A Nobody does not have the right to know. Nor does it even have the right to be.
They say they never wanted you.
'Traitor!' they hiss, with wind like lances and words like poison. They silence you inside of him.
They label you traitor. They take her away. You knew only her voice and a name, and name for the pictures, but her face lingers on in your heart, like a memory, washed and eroded by the sea you know not why you love.
'This is madness!' they curse, to you, to your friend (best? who is he? who are you?), it matters not. 'He'll bring us down.'
You appear before the final battle, the confrontation, driven only by the death of the one you knew so well. The one you knew nothing of. And as time stands still and the blades clash, the prospect of switching sides seems as useless as it did when you ran to find answers.
You were never on a side in the first place.
No! My heart belongs to me!
Black fingered gloves rip inside of you. Are you dying? Are you already dead? What is death? You were never alive. You cry and only the skyscrapers respond, a black response of apathy and nuisance in the blue windows of a blackened city, remote and isolated, a fortress of greed. Jealously.
'Are you angry? Do you hate me?'
You recognize voices. Long gone. Forgotten. A past that denied reality, a present that denies the past. You never felt acceptance, never felt common. Their hearts never responded and they would never tell. Your past was a mystery. Death? You remember naught.
'You are needed,' you hear, from a softer voice. Kind. Almost sympathetic. 'He needs you to be whole again.'
And though you're worth the world, it's not the world that needs you.
'You were never supposed to exist, Roxas.'
The words you heard echo through your mind. Is this real? Are you real? If you step on the ground below you, can you not feel it? If the wind blows, does it not tangle itself in your hair, blowing wisps across your eyes? If you are struck, will you not bleed? Do you not anger, not cry, not think?
If they tell you that you are nothing, does it not clench against your soul?
'A Nobody does not have the right to know. Nor does it even have the right to be.'
You are not real. You exist...
...Only in memory.
And thus is the fate of a Nobody.