Title: Resonance
Fandom: Digimon
Characters: Yamato Ishida
Word Count: 619
Rating: PG
Spoiler Warning: Yamato forms a band. His father also used to play the bass guitar, although I believe that it was purely recreational.
Author's Note: Of course the quiet one is obsessed with sound. The original entry can be found at my writings LJ (the URL is in my profile).

He'd always known he'd wanted to devote his life to music, somehow. Sound had always been important to Yamato. He remembered his mother telling him once that she'd played all kinds of music when he was inside her -- classical, orchestral, techno, punk, rock, pop, alternative -- and that she'd been so proud of him when he'd started playing the harmonica. "It's not much," he'd protested, and she'd replied that it was a start.

When he'd grown tired of the tiny instrument and asked his father for a guitar, the man had been esctatic. "Wait here for a minute," he'd begged, and when he'd returned Yamato had gaped at the bass in his father's hand. "Music runs in the family," had been the explanation, and Yamato hadn't argued. He remembered holing himself up in his bedroom for days at a time, teaching himself frets and chords and tunes from the radio.

He loved how easy it was to create music, vibrations rolling off his tongue and into his fingers as they cradled his father's guitar. Sometime around his fifteenth birthday he'd started to compose his own music, starting first with short melodies and tunes and moving onto full-blown songs. His father, when he was home, was very proud, but most of the time Yamato was left alone to do as he wished. When school was over he often came home, breezed through the housework and sat composing late into the night. Often he fell asleep on the couch, and woke up with the guitar placed carefully on the floor out of the way, and a blanket tucked around his body.

He'd changed a lot since those days, and yet in a lot of ways he was still the same. He still loved the heavy drumming of the rain on glass windows; the closed-in sound your ears made when you held them under water; the difference in sound that strings made on guitars when you used your fingernail to strum rather than your fingertips. He loved the resonance of things, the feeling that sound conveyed. He'd become an expert at judging people's emotions purely on the timbre of their voice, and at controlling his own to such an extent that most people thought he was just a cold and unfeeling person. But that was okay, because he liked knowing he still had the power to change things, even if it was just the way his peers looked at him.

Everything Yamato wanted to do in life revolved around sound. In middle school the teachers had asked them to write about their greatest fear, and Yamato had composed a three-page essay on how terrified he was that he'd lose his hearing one day. The teacher was pleasantly shocked, and he'd gotten a recommendation from the principal that had caught the attention of a club in Odaiba that had offered to pay him money to sit and perform a song or two every odd weekend.

Yamato was content. He had everything he could want out of life and more and counted down the days when he would be able to finish school and focus on getting his band noticed. His friends were of course supportive, and although he teased Taichi about being jealous he knew his best friend was pleased at how well things were going. All he had to do now was make it through another year, juggling his responsibilities to Gabumon with school and band practice. Music was his choice, and he'd folow it down any path he had to take to live out his dream.