Chapter 1: Taichi
The day had begun. For me, at least. There were people who's day had started early in the morning at 4:00 AM making donuts, and there were some who didn't have to wake up until 10 or 12, and still be considered early. The millionaires, I mean. But for the unfortunate ones, the unlucky ones, the ones who come home every night and find that there's no one there to welcome them back to the haven where they can be themselves, we just work. It's the only thing that keeps even more unpleasant thoughts from our heads, to go down those dark alleys of Memory Lane, and cherish those moments that just want to make you break down and cry, and push away those which make you gasp and run into a little corner of your mind, wondering how you could've survived after so many pains had been inflicted upon you.
I could feel it even before I opened my eyes. At first I thought it might just be a dream I had the night before, but even after I opened my eyes, it was there. Something was going to happen. Soon. I didn't know what it was yet, but I had a feeling, that sickening nauseous feeling, that I didn't want to know what was up and in store for me this day, the fateful day. The day that shook me to the roots of my soul, the day that blackened part of this cheerful spirit that I had been and was no more. It was that feeling that something was going to happen, to someone very close to your heart.
I opened my eyes, only to be berated by the blazing sun that hit me straight in the face. I winced, and through my almost shut mouth there came a tiny moan of fatigue, and it complained fully of tiredness. I couldn't do anything but just lie there for a moment, totally worn out from the bought of work from yesterday. I mentally reminded myself that the weekend was still 3 days away. I couldn't prevent myself from glancing at the alarm clock. While I expected it to be already past 7, I found, to my surprise that the alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. Not for a whole hour. Which let me 2 choices: get up, and rattle around the house for nothing, or go back to sleep. The latter seemed impossible at the time, so I heaved myself upright out of the bed, shifting the balanced weight to the middle of the bed. The object under me gave a protesting squeak of annoyance as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. To spare the bed any more complaints, I lifted myself heavily from the bed and found my way to the little bathroom on the side, half-walking, half-stumbling.
The mirror in front of me showed an extremely messy-looking guy with straight-up-in-the-air hair that arrowed up towards the sky, except for one stubborn bang that hung from the rest onto the middle of my forehead. I looked at it now, and taking a breath I blew upwards. It fluttered a few inches weakly from my forehead, then gave a little shudder and fell back onto my forehead. I glared at it. But now was not the time to be concerned about it. I splashed my face with freezing cold water from the right hand tap, then shook my face both ways quickly, like a dog. After that I groped for the towel, found my accuracy was correct, and rubbed my face vigorously with the soft cloth. Now that I was a little more awake, I walked over to the chair by the table, only stumbling once. The pristine shirt sparkled a little off of the sun, and today even the coat and pants looked cheery. Not that brown is a cheery color or anything, just that it looked comforting today. Very strangely comforting, as if I knew that I would have to go to the execution block this afternoon and this would be the last time I would see it. A sense of foreboding...just something like that. 6th sense. And with that, I picked up my coat and laptop from the side of the tiny kitchen table, and sling the coat over my right shoulder, walking out the door. The lock from outside clicks in place as I turn the bronze key.
That morning was cold. Not just a bit cold, but very cold. I shrugged, and just wrapped the coat tighter around me, an answer to the whatever force of nature put the cold out on the streets of New York City. The snow had been hastily cleaned out of the sidewalk and piled on the sides of the sidewalks; one less chore to do that evening. I walked out of the threshold from the apartment complex, and started toward the little café where I went to eat every day, at least until the "CLOSED" sign on the door could actually be proven. Frankly, the café was always crowded, but I found that I could always find my favorite seat empty, as if all the other customer's never wanted to sit there. It was the seat by the window, on the counter, facing the dreary snowflakes that fluttered lightly down outside. Today, however, was different. The seat was occupied, by a somehow familiar mop of golden hair. The person was staring out the window, not paying attention to me. His back was turned, and somehow I knew that somewhere along the road I had met that person before. The same waitress that served me every morning smiled wanly at me, seeing that my regular seat had been taken, but she pointed to the vacant seat beside the golden-haloed seat-taker. "That OK?" she asked me, her eyes smiling and her hand gesturing at the empty seat. I nodded, grudgingly, and followed her. After I had sat down, I turned around on the swirly stool, and ordered a cup of coffee and a pastry.
