Well, guys… This is the one that finally got me… The first chapter that I've had to break into two parts. I was just at a good stopping point, about to dive into the next big scene and really feeling how much there was left to get through for my original plans for the chapter… It was unreasonable. Honestly. So the result may be two chapters that are both a little on the shorter side.

Thank you for reviewing the last chapter: Berry Doyle, Sweet Cari, and dnofsunshine! You all mentioned something about Mimi's optimism… It's funny. Mimi and Davis are both characters that I was never crazy about but who I've started to really like since I began writing this story. They play that same role—bringing lightness to some otherwise serious scenes, and I mean… Heavy scenes really need a character like that.

Chapter Thirty: Courage Pt. 1

"Takato! Can you come down here, please?"

"Okay!" he called back before sighing to himself. He knew that tone all too well. He added a few more lines of shading to the sketch set out in front of him before pushing himself up out of his chair and slowly making his way downstairs.

Sure enough, his mom was waiting in the kitchen, hands on her hips and a stern look on her face. His dad was in the background, as usual, prepping dough at the counter. The bakery was already closed for the night. Mr. Matsuki baked the way Takato drew—as a reflex and a way to organize his thoughts. Personally, Takato couldn't imagine making the same thing over and over without getting bored. But then, his mom wasn't the type to sit still long enough to draw even the simplest picture. They all had their hobbies, he supposed. Speaking of…

"I got another note from your teacher today," his mother started in. "She said you got in trouble for not paying attention in class… again."

"I was listening!" he immediately tried to defend. "I was just… drawing instead of taking notes. I can't write fast enough to keep up with her!"

He let his arguments die out at his mom's disapproving look. He was glad she was standing on the other side of the table and couldn't see how he'd brought a finger up to doodle invisible shapes on the thin edge facing him. "Well, you'll have plenty of time to write the apology letter you're bringing in tomorrow."

Takato sighed, but his mom was already turning away. Conversation over. As he turned to walk back up the stairs, he saw his father shoot him a sympathetic glance, always listening.

This was nothing new. Takato didn't see himself as a troublemaker… yet he always seemed to be getting into trouble. He just never seemed to be on the same wavelength as the people around him. He wasn't good at expressing himself through words. So he drew. Except he had yet to meet anyone who really got his drawings either.

He dreamed of a world where he could live out his fantasies. Where he was as brave as he wanted to be. Where he was the kind of person others looked up to.

…

Takato was falling.

Lost in the darkness, his old dreams and desires drifted back to him from a time before those desires would be tested. Before his life involved any sort of real danger. Back when this sort of thing could have only existed in his imagination.

He couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. He couldn't see a thing. But somehow, he could sense that Guilmon was adrift out there alongside him, somewhere nearby.

Guilmon…

He didn't have the brains of Henry or Cody or the mysterious Izzy he'd heard about, but he had spent a lot of time thinking about the Digital World and how it could possibly work. He'd doodled a lot in his life—pretty mindlessly sometimes. Takato had held onto the drawing of the red dinosaur he'd made in the week leading up to his discovering the portal between the worlds that had spit out his partner before zipping itself shut. It was uncannily similar to the image crafted from his own mind—down to the little winged ears that really served no purpose but to jazz up the final design.

Was this place capable of pulling a person's thoughts straight from their head and giving it form, life? He had to assume so, the way all his old doubts and insecurities were suddenly making themselves known, one memory at a time.

He'd always been the nerdy, awkward, quiet kid. Hooked on Saturday morning cartoons, looking up to fictional heroes he never had a chance of even imitating believably. His early school reports were filled with worries that he wasn't making friends, his later ones with complaints of his wandering mind. He lived too much in his head—it drove his mother crazy.

And then suddenly all his fantasies were real… sort of. He'd been included—albeit as an afterthought—in a prophecy, part of the (second-string) team destined to save a world from a violent tyrant. Of course… it didn't automatically turn him into the brave leader he'd aspired to be. And Guilmon… His partner was intimidating to look at but childlike in demeanor. His parents had always told him he wasn't responsible enough to own a pet… And his Digimon had certainly given him a run for his money.

He was floundering, and he knew it. He was barely managing to keep the secret, day after day. He knew he deserved it when Rika berated him for being no help, for not being able to control Guilmon. For telling him they'd all be better off if she and Renamon just… "put him down," so they would have one less false alarm blip on her screen.

