The signing of a single document finally pushed Great Britain to the brink and sent the colonies spiraling into a war. Before the Continental Congress could meet again in May, 1775, violence erupted in the colonies.
In the early morning fog, Sora kissed his wife and son goodbye and traveled to the tree where they had hanged Riku and Cloud in his nightmares. Axel, Reno, Roxas, Zack, Hayner, and Pence were waiting for him under the branches, among other men who had volunteered to assemble this makeshift army.
"Good morning," one of the recruiters said to Sora, "state your name, age, and occupation."
"Sora Strife; twenty-five years old; I own the Destiny Inn and Tavern," Sora stated.
The recruiter scrawled his answers on a piece of parchment and directed him toward his family members.
"Looks like we'll be in the same group." Axel pointed out. "They almost didn't let Reno and me through, but someone from the Sons recognized and vouched for us."
Sora nodded, his head swimming. Despite the years that had passed, and the encouragement from Kairi to forget, Sora knew in his gut that this war would somehow allow him to cross paths with Riku again. He would never be able to apologize now; Riku would probably shoot Sora without hesitation. The fleeting idea to shoot Riku first drifted through his head, but he shook it out along with the notion that he would see Riku ever again.
"Sora." The sound of his name being called required Sora to turn his head, meeting eyes with his father. Cloud held a shabby-looking musket in his hands, and he held it out to Sora. "Use it wisely, and make me proud, son."
Sora gripped the musket in his hands and nodded firmly. "I will. Thank you, Father."
He slung the musket across his back, and Cloud embraced his son. "Be careful."
"I will," Sora assured.
Once the town had been swept clean of all suitable men, they began their march to Lexington and Concord; they had gotten word that British forces had been raiding Concord, and it was the duties of these ragged men to push them back to Boston.
Sora glanced up ahead at the boys holding the fifes and drums; they couldn't have been more than ten years old. Sora prayed that the war would not last so long that his son would be swept up in the effort. The musicians accompanied the men on their march toward certain death.
In the morning mist, Sora and his fellow soldiers waited for the British to arrive in Lexington. They waited a few steps atop the hill, overlooking the North Bridge. They were ordered not to fire until the British fired upon them.
Sora's hands trembled on his father's musket; much like the men around him, he had never fired it before. Roxas, who stood beside him, placed a hand on Sora's shoulder. Sora turned his head briefly, and Roxas flashed him a fleeting smile. Sora returned the smile and returned to face forward.
The troops were ordered to advance, pursuing the British soldiers who occupied the hill. When met with the colonial militia, the British soldiers retreated toward the bridge.
The sudden crack of a bullet being shot rang through the air, disturbing the silence. Sora's ears rang, but he heard the commands: advance, get in formation, and fire.
The area erupted with noise, and smoke from the rifles clouded the air. Sora fired blindly into the smoke, partially thankful that he could not see if his bullets were piercing the coats of the British. Bullets sailed into the water, the river pelted with missed shots.
Around him, Sora could hear the thud of a fallen soldier. He prayed that, once the smoke cleared, he would not find any of his family members at his feet.
For hours, the shots rang out, piercing Sora's ears and leaving them ringing. Finally, the smoke dissipated, revealing the bleeding bodies around him. He quickly glanced behind him, his friends covered in gun smoke but still standing with their bodies intact.
Ahead, the British troops retreated. The colonists were awestruck; they had secured the bridge, for now.
The militiamen returned to the hill until British reinforcements arrived. They surveyed the area, neither parties firing. Silence settled between them, until, quite curiously, a mentally-ill man named Elias Brown stumbled between them, offering the dumbfounded soldiers on both sides hard cider. Of course they refused, and Elias disappeared.
Seeing no reason to continue the bloodshed, the British reinforcements abandoned the area, marching to Concord.
"That was..." Roxas began.
"Strange..." Sora finished.
"Amazing!" Axel offered. "We made it out alive our first day, and almost got some hard cider to celebrate! Men, this is what victory tastes like!"
But for Sora, victory tasted like metal in his mouth.
Months passed in this same fashion.
Sora's friends and family would merely see the end of a battle, their bodies intact, but their spirits damaged. Sora, having felt depressed for years since Riku's leave, decided to put on an air of confidence and optimism for his fellow soldiers.
Whenever he could find the time, Sora wrote back to Naminé to affirm his state of wellbeing. In return, though slow to arrive, Naminé recounted tales of her and Kairi's life in Boston with their sons. In one letter, Naminé spoke of how the British had been occupying Boston, and how it didn't seem likely that they would leave anytime soon.
She recounted that Noctis and Ventus were growing up strong, healthy, and happy boys despite not being able to play outside in the streets. They could not go to school, so Kairi taught them basic ABCs.
"I tell him stories about you every day," Naminé once said in a letter, "he admires you, and he holds onto the scraps of memories he has of you when he was just a toddler. Please come home soon, so you can see our boy for yourself."
The soldiers found themselves tallying a series of mostly victories, but soon came the Battle of Bunker Hill.
