Hey! So this is my first story..well drabble really. Anyways reviews are welcome...and well thanks for taking the time to read my story...drabble thing. There may be spelling errors, and grammer errors. sorry. ^^;
I don't own Kingdom hearts. heh, if i did they wouldn't keep jumping systems and stay on the playstation systems...
He was 14 years old, only a child. He only knew of sandy beaches, water and laughter. He knew no hardships, no suffering.
Then he was stolen by the Keyblade, told he was honored, the chosen one. All he knew was that he was thrown into something he didn't understand didn't know.
He didn't complain when his hands and feet blistered, when he hurt all over, when his belly grew to hungry to complain, and became a dull, throbbing ache.
He didn't complain when his heart ached for his friends. Nor did he utter a single word when he realized how much he stank, about how he was sweating buckets or freezing over, when he was too tired to keep moving, yet somehow took more paces.
He knew he looked like a tramp. He was despite for a change of clothing, or at least some new underwear. Eventually he just tried to ignore it, after all, when ripped suddenly from home you don't have much time to pack.
He saw how people whispered about him, even he wasn't that oblivious. Then, of course, once he rescued their sorry butts they worshiped him. He just pretended to not notice and smiled his signature grin.
Just once, he often wished that someone would give him shelter, food, water, maybe something to wear. He constantly stopped by Traverse Town. At least there he got free meals, shelters and showers.
He lost a year of his life, got a strange new person in his body. Though many said they were the same, neither believed. Oh, and he grew. A lot. He'll tell you now underwear that's too small is a pain. Especially when fighting in it. Eventually he got new clothing, but they could have at least given him a change of underwear, or some blister medication. Still, have clean clothing was nice.
He was confused, lost, angry. God was he angry. Why was he chosen. He put on a brave face, charged in looking unafraid, though he was shaking in his too large shoes. He was thrown into his destiny first and he just wanted to know, why the hell him!
He was a boy, 15 years of age. He was a hero.
He didn't want it at all.
He loved meeting the people.
He loved the new places he saw.
But he wanted the horror, the knowledge gone.
No light or darkness or in-between.
He didn't want to be torn, stolen, ripped from new friends. He knew it would happen and a terrible sadness ripped though him.
He found his old friends, but lost thousands of new ones. Scars now cover his body. He is home, yes, but his blue, blue eyes hold deep knowledge, unfitting with his childlike and spiky brown-blonde hair. He knows what's out their, wonders constantly how his new friends are. It was an unrelenting strain on him, but it was all he now knew.
Home again, to his islands, the boy looks up to the sky. Sora, the chosen hero. His friends with him, Riku on the right and Kairi on the left. All were cursed with the Keyblade, constant adventure, and danger at every turn.
But they, despite themselves, longed, anticipated, and needed the adventure, the people they met, the places they went! So as the three children, no, adults (or maybe just somewhere in between) watched the sky from their tree they realized that life as it once was would never be theirs again. For it was too tame, too simple. They would always need the islands, for it was where the journey began, but now, at last, they were ready to leave.