AN: So yeah, it might seem irreverent to write a Digimon fanfic about the recent tragedy in Japan. The thing is, I actually live in Japan and, looking back, watching Digimon as a kid played no small part in the chain of events that brought me here. I wondered how those kids would react to the situation I'm in now.

Most of them are in their senior year of high school. Season Two never happened; I got nothing against the 02 kids, but I couldn't juggle such a big cast. It would also mean Digimon in the real world, and as charming as the idea of Ikkakumon helping to haul away tsunami debris might be, I'm not going there.

2:29 PM 03/11/2011

1. Nothing Important Happened Today

When things got tough, Yamato "Matt" Ishida often found himself composing song lyrics in his head. The worst events, set to music, became detached from his present suffering, and at the same time oddly beautiful. In this situation though, all his attempts ended up sounding like off-key theme songs from 1970's sitcoms.

She's Mimi, Mimi, the girl who loves to shop

Sometimes she drags her friends along

On a trip to hell

If you like free time or sitting down, don't be friends with Mimi, Mimi

The demon princess of Harajuku

She-e's…Mimi!

Apparently, the Demon Princess of Harajuku's other reluctant escort was having similar thoughts. Slouching along on her right, hands buried in the pockets of his school uniform slacks, Koushiro "Izzy" Izumi muttered:

"I still don't see why the queen bee of Odaiba Senior High couldn't invite some friends who actually shared her bizarre fixations."

Walking the streets of Harajuku, the fashion capitol of Japan, seemed to invigorate Mimi at the same rate it exhausted her friends. Both hands loaded down with bags, she nonetheless managed a sort of pirouette as she shot back at them:

"You ought to talk about bizarre fixations, little Mr. Akihabara, since your idea of a good time is getting served six thousand yen tea by a cat-eared maid! And as for you Matt, I'm keeping you out of trouble. Without me, you'd be picking up girls in Shibuya."

Matt flushed. "I do not pick up girls!"

"That's right," smirked Izzy, "you're so good-looking you can't beat them off with a stick. You know, if it really bothers you, you might try combing your hair once in a while."

"Or hanging around you more often."

"Touché," said Izzy, grinning.

The group's resident nerd had gotten harder to tease since going on his first date. It hadn't gone anywhere, and the details were hazy, but there was no question Izzy was growing up. As, Matt supposed, they all were.

"Besides," said Mimi, still craning her head as she trotted ahead of them (and her smile at that moment went some way toward reminding them why they were friends with her at all), "you guys are my oldest and bestest friends! Don't I go to all your concerts, Matt?"

"Are you implying listening to my music is as painful as a six-hour shopping marathon with you?"

"She's got a point there, Matt."

"And Izzy, didn't I keep you company in that, like, four-hour line for that dumb video game? What was it, Solid Hero Fantasy Eight?"

"She's got a point there, Izzy."

"At least we got to stand still!"

There was moment of silence, as light smiles played on all their lips. But Matt couldn't resist:

"Still, you know you'll wear each of those things about once."

Mimi gave a light hmph and quickened her pace.

Matt glanced around. It was really a beautiful day. The cherry blossoms wouldn't bloom for a week or so, but already it felt like spring, with delicate green foliage beginning to shade in the trees lining the boulevard, and a seemingly endless stretch of pure blue sky.

Besides, the day hadn't been a total bust. Not all the fashion in Harajuku was girly. He'd found a cool leather wallet, worked with shark's teeth.

Then Mimi turned and winked.

"Okay, I'll take pity on you guys just once."

They gave exaggerated sighs of relief.

"Let's go eat a crepe or something," she said, "like over by the Meiji shrine? I bet they have all those stalls out."

Matt realized he was starving.

"I could go for some takoyaki," said Izzy thoughtfully.

They were near the station. On the other side, the shrine dedicated to Emperor Meiji stood among thick trees on the edge of Yoyogi park.

The fastest way to cross the wide street and reach it was over a precarious-looking, blue steel walkway that straddled the intersection. It stood a good twelve feet over the roofs of passing cars. As they began to climb, Mimi hissed to Matt:

"You're on guard duty."

Guard duty meant that, whenever they had to climb a steep flight of stairs, one of the boys walked behind Mimi to keep from affording anyone else a glimpse up her skirt.

"And she teases me about picking up girls," grumbled Matt. "You're not winning any modesty contests with a cut that short, missy." Although she wasn't his type, the appreciative glances Mimi had drawn, that day alone, caused a flare of something like jealousy in Matt.

"Matt," said Izzy in mock-disapproval, "you know Mimi would never be unfaithful to Joe while he's off doing his internship."

"Oh, will you stop with Joe. I mean he's sweet and all, but…"

She was in no bantering mood. Sandwiched between him and Izzy, she took the steps one at a time, deliberately, with both hands on the railings.

