Sometimes, Sora would act a bit odd. It wasn't truly noticeable, nothing to watch closely, nothing that demanded worry and concern for the boy with eyes the color of his namesake and a smile that always emanated joy. But it was there, not prevalent, but hiding in the shadows. It was a fragile, unspoken balance. Donald's beak was sealed whenever Sora would hold his Keyblade in a reverse grip before holding it in his usual fashion, a berserker with strength and unnatural speed. Not one word in Jiminy's journal mentioned the snatches he sometimes heard, snatches of Sora's mumblings as he looked at the magic and combos he knew. About fusion and things he knew didn't exist.

Sora himself didn't turn his understanding gaze onto himself, ignorant of any odd behavior. Dreams of shining glass stars and a castle too big for its few inhabitants were forgotten by morning, and the dreams themselves were fuzzy things. There was screaming and content laughter while a turbulent sky and a cloudless night hung overhead. Words were meaningless. Sora would wake up shivering, tears on his cheeks. He always felt a need to grasp something, something dear and precious that he no longer had.

He told himself it was some arbitrary toy from the island he didn't know he needed, and clung to Kingdom Key instead, the pristine metal warm, but somehow cold and uninviting. Sora pushed himself through the pain in his head and the agony in his heart as he journeyed through Neverland. He was always brushing it off. Donald made sure to use Cure spells on him far more often as they faced off against Captain Hook. It only worsened the pain and the loss of someone's presence. Staring at the sea, tears unshed and the shaking suppressed, Sora grinned and pushed the pain away.

Traveling on the Gummi Ship back to Traverse Town, Sora closed his eyes and conjured up images of Kairi and Riku to dispel the thoughts of hair smelling of earth and a hug soft like the tide embracing the shore. Deep within Sora, a blond boy with a fractured heart pulled himself away, curling in on himself in guilt and shame. The pain stopped. Sora went on.

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The moment Sora woke up, his heart felt like liquid fire. He yawned, hugged his friends, and beat the pain back with images of Kairi's star charm and Riku's smile, modest and unsure when it was real, ostentatious and arrogant when not. His dreams were now nightmares. Castles of melted blue ice cream, the sea crashing down on it, and a tornado pulling away an inferno, into an endless white. Orange shadows and tinkling seashells. And he began to remember them, tiny fragments of broken dreams and shattered hopes.

Those dreams almost broke Sora. But it was nothing. He'd faced Ansem. He would be fine. And he was. He shoved away the sorrow when interrogating Axel. He drowned the agony of Axel's demise in the crack of Selphie's jump rope and the smacking sound of Wakka's ball. Staring into Xemnas' eyes produced an urge to embrace him, but Sora held up his Keyblade and prepared to strike him down.

In the Realm of Darkness, Sora halted for a moment. A blue twinkle sang to him, calling him to free it. But he stayed with Riku. Riku was more important. Always. And if he melted a little more into Doanld and Goofy's affectionate touches when he was freed, no one pointed it out. It wasn't time yet.

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I just like thinking that Ventus and the others influence Sora a little more.