The sky was dreary that day. The tall skyscrapers seemed so majestic, so ominous, so unnatural there, compared to the relatively small apartment complexes underneath, dwarfed by their betters. The snow floated down in little flakes, and I couldn't resist, and breathed on the windowpane, then, like the mystical Jack Frost of American folktales, drew a smiley face on the window. I stared back at me, happily, as the window shoppers that clustered by outside paid no mind, and gave my lines an ever-changing myriad of colors. Then, as if I had the premonition, I felt myself being watched...
...By the man sitting next to me. I gasped, and almost fell off my stool, bumping into the waitress lady who had my order. She stumbled back as I literally fell out of the chair and onto the floor, my dark green impermeable and scarf billowed on the floor. The waitress put the tray on the counter, and gently guided me up. I shook at the sight of the ocean deep cobalt eyes, and the fair hair that sloped pleasingly over one eye, the pale skin of his face, boyishly round with a depth of maturity, the stature of his height, the lithe build of his body, his blue coat and white scarf with blue tassels, hanging casually around his neck, matching and enhancing the color of his eyes.
He just stared back for a moment, then put down his cup and knelt to help the waitress to help me up. I could feel myself being gently set into the chair, but my eyes never left his. In turn, his never left mine, either. We seemed to have a staring contest while the waitress hastily looked at the 2 of us having a staring contest, asking, "Would either of you like to have anything else?" and getting no reply. All my concentration was riveted on the boy that had turned into a man while I wasn't looking.
This familiar nodded to the waitress, dismissing her, and turned back to me. His voice sang and echoed musically in my mind, hollowing out the memories of long past times of my days in the Digital World. He gave a nod to show he was paying attention to me, and said quite firmly, "Good morning, Tai."
My mind whirled before mine, and I remembered all that had happened: the Digimon, the scene of the Arrows of Dark and Light, the fight he and I had, the harmonica...all came back to me as if they had happened yesterday. Slowly, I found my voice enough to answer, "What'cha doin' here, Matt?"
Blunt question, I chided myself inside. Matt is probably feeling up to wrestling, and is going to pounce on you any moment...Tai no baka! He probably just thinks that this stupid so-called "Friendship" thing is over, and everything that makes up my life will just disappear in front of my very eyes-
His low alto caught me off guard again, just as if had before. "Tai", he started, and reached for my shoulder. It was if the whole world was no longer there, and there was just he and I, his hand on my shoulder. Then the tension that leapt in the air between us was gone, as if never there, as his smile quirked the miniscule gesture of a smile. It broke me out of my trance, and I reveled in the momentary respite of his smile, something seldom any of our team saw, maybe with the exception of Takeru.
It made me realize how much I'd been submerged in my work, with no pauses, just the same routine of everyday working life. Come say, how long had it been since I had taken a decent vacation back to Tokyo? Sure, New York was my home, but that didn't mean that I wasn't from Tokyo...
I said the first thing that came after my first comment: "I've missed you guys."
Matt looked surprised for a moment, just the slight widening of those oh-so-electrifying eyes that seemed to x-ray you on the spot and be able to know whatever you're thinking at that moment, and have the perfect answer to any question, all answers educated, but came with the usual tint of sarcasm. Then the surprise was gone from his face, and it creased into a warm smile. "Tai", he repeated from his earlier statement. "I have something to tell you. It's about the Digital World...and me, I guess. I just want to tell you, I'm giving up the fame of being the lead guitarist of the band", his face showed a brief glimpse of pain and disgust. "I..while I was still at the peak, I got involved with some illegal stuff. Of course, it's all cleared up now!", he shook his hands in the air in the pretense gesture of self-defense at my shocked face. He gave the statement a few moments to sink in, and then continued, "Tai, when I woke up last week, I found my Digivice had changed into a D3. Don't ask me how, but it just did. See?" He held out his new Digivice, and I inspected it, not touching it; it seemed like trespassing if we did so, we were so protective of our personal Digivices. There was no mistaking the silvery-bluish outline rigged sides, and the strangely transparent silver metal, it was a D3, but a different color than the ones that Davis & CO. had. I looked up into his expectant face, and just stared for a moment at each other.
He looked down after a few seconds, and peered at the mysterious device in his hand. His voice was drawn, when he spoke, and it seemed to come from far away, in another time and place, reminiscing old times and place, old acquaintances and enemies, events and just plain old boring days.
