A/N: So much for not cutting it fine again. Today really was the last day – and I've got two chapters to do by next Sunday to keep up. Really, doing every Saturday is easier but sometimes by brain doesn't understand that… To be fair, last week I had at least four tests so my brain can be forgiven for that. :D
And introducing our final main character…which also turned out to be the hardest of them to write. Go figure.
Enjoy!
Digital World
Chapter 4
In the Sewers of the Digital World
Those who hated the light lived in the sewers. Those who scavenged for the scraps thrown down to them, who lived in forced ignorance of the conflicts that occurred on the surface.
In the sewers, life was simple. Chuumon liked his life simple. He found food. He ate it, and what he couldn't eat, he carried back with him to his little hole. He did the same with water. Sometimes his hole was found. Then he'd move. Find somewhere Else. Start over. Avoid the big dwellers. Squabble with the smaller ones for scraps and spaces. And that was life. Nice and simple.
Until the roof of the sewer cracked and light streamed in.
There was mass panic. The big and small all scattered, searching for darkness. The cracks continued to grow. The light continued to flood. The big ones roared and the sides began to crumble.
The little ones who should have been safe in their little holes found themselves splashed with sewage.
Chuumon shook himself. The smell wasn't so bad but he didn't like being wet for too long and that had been a dousing. And the food…
He cast it a forlorn glance as a stray tail knocked a bite of cheese away, then scampered out as something sharper approached.
Food wasn't worth losing data over. Unless he was starving. Which he wasn't.
He joined the rest of the crowd.
.
Finally, the crowd dimmed. The larger ones forced themselves out and the small could find their little holes again. Or make them. And pick up all the scraps that had been scattered. Left behind.
It was a goldmine of things. The cheese were the first on Chuumon's list and he lamented the fact that there were few decently sized holes out of the flooding light. Luckily he could carry more than his weight and he dragged the cheese along, searching.
A cloth. That helped carry the cheese. And keep it dry. And keep the sewerage taste getting in to it.
A stuck to help carry the cloth like a bundle.
Scraps from a picture book. He brightened when he recognised one of them. His treasure. He tucked it neatly away inside his felt.
And then he stumbled, eyes burning and watering with the constant light, upon a pair of sunglasses.
And that changed the outlook of things.
.
Chuumon had been born in the light, but it hadn't been long before he and his family had relocated into the sewers. He didn't remember the outside world at all. The only light he'd remembered was that which burned. He'd learned to stay away from it. The burns had changed him. Changed his colour. Made him swell and grow.
He didn't want things to change. It was fine, the way things were. Nice and simple.
But there was so much light now and he was stumbling along, searching for food because there was nothing in his little hidey-hole and the hidey-hole itself was gone.
But when he tried on the sunglasses, the burning was gone too.
Chuumon blinked. It looked like normal. Without the light. Nice and dark and bearable. And now he could see other things as well. Colour. Everything in the sewers were black and white but now the cracks looked like they were lined in other colours. He didn't know his colours sadly so he couldn't say which. But they were different. Bright – but the sunglasses dulled it. He peeked over the rim, winced, and resolved not to do that again. Without the glasses, staring at them hurt. Staring at light hurt.
But with the glasses he didn't. He stopped when there was no more cheese. The rest had been trampled or take by others. Other chuumon perhaps. Or other digimon in general. Just because the chuumon favoured cheese, it didn't mean it was taken only by them. They all needed food. They couldn't be too fussy.
But while looking at the sunglasses, all the food had been taken away and he only had the cheese he'd initially found.
And no nice hidey-hole to go back to.
.
It was an option. Climbing up. With the sunglasses, he wouldn't be restricted to a little place that had broken apart – however that had happened. It would be more complicated, Chuumon mourned. He liked uncomplicated.
But there wouldn't ever be a shortage of cheese up there. And that was a lovely thought.
They'd moved into the sewers because the light had begun to burn. It had turned cruel. And then they'd become scavengers. Searching. Half-starving.
And now that their sanctuary was breaking, they'd grow even hungrier.
He walked on. Maybe there'd be something else. But no. everyone was stumbling half-blind, searching, dragging their finds along. He saw another chuumon jump on a numamon, teeth bared, fighting for the other's scraps.
He shivered. His scraps were valuable.
He climbed the nearest wall then and there.
.
Outside the sewer was so…big. He was lost. No sense of direction. Very little sense of recognition.
It was also cold but he'd been able to wrap himself in an extra bit of that cloth he'd found and that had done well.
There were things in the ground taller than he was. He touched one. It bent, and then whacked him in the face. Not hard, but hard enough to be uncomfortable. He glared at it and snapped his large fore-teeth. It did nothing back.
He walked carefully. So near the cracks he could easily fall back in. He carried his cheese and that proved to be the hardest part. Those things in the ground kept on tangling. Providing extra resistance.
And there was so much of whatever it was.
After a while, it got monotonous. Like the sewer.
And Chuumon had gotten used to walking in that new place.
Maybe the world outside the sewer wasn't so complicated after all?
.
At some point, he stopped and ate some cheese. He was hungry, and when he was hungry, he ate. When he was tired, he slept as well. He wasn't that tired yet. He walked on.
Those things growing from the ground seemed to get even taller. By the time he stopped for another nibble of cheese they were over twice his height and far more numerous.
And he hadn't bumped into any digimon either. The world was really big, he marvelled, to have not seen a sign of life in all the time he'd been walking.
He didn't feel lonely though. The sewers had lots of digimon, but no companionship.
He did miss a nice pleasant hole though.
He couldn't seem to find any.
And when, finally, he was too tired to walk any more, he had to settle for collapsing where he stood.
.
He heard a strange sound and he forced his eyes open, scrambling for his leftover cheeses. It was dark suddenly – with the sunglasses on he couldn't see at all but he didn't dare take them off because he knew how bright it would be if he did – and it was cold. His makeshaft toga wasn't good enough anymore. He could barely move.
And there was the sound of things being torn.
He tried to run. He stumbled. Fell. Was covered by falling – somethings. Quickly – though it felt so long – the sound passed, and Chuumon squirmed out. He still couldn't see. He still moved stiffy but he moved. That sound could come back. A big monster, probably. It might eat him.
He shivered.
And then he stumbled in to something and he instantly brightened. A hole! He only wished he could see it, to know how cosy it was, and if it had been claimed. It didn't smell like it had, but seeing would know for sure. He, tentatively, peeked under his sunglasses. He still saw nothing. The world was pitch black.
He didn't understand. But in the hole he should be safe. The big never found the little in holes.
He fell asleep, and the next time he opened his eyes, it was morning. And the cold and dark was gone. He was warm again. And he could see.
He looked at his crack. It was far too small to do anything but sleep in. He'd been lucky no-one had stolen his little bag that night.
He had another nibble of cheese and continued walking.
Somewhere, there'd be a perfect hole for him.