A thirteen and a half year old Sora lies prostrated beneath the humid shade of the Paopu tree, his arms and legs spread out as though he will attempt to create a sand-angel. His eyes are closed.

It's a hot summer day -- one of the hottest ones so far! -- and he isn't really sure what to do with himself. Staying at home, indoors, was not an option ( Read more... )

Ugh.

After all of that homework and those chores his mum made him do (even though he said he was busy!), Sora isn't in any fit mood to do anything but lie in his bed and sulk. Being eleven is hard work, and he shouldn't be expected to do so much in one day (and stay indoors!) when all he really wants to do is see his friends and play by the beach ( Read more... )

Sora remembers and when he does, it feels so real, it's as though he's stepping back into his memory...He feels short. Shorter than he thinks he really is. There's a different jaunt in his step, and he's running. Running and breathing hard, and yelling, "Riku! Riku, wait!" with a wooden sword in one small hand, and a clumsy rectangular piece of ( Read more... )