I have no idea what this is or where this is going. All I know is that I have been wanting to write a Digimon earthquake story for years and I was feeling very angry this afternoon. This is what happens when I write while less than happy.
Warning for realistic depictions and reactions to a natural disaster. No blood or gore or anything graphic, but I find this type of event very upsetting. And Takeru, though he and the other kids handle battles and stress very maturely, is still a child.
Takeru blinked the sleep out of his eyes. Next to him, his phone beeped incessantly, the shrill sound grating on his ears.
Who the heck was calling him at…?
The thirteen-year-old flopped an arm over to grab his phone off the nightstand with the intention of checking the time. Except when he squinted at the brightly flashing screen, it was no incoming call or text.
Dread flooded him as he squirmed out of the covers, dropping to the floor heavily and rolling under the bedframe.
"Mom?" he cried, not even knowing if she was home or not.
Only the continued screaming from his cell phone answered him.
Four seconds later, the shaking started.
Takeru curled up as much as the space under the bed would allow, doing his best to cover his head. He heard a low rumble from where he had an ear pressed to the carpet. Things began jiggling and moving around erratically on his desk, his dresser, the nightstand. He flinched when the first item fell to the floor with a muffled thump, his heartbeat ramping up its tempo in his chest.
A crash reverberated up through the floor and Takeru heard someone downstairs shout.
Holding his breath, the boy pressed his face into the crook of his elbow. He prayed for it to end now, please. Please let it be over. Please, please, please.
In reply, the apartment seemed to jump, and he swore the whole building swayed. His glass of water toppled over and splashed behind his back, his lamp following after. Thankfully, neither shattered, but a moment later something in the kitchen did.
Every muscle in Takeru's body was coiled tight, and he gave a frightened cry as what must have been their TV smashed to the ground in the living room. Not even a second later there was a bang like a gunshot and the tinkling of glass raining onto tile.
"Mom?!"
The only response was a cacophony of banging and an unholy groan that sounded like it came from the very bones of the apartment complex.
Please be over please be over please be over please let everybody be okay.
He had never wanted Angemon to swoop in and save him so badly in his life. But Patamon wasn't here. Nobody was. He wanted his mom. He wanted his dad. I want Nii-san so much and nobody is home.
The shuddering died down a few more heart stopping moment later.
His phone was silent.
All he could hear was his own gasping and his pulse pounding in his ears.
Something rolled across the floor somewhere in the apartment.
And then the noises all came back to life at once.
People called to each other.
Smoke detectors throughout the building started wailing.
Something crashed out on the front walkway.
Takeru didn't want to move. The building stopped shaking, but now he was shaking, and he didn't want to move, didn't want to see the state of his home, didn't want to see anyone hurt, hear anyone hurt, be hurt.
Trembling fingers pressed a button on his phone.
Ten fourteen pm.
No service.
It was ten eighteen by the time Takeru crawled out from under his bed. The terror of being alone had finally won out against the fear of what was out there.
Aftershocks, was all his rattled mind seemed to be capable of thinking. What about aftershocks? Should I wait in the apartment under the bed or under the table? How long does it take for aftershocks to happen? What if that was a foreshock and there's a worse one coming? No no no, don't think like that. Oh man, no one in the building knows I'm home alone… I don't want to be by myself.
He managed to reach up and flicked the light switch. Nothing happened. The power was out. No light shone in from outside either, so it was likely out everywhere.
Takeru took a deep, unsteady breath and pointed the dim light from his phone around his room.
Besides the fact that it now looked like an extraordinarily messy person lived there, there wasn't anything outwardly dangerous glaring at him.
He pointed the light up to the ceiling and froze.
Trickles of dust and tiny chips of drywall sprinkled down from the far side of the bedroom. He didn't see any visible cracks, but that didn't stop the sight from being disturbing.
Slowly, the boy crept across the floor and dragged his backpack out from under his overturned desk chair. He unceremoniously dumped its contents onto the floor and dragged it to his dresser. All the drawers had slid open, so it was easy to stuff some clothes into the bag and take a sizable pile under his arm.
On autopilot, he got up and tugged his door the rest of the way open. A sweep of his phone illuminated a sea of broken glass. A frigid gust of air confirmed that at least one of the living room windows had burst. Takeru dropped some of the extra clothes on the tile and gingerly stepped onto it, repeating the process until he had safely crossed to the shoe rack.
He tugged on his snow boots with numb fingers and picked his jacket up off the floor, giving it a good shake before snaking his arms into the sleeves. The thirteen year old tried to ignore the crunching of glass under his boots as he walked to the fridge. He had to step back quickly when he pulled the door open, and who knew what fell out and added to the mess on the floor.
In the feeble light of his phone, he picked out a couple juice drinks and some fruit. That, along with some snacks from the cupboard (which were mostly on the counter now) went into his backpack as well. He zipped it up, mind oddly blank.
