Title: The Time of the Day
The Time of the DayKen had always wondered why the sky always changed colours in the morning. When he was little – old enough to sleep twelve hours at night and stay awake till at noon – he would be up with the first ray of sunlight hitting his face and making a ruckus until his family woke as well.
Part 1 of 7: Sunrise
Even in those days, Osamu was immersed in his studies, but not so much so that he wouldn’t set his alarm to awaken him at the crack of dawn and spare his father the extra hour. And so Osamu used to make sure to wake before his little brother, who at times was as predictable as the clock and just as gullible, and they would go out onto the balcony and observe the sunrise together.
Ken often asked why the sky changed the way it did during that moment, and at first Osamu had no idea how to reply. After all, his baby brother was far too young to understand the scattering of light through atmospheric particles; he had just learnt the science behind it himself. He tried thinking back beyond that, however he couldn’t remember ever being interested in the phenomena. To him, it was something that had simply occurred every day. In one sense it was a part of the clock, even as it shifted by the day.
He was more interested in what was the reference point that created that twenty-four hour cycle demonstrated by the clock than the brief ten minutes where the sky lit up painsickenly. But it seemed to excite his brother; if it weren’t for the rails Osamu was sure Ken would have bounced right off the balcony. Even with the protection he made sure to keep a close eye on the boy…who only had eyes for the pretty lights in the sky.
When he was a little older and his brother a little more distant, he came out onto the balcony on his own. Osamu stopped waking early and instead slept as late as possible after studying most of the night away, and waking him unnecessarily would earn him a scolding. But by that time Ken was tall enough to reach the keys and unlock the sliding door, and so he looked out onto the sunrise on his own and wondered why it lit up so beautifully.
Sometimes, he would blow bubbles, letting them reflect the magnificent array of light. Then he would sadly leave once the light faded and became a pale blue and the bubbles burst. Sometimes he would snuggle back under the covers. At other times he would grab a picture book and spread it on the floor in his brother’s room. His excuse was that it was “comfy”, and as long as he was quiet, no-one minded.
The truth was, it was his way to be closer to his brother. Just like Osamu’s way was to make the bubble mix and cut the straws every day for him, with a little extra so he could enjoy his little sunrise tradition.
But he never did find a satisfactory answer. Osamu’s version didn’t seem right. Or it wasn’t Osamu’s version really; rather it was “science’s” version. His story books were a little too fantastical, though it was nice to think a dragon roared every morning to drive the bad things away for the day. And his parents were always busy with something else and mumbled something he either failed to catch or had no relation to his question.
And then he went to the digital world for the first time and saw an even more amazing sunrise. And when he asked Wormmon, he finally got the reply he had been waiting a life time to hear.
“It symbolises the beginning of something new.”
Like the fireworks that went off at the summer’s end festival, celebrating the coming of the harvest season. Like the incense that made a sad pale smoke of stuttering colour, mourning loss and paying for success in the next life. Like the candles on a birthday cake that melted together in a brief second before being extinguished, symbolising the year that had passed and the age that had been added.
And like the glowing lights on the screen that had sucked him into this new and fantastic world…and his best friend.
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