How many years has it even been since I first cast off my form?
I feel like I stopped counting after a few centuries. Everything kinda eroded away bit by bit. I've forgotten more lives than most people could even fathom. So much loss, again and again, even when I tried to keep out of it. That's the thing about people, they have a habit of bringing you in, making you feel like it's all worth it in the end.
Was it? Worth it, I mean?
I used to ask myself that a lot when all this started. Those first few vessels were the hardest. Living other people's lives for them, loving the ones they loved, watching them die again and again. It took its toll. Somewhere after the sixth cycle I stopped asking. I got numb to it all. Sometimes I think that's the worst thing about being human—just how easy it is to get used to something. Adaptable, someone charitable might say. As if.
I've tried so many variations on the cycle, round and round. Looking back on it now, I guess I'd call them experiments. What would happen to this person's life if I did this? What would it be like if I secluded myself this time? What if I tried this kind of body or that kind? Eventually everyone stopped feeling like a person, with lives and hopes and dreams. They were just things. Things I used to pass the time.
Guess I'm not all that different from the old coot in the end. If anything I'm worse. The number of lives I've stolen... the number of hearts I fed to the Darkness... I've lost count.
Sometimes I wonder what my younger self would think about me now. Well, my original younger self. Before all of this began. Hmph.
I remember when he told me what I'd have to do, what we'd all have to do, in the grand scheme of it. He told me: this is a war between people and darkness, between humans and something else. You had to be pragmatic. You couldn't get sentimental.
I'd make a fuss. What about the lives of the people here? What about them? What about ethics, morals? Ha!
I can see him so clearly now, as if the beginning was only moments ago. Underneath the shadow of that hood.
"Morality, too, is just a question of time," he said, with a malevolent smile. "You'll see."
I didn't believe him at the time. I swore to myself I'd do better. Be better. Those first few vessels, I only took what they were willing to give themselves. Mutual. So much effort making sure they understood what would happen to them, what would happen to their hearts. Making sure they agreed. And now...
I watched the Keyblade War unfold back then, just as he wanted. Watched those children slaughter each other and I kept telling myself it was for the Greater Good. Told myself, it was to make sure the light lived on. Told myself all sorts of pretty things. Thought my resolve, my morals, my righteousness was as unbreakable as the mountains I stood on while I watched Kingdom Hearts form above the bloodied wasteland.
As if.
Given enough time, even mountains will turn to dust.