"Tai, I've been thinking a lot lately...after the incident with Davis and everything else, Arukenimon, Mummymon, Piedmon, Myotismon, all that stuff that's all in the past...it just seems so insecure, and I wanted to do this for a very long time. Tai, I've decided to stay permanently in the Digital World."
My mind whirled with questions, with answers, with inanimate comments and statements, both blunt and complicated, spinning around my head in a haze of memories, of dreams, of everything that was my life with the others. It made me realize how much I had neglected my relationship with them, ignoring their pleas to go back to Japan, to at least write back to them. I had been immersed in my work, and I once I got into the habit, I couldn't break out of it...
"Tai?" Matt's simple question brought me back to reality. His face showed a tiny hint of concern of my well being, and I replied it with a small smile.
"It's..." I trailed off, looking for the right words to continue with, "a surprise...this sudden... well, you'll need to go back to Japan for that...I take it you want me to come with you to see you off? If you need a place to stay for a few days, my place is always open. The bed is quite small, but I figure 2 people can fit into it."
For once, Matt was seriously surprised. I think I knew him better than he did himself, so when I had guessed his actions so accurately and acutely, he was at a loss. I smiled at his surprise, and took out a small notepad, scribbling my address and phone number hastily on it, but legible enough so he could read it. "Matt", I said softly, still afraid and disbelieving that he was here, my best friend. "This is my place, so go straight to the hotel you're staying at -wait, let me guess, Four Seasons downtown- and meet me at the next address listed below, which is my office address. Once you're there the, tell the secretary you want Tai Kamiya, and I'll come out for lunch. Deal?" I thought he was alright, but it seemed he was still in a slight shock.
"Earth to Matt?"
He returned the smile, and took the paper graciously. He chuckled mildly for a few moments before he spoke again in his rich tone that seemed to carry across eons of space and time, magical, not piercing but disturbing, not flexible but malleable. "I'll bake you're offer, Tai, and do as my milord asks."
We both left, smiling at each other's company, until it was time for me to leave.
I was still smiling when I left.
***
Just when I had exhaustingly finished with all the work that had been brought in before lunch hour, I fell back into my chair and studied my handiwork. It was the best I'd ever done; that morning had me up and going as soon as I entered the office. Right on cue, the buzzer rang, and Ms. Clyde's voice came over the intercom.
"Tai Kamiya, Tai Kamiya. Please come to the main desk now. I repeat, Tai Kamiya, Tai Kamiya, please come to the main desk now."
Grinning, I leapt up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and strolled out, causing several confused heads to turn towards me. Obviously, no one here was very enthusiastic about their work, including me; I only did it to survive, until I got something better to come into my life. The receptionist at the main desk, or Ms. Clyde, was a bespectacled lady with wiry red hair pulled into a chignon at the back of her sharp, horse-like head. Her spectacles, perched at the end of her long nose, looked up at me when I passed, and wordlessly handed me the sign-out sheet, pursing her lips. Whether or not she was commenting on my age or at the fact that I was grinning slightly madly, I could not tell, but all these passed to the back of my mind when I ran out the office and outside to meet Matt for the 2nd time that day.
My heart gave a twinge, a twist of memory that I had not felt for some while. I noticed, several years ago, that when I was up near Matt, my heart would always twist in that familiar way, but I never quite understood why it happened, or the little burst of confidence that he left me after meeting him somewhere. His meetings were always short, brief, to the point, I had told myself before. I figured this was because I wasn't able to see a lot of him, yet I was sure that even when he was half a world away, in someplace like Britain or Italy, I was still there, and he would be performing for our little team, partly me. He told us all that, once, in the rare occasion he was able to go on an outing with us, a picnic, or a mini soccer game. He didn't like to socialize, but when he did, all of us rejoiced that he actually spoke with us. Usually he was just a comforting soul to have around, a reassurance that there was a backbone in our group behind us that was hard to break, and that while the rest of us were around, it wouldn't break.
I had worked hard to bury that little spark or hope, that faint twinge of memory, in the recesses of my mind and heart. Now, for so long, it had been awakened, and it felt strange, because I had spent so much time convincing myself that it wasn't meant to be.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
Those words, the words that I had been repeating in my mind ever since I left the small café by the sidewalk, rang through my mind. I wasn't. I couldn't fall in love with him. It was like it was taboo, it wasn't right, a sin, a...something terrible that no one talked about, ever, but everyone knew was out there, a threat to the wholeness and righteousness of mankind.