Her ferocity had sent a chill through him, made him too skittish to take Guilmon out for nearly a week. He'd stumbled across Henry early into this new adventure, struggling just as much to control his own partner. But their dynamic was different. Henry and Terriermon seemed to spend their time outsmarting each other, their bickering purely playful. The little green Digimon loved poking fun at Guilmon… the intricacies of the jokes going over the bigger Rookie's head, of course. Henry and his partner debated the morals of their actions. Takato had a hard time explaining why they should even be taking action.

It was great to be a part of something… But Takato found himself feeling inadequate at every turn. Then another girl showed up with another Digimon and an actual idea of what they were supposed to be doing. She led him to two more kids—Digidestined—and in that brainstorming session, they really did feel like a team.

And now he'd fallen behind again. Whatever Kari was charging towards, he had faith she could handle it. As usual, it was himself he was worried about. Maybe this was fitting. Maybe he should just fade into the darkness here…

…

…

No. Another spark went through him, and it wasn't the familiar jolt of fear. He managed to twist himself upright—at least, what felt like 'upright' in this sea of nothingness. It wasn't just him anymore. He'd made a promise the day Guilmon became his partner—that he would take charge, for once in his life. That he would protect them both.

He struggled to make his way over to where that Guilmon sense was the strongest, making awkward swimming motions that only half as effective as they would have been in water. But he did eventually make contact with the rough skin of Guilmon's tail.

A tiny light burned to life between them. Guilmon seemed to stir, just a little, before returning to his passed-out state. But Takato took some reassurance in the progress he'd made. He kept going, floundering closer until his partner was fully in reach. He wrapped his arms around Guilmon, and the light grew, wiping out the darkness until it blinded him.

…

When he came to, he couldn't quite get his bearings. Guilmon was still beside him, so that was one worry appeased. But he could only conclude that he didn't know where they were.

They were laying on solid ground which was a nice change. He was pretty sure they weren't in the Dark Ocean anymore—a definite step in the right direction. If this was the Digiworld proper, it didn't seem too bad. There were no immediate threats, anyway. He hadn't pushed himself up off the ground yet. He'd taken in just enough to gather that they were at the base of some mountain… when the pink thing zoomed into view.

Takato's eyes widened, but his first reflex was to freeze. The Digimon was a tiny, furry, pink ball with arms, legs, wings at least twice the length of any of its limbs, and an even longer spear. Those big round eyes were scrutinizing them carefully from where he fluttered in the air.

"Hmph!" the Digimon declared at last. "What a sorry mess you two are. But the ones who end up in my domain usually are. All right, you two, get up!"

He punctuated his last words with two sharp taps on the ground. Takato saw the action take place in his dazed state but was startled by the ripples those two taps sent through the ground. The sound was amplified too, and Takato suspected this was what jolted Guilmon awake. They both shot up into sitting positions, wide eyes fixed on their sudden guest. Or perhaps they were his guests. It certainly seemed that way, if attitude had anything to say about it.

"Up, up, up!" the Digimon chanted, and the two scrambled to their feet.

And thus began their training session from hell. It was like a gym class where he and Guilmon were the only students. Soon they were huffing and puffing up the many, many stairs with Piximon's shouts of 'encouragement' the only sound to rival their pulses in their ears. He'd introduced himself in between the lighthearted abuse, claiming to be a renowned Digimon trainer. Takato would have liked to add that he didn't think a training regimen was supposed to start with Mount Everest.

That was what it felt like by the time they were nearing the top. He hadn't been able to fully appreciate how tall it was from the bottom. He thought he'd been pushed to his physical limits before, but he'd never truly understood what it felt like for his legs to feel like they were made of jelly. It was a very real concern that they might just give out on him and refuse to continue supporting his weight.

But not quite enough of a concern that it awarded him the brainpower to worry about having to get back up. He and Guilmon both collapsed the second they'd cleared the top step. Later, he would be able to appreciate how Piximon erected some sort of barrier behind them, to stop them from accidentally toppling back down. But for now, all he could focus on was getting his breath back. When their heart rates finally began to settle, Guilmon slumped even further forward, his head in Takato's lap, whimpering, "No more running…"

But the boy had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't to be. It wasn't much longer before their self-appointed trainer started to get impatient. "All right, break's over, let's go!"

The two struggled back to their feet, wasting no time on protests or complaints. Their guide was just too loud, too willing to startle them into action again with his staff. (Takato saw the way he lifted it off the ground menacingly.) Every one of his muscles ached—even the ones not attached to his legs—but he soon found himself almost too in awe of Piximon's home to notice his own ailments.