What am I doing? Am I going somewhere? Won't Mom come home, and… I should be here, right? The cell towers are out, so how are we supposed to find each other if I leave?
A sudden flash of light and a resounding boom sent the chosen of hope launching to his hands and knees under the kitchen table, heart thundering. His wide eyes peered around the apartment frantically and a sob wrenched its way out of his chest. The echo of the explosion seemed to reverberate across the city and lodge itself in Takeru's brain. It must have stopped by now, but he swore he could still hear it.
Whatever had blown across the bay snapped Takeru back to the present. He was suddenly aware that his knees stung, as well as his palms. Sirens howled outside. There were people running beyond the front door. The apartment was getting cold. It smelled funny.
It smelled funny.
Gas.
He scrambled to his feet, bursting out into the winter air as if the hounds of Hell were after him. Outside was chaos. There were people in the streets, on balconies, voices yelling, the world a flurry of movement in the dark. Hundreds of flashlights sent beams in all directions. Takeru watched the strange sight with growing nausea for a moment or two before taking off for the stairway. There was no one else on his floor anymore, doors hanging open and apartments dark and quiet inside.
The stairway was a different story. Dozens of people streamed down the stairs, hurrying as best they could in the confined space.
Takeru wiped what were probably tears off his cheeks with the backs of his hands before diving in.
Yamato had taken him to a few concerts, and Takeru could say with utmost certainty that the stairwell would forever remind him of a mosh pit.
If the mosh pit was terrified.
And running down nine floors worth of stairs.
Takeru gripped the strap of his backpack tighter as they rounded the corner of the fourth floor.
Almost there almost there almost there-
The building suddenly twitched under their feet and the crowd stumbled as one. Strangers grabbed onto one another to prevent whole groups of residents from tumbling down the stairs. If Takeru had been listening, he would have learned a myriad of new swear words, except the only word in his mind was on repeat.
Aftershocks aftershocks aftershocksaftershocksaftershocks
Takeru wasn't even aware that he had started crying again until someone next to him yanked him close to their chest. His backpack was moved so that it rested over his head and a strong arm held the boy in place while everyone hunkered down to ride out the wave of shaking.
"Hey, I got you, kid. Okay? I got you. You're good. Its stopping already," A masculine voice breathed loudly in his ear.
The boy felt himself nod. He let the man pull him to his feet and they followed the agitated masses downwards again. Takeru kept a white-knuckle grip on the stranger's coat, no idea what he was supposed to do after he was out of the building. The last thing he wanted was to let go of someone who appeared older and calmer than he was.
They spilled out into the road. The icy January air was like salt in an open wound. His stinging hands gave a sudden throb.
The stranger led them a safe distance from the building and into an area that was slightly better lit with what looked like camping lanterns.
"Kid, you okay? Are you hurt?" The man crouched down in front of the chosen of hope and gave him a searching look. He was younger than Takeru expected. College maybe?
"Kid?" The young man pressed when he didn't immediately reply.
Takeru startled, blinking down at his hands. One of them was smeared with blood.
"I- I dunno…"
The stranger clicked the light on his own cell phone and peered closely at the cut, holding Takeru's smaller hand gently with his own.
"I think you're alright. I don't see anything stuck in there, its probably just a bad scratch."
Takeru nodded, not feeling capable of saying anything worth wasting precious breath. He already felt like he wasn't getting enough air. There were just so many people out here. And sounds. And lights and where was Mom and what if she wasn't okay and where was Dad and Nii-chan and what if someone wasn't okay?
A scream to their right sent them both turning to see what-?
The other man was faster, his face blanched and before Takeru could catch sight of what had made him look like that, and he firmly yanked the boy around.
"Don't look, okay? Look at me. Just keep looking at me."
He sounded as stern as could be and Takeru obeyed, blue eyes wide and chin wobbling. Something awful must be behind them, and the thought sent shudders through his already trembling body.
"-you listening? Did you get separated from your family in the hallway? Do you need help finding them?"
"I don't know where Mom is. I don't- she wasn't home yet. I don't know- I don't-"
Takeru's throat finally unstuck but now he felt like he was going to throw up. He heaved in huge breaths and somehow there wasn't enough air.
"Shit. Okay, you're with me then. My name is Mamoru. What's yours?"
"Takeru!"
The boy's head whipped in the direction of the cry and Takeru swore he breathed for the first time in twelve minutes.
"Mrs. Hida!"
Though they most likely did not have them programmed into all cell phones back in the early 2000's, these days all cell phones in Japan are equipped with an Earthquake Early Warning alarm. They give you about 6-15 seconds to get yourself to a safer place. I did some reading up for this story.
As always, I promise a happy ending. Or at least things will be looking up.
PS. Mamoru means "protector, guard". I pick original character's names very literally.