them, sitting at opposites sides of the cross, watching the yellow walls get repainted and cracked, the floor being cleaned and dirtied, and each other trying to cling to something they had from their previous lives.
The day the old man came, he appeared alone. He shuffled in, took a look around, and then his eyes set on the girl. She shakily rose to her feet, disbelief and fear obvious on her face. Sora rushed across the station to her side. The man reached for her, and she touched his hand. It didn't pass through.
Sora begged, screamed, pounded at her to not leave him alone, as the man lovingly said her name, Naminé, Naminé, as he took her away. He kept clawing at her arm as she faded, until his fingers fell through her body like a spider web, and like everyone before, the girl didn't turn around. After those years together, after all this time, she left like all the others. Sora thought she was different. She had left Sora the same way she hated to see the others go.
The last thing Sora wanted to do was become like her. He knew he had to cling onto the idea that someone was coming for him, or else he would have nothing. He resolved to pass on the idea of the Heartless to anyone else who came, and make sure that they knew there was always hope. No one else here would despair, and when Sora got out, he would look back. He would make the world look back.
Eventually, the people stopped flowing, and the station fell into disrepair, until Sora waited in a cross shaped pile of rubble, with yellow stains and electrical wires. The floor had turned to grass, and the sky showed no sun, no moon. Just grey. The distance was a smudge of shapes and lines. There was no more detail, no more sound, and no more Heartless.
So he waited, and waited, and waited. But no one else ever came.