Last Chance

This is based on another fanfiction, I was reading it and just the way some of the characters acted, what their relationships were and the ending got to me alot, so im going to write how I think a fanfiction like this should have turned out. It does some interesting stuff with time change, and shifting of the narrator. I think you'll be able to keep up with it though.

Taichi - Hey!
Nicochama - Hi Taichi! We're going to be starting our fanfiction soon!
Taichi - So... Do I get any action in this one?
Nicochama - Hmnmnm.... Maybe.....
Yamato - What?!?!
Taichi - Oh, hey Yama-chan!
Yamato - Exactly... What.... *Kind* of action will Taichi be getting...
Taichi - ~smiles widely~ Perhaps something like..... THIS ~Jumps on Yamato and begins rolling around in the background~
Nicochama - Heh... Heh, ahem, actually I'd just like to say that in no way do I own Digimon, nor do I own any of the characters in the show.
Taichi - ~pops head up~ Though I think you *wish* you owned some of us.
Nicochama - SHH! Also, if you don't know what YAOI is, you shouldn't even be here... In short, Yaoi is-
Taichi - GUY ON GUY ACTION! OH YA!
Nicochama - ....Yea, actually this is probably considered by some to be more borderline Shota...
Taichi - YES! That means ~singing~ I'm gonna get sum!
Nicochama - Hm... I dunno about that... Taito is SO common. I'm thinking something a little bit more sad...
Yamato - Stop paying attention to him, lets get back *on* topic ~pulls Taichi into a deep kiss.~
Nicochama - ~coughs~ Hm. Well, I guess we'd better start before my warning gets NC-17...
Yamato - Oohh... Taichi....
Nicochama - Anyways, ^_^; Please enjoy this fanfiction and please dont flame!!!! Love! Peace! YAOI!!!!

Yama Nashi Ochi Nashi Imi Nashi

~A fluff fanart that I thought fit well, just remove the spaces~
www . angelfire . com / emo2 / whydoicry / Taketo . jpg

Takeru -- "You're always gonna be there for me, won't you?"
Yamato -- "Of course, you're my bro, I love you."


I had no idea what I could do to help Yamato; the slim, blonde-haired boy was just sitting there. He still wore those unmistakable jeans and green sleeveless turtleneck, with the ridiculously oversized boots, yet he, like I, had left our gloves at home that day. He was still just a bit taller than me, and my forever unkempt hair was brown, as were my eyes. Yamato was the quiet one, and tended more to keep to himself, while I was always the first to jump up and say exactly what I thought, yet when he did speak, he did so with a voice deep as his heart.

A nauseating sensation overwhelmed me as I truly began to comprehend exactly why we were there. Being in that room was the first thing that made it real; merely hearing their hushed, grave voices made it true, and seeing Yamato made it inexplicitly undeniable. There would be nothing that could take it away. It was over. Takeru was gone. He. Was. Dead... Slowly, quietly, the other mourners shuffled in around me and went up to Yamato's father, while Yama-kun sat alone in the background, in the shadows.

I looked at his careworn hands; he held them close to his face. He seemed to be looking for something in them, to be tracing every crease and fold of the skin, searching the curve of his fingers, and the star-like marking in the upper right hand corner. What he was looking for was a secret locked deep within him. One that could never be found out, unless he decided to tell it, for Yamato's heart was hidden, and it was amid this tremulous torrent, past nebulous knowledge, and somewhere slightly east of the burning crimson dawn of dreams, emotions, hopes, and future- that was where- deep within his hidden heart, Yamato's true soul laid.

I wondered, as I continued to watch him stare with contemplation at his hands, if even he realized what he was searching for. It seemed that he was blinded with doubt and fear, for he could not see the amazement that was but centimeters from his face. His hands had scaled endless mountains, and triumphed over great evil. They were hands that had comforted us when we lost all hope, and they were hands that had pushed us further than we ever thought possible. His hands, they may have been small hands, yet they had done great things. They had saved so many lives, but it seemed that they had let the most important slip through them. And still, there Yamato sat, just staring at his hands; they slightly shook. Why there wasn't a flood of tears falling down into them? For so long, he had watched so closely over Takeru; he often cried over him, yet now, there were no tears.

I took a step, and then another. My legs were heavy; I had also lost a dear friend, and my sister had lost her love. She couldn't even bear coming, but I had to, if not for me, then for Yamato. Slowly walking up to him, I could think of no words. Talking was something that I was always bad at; I would fumble my way through things, and never say what was meant to be said.
"Yama-kun..." no response, "Yama-kun. I... I gotta talk to you," he was the only one there. He was with Takeru when he died, and everyone knew it. I would never think badly of Yamato, but it was running through all of their minds. He hadn't responded to me, his face was without expression, yet his hands, they were trembling. My hands met his as I reached out to him, and Yamato gasped, looking downward, shutting his eyes. His hands felt incredibly soft to the touch, yet his muscles were tense, "Yama," I began again, "you're like a brother to me; I just want to help you, please..."

