The clock on the restaurant wall blinked 11:47 PM.
The old fluorescent light buzzed weakly above Kola's head as he scrubbed the last plate. His hands, red and cracked from the soap and cold water, moved automatically. He didn't think anymore when he worked. He just... moved.
Behind him, the kitchen staff laughed about something. A stupid joke. Maybe a funny customer. Kola didn't hear it properly. Didn't care either.
All he could think about was the rent due tomorrow. And the medicines his sister texted him about earlier. And how, if he didn't pay the university bill by next week, they might kick him out. Simple things. Big things. Crushing things.
He dried his hands on his jeans, grabbed his old backpack from the rusted nail on the wall, and bowed slightly to the manager before stepping into the night.
The rain welcomed him like a slap.
Cold. Sharp. Unforgiving.
Kola pulled the thin hoodie over his head and started walking through the empty streets of Kendari. Puddles splashed under his worn-out sneakers. The streetlights flickered. The world looked washed out — gray and dirty.
Kola tightened the strap of his backpack against his shoulder. Inside: his life. His secondhand laptop. His half-finished assignments. A few crumpled bills. His sister's cheap fever medicine.
And in the side pocket —
A small plastic toy.
A simple figure of a knight, white and blue, carrying a sword and a cannon. Omegamon.
Kola's fingers brushed the toy, hidden safely inside. It had been with him for so long it was part of him now.
He remembered when he got it.
Back when he was just six years old. Back when the world wasn't quite so dark.
Michael had given it to him —
Michael, the neighbor boy from the big house at the end of the street. A boy who came from a family so rich it almost felt like a different universe.
But Michael never acted like it.
He was kind. Friendly. Brave enough to walk into the poor side of the neighborhood and talk to Kola, even when everyone else looked away.
Michael was the one who invited Kola to his home. The first time Kola had ever seen a TV. The first time he had ever seen a cartoon. The first time he had seen Digimon —
And there, shining on the screen, a hero in white armor. Omegamon.
Kola had been amazed. Completely speechless.
Maybe that's why, a few months later, when Michael's family had to move far away, he had pressed the small Omegamon toy into Kola's hand without saying much. Just a grin, a fist bump, and one line:
"You're stronger than you think, bro."
Kola never forgot that. Even after Michael was gone. Even after the world started falling apart.
Tonight, the Omegamon toy was still with him. Hidden, safe. A small, fragile piece of his old dreams.
And now — it was all he had left.
He didn't see the motorcycles until it was too late.
The roar of the engines cut through the rain like a chainsaw. Two figures, faces hidden behind dark helmets, streaked past him like shadows — and in a heartbeat, one hand shot out — snatched the strap of his backpack — and ripped it away.
Kola spun, nearly falling.
"HEY!!"
he screamed, voice breaking into the storm.
The motorcycles were already vanishing down the street — red lights blinking like cruel, mocking eyes.
Kola's heart detonated inside his ribs. He ran.
He ran without thinking, without hope. Pounding footsteps splashing through dirty puddles. Breath tearing through his lungs like knives.
"STOP!! PLEASE!!"
He screamed again, even though he knew they wouldn't stop.
His shoes slipped on the wet asphalt. He stumbled, crashed into the ground, palms scraping against the gravel, but forced himself up again.
He ran harder.
He ran until his muscles screamed, until blood pounded in his ears louder than the rain.
He could barely see anymore —
the world had turned into a blur of headlights, water, and pain.
The motorcycles were specks now.
Tiny, vanishing lights.
Gone.
Kola stumbled to a stop.
Hands on his knees.
Chest heaving.
Sickness rising in his throat.
He looked up at the dark street.
Empty.
Silent.
Dead.
The rain poured down mercilessly, washing over him like cold iron chains.
And just like that —
everything he had left —
was gone.
His backpack.
His laptop.
His assignments.
The medicine.
The last bit of money.
His future.
He stood there.
Frozen.
Something cracked inside him.
Not a loud crack.
A soft, final one.
Like a dying candle flickering one last time.
The part of him that had believed — maybe, just maybe — that he could make it through.
Snapped.
Kola dropped to his knees on the wet ground.
He didn't even feel the cold anymore.
Didn't feel the blood from his scraped palms.
He just... stared at the empty road.
Silent.
Empty.
Meaningless.
He whispered to himself:
"Why...? Why me again...?"
But no one answered.
Only the rain did — hitting the ground, hitting his head, drumming endlessly like a cruel lullaby.
He closed his eyes.
Maybe if he stayed here long enough, he could disappear.
Maybe the world would forget he ever existed.
Maybe that was okay.
But then—
A sound.
A shift in the air.
A ripple through the universe.
Kola opened his eyes.
And there —
in the middle of the street —
bathed in the broken yellow light of the streetlamp, framed by the silver rain—
A figure stood.
A knight.
Gleaming white armor that seemed to shine even in the storm.
A red cape that fluttered, untouched by the rain.
Massive arms — one holding a blade that shimmered like starlight, the other a cannon glowing faintly.
Eyes like twin blue flames, steady and calm.
Omegamon.
Not the toy.
Not the cartoon.
Not the dream.
Real.
More real than anything else in Kola's shattered world.
Kola stared.
The pain in his chest stopped.
The darkness shrank back, confused, scared of the light.
For a moment, the world felt quiet.
Like the whole universe held its breath.
His lips moved without thinking.
"Eh... what the..."
he croaked, voice trembling.
He stumbled back a step.
His heart, broken just seconds ago, now pounding wildly.
"This... can't be real."
The knight stepped forward.
Voice deep and powerful, yet strangely gentle:
"It is real."
The words echoed not just in the air — but inside him.
Inside the hollow places of his soul.
Kola blinked, rain mixing with tears.
He swallowed hard.
"Say it again," he whispered.
The knight bowed slightly.
"It is real."
Kola stared up at him.
Even though his backpack was gone.
Even though the future was dark.
Even though the world had kicked him down again—
Something inside him refused to die.
A tiny ember.
A stupid, reckless, stubborn hope.
"We will find a way," the knight said, sword lowering, his voice steady as a mountain.
"I give you my word."
Kola almost laughed.
A broken, shaky sound.
"But... why...?"
he asked, voice cracking.
Omegamon paused.
And then — for the first time — a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"Hmm... I don't have a clue actually,"
he said honestly.
"But... I am on your side, Kola."
And under that dying sky —
In that forgotten city —
A boy who had nothing left...
Met the first miracle of his life.