I was a part of it. And there was nothing I could to stop it.
"Ohayo...oi, now it's my turn to say 'Earth to Tai'?" Matt's eyes briefly shone a spark of amusement and friendly teasing. It always seemed to radiate that, the chumminess of our little group, and even though he seemed anti-social, he was actually the one who expressed the most, as hard as he tried to hide it behind his mask of silence and aloofness. His eyes told his whole tragic story: parents divorced, his brother and his separation...it was all written there in his eyes, and he seemed to always bear a great sadness around him, and everything that was sad around him seemed even happy. He wanted the world to be happy, yet he took no part in it. He thought he did not belong.
We all thought he did, in his strange little way. He was part of us, and nothing could separate us once we were together. Not even miles, kilometer, hours, days, lack of communication...nothing could stop us from having that seemingly impossible faith in each other, that trust in friends that could never be broken, an impenetrable wall of friendship that we had, never breached and never knocked down.
It was such that I came to love him. The stupidly sarcastic, ignorant (in my eyes), arrogant boy that I had so unmercifully tackled to the ground so many years ago in a fit of anger, the final straw for splitting up the team. He had gone against my orders, yet it taught me so much about him that I cannot even begin to explain.
He waved a hand in front of my face. "Tai? Tai? You are still there, I presume, but aren't paying attention at all to my hand waving in front of your face?" His eyes were laughing, now, mocking with the same tint of humor that went back so many years into the past. His lips were curved into a smile, and a chuckle came from his mouth. He raked back his hair slightly, and put an arm around me, patting my back, then proceeded to wave his hand over my face again. Annoyed, I reached out and grabbed the hand, then pretended to bite it. On impulse, he snatched it back, and met my own eyes, a smirk on my face. We just stared at each other, bristling with antagonism, until finally I couldn't stand it anymore and stuck my tongue out at him. He stopped short for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed to the skies above, mocking the gods in the cloudy heavens. As almost an answer to his challenge, a fork of lightning split the air over the city, followed a few seconds later by the ominous low rumble of thunder.
The sky began to fall, tipsy, and liquid splashed from the sky in cold clear drops that sheared the air into slices of thin cake, while Matt and I were left dumbfounded for a few moments, then with a stimulus yelp, ran for cover, which lay far away on the other side of the street. Not even bothering to check for cars (no one could've seen anything anyway in the downpour), we galloped ungainly across the street and under the shelter of the roof of a florist shop. Matt fumbled in his left coat pocket for a moment with freezing fingers, then pulled out a ring of keys with only 2 keys on is. He also had one of those control pads for finding cars in large parking lots. He looked at me, grinned mischievously, and pressed the button.
Instantly the alarm rang off, sharp and insistent. He located it, and pointed through the murk of rain to the other side of the street. I gave a sigh, and I knew that he was thinking the same: we have to cross the street, again. With one last look at the weather and the dry haven above us, we plunged back into the rain. This time it was worse; our clothes were further ruined, and the bottom of my slacks were probably coated with mud from splashing in so many puddles.
Still, I didn't regret it. I had more fun than I ever did in a while, now. With him, my best friend, the one who I bickered with constantly, the infamous lead guitarist of the most famous Japanese band on the face of this Earth. He smiled, now that we were yet underneath another temporary shelter, out of the rain. And suddenly he turned on me, and smiled that wonderful smile that just seemed to light up everything in my life, and go "Aha! This is what I live for!" in my mind.
His smile is always contagious. I can never help but smile back.
He smoothed out his hair (an obvious carry-over from show-biz), and clicked off the security lock on the car. His smile grew wider, and he flashed a glance at me, then ran for the driver's seat. I ran for the passenger, and within a few seconds, we were safely in the car, and out of harm's way. No, I take that back, out of rain way.
Nothing could dampen my spirits now.
Not even if the Digiworld collapsed upon our own.
We drove on, oblivious to the rain, just enjoying each other's company. I took the slack rope of conversation between him and I, and tugged it a little by asking, "So, what's up in Odaiba?"
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This happens several years after Davis & CO. beat whatever they had to beat. This came to me ask first a one-shot fic, but it seems that this isn't going to be a one shot fic anymore...just a little series. Or a big one. I wish I could draw something to go along with it, but I must say, I can't draw for beans. Nope, can't draw for nothing, not even if my life depended on it.
