Author's Note: This story is the second part of the Yin/Yang trilogy, which
was begun in "The Yin and Yang of Digimon and Tamer." While one does not have
to read that story to enjoy this, it is quite good, and will increase
your understanding of certain elements in this fanfic, namely, the character
of Roland and references to his history. Besides, it's just a good read.
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, and I do not claim to own Digimon. I do own
any original elements in this fanfic, including, but not limited to: the character
of Roland, his actions, the actions of various other characters, and any other
original characters or actions. These may not be used without my permission,
written or otherwise. I still like good cheese. It's very tasty.
Several rows of children of varying ages struck at the air with synchronized
punches. Nearby, on a park bench, stood a placard reading, "FREE MARTIAL ARTS
LESSONS: 4-5 PM WEEKDAYS." Below that it said "No uniform necessary."
Their sensei, a fifteen-year-old boy named Roland with grey-green eyes so
startling you hardly noticed other features like hair color, mentally
counted the punches.
"Last ten. Faster now! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
TEN!
"Feet together, bow." Twenty or thirty heads bobbed toward him as he bowed
in return. "Dismissed."
The group dissolved into a giggling boys and girls, all heading in different
directions to find their mothers, no doubt watching their siblings at one of
the nearby playgrounds.
Roland watched them with pride. His little pupils were coming along faster
than he could have expected in the six months his "dojo" had been active.
He waited a few minutes to see if one of them had any questions or needed
help with a technique. Usually he had two or three munchkins wanting help with
this kick or that combination, but today there were none.
When he was sure there was no one who needed help, he began a slow Tai Chi
Chuan form. It always helped provide him with energy to replace that expended
while dealing with the children, the youngest of whom was only five years old.
Somewhere between "Single Whip" and "Wild Horse Spreads Mane," five or six
older teenagers with white karate uniforms and black belts of varying degrees
came forward. Politely, they stood silently out of the way and allowed him to
finish the form.
Roland completed the last pattern in the set. He stood silently, eyes closed,
for a moment before stepping forward to the tallest and oldest of the six.
"Yes?" he asked.
"We are the top students of some of the local dojos. Our senseis have instructed
us to ask you to cease your activities."
"Indeed. Did they tell you why?" A dangerous glint came into Roland's eyes.
"Yes. They feel that it is unwise for one so young as yourself to be teaching
the martial arts, especially to those so impressionable, or injure-able, as
children."
Roland nodded slowly. "I see. You may tell your sensei that he may put those
fears to rest. I have had no injuries or accidents in the entire six months I
have been teaching here."
The black belt's eyebrows went up. Who was this kid? He wasn't even phased by
the presence of six experienced martial artists. He was either very brave,
or very stupid.
"I will not tell him. He also instructed me that if you do not shut down
immediately, we are to force you to shut down. Tsuyoshi, get the sign."
One of the younger black belts, a mere first degree, walked over to the bench
and systematically ripped apart the placard. A deep growl began in Roland's
throat.
"I will make another sign," said Roland very slowly and deliberately.
"Very well." The leader nodded to his crew, who fanned out to surround Roland.
Roland stepped back warily. He had three options: run, fight, or intimidate
the heck out of them. If he ran, they would chase him down and he would be
forced to stop teaching, and there was only one way he could intimidate them,
and that choice was not an option. He had to fight. Roland quickly evaluated
his would-be assailants.
It looked like most of them were karate students, probably Shotokan style.
One of them, though, wore the patch of a local jujitsu dojo, and still another
wore a hakama, or a kind of black, baggy pair of pants worn only by practicioners
of kendo or the unarmed art of aikido. What was an aikido student doing here?
he wondered; aikido was probably the most peaceful martial art in the world,
next to Tai Chi Chuan.
The bellicose black belts took fighting stances. Roland's eyes shifted back
and forth as he tried to watch all of them at once.
"You guys are all black belts, right?"
"Duh."
"You are about to attack me, right?"
"Duh."
"If I ran, you would chase me down, wouldn't you?"
"Probably. Why?"
"Just making sure I'm in a legally sound position."
"Do you know who I am? I'm Choji Takahashi's top student. I got twenty trophies
in one year! I wouldn't be worried about legalities, if I were you."
"Too bad this isn't a tournament."
Roland caught some motion out of the corner of his eye. A punch came in toward
his temple. He ducked and struck out with his palm just as the fist retreated,
pushing the owner of the fist back three feet. A kick came in on his left and
sidestepped, smashing the other leg with his foot and knocking the kicker to
the ground.
Roland flowed like a burbling stream. An attack would come, he blocked or
evaded, and returned the attack as its energy was expended, sending the
attacker tumbling. Three minutes later, the last white-clad figure limped out
of sight.
Roland stood silently. "How long were you watching?" he said to a tree.
Renamon dropped down from its branches. "Long enough. Good job, there."
"Thank you. I had to hold back a bit, though."