"I hate this thing," she whispered, "you can feel it shake as the cars go under."

"It's perfectly structurally sound," said Izzy.

"That's what they said about the Titanic, but it didn't do poor Leo any good."

"For the last time Mimi, we've been over this," said Matt, "Leonardo di'Caprio was not actually on the Titanic."

"How would you know, you weren't there.—Oh. Would you just look at that."

They had reached the walkway, and from that vantage point they could see all down the long street, across the station roof with its quaint clocktower and bronze siding, to the rich dense trees of the park. Even the people, the drab suits of businessmen passing by underneath, sparkled like jewels in the sun.

Izzy scratched his head. "Not bad," he admitted.

"Oh, Izzy." Sighing happily, Mimi leaned her head on the walkway railing, forgetting her terror as they had climbed the stairs. "All you see when you look at anything is a stream of zeroes and ones."

Izzy actually blushed, faintly. Matt was staring into the distance, tapping the railing with the fingers of one hand.

It happened.

The walkway shuddered. It's true, Matt thought, you really can feel it shaking.

Then it gave a huge lurch. On instinct he grabbed Mimi's arm, even as they were thrown back away from the railing. He fell and pulled her with him, landing painfully on his tailbone. He caught his breath and looked up: Izzy was clinging to the railing with both arms, wrapped around it like an octopus.

Mimi's first instinct when she fell was to press her legs together, wadding the skirt between them. Her eyes were clamped shut.

"Hey! Hey, you alright!" said Matt, shaking her; but he couldn't hear his own voice.

The bridge was still shaking.

"Oh my God," whispered Izzy. Still sitting down, Matt couldn't see whatever he was seeing.

Slowly, bracing his legs wide, he managed to get up, pulling Mimi with him. She refused to open her eyes, and he helped her fasten her hands on the railing, before standing with one arm around her. He looked out alongside Izzy.

Traffic on the road was at a standstill. A few cars stood at odd angles, but none had crashed. On the sidewalk, some people had flattened themselves to the ground while others, stubbornly, kept walking, clinging to vending machines and bicycle racks as they went. A child was crying, loud and shrill.

In a few moments they had gotten used to the shaking on the walkway, and it was a shock to see streetlights wobbling like stalks of grass. Even the tall buildings seemed to be moving. Then he was sick to his stomach and shut his eyes too.

It's just an earthquake, he thought. You've been through this before. Get a hold of yourself, Yamato Ishida.

But it was the worst earthquake he'd felt in eighteen years of living in Tokyo.

T.K., he thought. His brother, Kari and their underclassmen friends were probably still in school; only the seniors had a half-day. His dad was supposed to be interviewing some celebrity at his Shinjuku office. He felt some relief, as if remembering where they were meant they were safe. And all the time he was thinking, the shaking went on.

He heard a car horn. What moron was honking at a time like this. But he was confused…it happened so quickly no one knew what to think. And even when you could think, rationally, your heart was hammering, sending more blood to the brain than it needed…

He felt a slight shudder through his arm, and realized Mimi was crying.

"You alright?" he hissed again. "C'mon, say something."

"I-I'm alright," she managed.

Matt counted to himself. One. Two. Three…

When he had counted twenty-seven, he realized it was over. The walkway was still trembling, but somehow he could feel it was residual, and the ground underneath had stopped moving. But he had lived through enough quakes to know an aftershock was coming.

He opened his eyes, and saw Izzy's livid face looking suddenly much older. Now it was the younger boy who took charge:

"Let's get off this thing before the next one hits. No, let's get to the other side. We can walk through the shrine to Yoyogi park, we'll be safe there."

Matt silently nodded. They had been alone on the walkway, and now they crossed it as fast as they dared, pressed close together.

The moment they reached the sidewalk Izzy took a huge breath and said: "That was a big one."

"Would you say it was prodigious?" Matt joked, feebly.

Izzy cracked a smile. "Heh. Yeah."

Yoyogi Park was littered with people. Businessmen in groups with their suitcases; families, huddled together on picnic blankets, who had been there to begin with; young couples holding hands. Some were sharing the canned coffee or snacks they'd bought minutes earlier with each other. The three kids picked their way in between, until they found an open spot far away from any trees, and sat on the hot dry grass.

Mimi opened a pack of tissues and dabbed at her eyes. Izzy was fiddling with his cellphone.

"No signal," he reported grimly.

"No way!"

As if embarrassed that it hadn't been the first thought to cross his mind, Matt quickly pulled out his own; but it was true.

"Don't worry," said Izzy, "I'm sure Tai and the others are alright. After all, we didn't see anyone get hurt here."

