lassitude
disclaimer: I do not own kingdom hearts.
It was a wonderful idea, right?
You were the hero, the one who would save and bring light into the world, erasing the darkness; forever and ever because you were Sora and you were young and bright and cheerful, chasing away the rain with the glowing light of the golden Keyblade.
How they loved you with adoring eyes and grateful hearts.
You merely grinned, with your smile as bright as sunshine. Remember, they used to call you the 'Sunshine Boy' and with one radiant smile, you could take away their problems as you blew them away with silly plans and goofy faces.
Those were the days. Good, old, peaceful halcyon days.
They considered you a hero. A friend. Their hope.
And with it, came the jaded hearts and avarice. The hate, too, came, disguised under false pretences of rejoicing hearts and welcomes. People didn't realize at first, or perhaps they did, denying it before admitting it, thinly veiled behind jealous eyes.
They wanted to be you. They loved you. So much. Too much.
And so the darkness came, seething and rising, embittered hearts the cause. One by one, the disillusioned hearts flew into the air, still smug in their odious aura, sparkling with contempt, their bodies cast aside; forming hollow shells.
It was your job. To save them. To defeat the Heartless – the people, who once idolised you, now shadowed remnants of their original selves.
And somehow, you weren't considered human anymore. You were a figurehead, chained with wings that bled red tears, sinking with high hopes and tall expectations. Because you were a… a hero. Now. Then. Forever.
You had become a hero and you would die a hero.
Adventures were no longer the same; fun replaced by duty and strict eyes; teasing and playful banter out of the question. Adventures were solemn things, no longer allowed to be considered for everybody; there had to be an objective and there had to be success. Distractions, pleasant words with former allies were not meant to be.
Somewhere along the way, you were forgotten as a boy, and remembered only as a hero.
Not the 'Boy with the smile of a Sun'. Not as a human. A monster that saved, an angel that fell, a tool used only for everything.
Your freedom was ignored as you became stuck in a world of politics and King Mickey's rule.
The Keyblade chose you. Now you must serve the Keyblade.
So you fought, and you bled, you cried; because you still had your friends, those two that were not allowed to join you, stuck in a backwater island. But they were together, with friends and family to support them, and you were alone, cast into the world of crashing gummi ships and badly made bandages. They tried to visit you, but rules and regulations restricted them.
Damn the rules, the silver-one said, grabbing the red-head's hand and leading her to the gummi ship, we only want to see him.
Denied. Denied. Denied.
And so they died.
You wept, not for their deaths, but for their thoughts and kind hearts. They were only following their hearts, just as you did once so long ago.
Let's go and have an adventure!
Fourteen. You were young and stupid but courageous, too. Heartbreak and adults and compromise were foreign. Distrust was never a part of your dictionary. Nowadays, you don't know who to trust; blinded by orders that seem to protect other worlds; but underneath was the sensation of disappointment. You were lower than a dog, but still you followed your orders.
People look at you with respect, with distant glassy eyes, their hearts no longer open, instead they were shielded behind brick walls.
Don't ever change.
His beautiful redhead once, so long ago, said that, bathed in the light of sunset; moist temperature tickling their noses and keeping them warm, the briny song of the blue ocean murmuring in their ears.
But oh, if she saw him now, there would be no recognition that the previous Sora ever existed.
The idea of becoming a hero… of saving the world… of living an ideal and carefree life…
It was wonderful, wasn't it?
You never considered the responsibility that had to be taken, or the persona that must be maintained.
I want to go home. You said, one day, to your lord and master, kneeling before him, big eyes still full of remorse and kindness and other emotions that meshed and mingled between your blue, blue eyes. I want to go home.
You can't. The master no longer used your name. Indeed, no one ever used your name. Often, you were only called 'Keyblade Master' or 'you'. Derogatory names were whispered behind your back, but you cared not for gossip. You did your job, did it well, but even that would not save you from the jealous rumours meant to break your spirits. You have to save the world.
I've already saved it. You protested. Twice.
It's not enough. It still has to be saved. His appearance was sombre. The world will never be completely saved – that's what you and everyone else ignorantly do not know. But you can create a legacy. Save as much as you can.
… but it will never be enough, King Mickey. You murmured and he flinched at the use of his name.
You can never go back. You must move forward.
I… I know. And you surrendered, succumbing to the mouse king's rule.
Time passed. People passed.
Still you were revered. Still you were hated. And still you fought.
But you aged. You were not as young as you used to be. Energy once renowned for being endless became distant, lingering when unneeded, fading when needed. You're tired of this.
And so the blow comes, unexpected. With dismay, you realized that you were breathing these last breaths.
This was how you die; not with friends, but alone.
A hero died alone; a human died with their cherished ones.
But you were never a hero, were you? You, who journeyed for friendships and whimsical ideas, were never such a thing. You only did it because it achieved your goal – to find your friends.
You were never a hero. You never pretended to be one; though you liked the idea.
They considered you one. They forgot about your humanity.
And so you scoured the world, purging them of evil. The smile made of sunshine had brought about the rain clouds. You no longer smiled, caught in a serious and sombre manner. You were caged, though the mouse king tried to disguise it and sent you to do his bidding.
You fell to your knees, collapsing, wheezing those last breaths.
Your eyes flicker, glancing at your namesake, the endless and infinite blue sky.
You died alone, but with a soft smile on your face.
This was the shared sky that Riku and Kairi glanced at every day before their unfortunate end.
It didn't seem so bad to die, now.
Your hand outstretched, they took it and pulled you up. They remembered, true friends to the end.
And your smile brought the sun to shine once more.
I'm home.