FFXIV Write 2019 #6: First Steps
Written for Prompt Six of @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast‘s daily writing challenge for September!
This was another surprisingly difficult prompt at first, but then the idea hit me and this all came flooding out. Perhaps it might even be a bit deep and poignant? Ultimately it was nice to touch on a bunch of things that had happened before, and what I think helped shape Chachan into who he is now. Even if he still kind of stubbornly sticks to that heroic desire, it hopefully comes from a stronger place now than just “I wanna.”
People mentioned: @fourtharbiter, @afreesworn, @socrofty, @fancy-hat-cat, and @onehundredplumblossoms, among others.
[All FFXIV Write 2019 Pieces]
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Sometimes Chachanji - in his more thoughtful moments - wondered when the shift happened. When an admittedly somewhat childish desire to just go out and help people and be a big ol' hero like in his favorite storybooks was tempered into something more. A more purposeful need to protect people, to see people return home alive from the hunts and the battles and the conflicts that were so numerous across Hydaelyn. When he acted less on what he thought those storybook heroes would do, and more on what felt like the right thing to do. What he truly and deeply wanted to do.
Perhaps it had been when he first encountered the Free Paladin and Arbiter of the Grindstone - Warren Castille. More accurately, the stalwart Hyur had saved him when he had just being flailing around with sword and shield in order to hone his "heroic" combat skills against the various wildlife of Thanalan. Had taken him under his wing and set him on the path that ultimately led him to meeting others of his kind - steadfast protectors of the weak and downtrodden - Paladins. Ser Warren, Ser Roen, Ser Crofte. Epitomes all of the heroic personage that the little Lalafell had wanted to be. And the ones who had led to his eventual joining of the Free Paladin order himself as ordained by Ser Coatleque Croft.
Though, these days he aided them more through his smithing skills rather than being out on the front lines himself. Though he did still go out now and then, usually partaking of leves under the auspice of the Free Paladins to assist those he could. And, like Ser Roen had done, he frequented the camps of the refugees outside the walls of Ul'dah. And a goodly portion of his earned coin went towards them as well.
And that was even before he had gained a greater affinity for those who sought refuge.
For perhaps it had been the news of the razing of Doma that had served to temper the steel of his will. News of a home, lost to fire, and a family that he had thought similarly snatched away from him by the Garleans. The latter thankfully turned out to be false, as his parents and sister had managed to flee along with many of the other Domans and ultimately settle for a time in Revenant's Toll. But the terror, the fear that gripped at his heart then... it hadn't faded completely once he knew his family to be safe. It had lodged itself deep into his heart, a sense of loss that he knew he never wanted to feel again.
And it was a want that oft refused to be fulfilled, as subsequent events would attest. His older brother - Gogonji - had likewise heard of the inhumanities of Garlemald against their nation, and had reacted far more negatively than Chachanji had. A wrath that sent him spiraling down such a dark path it ultimately set brother against brother, and left the elder Gegenji child in a coma for moons. He managed to recover - if only due to his own stubborn and unyielding will - but the scars of that battle lingered still, even cycles later. Scars Chachanji was always reminded of when he saw his older brother rest his weight upon that cane that was now ever-present at his side.
And then there were those he called his friends (and some he thought of more than that) that also seemed to have a penchant for dangers of all sorts.
From adventurous Leanne - who he thought of like a sister - who had dove into such a deep depression that she had briefly thought to try and destroy all her memories for a mental "reset."
To the chaotic whirlwind that was Memeli, who suffered possession by another that sought to take hold of her in wild frantic bursts of magic and partake of all her aether before being cast out and seeking hosts anew.
To mighty and skilled Virara, whose single-minded focus on becoming stronger oft sent her rushing into what sometimes seemed like certain death in order to become powerful enough to defeat the one that had taken her in and trained her.
To even the bright and cheerful Tiroro, who he sought to protect and yet still came up short as she remained bedridden and beholden to constant treatment and care for an entire moon after crossing what could only be described as a powerful villain.
Learning from true heroes, that first deep taste of fear and loss, finding those he wished to protect. Whether because of just one or the combination of all, it had refined that childish desire of Chachanji's that he had carried when he left home all those cycles ago. A desire to be a hero, not because they seemed great and wonderful, but because of an honest want to see less loss and pain and fear in the world around him. To use whatever skills he could - whatever strength and ability he could bring to bear - to help and protect and save other.
Steps all on the path that he now walked, that he hoped and strove to continue walking. Even if now and then he might falter or wander astray for a time. Would wonder if he could even make any sort of difference at all. Always he came back to that purpose, that want, that need.
To help. To protect. To save.