It was designed almost like the coliseums of old that he'd seen in movies and history books—perfectly circular. It wasn't made of brick or stone… It actually looked very traditionally Japanese from the inside—all wood floors and sliding doors and open-air hallways. But once they got past the rooms inside, he saw that most of the 'arena' was taken up by a giant statue of Piximon himself. It was a little tacky… but it at least assuaged his fears a little about being thrown to the lions like gladiators of old.

Takato stood at the railing for a few moments of blissful silence… (His mind had immediately shut down upon being faced with more stairs, but he could see that they were at least four stories up with a few more floors above them.) Piximon's personal design preferences may have been a little lackluster, but he was still in awe of the world itself, that all this could exist at all.

He turned back to see Guilmon thinking much simpler thoughts, following his twitching nose from one door to another along the hall. "Do you smell that, Takatomon?"

He smiled fondly at his partner and was about to answer when something clattered sharply to the floor behind them. This time, when the two jumped, the reaction was a little less dramatic. They turned to see Piximon waiting for them with two buckets of water and rags to match.

"Around here, dinner only comes once you've earned it! All growth stems from hard work!"

He was far too cheery for the circumstances… Takato just managed to suppress a sigh. Piximon sounded like this mother.

But then he thought of his mom… looking so lost in the family kitchen—where she was usually so in her element—the day he and Kari had explained the Digimon situation to her. The day he'd promised to do all he could to help bring the missing kids home…

This sudden memory evoked a strange emotion in him. It was not quite a lump in his throat… It was not quite sweet nostalgia. But he did miss home. And the thought of his parents seeing him now—having fallen behind so quickly—was enough to make him pick up the cloth without complaint, with Guilmon easily following his lead.

There wasn't much Takato excelled at, but he was no stranger to menial chores. Even with his tired muscles, his mind was prepped to wander comfortably just as soon as he found his rhythm. Many an afternoon had been passed this way. But Guilmon's claws made these simple tasks terribly complicated. His movements were stilted and clumsy. He overbalanced and went crashing forward while trying to mimic Takato's crouched stance on the floor, his tail lashing out and sending his own bucket flying.

Piximon, having yet to even leave the hallway, hovered above them with a loud sigh. They weren't exactly turning out to be star pupils. But he was stopped short of berating them by Takato's sudden giggling.

There was no tension to be seen from the boy who'd been little more than a ball of nerves just a few hours before. Without a word, he moved to help his partner, correcting his posture into a position more suitable for an awkwardly proportioned dinosaur, sparing no concern for the puddle of suds behind them. They'd get to that later. Perhaps he was just too tired to worry about anything else for the day… But Piximon knew the results of his training when he saw it.

…

Much later… after the sun had set and Piximon had begrudgingly admitted that they'd earned their dinner… Takato found himself back out on the porch, laying so that his head was closer to the railing, where he could see the stars. He was physically exhausted. He should have been fast asleep, snoring away like his partner in the next room. But Piximon's promise of the "real challenge" that was to come the next day was keeping his mind awake.

They had made it to the Digital World. Their friends were out there somewhere, possibly in need of their help. Did they really have the time for this crazy pixie's training? Could they afford to skip it?

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when Piximon crashed back onto the scene, dawn was just breaking. Somehow, Takato already felt an immunity building to the tiny creature's demanding demeanor. He didn't rise with any particular haste as their trainer chanted his now-familiar, "Up, up, up!"

As much as he'd struggled to reason with his partner in the past, he had noticed instances where Guilmon seemed to leech off of his own emotions—another undefinable connection. They were equally quiet over breakfast, solemn almost. Something big was ahead of them—they could both feel it.

It was suitably ominous when Piximon led them away from his coliseum home, ending up in front of a dark, craggy cave. Takato's unease was building… but he didn't give in to the urge to shiver.

"Within this cave, you will encounter the darkest areas of your own mind… and also your truest selves. For many, it is a most unpleasant journey… but only through conquering this cave can you hope to move forward. …Are you ready?"

Guilmon's enormous paw snaked up to envelop Takato's much smaller hand—for the comfort of the fearsome monster, he knew. There was nothing Takato had to say. So he just gave that paw a firm squeeze and took the first step forward.

Review please!

I don't own Digimon.

Takato is definitely one of those characters that I could only really appreciate as I started to get older. I didn't like him much as a child… He was too relatable, too real. Now, he's probably my favorite protagonist. Definitely a contender for first place, anyway.