* * *
Roland sat down heavily on the Wongs' couch. For a moment, he sat in silence,
thinking very deeply about things in general.
Henry stepped into the room. Noticing Roland's dour mood, he asked, "Hey,
what's wrong?"
Roland blinked, his concentration interrupted. "Have you ever heard of Choji
Takahashi?"
Henry paused. "Yeah. My sensei used to know him. They trained under the same
master, but they had a falling out. Why?"
"A bunch of black belts came and tried to beat me up earlier today after my
class. They said they were the top students of various dojos around and they
didn't want me teaching my class anymore. They were led by a student of Choji
Takahashi."
"Yeah, Renamon told me about that."
Henry took a few steps toward the kitchen, but stopped when he looked at
Roland's face again. "That's not all, is it?"
Roland shook his head and sighed. "No. It's about my parents. It's been a year
since we returned from the digital world and we still haven't found them. I
must have hired five different private detectives. Besides, I don't know if
they'd take me back, not with. . ." His voice trailed off, the last part
unspoken.
It started about a year and a half earlier. He was not only the first Tamer
in America, but also the North American champion of digimon cards. He was
invited to Tokyo for an international tournament, but never got to play. The
night before, his digimon Kijutsumon had tried to merge with Roland to give
him the edge in a match, but it failed. Roland ended up sucking in most of
Kijutsumon's data. He gained the power to control the four elements, Earth,
Water, Wind, and Fire, as well as Kijutsumon's legs, but lost Kijutsumon
himself.
Roland was sucked into the Juggernaut program, but was not killed because he
was still part human. Instead, he spent several months in the digital world,
where he met Rika, Kazu, and Kenta. Shortly after, he found what was left of
Kijutsumon, who had swallowed a virus and become DarkKijutsumon. Roland was
forced to fight Kijutsumon. He only won that battle because he was both
digimon and Tamer, thus releasing the fifth and most powerful
element, Ether. His new control of Ether also allowed him to change between
digimon and human forms at will. Now, he was looking for his parents, staying
with the Wongs in the interim. He just hoped his parents would be able to
accept his new freakishness. After all, even when he was in his human
form, he had that digivice embedded in his left arm.
A loud telephone ring startled Roland out of his reverie. Henry picked it up.
"Hello?. . . . What!?. . . Of course, we'll be there right away!" Roland looked
back at Henry. Something was wrong; his face was rapidly losing all color.
"Roland, that was Renamon. Rika's been kidnapped!"
was begun in "The Yin and Yang of Digimon and Tamer." While one does not have
to read that story to enjoy this, it is quite good, and will increase
your understanding of certain elements in this fanfic, namely, the character
of Roland and references to his history. Besides, it's just a good read.
Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon, and I do not claim to own Digimon. I do own
any original elements in this fanfic, including, but not limited to: the character
of Roland, his actions, the actions of various other characters, and any other
original characters or actions. These may not be used without my permission,
written or otherwise. I still like good cheese. It's very tasty.
Several rows of children of varying ages struck at the air with synchronized
punches. Nearby, on a park bench, stood a placard reading, "FREE MARTIAL ARTS
LESSONS: 4-5 PM WEEKDAYS." Below that it said "No uniform necessary."
Their sensei, a fifteen-year-old boy named Roland with grey-green eyes so
startling you hardly noticed other features like hair color, mentally
counted the punches.
"Last ten. Faster now! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine,
TEN!
"Feet together, bow." Twenty or thirty heads bobbed toward him as he bowed
in return. "Dismissed."
The group dissolved into a giggling boys and girls, all heading in different
directions to find their mothers, no doubt watching their siblings at one of
the nearby playgrounds.
Roland watched them with pride. His little pupils were coming along faster
than he could have expected in the six months his "dojo" had been active.
He waited a few minutes to see if one of them had any questions or needed
help with a technique. Usually he had two or three munchkins wanting help with
this kick or that combination, but today there were none.
When he was sure there was no one who needed help, he began a slow Tai Chi
Chuan form. It always helped provide him with energy to replace that expended
while dealing with the children, the youngest of whom was only five years old.
Somewhere between "Single Whip" and "Wild Horse Spreads Mane," five or six
older teenagers with white karate uniforms and black belts of varying degrees
came forward. Politely, they stood silently out of the way and allowed him to
finish the form.
Roland completed the last pattern in the set. He stood silently, eyes closed,
for a moment before stepping forward to the tallest and oldest of the six.
"Yes?" he asked.
"We are the top students of some of the local dojos. Our senseis have instructed
us to ask you to cease your activities."
"Indeed. Did they tell you why?" A dangerous glint came into Roland's eyes.
"Yes. They feel that it is unwise for one so young as yourself to be teaching
the martial arts, especially to those so impressionable, or injure-able, as
children."
Roland nodded slowly. "I see. You may tell your sensei that he may put those
fears to rest. I have had no injuries or accidents in the entire six months I
have been teaching here."