Andrea Weiling
The day had begun. For me, at least. There were people who's day had started early in the morning at 4:00 AM making donuts, and there were some who didn't have to wake up until 10 or 12, and still be considered early. The millionaires, I mean. But for the unfortunate ones, the unlucky ones, the ones who come home every night and find that there's no one there to welcome them back to the haven where they can be themselves, we just work. It's the only thing that keeps even more unpleasant thoughts from our heads, to go down those dark alleys of Memory Lane, and cherish those moments that just want to make you break down and cry, and push away those which make you gasp and run into a little corner of your mind, wondering how you could've survived after so many pains had been inflicted upon you.
I could feel it even before I opened my eyes. At first I thought it might just be a dream I had the night before, but even after I opened my eyes, it was there. Something was going to happen. Soon. I didn't know what it was yet, but I had a feeling, that sickening nauseous feeling, that I didn't want to know what was up and in store for me this day, the fateful day. The day that shook me to the roots of my soul, the day that blackened part of this cheerful spirit that I had been and was no more. It was that feeling that something was going to happen, to someone very close to your heart.
I opened my eyes, only to be berated by the blazing sun that hit me straight in the face. I winced, and through my almost shut mouth there came a tiny moan of fatigue, and it complained fully of tiredness. I couldn't do anything but just lie there for a moment, totally worn out from the bought of work from yesterday. I mentally reminded myself that the weekend was still 3 days away. I couldn't prevent myself from glancing at the alarm clock. While I expected it to be already past 7, I found, to my surprise that the alarm wasn't supposed to go off yet. Not for a whole hour. Which let me 2 choices: get up, and rattle around the house for nothing, or go back to sleep. The latter seemed impossible at the time, so I heaved myself upright out of the bed, shifting the balanced weight to the middle of the bed. The object under me gave a protesting squeak of annoyance as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. To spare the bed any more complaints, I lifted myself heavily from the bed and found my way to the little bathroom on the side, half-walking, half-stumbling.
The mirror in front of me showed an extremely messy-looking guy with straight-up-in-the-air hair that arrowed up towards the sky, except for one stubborn bang that hung from the rest onto the middle of my forehead. I looked at it now, and taking a breath I blew upwards. It fluttered a few inches weakly from my forehead, then gave a little shudder and fell back onto my forehead. I glared at it. But now was not the time to be concerned about it. I splashed my face with freezing cold water from the right hand tap, then shook my face both ways quickly, like a dog. After that I groped for the towel, found my accuracy was correct, and rubbed my face vigorously with the soft cloth. Now that I was a little more awake, I walked over to the chair by the table, only stumbling once. The pristine shirt sparkled a little off of the sun, and today even the coat and pants looked cheery. Not that brown is a cheery color or anything, just that it looked comforting today. Very strangely comforting, as if I knew that I would have to go to the execution block this afternoon and this would be the last time I would see it. A sense of foreboding...just something like that. 6th sense. And with that, I picked up my coat and laptop from the side of the tiny kitchen table, and sling the coat over my right shoulder, walking out the door. The lock from outside clicks in place as I turn the bronze key.
That morning was cold. Not just a bit cold, but very cold. I shrugged, and just wrapped the coat tighter around me, an answer to the whatever force of nature put the cold out on the streets of New York City. The snow had been hastily cleaned out of the sidewalk and piled on the sides of the sidewalks; one less chore to do that evening. I walked out of the threshold from the apartment complex, and started toward the little café where I went to eat every day, at least until the "CLOSED" sign on the door could actually be proven. Frankly, the café was always crowded, but I found that I could always find my favorite seat empty, as if all the other customer's never wanted to sit there. It was the seat by the window, on the counter, facing the dreary snowflakes that fluttered lightly down outside. Today, however, was different. The seat was occupied, by a somehow familiar mop of golden hair. The person was staring out the window, not paying attention to me. His back was turned, and somehow I knew that somewhere along the road I had met that person before. The same waitress that served me every morning smiled wanly at me, seeing that my regular seat had been taken, but she pointed to the vacant seat beside the golden-haloed seat-taker. "That OK?" she asked me, her eyes smiling and her hand gesturing at the empty seat. I nodded, grudgingly, and followed her. After I had sat down, I turned around on the swirly stool, and ordered a cup of coffee and a pastry.
