People used to say sometimes that Namine was born silent. Of course, that was nonsense – she had a voice like everyone else, she just didn't use it much. She had footsteps like everybody else, they were just so light they were barely audible. People heard her, they listened to what she had to say – speaking was so rare for her, whatever she had to say must be important.
It should be noted, dear reader, that part of that last sentence was not true. While it is true that Namine doesn't talk much, and it is true that when she did speak, it was always important (it is always this way with quiet people), it is – and this is a sad fact, truly – a lie that anybody heard her. Because poor Namine had nasty luck – not only was she born quiet (quiet, not silent –there is a difference, dear reader), she grew up to be invisible.
No, I do not mean that literally. Let me elaborate – Namine was a pale girl. Porcelain skin, light blonde hair, washed out blue eyes. Nothing that was notable, nothing that attracted attention. She might have been able to counteract this unfortunate happening with bright coloured clothes, but Namine always wore white. (There is a small story behind this, dear reader. One day, when Namine was eight, she dug out an old white dress of her mothers, and put it on to play dress up. Her older brother Sora took notice – though that may have been the result of Namine tripping in the too-big dress – and smiling, said, 'That's a very nice colour on you, Nami.' Little Namine, so proud to have received a compliment from her brother – so proud to be noticed by her brother at all, if it came to that – wore only white ever since.) Even so, if Namine had been loud and energetic (like her twin sister, Kairi. She was a pretty one, with her red hair and bright blue eyes. Not to say Namine was not pretty too (for, dear readers, it is a known fact that Namine was beautiful), but who noticed?), perhaps then she could have drawn some attention to herself. But Namine was quiet, her soft voice getting lost in the cacophony of the big wide world – or, to be more accurate, the cacophony of her high school. She would slip through the hallways, unseen and unheard (because who's looking for little invisible girls when life in all it's glory is whizzing by? If you take anything from this story, dear reader, take this – always look out for invisible people.). Like a ghost.
To recap – for those of you not paying attention (if there are any of you, dear readers, who aren't paying attention, I urge you to try and concentrate. Because really, you are never going to hear this story from anywhere else - certainly not from Namine.). Namine is a beautiful girl who is quiet, invisible, and unnoticed. Even at home, she was not often spoken too. (And here I hear some of you objecting – all parents love their daughters, they all pay attention. So I say to you listen – it shall be explained hereafter.) It wasn't that her parents didn't care for her (you see?) – they often tried to engage her in conversation. But Namine never really wanted to talk much – she was too used to people not caring. Thusly, she was drowned out by her energetic siblings (Sora and Kairi, for those losing track). And they always had things to talk about – something about classes or homework or Riku (who was best friends with both Sora and Kairi). But nothing exciting or unusual ever happened to Namine She didn't make friends, she didn't participate in sport or the school choir or anything of note, she barely even lived. She just drifted.
Here is a puzzle for you, dear reader (it is not terribly difficult, do not worry.). No-one at Namine's school knew who she was, or that she even was there (save for Sora and Kairi and perhaps Riku, although it is sometimes wondered whether he knew his two best friends had a sister), but Namine knew everyone. The sporty kids, the popular kids, the quiet kids (none so quiet as herself, of course) – she knew them all. And how is this possible, dear reader? The answer is quite simple. Because Namine never talked, she listened. Because she was never seen, she watched. She heard joyful conversations between friends in the hallway. She saw smiles and frowns and expressions meant for someone else. She watched as Tidus, captain of the soccer team, dumped his girlfriend Yuna, head of the dance group. She listened as Olette, who played first clarinet in the school band, composed a song for Hayner, the resident troublemaker, who she had seen two days ago, kissing her cousin Roxas in what they presumed was a deserted hallway.
Namine never told anyone what she'd see, or hear. She knew the information had the power to break friendships, break hearts, break the fragile social stature of her high school. She could be seen, she could be noticed, she could be heard. She could rule her school. But Namine had no wishes to rule, or to break. She was perfectly content to stay silent. (Well, I say perfectly content, but that is not quite accurate. Rather, Namine was accustomed to being silent and invisible. She accepted it was the way things were, and couldn't imagine anything else. Furthermore, she had no real desire to be part of a group, to have to deal with giggling girlfriends. She only wished that someone might see her.)
At this point, dear reader, you are probably wondering what the point in all this is. Allow me to explain (perhaps I should have done so at the beginning, but we can't help that now). The fact is, Namine needs to have her story told. It should be an example, a warning, a cautionary tale. As I said before, if you take anything from this story, dear reader, take this – always look out for invisible people. Because maybe one of them will end up like Namine, and that shouldn't happen to anyone else. Because no-one remembers Namine now. Not Sora, or Kairi, or Roxas, or her parents. No-one. So that was why I prattled on about beautiful, invisible Namine – because someone should remember her.
I'm sure you are wondering why no-one remembers Namine. So, after a terribly long beginning and a comparatively short ending, I present you with the middle. No need to fret – I will simply tell the story, not make any more offhand comments or get distracted.
It was not the kind of happening one takes lightly.
Namine sat at desk, pen scratching on the paper, biting her lip as she fought to remember the complex math equation that would solve the problem before her. She'd tried to ask for the teacher's assistance in class, but she hadn't been heard.
"C'mon, Kairi!" Namine put down her pen, turning in her chair as the door to the room she shared with her sister burst open. Sora was pulling Kairi by the hand.
Her sister giggled. "Sora, what if Namine hears?" – the girl in question still being frozen in her chair.
Sora shrugged. "She's probably out in the park somewhere, I haven't seen her anywhere." Namine nearly fell off her chair. 'I'm here!' she wanted to scream. 'Can't you see me?' But her voice died in her throat, as Sora pushed Kairi onto her bed, and kissed her.
Namine sat, transfixed, as the scene before turned into a myriad of limbs and red hair and touches and brown hair and she didn't understand, what were her brother and sister doing, why didn't they see?
The scene ended. Sora and Kairi left the room, laughing. In a daze, Namine turned back to her homework. Reaching to pick up her pen, she stared at her hand. It was invisible. She tried to scream. She was silent. She got up, ran to the full length mirror on the back of the door.
There was nothing.