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Adventures of Shiro Hikari Kuro Chapter 5Shiro and Ven sat on the sidelines, watching Terra and Aqua fight bubble things while they were taking their test. They smiled at each other and held hands, waiting for the other two to finish. They cheered their friends on.
Terra glanced at Ven and Shiro. He noticed they were holding hands and felt something rise within him. Anger. Darkness swirled around his hand as he slammed another bubble with his Keyblade.
Darkness? He did his best to suppress it.
When the test was over, Aqua was declared a Master and Terra was not. This made Shiro a little sad. Ven was a bit disappointed, too. But Ven knew Terra would get it next time!
They walked up to Terra, who was quite frustrated to sooth him.
"I'm so sorry, Terra." Shiro said. "You're strong, but you need to learn to suppress your darkness."
"I had it. I could control it." Terra told her. "I I don't know what happened. I'm sorry."
"Why are you apologizing to me, silly?" She bopped him. "Work hard! You can do it!"
Terra beamed at her.
Adventures of Shiro Hikari Kuro Chapter 4Things with Kuro and Vanitas were tense. He tried to get along with her, but she would not have any of it. She brushed him off and was quite cold to the poor guy. He wished he had Hikari back. She was sweet and caring and she accepted him.
Kuro didn't. Why didn't she like him? The feeling that arose from this pain created his fledgling emotionsUnversed. He always wondered why he could make them, but he didn't mind. He used them like servants to get him things like junk food and drinkswhich he found he needed because he was forming a face.
Xehanort would tell him to send his creatures out to do some bad things and stuff. He did so, because Xehanort said he would help give him purpose. He felt like he didn't have any anymorenot without Hikari. Kuro was just as pretty, but was not Hikari.
One day, though, he went looking for a stray Unversed and found Kuro with it.
Kuro was hanging out, with a small creature it was different from the others. It looked a little like
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
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