The sky was dreary that day. The tall skyscrapers seemed so majestic, so ominous, so unnatural there, compared to the relatively small apartment complexes underneath, dwarfed by their betters. The snow floated down in little flakes, and I couldn't resist, and breathed on the windowpane, then, like the mystical Jack Frost of American folktales, drew a smiley face on the window. I stared back at me, happily, as the window shoppers that clustered by outside paid no mind, and gave my lines an ever-changing myriad of colors. Then, as if I had the premonition, I felt myself being watched...
...By the man sitting next to me. I gasped, and almost fell off my stool, bumping into the waitress lady who had my order. She stumbled back as I literally fell out of the chair and onto the floor, my dark green impermeable and scarf billowed on the floor. The waitress put the tray on the counter, and gently guided me up. I shook at the sight of the ocean deep cobalt eyes, and the fair hair that sloped pleasingly over one eye, the pale skin of his face, boyishly round with a depth of maturity, the stature of his height, the lithe build of his body, his blue coat and white scarf with blue tassels, hanging casually around his neck, matching and enhancing the color of his eyes.
He just stared back for a moment, then put down his cup and knelt to help the waitress to help me up. I could feel myself being gently set into the chair, but my eyes never left his. In turn, his never left mine, either. We seemed to have a staring contest while the waitress hastily looked at the 2 of us having a staring contest, asking, "Would either of you like to have anything else?" and getting no reply. All my concentration was riveted on the boy that had turned into a man while I wasn't looking.
This familiar nodded to the waitress, dismissing her, and turned back to me. His voice sang and echoed musically in my mind, hollowing out the memories of long past times of my days in the Digital World. He gave a nod to show he was paying attention to me, and said quite firmly, "Good morning, Tai."
My mind whirled before mine, and I remembered all that had happened: the Digimon, the scene of the Arrows of Dark and Light, the fight he and I had, the harmonica...all came back to me as if they had happened yesterday. Slowly, I found my voice enough to answer, "What'cha doin' here, Matt?"
Blunt question, I chided myself inside. Matt is probably feeling up to wrestling, and is going to pounce on you any moment...Tai no baka! He probably just thinks that this stupid so-called "Friendship" thing is over, and everything that makes up my life will just disappear in front of my very eyes-
His low alto caught me off guard again, just as if had before. "Tai", he started, and reached for my shoulder. It was if the whole world was no longer there, and there was just he and I, his hand on my shoulder. Then the tension that leapt in the air between us was gone, as if never there, as his smile quirked the miniscule gesture of a smile. It broke me out of my trance, and I reveled in the momentary respite of his smile, something seldom any of our team saw, maybe with the exception of Takeru.
It made me realize how much I'd been submerged in my work, with no pauses, just the same routine of everyday working life. Come say, how long had it been since I had taken a decent vacation back to Tokyo? Sure, New York was my home, but that didn't mean that I wasn't from Tokyo...
I said the first thing that came after my first comment: "I've missed you guys."
Matt looked surprised for a moment, just the slight widening of those oh-so-electrifying eyes that seemed to x-ray you on the spot and be able to know whatever you're thinking at that moment, and have the perfect answer to any question, all answers educated, but came with the usual tint of sarcasm. Then the surprise was gone from his face, and it creased into a warm smile. "Tai", he repeated from his earlier statement. "I have something to tell you. It's about the Digital World...and me, I guess. I just want to tell you, I'm giving up the fame of being the lead guitarist of the band", his face showed a brief glimpse of pain and disgust. "I..while I was still at the peak, I got involved with some illegal stuff. Of course, it's all cleared up now!", he shook his hands in the air in the pretense gesture of self-defense at my shocked face. He gave the statement a few moments to sink in, and then continued, "Tai, when I woke up last week, I found my Digivice had changed into a D3. Don't ask me how, but it just did. See?" He held out his new Digivice, and I inspected it, not touching it; it seemed like trespassing if we did so, we were so protective of our personal Digivices. There was no mistaking the silvery-bluish outline rigged sides, and the strangely transparent silver metal, it was a D3, but a different color than the ones that Davis & CO. had. I looked up into his expectant face, and just stared for a moment at each other.
He looked down after a few seconds, and peered at the mysterious device in his hand. His voice was drawn, when he spoke, and it seemed to come from far away, in another time and place, reminiscing old times and place, old acquaintances and enemies, events and just plain old boring days.
"Tai, I've been thinking a lot lately...after the incident with Davis and everything else, Arukenimon, Mummymon, Piedmon, Myotismon, all that stuff that's all in the past...it just seems so insecure, and I wanted to do this for a very long time. Tai, I've decided to stay permanently in the Digital World."