"Geez, man," Matt grumbled. "Don't talk to us like we're kids."

"Sorry."

"Besides…maybe they are alright. I sure as hell hope they are. But y'know," and with a glance at Mimi, he hesitated, but had no choice but to finish, "some people died today."

Izzy shook his head. "Inconceivable."

"Come on. You felt that. I don't think we were anywhere near the what do you call it, the epicenter. But some people were."

Izzy looked away.

Then, as he had feared, Mimi started crying again. She buried her face in a tissue. He felt bad, but he knew; he always had to speak his mind. Somebody had to say certain things, and that somebody was often him.

"Sorry, Mimi," he muttered.

"N-no," she said, "it's true. It's selfish of us to think about ourselves and…and the p-people we care about at a time like this…isn't it?"

Matt sighed. "Let's not think about what is and isn't selfish right now," he said. "All we can do is wait and see what happens."

Izzy nodded. Then he reached in his jacket pocket.

"I um…I have some of those pretzel sticks here. I was saving it for later, but…you guys want some?"

Hours later, the trio walked along the side of the road. The trains out of Harajuku station had all stopped. They had passed one train, its compartments balanced uneasily, topheavy on the rails, while a long line of people were led away by uniformed station attendants. Traffic on the road beside them continued to stand still. They had joined a column of people, all trudging mostly in silence in one direction. It was getting dark.

Izzy's idea had been to reach Shinjuku, not too far by foot, where Matt's father had his offices. As a reporter, he would have some idea what was going on, and might even have access to a telephone line. Besides, Matt's dad was just…cool. He was the sort of adult you wanted around at a time like this.

Matt was shaking his cellphone again. "C'mon, you piece of junk, work!"

Still so signal. Surely he thought, if there were one competent person alive in Tokyo, they'd have gotten the network up by now. But then it occurred to him, maybe they were keeping it down on purpose. Because if it went up, every person in Tokyo, just like him, would be calling every other person at once.

Izzy patted his shoulder. It was an unexpected gesture, especially from Izzy, and Matt jumped.

"Give it up," said the younger boy softly.

For perhaps the hundredth time that day, Matt sighed. He nodded.

He was hungry and thirsty, they all were. The vending machines they passed were all inoperative, and the last of Izzy's pretzel sticks long gone. But not even Mimi complained.

Then their luck took a turn for the better.

"Hey! Hey!" A loud voice. There had been so much shouting, so much noise that day, they ignored it at first. Until it added: "Yamato! Don't pick this moment to have some fit of teenage angst and ignore me!"

And Matt felt a flood of something like horror that he hadn't recognized his own father's voice. Had he been that out of it? Had they all been?

They looked wildly around. Mr. Ishida was leaning out the passenger window of an NHK news van, stalled in the opposite, southbound lane. A cigarette was oozing smoke from the corner of his mouth, his sleeves were rolled up, and the hair on his burly arms showed black in the twilight.

Without a thought they rushed between the cars, almost colliding with the side of the van. Not minding the cloud of toxic smoke, Mimi gripped his shoulder. "Mr. Ishida…!" Matt and Izzy were right beside her.

"Looks like you kids had the same idea as me. But this is as far as I made it before the damn traffic seized up, pardon my French. Good thing we caught each other, huh?"

"With all due respect, that's a wild understatement, Mr. Ishida."

"Hey, Izzy. Glad you were there looking after my no-good son."

"Dad," said Matt urgently, "do you know…about T.K.? And Mom?"

Mr. Ishida shook his stubble-dark chin, rolling the cigarette.

"The landline at the office might've been working, but I ran out here without thinking. Now I can't get a signal either.—But don't worry. I haven't heard any stories of buildings falling over. It was just a bad quake, that's all. I'm sure your brother is fine."

Everyone's telling me that, thought Matt. First Izzy, now dad.

"Anyway…" and Mr. Ishida's eyes shut briefly. He coughed. "From what I hear, it didn't hit anywhere near here. It was up north, near Sendai. They said something about a tsunami. It's the folks up there we should be worried about."

"Sendai!" gasped Mimi. "That's so far away! Then...if it was that bad here…"

"Doesn't bear thinking about, does it?" said Mr. Ishida.

Matt and Izzy shared a glance.

You were right, Izzy's eyes spoke clearly. People died.

Then the same thought struck both of them, and Mimi, at once. They went stiff.

"Well, I got bottled water and some snacks, so why don't you kids just climb in the van and we'll wait it…" Mr. Ishida was saying leisurely, then he raised one eyebrow: "What's wrong?"

"Sendai," said Matt.

"That's in Miyagi prefecture," said Izzy.

"That's where he was," said Mimi.

"Doing his internship," Matt finished.

Then all together: "Joe!"

To be continued.