Cocoon of dreams
Warnings/notes : rather weird, drabble-ish, short.
Disclaimer : I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.
written at 5th march 2004, by Misura
Caterpillars weren't the most attractive of creatures.
Sometimes, people asked him why he hadn't gotten a different haircut. Why he hadn't gotten contacts, to replace the ugly glasses.
His standard reply was that he didn't care. That intelligence was much more important than looks.
What he didn't add to that answer was that he knew it wasn't true.
If the person who had asked him wasn't smart enough to figure that out for him- or herself, he didn't think they were worth the effort of him trying to explain it anyway.
Caterpillars were soft to the touch.
Beautiful people seemed to get all the luck. All the chances. All the attention.
He wasn't the type of person to be idealistic enough to want to change the world, not really.
The role of hero grew on him slowly, sneaking up on him and catching him unawares.
One day, he simply looked into the mirror. And the caterpillar was there.
Caterpillars were careful not to draw any attention from the birds, to avoid being eaten.
It was the morning before the tournament that would make him a regional champion.
He had donned his new jacket, green, with the form of a beetle on it. Sewn by his not-so-loving sister, who thought all insects were icky, and her little brother a good deal ickier than them.
She hadn't intended for him to ever wear it, probably. Just a tasteless joke.
But he liked it.
The jacket made him look even less attractive, less like someone who tried to blend in with the popular crowd.
At a certain point in time, caterpillars would spin themselves into a cocoon.
He could have changed his looks before the tournament.
He didn't, because it would have felt like the act of a weak duelist. Like he thought he'd have more of a chance to win if he tried to look good.
He could have changed his looks after the tournament.
He didn't do that either, because he wanted to see how far he could go.
And also perhaps, due to the fact that changing his appearance had become the subject of his dreams, something that would happen tomorrow. Always tomorrow, yet never today.
Tomorrow, he'd have shown them all. Shown them that looks didn't matter one bit.
And rising from that cocoon, caterpillars would have turned into butterflies.
Tomorrow, he'd be a butterfly too.
Today, he was still a caterpillar. Something 'icky', to speak with his sister's words.
A/N : Yes, this was about Weevil Underwood a.k.a. Insector Haga and no, this didn't have any spectacular ending.