Once again crouched behind a hill (though positioned atop Breed's Hill despite the battle's name), his musket resting just over the dirt, Sora waited for commands.
By now, the colonists were running out of ammunition. Knowing this, their colonel, William Prescott, provided them a simple solution: "Hold your fire until you see the whites of their eyes."
Once the British appeared to be several dozen yards away, the command was given.
Bullets rained down on the British, a shower of hot metal. Despite the colonists' waning ammunition, the British were forced to retreat.
It seemed as if the colonists had won, but the British soon recuperated and attacked again. The same endless gunfire ripped through British troops, sending them into retreat again.
Still, they did not count on a victory at this point. Their ammunition was dangerously low, and once again the British attacked.
With nothing ranged left, Sora and his fellow soldiers charged into hand-to-hand combat. Sora had never been very good at close combat, but he managed to skewer a Redcoat with his bayonet. Though having realized what he'd done, he didn't have time to reflect as they immediately were called to retreat. Sora ran, his feet pounding past corpses.
As the colonist soldiers recovered from their loss, a few went around to document how many casualties they'd suffered.
When they reached Sora's squad, Sora realized something: Pence was missing among them.
Hayner, who had been unusually silent until this point, angrily shouted, "Those damn Redcoats took Pence!"
His outburst rattled the group, and Sora was the first to rise to his feet to attempt to calm Hayner.
"Hayner, please..." Sora offered, but Hayner cast Sora aside.
"How are you not more upset? You were as good a friend to Pence as I was! Have you no heart, Sora?" Hayner demanded.
The very heart Hayner had accused Sora of not having clenched in anger. "Of course I'm upset, I'm just choosing not to show it! I've been upset for far too long since before this war even began; the very least I can do is pretend like I'm not upset!"
"And you!" Hayner turned to the soldier who was tallying up the losses. "What's your name?"
"Blaine," the soldier replied without a shred of fear in his voice.
"How could you be so insensitive to immediately rattle the men we lost as numbers, Blaine?" Hayner wondered.
"Because, unlike some soldiers, I have to do my job. Don't think I didn't see you out there today; maybe you wouldn't have lost him if you had been paying more attention and following orders!" Blaine answered without hesitation.
"You're saying that Pence's death was my fault?" Hayner gestured to himself.
"Well, if the shoe fits, and it most certainly does." Blaine retorted.
Other soldiers had abandoned their positions to gawk at the spectacle.
"Who the hell do you think you are for suggesting my friend's death is on my hands, when you are a superior officer who should've been more attentive to his men?" Hayner challenged.
"Who are you to challenge a superior officer?" Blaine mentioned.
"Superior officer or not, you're still a man; hell, you're not even that. Rather, you're a mouse who's just too afraid to admit you were wrong for your words." Hayner decided.
"I don't have to admit to anything that isn't true." Blaine declared.
"Then...then I challenge you to a duel! Right now!" Hayner announced.
A lump formed in Sora's throat. Hayner turned to him. "Sora? Will you be my second?"
Pushing down the lump, Sora nodded.
Blaine chose a soldier named Ephemera as his second.
Preparations commenced, which included the customary letter to the duelist's loved one. Hayner handed his letter to Olette to Sora, which Sora shoved in his pocket.
"You're not going to let Hayner kill him, are you?" Ephemera asked Sora.
"Murder isn't something Hayner could perform," Sora assured, "just let him shoot off his pistol so he feels better."
"Are you sure?" Ephemera demanded.
"Of course," Sora replied, "and I assume Blaine will do the same."
Ephemera tugged at his silver curls. "That...I am not so sure I can affirm..."
Sora's stomach dropped, but Blaine's impatient, "Let's get this over with" only confirmed the duel.
The two gripped their pistols tightly as they marched ten paces away from the other, back to back.
"Hayner wouldn't actually kill this man, would he?" Roxas asked Sora.
"Hayner certainly has a temper, but murder isn't something he's capable of." Sora repeated.
As their feet touched the dirt on the tenth pace, Hayner whirled around and fired his pistol, shooting Blaine just above the hip.
Sora's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Hayner!"
Hayner let the smoke disappear from the barrel of his pistol before shoving it back in its holster.
"Blaine, do you yield?" Ephemera asked.
Blaine didn't answer, only groaned as he clutched the bleeding wound.
Ephemera shot Sora an angered glance as he carried Blaine to sick bay. The spectators dispersed, uncomfortable muttering occurring among them.
"Hayner, what the hell? I told that guy that you wouldn't shoot!" Sora cried.
"What, and let him get away with accusing me of letting my best friend die? Impossible." Hayner replied.
"Hayner, you could be accused of murder now!" Sora pointed out.
"Nonsense," Hayner said, reaching for Blaine's list of fallen. He wrote down Blaine's name, and cause of death (fatal wound to the side) as he ruled him among the numbers.
I'm really trying to push through writing this fic...I cannot write war stories...
Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic, though; I push on for you