My mind whirled with questions, with answers, with inanimate comments and statements, both blunt and complicated, spinning around my head in a haze of memories, of dreams, of everything that was my life with the others. It made me realize how much I had neglected my relationship with them, ignoring their pleas to go back to Japan, to at least write back to them. I had been immersed in my work, and I once I got into the habit, I couldn't break out of it...
"Tai?" Matt's simple question brought me back to reality. His face showed a tiny hint of concern of my well being, and I replied it with a small smile.
"It's..." I trailed off, looking for the right words to continue with, "a surprise...this sudden... well, you'll need to go back to Japan for that...I take it you want me to come with you to see you off? If you need a place to stay for a few days, my place is always open. The bed is quite small, but I figure 2 people can fit into it."
For once, Matt was seriously surprised. I think I knew him better than he did himself, so when I had guessed his actions so accurately and acutely, he was at a loss. I smiled at his surprise, and took out a small notepad, scribbling my address and phone number hastily on it, but legible enough so he could read it. "Matt", I said softly, still afraid and disbelieving that he was here, my best friend. "This is my place, so go straight to the hotel you're staying at -wait, let me guess, Four Seasons downtown- and meet me at the next address listed below, which is my office address. Once you're there the, tell the secretary you want Tai Kamiya, and I'll come out for lunch. Deal?" I thought he was alright, but it seemed he was still in a slight shock.
"Earth to Matt?"
He returned the smile, and took the paper graciously. He chuckled mildly for a few moments before he spoke again in his rich tone that seemed to carry across eons of space and time, magical, not piercing but disturbing, not flexible but malleable. "I'll bake you're offer, Tai, and do as my milord asks."
We both left, smiling at each other's company, until it was time for me to leave.
I was still smiling when I left.
***
Just when I had exhaustingly finished with all the work that had been brought in before lunch hour, I fell back into my chair and studied my handiwork. It was the best I'd ever done; that morning had me up and going as soon as I entered the office. Right on cue, the buzzer rang, and Ms. Clyde's voice came over the intercom.
"Tai Kamiya, Tai Kamiya. Please come to the main desk now. I repeat, Tai Kamiya, Tai Kamiya, please come to the main desk now."
Grinning, I leapt up, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and strolled out, causing several confused heads to turn towards me. Obviously, no one here was very enthusiastic about their work, including me; I only did it to survive, until I got something better to come into my life. The receptionist at the main desk, or Ms. Clyde, was a bespectacled lady with wiry red hair pulled into a chignon at the back of her sharp, horse-like head. Her spectacles, perched at the end of her long nose, looked up at me when I passed, and wordlessly handed me the sign-out sheet, pursing her lips. Whether or not she was commenting on my age or at the fact that I was grinning slightly madly, I could not tell, but all these passed to the back of my mind when I ran out the office and outside to meet Matt for the 2nd time that day.
My heart gave a twinge, a twist of memory that I had not felt for some while. I noticed, several years ago, that when I was up near Matt, my heart would always twist in that familiar way, but I never quite understood why it happened, or the little burst of confidence that he left me after meeting him somewhere. His meetings were always short, brief, to the point, I had told myself before. I figured this was because I wasn't able to see a lot of him, yet I was sure that even when he was half a world away, in someplace like Britain or Italy, I was still there, and he would be performing for our little team, partly me. He told us all that, once, in the rare occasion he was able to go on an outing with us, a picnic, or a mini soccer game. He didn't like to socialize, but when he did, all of us rejoiced that he actually spoke with us. Usually he was just a comforting soul to have around, a reassurance that there was a backbone in our group behind us that was hard to break, and that while the rest of us were around, it wouldn't break.
I had worked hard to bury that little spark or hope, that faint twinge of memory, in the recesses of my mind and heart. Now, for so long, it had been awakened, and it felt strange, because I had spent so much time convincing myself that it wasn't meant to be.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
I, Taichi Kamiya, was not in love with Yamato Ishida.
Those words, the words that I had been repeating in my mind ever since I left the small café by the sidewalk, rang through my mind. I wasn't. I couldn't fall in love with him. It was like it was taboo, it wasn't right, a sin, a...something terrible that no one talked about, ever, but everyone knew was out there, a threat to the wholeness and righteousness of mankind.