The black belt's eyebrows went up. Who was this kid? He wasn't even phased by
the presence of six experienced martial artists. He was either very brave,
or very stupid.
"I will not tell him. He also instructed me that if you do not shut down
immediately, we are to force you to shut down. Tsuyoshi, get the sign."
One of the younger black belts, a mere first degree, walked over to the bench
and systematically ripped apart the placard. A deep growl began in Roland's
throat.
"I will make another sign," said Roland very slowly and deliberately.
"Very well." The leader nodded to his crew, who fanned out to surround Roland.
Roland stepped back warily. He had three options: run, fight, or intimidate
the heck out of them. If he ran, they would chase him down and he would be
forced to stop teaching, and there was only one way he could intimidate them,
and that choice was not an option. He had to fight. Roland quickly evaluated
his would-be assailants.
It looked like most of them were karate students, probably Shotokan style.
One of them, though, wore the patch of a local jujitsu dojo, and still another
wore a hakama, or a kind of black, baggy pair of pants worn only by practicioners
of kendo or the unarmed art of aikido. What was an aikido student doing here?
he wondered; aikido was probably the most peaceful martial art in the world,
next to Tai Chi Chuan.
The bellicose black belts took fighting stances. Roland's eyes shifted back
and forth as he tried to watch all of them at once.
"You guys are all black belts, right?"
"Duh."
"You are about to attack me, right?"
"Duh."
"If I ran, you would chase me down, wouldn't you?"
"Probably. Why?"
"Just making sure I'm in a legally sound position."
"Do you know who I am? I'm Choji Takahashi's top student. I got twenty trophies
in one year! I wouldn't be worried about legalities, if I were you."
"Too bad this isn't a tournament."
Roland caught some motion out of the corner of his eye. A punch came in toward
his temple. He ducked and struck out with his palm just as the fist retreated,
pushing the owner of the fist back three feet. A kick came in on his left and
sidestepped, smashing the other leg with his foot and knocking the kicker to
the ground.
Roland flowed like a burbling stream. An attack would come, he blocked or
evaded, and returned the attack as its energy was expended, sending the
attacker tumbling. Three minutes later, the last white-clad figure limped out
of sight.
Roland stood silently. "How long were you watching?" he said to a tree.
Renamon dropped down from its branches. "Long enough. Good job, there."
"Thank you. I had to hold back a bit, though."
* * *
Roland sat down heavily on the Wongs' couch. For a moment, he sat in silence,
thinking very deeply about things in general.
Henry stepped into the room. Noticing Roland's dour mood, he asked, "Hey,
what's wrong?"
Roland blinked, his concentration interrupted. "Have you ever heard of Choji
Takahashi?"
Henry paused. "Yeah. My sensei used to know him. They trained under the same
master, but they had a falling out. Why?"
"A bunch of black belts came and tried to beat me up earlier today after my
class. They said they were the top students of various dojos around and they
didn't want me teaching my class anymore. They were led by a student of Choji
Takahashi."
"Yeah, Renamon told me about that."
Henry took a few steps toward the kitchen, but stopped when he looked at
Roland's face again. "That's not all, is it?"
Roland shook his head and sighed. "No. It's about my parents. It's been a year
since we returned from the digital world and we still haven't found them. I
must have hired five different private detectives. Besides, I don't know if
they'd take me back, not with. . ." His voice trailed off, the last part
unspoken.
It started about a year and a half earlier. He was not only the first Tamer
in America, but also the North American champion of digimon cards. He was
invited to Tokyo for an international tournament, but never got to play. The
night before, his digimon Kijutsumon had tried to merge with Roland to give
him the edge in a match, but it failed. Roland ended up sucking in most of
Kijutsumon's data. He gained the power to control the four elements, Earth,
Water, Wind, and Fire, as well as Kijutsumon's legs, but lost Kijutsumon
himself.
Roland was sucked into the Juggernaut program, but was not killed because he
was still part human. Instead, he spent several months in the digital world,
where he met Rika, Kazu, and Kenta. Shortly after, he found what was left of
Kijutsumon, who had swallowed a virus and become DarkKijutsumon. Roland was
forced to fight Kijutsumon. He only won that battle because he was both
digimon and Tamer, thus releasing the fifth and most powerful
element, Ether. His new control of Ether also allowed him to change between
digimon and human forms at will. Now, he was looking for his parents, staying
with the Wongs in the interim. He just hoped his parents would be able to
accept his new freakishness. After all, even when he was in his human
form, he had that digivice embedded in his left arm.
A loud telephone ring startled Roland out of his reverie. Henry picked it up.
"Hello?. . . . What!?. . . Of course, we'll be there right away!" Roland looked
back at Henry. Something was wrong; his face was rapidly losing all color.
"Roland, that was Renamon. Rika's been kidnapped!"
