Then, the summer we turned fourteen and sixteen, the universe played a cruel joke. It was as if all the strength I had tried to steal for him over the years arrived all at once, delivered in a single, violent storm of growth.
I looked at the broken cabinet. "We'll fix this together. I'll hold the wood, you do the heavy lifting. How about that?"
It hit me then. While I was mourning the loss of my status as the 'strong one,' Sora was mourning the loss of his invisibility. He had spent his childhood being small, being careful, being fragile. Now, he was a force of nature, terrified that he would accidentally crush the things—and the people—he loved.