Author's Notes

And Kaito Lune nailed it this time. Congrats. So now there's only Kouichi left, and not that many options to chose from if anyone can pick up the pattern. Last call anyone?

Wow, three updates in the same day. Well, the one for Sakura, Mono no Aware was written since last week, so I suppose it technically only two chapters. No, wait a sec, I wrote a different chapter today, so it's still three. Got a backlog just in case I get too busy later down the track, especially when exams loom nearer.

Wow, only one left after this. Figures Takuya's one is the one I had trouble with.

Ignoring that, enjoy, and tell me what you think.

The Price One Must Pay

Frontier-verse. They find that everything comes at a price. With interest attached.

Genre/s: Angst/Friendship

Rating: T

Part 5 of 6: Junpei

He always had good hearing. Too good, as loud noises such as the thunder hurt his ears. When he was younger, he would remember the sharp pain shooting through his skull; perhaps that was what triggered his fear of thunder.

It was ironic, that he was fated to be the warrior of thunder then. But perhaps not. Good hearing was better for things like listening, philosophising, theorising…and sometimes putting one's foot in one's mouth when facts took precedence over emotions. He was more of a listener than a feeler, so sue him.

He didn't have many friends. He'd see people, listen to them, copy them, and try to make friends. When that didn't work, he'd try someone else. Magic tricks, he found a liking too, listening to and watching the foreign Houdini, associating the little optical tricks with the explanations, and the narrations that followed by the commentators shedding some light on the so-called magic. In class, he'd listen closely; he knew that was his best bet for processing that information. Reading normally took ten times as long; they'd go straight through one eye and out the other the first eight times. The tenth of course was to make sure it stayed in his brain.

The Digital World was a challenge he had initially felt he wasn't prepared for. Just as loud, unexpected noises hurt his ears and lead to an innate fear of them, unknown adventures did the same. Especially since he was powerless for a long time after the others.

It turned out he hadn't needed a spirit to fight his first fight. His power had come from words, someone's else's words of passion, encouragement, and most importantly, hope. From there, his power grew, and when he got his spirit, it exponentially enhanced.

It seemed fitting that his human spirit was a bug. A beetle to be exact. The insect kingdom in general had exceptional hearing. And he commanded the thunder that had hurt and spooked him as a kid at his fingertips.

For a moment, he couldn't help but question the irony. But the moment he let that power loose on the oppressive Snimon, he realised it was no longer the case. Standing up and fighting one thing had uplifted the next; the thunder was still loud, but no longer painful. Instead, it was the deafening holler of victory.

He continued to grow thereafter, as a human and as a digimon. He learnt what it truly meant to be a friend, and a brother. And when he came back to the real world, he put those lessons to use, surrounding himself with new friends in the right way, his own way.

Things got better after that; people talked, he listened, he threw in his input. He wasn't prone to babying people, but for the most part, his philosophy was still reasonable. Sometimes he still put his foot in his mouth, especially when it came to the quiet shy times where you could never tell what they were thinking; perhaps they needed a spark to wake them up, because they tended to turn red or awkward, and he'd know he's said something. Funnily enough, those situations tend to help.

The first he noticed that suddenly started changing was when he slept through a rather vicious thunderstorm, only to be greeted by a pair of sleeping parents wondering why he wasn't as bedraggled as them. They brushed it off as him being tired; anyone could sleep through anything when they were stressed and exhausted from cramming for high school entrance exams.

That was, until his teachers started complaining his marks were dropping. He didn't get it. He was focusing the same he always did; it was as if his hearing was dulling though, as of words were getting filtered out, and in the mundane lectures, lost with their meaning. His father scolded him; he shook his head helplessly. He didn't get it.

It went downhill after that. Soon, it wasn't just classes, but other conversations as well. He lost some of the friends he had made over the years because of it, 'ignoring' them without mean nor purpose. Words and sounds were melding into each other, barely being distinguishable. It was as if Japanese was becoming a foreign language, but then, it wasn't just Japanese, but other sounds as well. Simple things. The wind. People talking. The TV. The thunder.

He looked out his window. Lightning was flashing in the sky. He counted silently, knowing thunder would echo soon.

The echo came, and went, and the numbers continued. Monotonously, ritually, as though if he kept counting, he would hear it eventually. He never did though; he would never hear the sound of thunder again.

Fifteen years after first fearing it, it was gone. Along with the blessings it brought.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn to look at them though, continuing to stare out the window. A beetle stood on the windowsill, watching the rain with him. Watching the lightning.

It jumped, a few seconds later, only to run into the window and fall.

That's where he was now too. Squashed like a bug after jumping into the prime.