Title: Something About Her.
Author: Me, obviously.
Rating: M
Summary: Sora Hara has one wish; to get into the well-known, and expensive, Traverse High like his father, mother and grandmother before him, even if it'll have him wearing a skirt and rooming with crazy girls. Riku/Sora, AU, High School.
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Kingdom Hearts. And yes, if I did it would have been full of Sora/Riku.
Author Notes: Got inspiration from POWER! I seriously adore that manga (: And the 'M' rating won't really count until the "good" stuff happens…aha-ha. And be aware: This is slash, people who have issues with that can kiss my backside. (;

Chapter One: It.

We have been taught to believe that negative equals realistic and positive equals unrealistic.
Susan Jeffers

Sora Hara was sulking, sitting with his legs up against his chest with his head leaning on his small knees, trying to ignore the neighbour children's annoying laugher and squeals coming through the open window. Though, if it had been any other day, he would have probably been out there making noise with them.

The room the boy was sitting in, painted pale blue with small, star shaped fruits adorning the top of the door and window frames was like any boys room; cd's, papers and writing utilities covering the surface of the small desk by the window, clothes hanging like weeds over the white painted dresser, bags and old toys littering the floor and to top it off, a nice, large pile of stuff behind the door. Stuff being all from cd's to dirty socks and old sneakers.

The boy looked up, his nose poking the back of his knee, tears on the edge of running down his cheeks from his blue eyes.

The brown-haired boy's gaze fell upon his report card, which he had gotten in the mail earlier in the morning. After a few panicking minutes when he heard the usual tune the mailman whistled, he'd snuck it past his mother who had been humming and bustling about in the kitchen, making breakfast for them both.

Sora, sighed, drying his eyes on the oversized sweater he was wearing ("stolen" from his father's old closet), and picked up the wrinkled, slightly smudged piece paper with his grades printed neatly on, the grades he would use to get into High School with. A trail of C's, D's, two B's and one lousy A was printed in black and white; they were staring up at him, mocking him like the naïve, illiterate he was.

At least, that was how he saw himself as the second his eyes had skimmed the paper and realizing that his grades were average. Average didn't do well when applying to a large, well-known school.

He let out an angry, pitiable growl, curled the paper, turning it into a small ball, and threw it into the mass of papers, clothes and CD's on top of his messy desk. He glared at the ball, eyes drifting over to a bulletin board filled with colourful pictures, drawings and notices above his desk.

One of his two best friends was already attending the school his mother had been hoping he'd get into since he was a small child. His other, male, best friend, Wakka, was applying for an entirely different school on the other side of the main land from Traverse High, for the only reason that Traverse wasn't near any beach. The board had a picture of them all, grinning like lunatics at the camera with ice cream around their mouths.

"Sora?"

A loud, female voice came from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"

Sora's mother's yell was loud and too cheery for it to be eight thirty in the morning. He swayed and pushed himself off the bed, stepping over the mess on the floor to get something to eat.


Slouching into the crème coloured kitchen (Receiving a "Sora! Don't slouch!" from his mother), he dumped his small frame into a wooden chair by the kitchen table and watched as his mother served a hot plate of caramel pancakes in front of him. They smelled wonderful; as did any food she ever made.

His mother had always been a great cook and worked as a chef for one of the island's small hotels, which the isle was rich in on the north side while most of it's normal inhabitants lived on the low-populated south side.

"Here you go!"

His mother said perkily and beamed, but her expression fell when she noticed her son's sulky mood, "what's wrong, honey?" Hada placed a hand on her son's head, checking if he was sick, she always disliked her son's chosen range of activities when it came to him and his friends being outside; either it was sitting around in the cold rain fishing, staying up to twelve at night or playing swords with his friend Wakka, getting cuts and bruises. They always had dim-witted ideas of what would be fun to waste time on.

Grateful that his forehead was in a normal temperature she smiled and patted the top of his gravity defying, brown hair.

Sora ignored his mother's hand on his forehead and sighed, closing his eyes, he couldn't avoid it; better to tell her sooner than later. "Mum…I got my grades to-"

"Oh that's wonderful, Sora!" Her smile was wide again, and she pulled him into a quick, bone-crushing hug. Something one wouldn't expect from such a small-framed lady.

"You should write your application to Traverse as soon as you can. Grandma' will be so thrilled!" Hada kissed his head and twirled around getting him some syrup and butter from the cabinet above one of the oak kitchen benches, "I've always wanted you to go there, you know that, right? It's like a family tradition." She tucked a wavy, brown hair behind her ear and placed the bottle of syrup and the cup of butter on the table, "you'll do great, honey, I promise, when you get in, you'll have the best opportunities Spira can offer."

Sora looked up at her proud, pretty face, faking a small smile, even though he wasn't good at it.

"Yeah. We'll wait and see."


Poking the tip of his nose with his pencil, Sora watched the application in front of him. He had already sloppily filled out the personal information, added his grades through Junior High and all the curricular activities he had done after school. Which were surprisingly many, he couldn't remember doing so much in his free time.

He blew away some hairs from his eyes, and looked at the old computer screen on his left, showing the school's homepage. The long list of acceptance requirements had been drilled into his head since he had turned ten and had gotten a Traverse High School pin from his grandfather before he died, which wouldn't do him any good but put himself in an even worse mood than before. His mother and father had started saving money since the day he'd been born, his grandmother and grandfather chipping in every birthday.

A sharp knock on his bedroom door averted his eyes from the screen. "Come in," Sora said in-between a yawn as he stretched, his muscles sore from sitting hunched over his desk.

"Hiya Sora," a teenage girl opened the door, eyes twinkling merrily under her black bangs. She squealed loudly as she spotted his application and grabbed it, reading it quickly over his head.

"I'm screwed, Yuffie." The brown-haired boy said flatly. Sora's normally optimistically naive view on life and other things in general was smothered by his newly acquired 'everything-is-an-omen-of-eternal-doom'-mood.

Yuffie handed him the application and smiled confidently, "don't be so negative Sora-kins! You'll get in, I mean, you got three A's," he looked at her sourly, "they're C's."

Grabbing the paper once again, she crooked her head to the side, squinting, mouth turning o-shaped.

"…Oh."

Passing it back to him, she gave him a quick hug around his head; turning the computer screen off while doing so, "don't worry. Come on, let's cheer you up."


The small 'Paopu Café', named after one of Destiny Island's many, many stories and fairytales, was one of the better kinds of Cafés around the isle. It was the islanders' small well-kept secret from the bustling tourism that hadn't been dominated by other people than the islanders themselves and some of the people from the largest island next to Destiny who owned summerhouses on the south side.

The walls were painted a cream yellow and the booths were decorated in a shade of soft green. Yuffie knew that Sora loved it here; they, Sora, herself and Wakka had started a small tradition since Sora's tenth birthday, that every summer, they'd eat one scoop of every thirty-two flavours of ice cream they sold there. But, of course, they would always break the rules and eat more of the flavours they knew they liked.

"You feelin' better?" Yuffie watched her younger friend, literally, licking, the star shaped bowl which had, ten minutes ago, been filled up to the edge with coconut and tuna flavoured ice cream.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust, poking her own cherry and mint spheres in her bowl, wondering how Sora could eat something that tasted like tuna. The fish itself was bad enough.

"Yeah," Sora said, grinning, feeling better than he had in the morning. If ice cream couldn't cheer anyone up, nothing could.

"So what are you going to do about Traverse?"

He tapped the silver coloured spoon on the side of the bowl, shaking his head, "I guess I won't be going there next year." "Of course you will!" Yuffie interrupted, smiling at him across the table, "we'll think of something."