I was a part of it. And there was nothing I could to stop it.
"Ohayo...oi, now it's my turn to say 'Earth to Tai'?" Matt's eyes briefly shone a spark of amusement and friendly teasing. It always seemed to radiate that, the chumminess of our little group, and even though he seemed anti-social, he was actually the one who expressed the most, as hard as he tried to hide it behind his mask of silence and aloofness. His eyes told his whole tragic story: parents divorced, his brother and his separation...it was all written there in his eyes, and he seemed to always bear a great sadness around him, and everything that was sad around him seemed even happy. He wanted the world to be happy, yet he took no part in it. He thought he did not belong.
We all thought he did, in his strange little way. He was part of us, and nothing could separate us once we were together. Not even miles, kilometer, hours, days, lack of communication...nothing could stop us from having that seemingly impossible faith in each other, that trust in friends that could never be broken, an impenetrable wall of friendship that we had, never breached and never knocked down.
It was such that I came to love him. The stupidly sarcastic, ignorant (in my eyes), arrogant boy that I had so unmercifully tackled to the ground so many years ago in a fit of anger, the final straw for splitting up the team. He had gone against my orders, yet it taught me so much about him that I cannot even begin to explain.
He waved a hand in front of my face. "Tai? Tai? You are still there, I presume, but aren't paying attention at all to my hand waving in front of your face?" His eyes were laughing, now, mocking with the same tint of humor that went back so many years into the past. His lips were curved into a smile, and a chuckle came from his mouth. He raked back his hair slightly, and put an arm around me, patting my back, then proceeded to wave his hand over my face again. Annoyed, I reached out and grabbed the hand, then pretended to bite it. On impulse, he snatched it back, and met my own eyes, a smirk on my face. We just stared at each other, bristling with antagonism, until finally I couldn't stand it anymore and stuck my tongue out at him. He stopped short for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed to the skies above, mocking the gods in the cloudy heavens. As almost an answer to his challenge, a fork of lightning split the air over the city, followed a few seconds later by the ominous low rumble of thunder.
The sky began to fall, tipsy, and liquid splashed from the sky in cold clear drops that sheared the air into slices of thin cake, while Matt and I were left dumbfounded for a few moments, then with a stimulus yelp, ran for cover, which lay far away on the other side of the street. Not even bothering to check for cars (no one could've seen anything anyway in the downpour), we galloped ungainly across the street and under the shelter of the roof of a florist shop. Matt fumbled in his left coat pocket for a moment with freezing fingers, then pulled out a ring of keys with only 2 keys on is. He also had one of those control pads for finding cars in large parking lots. He looked at me, grinned mischievously, and pressed the button.
Instantly the alarm rang off, sharp and insistent. He located it, and pointed through the murk of rain to the other side of the street. I gave a sigh, and I knew that he was thinking the same: we have to cross the street, again. With one last look at the weather and the dry haven above us, we plunged back into the rain. This time it was worse; our clothes were further ruined, and the bottom of my slacks were probably coated with mud from splashing in so many puddles.
Still, I didn't regret it. I had more fun than I ever did in a while, now. With him, my best friend, the one who I bickered with constantly, the infamous lead guitarist of the most famous Japanese band on the face of this Earth. He smiled, now that we were yet underneath another temporary shelter, out of the rain. And suddenly he turned on me, and smiled that wonderful smile that just seemed to light up everything in my life, and go "Aha! This is what I live for!" in my mind.
His smile is always contagious. I can never help but smile back.
He smoothed out his hair (an obvious carry-over from show-biz), and clicked off the security lock on the car. His smile grew wider, and he flashed a glance at me, then ran for the driver's seat. I ran for the passenger, and within a few seconds, we were safely in the car, and out of harm's way. No, I take that back, out of rain way.
Nothing could dampen my spirits now.
Not even if the Digiworld collapsed upon our own.
We drove on, oblivious to the rain, just enjoying each other's company. I took the slack rope of conversation between him and I, and tugged it a little by asking, "So, what's up in Odaiba?"
/ \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \ / \
Author's note:
This happens several years after Davis & CO. beat whatever they had to beat. This came to me ask first a one-shot fic, but it seems that this isn't going to be a one shot fic anymore...just a little series. Or a big one. I wish I could draw something to go along with it, but I must say, I can't draw for beans. Nope, can't draw for nothing, not even if my life depended on it.
Andrea Weiling