School’s Out Forever For Roxas In Kingdom Hearts

At the end of II’s prologue, Roxas rejoins Sora and the sequel begins in proper—with two protagonists, one locked inside the other.

This is a point where, I think, many folks “check out” of Kingdom Hearts. The series has become infamous for its mammoth cast and asynchronous storytelling, which often make the overarching narrative appear more complicated than it really is. But it’s useful to understand Roxas merging with Sora not as “this boy literally going inside another boy and living in him,” but as something much more spiritual and—arguably—metaphysical.

Sora and Roxas are contrasts, as the former comes from a laidback island with no structured schooling. But when the latter comes into being, he’s groomed into working for Organization XIII and lied to about the nature of his identity. He builds a social life that shatters when his best friend is brainwashed and turned against him. 

After he tries to rebel, his employer marks Roxas for death. But rogue actor Ansem wipes the boy’s memories and hides him in a constructed reality until he can be merged with Sora—used as a pawn for his own vendetta. Roxas shifts from a tool of a collective to an instrument of revenge. Neither scenario leaves him truly free.

This is an effective narrative about disillusionment and rebellion under capitalism. After school, the job you wanted doesn’t turn out how you pictured. You might wind up in a workplace that wants to crunch your team to meet nebulous metrics, only to fire you all the first dip of a number in a ledger you’ve never seen. Your best friend might get targeted by your boss, and you might be forced to choose between your livelihood and your dignity. 

Whatever the case, the stability afforded by a classroom environment is gone, and in its place is a dog-eat-dog world where collaboration is often sniffed out and stamped out.

Individual members of Organization XIII are arguably more sympathetic with this read. Players later discover most were cherry-picked by series antagonist Xehanort to serve as potential vessels for his heart. To destroy Xehanort, his vessels must also be vanquished. After being defeated later in Kingdom Hearts III, Larxene—a companion and occasional quest-giver in Days—opines that being dead is better than being used as a container for someone else’s soul.

Her line of thought may be why we sometimes lose a handful of friends in our early twenties. Summer vacation ends forever one day. At the end of our teens, we realize that each summer is borrowed time. That there is no “break” once you get past a certain age. Those three months are just part of another season, and often, it’s the most unforgiving one.

The cost of our world is a passing acceptance that our uniqueness does not matter in the eyes of money and government. What matters is being able to swallow your pride enough to serve coffee to someone who calls you a slur. To take your fancy English degree and use it to edit slush so you can support your family. Once summer vacation ends, the warmth fades and the cold sets in.

A sad conclusion some reach early on is that being dead, truly, is better than potentially being drowned in the malaise of student debt or back taxes. When faced with the cold unfairness of life after school, some instead opt for death. In the real world, this leaves not a nobody, but only a hole. Nothing but rot and ash.

This is what Kingdom Hearts views as the ultimate evil—life treated as capital, and flesh as pawn. Bodies as bodies and nothing more. But if the world we’re born into is evil, how do we survive those post-school doldrums? How do we look at the naked injustices of our world then determine life is worth living?

The answer lies in that core theme, that perennial storytelling chestnut: friendship. 

Roxas is forced to accept something many of us must as we age. Generally speaking, kids and teenagers in developed countries have a preset structure to their lives under global capitalism. Their lives are built around a familiar pattern they have no say in. And each year, into adulthood, they’re given a brief period to reset and assess their lives. Forge fast-burn friendships, take shitty jobs to earn a few bucks, and make stupid mistakes with consequences that are only funny in hindsight.

Until they can’t. Until it’s gone, and nothing is the same ever again. On some level, you’ll always be trying to get back to that one summer—whichever one you can still remember the best out of the bunch.

Near the end of Kingdom Hearts II, Roxas makes a bold final stand against Sora. In the Final Mix release, this is a playable boss battle—perhaps one of the toughest main fights in the game. Roxas is a perfect mirror of Sora in many ways, which leads to similar movement and an uncanny ability to shut down the player’s attacks.

The fight takes place on familiar ground for players by this point—a stained glass platform, suspended above a shadowy chasm. This is best understood as the “inside” of a character to me—their soul, or a metaphysical “heart.” Prismatic flooring as sturdy as it is breakable; this is how Kingdom Hearts visually personifies the interior self. Sora and Roxas are battling for dominion over this closed, liminal space. It’s a struggle not just for Keyblade supremacy, but for the very soul at the helm of Sora’s body.

When Sora defeats Roxas, it’s both a psychological and spiritual victory. Roxas accepts his place inside of Sora for the time being. At game’s end, Namine also takes her own place within Kairi as her Nobody—formed during the events of the original game. Together, Roxas and Namine resign to live a life of non-existence so long that they can live it together.

As we grow out of our teens, and go into our twenties, we’re faced with this same choice. Find somebody who sees us, and is stuck in it with us, or rage alone. Capitalism has an ideal self for us already picked out—it’s ready and waiting, dependent on your race, class, or level of education. We’re but babes in the eyes of the bourgeois.

Now, we can rebel against this as tyranny, but to do so on a long enough timescale—with no family or friends—leaves us tired, angry, and penniless. To me, the merging of Sora and Roxas represents the ultimate compromise between these two extremes; Sora is a free spirit, Roxas created to serve. Only in unification can they find an equilibrium.

Roxas reminds us that this battle is never truly won. To survive and negotiate this compromise is to grow up. To accept that there are nefarious actors in the world who want to strip your freedom and bleed you for labor. With very few, privileged exceptions, this is unavoidable.

His unity with Sora suggests that our curiosity and whimsy must forever be grounded by the traumatic reality of how cruel our culture is. After school, we must embrace the tortured laborer in our heart to fire the furnace of our ambition, and help others believe that their dreams won’t be crushed under the same boot.

This makes the eventual climax of Kingdom Hearts III even more devastating, as Roxas is left on Destiny Island while Sora fades into nothingness and awakens in what appears to be contemporary Japan. Melody of Memory suggests that this may be a world of “fiction,” but it’s the closest to our world as the series has ever come. The dreamer becomes the worker so that the dream might run free.

In the next Kingdom Hearts, Sora may start school, get a job, or go on an awkward first date. He could also have to learn some of the same lessons as not only Roxas, but his players as well. Like how on the last day of our last school break, we still expect to pick up where we left off with the same friends. But summer vacation is over—and it will be for the rest of our lives.

Madeline Blondeau has been writing about games since 2010. She’s written for Paste, Anime Herald, Anime News Network, CGM, and Lock-On, among others. In addition, she has written, hosted, and recorded film criticism podcast Cinema Cauldron. Her published fiction debut is due out between 2026 and 2027. You can support her work on Patreon, and find her on BlueSky @mads.haus.