Karateka Miso

*EEEEEEEE YAH! BANG. BIP. BOP. BROKEN!* Miso chopped through a stack of mini bricks that were lying on the damp soil beneath him and the others. "And that, young woolly worms, is how you break through the concrete. You must find the most vulnerable point, and WACK! Find the strength within, no matter how mighty the bricks may seem." The little 'pillars stared in awe at Karateka Miso, a caterpillar the size of a pinky finger who had just chopped through a pile of stone cubes. The little ones looked down at their white belts, and then at Miso's black one, envisioning what seemed like an unobtainable feat, hopeful that they'd too be wrapped in a belt the color of coal at some point in their caterpillar lives. Just then, Miso took to his floor mat and did a full back flip, landing with complete stillness. The little ones, who were all standing in a straight line in front of Miso, were stunned.

A young 'pillar raised one of her six hands. "But Miso. We're so small! How will we break the bricks? We don't have muscles like you."

And the young larvae was right. They didn't have muscles like him. Very few caterpillars had muscles like him. On second thought, there was not a single caterpillar that had the amount of strength that Miso had.

Karateka Miso replied to the young one. "Believe it!"

At that moment, Miso swung his legs up and over, cutting off the tips of the grass blades nearby with his tiny toes. The mouths of the youngsters dropped in disbelief. They were barely able to keep their composure. WOW! COOL! UNREAL!

"Believe in it, and you will make it happen."

Miso bowed toward his students and the students bowed back in proper dojo etiquette. And then off they went to clean their floor mats, as it was the end of their session. They were approaching their spring season kumite, a final karate match in which the caterkiddos would fight each other for points. Kumite winners would level up and earn their next belt.

The same young larvae that raised her hand approached Miso at the end of their session.

"But Miso. What if I don't earn my black belt before I turn into a butterfly? I won't be strong enough for my next stage of life!"

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It should be obvious by now that Miso wasn't your average woolly worm, and he knew from the beginning that he subverted expectations.

From the start, Miso was atypical. Firstly, he was born a radiant shade of pink, dissimilar to a normal caterpillar who was black and chartreuse, or maybe the same pigmentation as dung, blending into the earth as to hide from beasts of prey. Miso, though, was the color of coral and disguised himself as good as a Black Bear in the snow. His abnormal exterior often resulted in gender confusion. Other insects incessantly mistook him for, well... a ladybug, which made Miso somewhat insecure. I mean yes, he had six legs, just like a ladybug. And he had a dark pink complexion, just like a ladybug. But for Heaven's sake! He was not a ladybug! His fellow insectos were just a bunch of bullies, and he knew it. "I have no spots!" He proclaimed, his raspy little voice reverberating from the branch tops. The oppressors would stare blankly, then chuckle and if capable, fly away.

Normal 'pillars were herbivorous and happily munched on leaves and other flowery greens. But Miso's favorite meal was a medium-rare filet o'steak, mustard sauce for dipping, the works included. He was a lover of quality meats, as carnivorous as they come. He usually paired his charcuterie with a glass of wine. His favorite variety? A red Caternet. He dabbled in whites and pinks and even some bubbly, but there was nothing like a glass of warm red on a brisk, fall night.

Above all and most uniquely, Miso didn't have the ability to metamorphose, which meant he would never turn into a butterfly. He couldn't! As months passed and seasons flew by, his peers grew wings but Miso did not, and his aspirations of transforming into a butterfly took flight and eventually became a distant dream. He came to accept the fact that he was going to be a caterpillar for the long haul, and knew there wasn't much he could do about it.

Because of his differences, Miso led a pretty solitary life, which made way for a copious amount of curiosity. He'd often take long walks to the sandbox and back, and on occasion, he'd slip into the back seat of a minivan and ride across town. This was dangerous, as he ran the risk of getting left behind and having to rehouse himself, which happened more times than he would've liked. Miso was extraordinarily active, and made sure to keep his dorsal vessel pumping and hemolymph flowing by crawling up and down the local oak trees.

His peers warned him countless times. "Miso, you shouldn't crawl up those trees so late. You're going to become a bite-size bat snack!" But Miso wasn't frightened. He wasn't scared of predators. He wasn't afraid of bats, or wasps, or reptiles. In fact, they were of afraid of him.

And that's because Miso was a fighter.

Not just any fighter, but a professional Karateka. That's right. He once took down a Yellow Jacket via rear naked choke hold, and since that incident, he's never been crossed. That is, however, a separate story. Miso was a Karate practitioner, and had been for a long time. He started to fight as soon as he learned that he was incapable of transforming. He knew he needed to find meaning, have a purpose in life if it wasn't to be a beautifully strong butterfly. His day job consisted of just that; teaching young larvae the art of the Zuki, how to Ashi Dori, the smartest way to Morote Uke. He trained them hard until it was their time to transform into youthful butterflies. He sent them off into their next stage of life, strong as ever.

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Miso replied to the baby caterpillar with complete serenity. "Young One. The belt is just a tangible representation of life, growth and advancement. Look within. It's what's up here that matters." Karateka Miso pointed to his head. "I promise you'll be prepared." The young one then backed up toward her mat and did a back flip, landing with complete stillness. She bowed to Karateka Miso, and walked off.