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Sora thinks of home as he fights.

He dashes through the crowd of Heartless (-he's running on the white sandy shores of Destiny Island, hurrying to "the spot"-), avoiding their blows and lethal claws as he strikes heavy and hard with his keyblade (-where he and Riku spar, and he's hoping that this time, he won't be the one losing-). One strikes him, and the blood flows freely and fast (-almost as soon as they start, Riku's won, and he's left in the familiar lump of bruised and beaten flesh-). He can hear one of them cackle gleefully (-and his friend's triumphiant laughter rings in his ears, and it hurts almost as bad as the welps on his body-) at the sight of his blood falling, and the excitement spreads to the others. He falls to the ground (-he limps to the shore and falls back on the sand, hands behind his heads, legs crossed, happily sighing because hey, there's always next time-), arms and legs splayed in every direction, bent at awkward angles and he just can't find it in himself to get up and fight. They loom overhead; their eerie yellow eyes peering, waiting, watching for death (-and then Kairi, sweet Kairi, is there, peering over him and smiling that smile he loves, making him smile back-), and he smiles (-at her-) at them, laughing, laughing, laughing as the (-sun sets-) darkness sets in.

Sora thinks of home as he dies.