Since I was young, I've used my fists to solve my problems. Whether it was to protect myself or the people close to me, I realized that as long as I had my strength, I could accomplish anything.
It's funny, really, how wrong I was.
I trained so hard to make sure nothing like this would ever happen. It was my goal in life to protect the ones I cared about, and I was willing to push myself to my limit to make that even a slight possibility.
And yet, even with all the time I spent as president of the boxing club, fighting shadows, or training by myself as hard as I possibly could, I wasn't able to make it happen. In just one night, a night with a huge, shining moon glimmering in the sky, I lost him. With one bang from a gun throughout the otherwise silent hour, one tearing of a bullet through flesh, we were forced to say our goodbyes.
That night, I promised him that I would take care of the others. To this day, I don't know why I did that. I've been training harder and harder since that night, but somewhere, in the back of my mind, I wonder- will it happen again? Will I try and fail to protect the ones that I had come to care so much about, just like I did twice before?
But I refuse to let thoughts like those consume me for very long. If I fall, I can get back up again. I can put my fists forward; use the strength that has carried me through so many trials in the past.
And when I make it in my never-ending journey, I can proudly ask him one thing.
Did you see that, Shinji?
Xxx
That was my very first Persona 3 fanfiction~ I wrote this in a hurry at around 10:00 at night, but I still think it's alright. Thoughts?