He pulled back, and opened his now tear-filled, intense, emerald green eyes. I shuddered aloud, catching a glimpse of deafening darkness, and he stared at me, looking directly into my soul; his voice quivered as he snarled, "You don't know anything about having a brother," and with that, he got up, letting his hands falling to his side; he stared down at me, turned, and walked away. "Yama…" I whispered to myself, hoping that somehow he would hear, "I just want to be there for you… I just want to be there... with you…" Everyone watched him walk out, and then went back to talking, "I wonder why he left... I knew it was him..." I began to feel sick to my stomach; and felt lost among a sea of faces. The air grew even heavier, and I pushed my way through them all. "Maybe his father drove him to it..." I couldn't stand it, and I cried a soul-splitting scream, yet no one in the crowd heard me. Their harsh words, their piercing stares; it felt as if I would suffocate. Finally I reached the door, threw it open, and was outside. Yamato, however, was nowhere to be found.

~___~

"Ne! Oniichan! Let's go!" I hadn't heard my brother's voice in a while. Ever since Mom and Dad got divorced, I haven't gotten to see him. I hate this life, I hate my parents. How could they let us be split up like that??? What must it be like for Takeru...? But at least, at last, we finally get to be together.

"Ne, ne! Niichan!!!" Some things never change.

"Wait, what are you doing with your shoes on?" Dad called out from behind him.

"Comon Dad, you didn't used to care."

"Just put them by the door..." Things began to feel back to normal, although this wasn't a normal time at all. Mom had gotten sick, and she was in the hospital. We were all worried, but nothing could stop us from having a good dinner tonight. I was just finishing it up when everyone walked in, "Hey, Takeru!"

"Oi, Niichan." he came up to me and gave me a soft hug, "Mom's not doing so well," he said, and released his grip.

"I know, but it'll be ok... Let's just try not to worry too much," I replied as I looked at him, he was older in so many ways. Not only was his physical appearance changed, his arms more toned, his now tall, slim physique, yet something else about him was different. Maybe it was the stupid, white hat he was wearing above his shorter blonde hair, but I swore that it was the strong look in his eyes, that transformed him into someone different, someone that reminded me of myself a couple of years ago.

"So, how's dinner?" Typical Dad...

"Almost done, I'm just.... ah ok, here we are. No, no; I'm okay, I've got it Takeru." I brought the Sukiyaki over to a portable gas burner on the table,

"And now to drink, cold oolong tea."

"Wow son; you outdid yourself!"

"It looks great! Heh, Taichi would be SOO jealous!"

I laughed, if Taichi had one thing bigger than his mouth, it would most definitely be his stomach, "I think that we'll get to see a lot of them tomorrow... But now, let's eat. Itadakimasu!"
It was nice having my brother back at the table- Three, instead of two, yet not four. We were almost a family, and it was sad that it took something like this to bring us back together.


I couldn't sleep that night, and stared out the windows, at the stars. "Perhaps mom is looking at them, too- right now," I sighed. If she knew that we were thinking the same thought, feeling the same things, holding onto the same hopes, would she care? I pulled my legs up to my chest, under the blanket of my bed. I couldn't be sure that she would anymore. She didn't care when Dad and her fought in front of me. She didn't care when she got up and left me. She didn't care when she ripped Takeru away from me. But I wish that she did care.

Not that Dad was all that much better. Why didn't he try to make her stay? He should have cared more for us, and less for his job. Come to think of it, there's a lot of things that both of them should have done, but, for one reason or another, didn't. At the least though, Dad would always come home in the evening. He would always tell me how good my meal was, no matter how horrible it came out. He enjoyed talking to me about his day, and always up for going somewhere with me late at night, though I had classes the next morning, even if it was just to walk around the block, and look up at the stars. At least Dad would always be Dad, and he would always be there for me...

My mind began to wander, thinking of the times when Takeru and Mom and Dad and I were all together. Those were the warm, sunny days; filled with golden yellows, and vast, endless oceans of blue skies streaked with frothy, pure white clouds. They were days of laughter and smiling; days of carefree childhood, where we could bask in the summer of our youth and revel in the blue wind's hope of the future. Then, the autumn came in my life. Mom and Dad began to fight, and the ivy green leaves began to wither and brown, and from then on, nothing was ever the same.

I looked across the darkened room at the futon that Takeru was sleeping on. This room was cold and bleak, with a deep blue ray of moonlight shining through the window. It cast sinister, ebony shadows of grotesque, fingerlike branches of gnarled leafless trees upon the floor, seemingly reaching for Takeru- trying to pull him away. I fought myself, so I could look past this without jumping up and screaming, and looked only at Takeru's sleeping face. So pure, so innocent. He had left behind the troubles of the world, and was sleeping more soundly than I had in the past four years. He opened his mouth, and his small, soft cheeks stretched as he yawned.

There was a certain beauty to it all, a beauty that I had lost long ago. This beauty was innocence: a beauty sought after by those who have lost it, and ironically, it seems that the more one wants it, the less they have of it.