Author: reminiscent-afterthought PM
He was afraid of thunder. So he found it rather ironic that he was the warrior thereof.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Junpei S. - Words: 961 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 1 - Published: 10-11-10 - Status: Complete - id: 6392082
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Finished one block of exams (finally). So I just took a break before starting the next set of revision.
And if this is not up to scratch, it's because my brain's dead from all those exams.
He was afraid of thunder. So he found it rather ironic that he was the warrior thereof.
From as early as I can remember, an age where most insignificant were buried in shadow save those that instilled themselves into our personalities, I was afraid of thunder. The loud booming noise which would sound amidst the occasional storm would drive me into my mother's warm embrace under the thick, warm blankets. As a toddler, I was just sought the comfort, but as I gradually grew older and the fear persisted, I began to grow ashamed at having such a childish fear.
I mean, what was thunder? Simply the sound resultant from a bolt of electricity produced by a lightning strike.
But fear is fear, and to the one who feels it, there does not always have to be a logical explanation, in which case it becomes known as a phobia. Astraphobia. Fear of thunder. After all, to me, it was the deafening roar that drove me to my mother's lap.
Every time I heard the thunder, I'd flee for the comfort of my mother's embrace. And the few times she was out of my reach, I'd bury myself into the shadows, under my bed, or the school desk...and then my cheeks would burn in shame from the laughter of my classmates as they watched me cower in fear of nature's sound.
I suppose it was a common misconception, that courage was defined as the lack of fear, but before the digital world, it was what I believed. Perhaps because it was what my classmates believes, and as by that definition, I lacked courage, they labelled me a coward. And I believed them. And as a coward, I was isolated.
When I arrived in the digital world, I still carried those misconceptions, and the lessons they had taught. Crying was a sign of weakness, of cowardliness, and cowards fled from danger, or else were lead away by other cowards. Tomoki cried, and others picked on him because of it, but not Takuya, and not Izumi. They were different.
Me, I tried to lead him away, set him down my path because he was the closest, and I didn't want to be alone on it. I didn't know how to interact with other people; I always resorted to chocolate and magic tricks to heighten my euphoria and attract crowds as honey attracts bees, attaining sparing bonds, only like the dispersion forces which temporarily caused bondage between two molecules before returning to neutrality, merely superficial. Bt because it was superficial, it was nothing, and I only learnt that when I had real friends.
But he proved he was a greater man than I, fighting an enemy with only an orange, oversized hat as aid. And my shame grew, and with it, a feeling that I would always be a coward, and useless.
It amplified once the others got their spirits. They could fight; they had power they could exert, and courage. There was nothing stopping them for fighting for whatever they wanted, nothing stopping them from fighting to liberate the Kokuwamon.
After all, they weren't cowards. They weren't afraid of something stupid like thunder. And they had their spirits; they weren't defenceless like me.
They left. And I told myself I didn't care: about them, about the Kokuwamon...but deep down, I did. And when the youngest one showed his willingness to fight for his family and friends, I pushed my cowardliness aside and ran to what I believed then, to be a suicide mission.
At that moment, I understood what true courage was. It wasn't having no fear, it was simply not letting it cripple you.
And so, like Tomoki, I ran into battle with whatever assets I could lay my hands on, which happened to be a crane lever complex which found itself, under my hands, coming to Agunimon's rescue.
I attained my spirit with that battle, after I had finally understood the true meaning of courage and friendship and planted my feet firmly on that path. Thinking back, the others attained their spirits in similar ways; it was only after a display of courage and/or friendship that the human spirits presented themselves.
And I was overjoyed. Till I realised what element it was.
Of all the ironies, my spirit was the one element I feared above all else.
I hesitated, for the briefest moment. But then the little voice in my head spoke. 'You were afraid of rushing into this battle,' it said to me. 'And yet you've overcome that fear and learnt your courage. Who's saying you can't do it again?'
Who was saying? Only that fear.
So I stepped forward and claimed my spirit without fear.
The thunderstorms still came, but the phobia and consequent desire for escape no longer clutched my heart. Once, I would have scampered into my mother's lap, and I still do on occasion; after all, who would turn down an opportunity for such warmth and love? But I was no longer afraid. Or rather, I did. But I no longer cowered from it. Because by accepting it as a part of me, I learnt it wasn't just a loud noise. It brought about a balance, resetting things back in to their natural flow.
And later, I took on that role in the team myself.