Le Casse-Noisette
Act I

Disclaimer: I do not own Digimon or the Nutcracker (in either ballet, story, etc. form).
Author's Notes: Um, so I have to admit...I forgot a lot of the Nutcracker story and I tried to piece it together from the ballet. I found that watching ballet is actually quite difficult and I wish I could understand it better. So I spliced some things together from both the original Nutcracker story and the ballet version, because I think each one had its own strengths and things I liked. Sorry for such a weird chapter. Beware the oddities.

Yamato felt cold. He shivered, wondering why it felt like it was snowing in the apartment, when he realized he was outside. He wasn't home. This was an unfamiliar place. He stood in front of a large, gleaming mansion, its lamplights flickering softly. Looking down, he saw that he had his gloves and scarf and boots back on, along with his heavy coat. Snow was indeed falling. Shivering, he decided to seek shelter before making sense of his situation. He was probably dreaming, after all, but he was not the type of person to allow his nose to go red, asleep or awake.

He was drawn to the mansion. He reached out to knock on the door; the moment he did so, he found that he was already inside, and dressed elegantly in a cream-colored shirt with a hunter green vest. It looked dated, yet it felt right with his surroundings. A massive Christmas tree dominated the magnificent living room. The only time he'd ever seen such a grand place was when he was a child on File Island in the Digital World, and that was a ruse. Suddenly, Yamato stopped caring about whether or not he was dreaming; he couldn't tell and he didn't care. There was a warmth about the place that made his heart feel light.

The door opened without warning. He thought he jumped, but at the same time his insides jostled, the room seemed to spin in a slow circle, and he was now surrounded by people opening presents. None of them were strangers.

Takeru, Jyou, and Koushiro were on one side of the room, playing with automaton toys that mysteriously resembled the Digimon. Mimi, Hikari, and Sora were off to the other side in similar fashion. The only person who had something remotely different was Sora, who held a handsomely carved nutcracker in her hands. Gennai could be seen at the top of the staircase, tinkering with colorful parts that became small toys that moved on their own. They were strangely life-like, and Yamato could have sworn that one of them was Garurumon, except a version that could fit in the palm of his hand.

"Hey, Yama! Come play with us," Takeru said, his smile as bright as the ornaments on the tree. "Gennai made these just for us! Aren't they fun? He calls them Digimon, I think, but I can't remember much about it. I've never heard that word in my life."

"That is very odd," Yamato agreed, now completely enchanted by the place. He hadn't seen Takeru for a couple of months now. Despite being a grown man, he knelt down next to his brother and picked up the Garurumon toy.

It was a bizarre sight. They were no longer schoolchildren. Many of them were well into their twenties, making money in their jobs or learning more from university or finding some other source of happiness. Yet here they were, playing with clockwork toys as if they were still young. The air was thick with a blissful sense of carefree spirit. They may have looked ridiculous, but they were all incredibly and undoubtedly happy. Yamato realized he was the only one who wasn't feeling as happy as everyone else. He caught himself staring at the beautiful nutcracker that Sora held, and he felt a pang of jealousy and a twinge of guilt for wanting that over his own toy. He hugged the miniature Garurumon close as if in apology, but there was something about the nutcracker that drew him to it.

He cleared his throat, hoping not to break the harmony of this perfect scene before him. "Excuse me, Sora, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was hoping I could get a turn with the nutcracker," he said with a small smile.

She looked up at him quizzically. "Sure, I'd be happy to give you a turn when I'm done playing with it," she said simply, turning away from him as she grabbed walnuts, crushing them with the nutcracker and eating the meat.

There was nothing for it, so he sat across from her, stroking the soft fur of the Garurumon, every so often sneaking a glance at the nutcracker. Sora was the type of girl who thought of everyone else, so she began offering to crack open more walnuts so they could all share. Her intentions were kind, but it did not stop her from accidentally being overzealous with the handcrafted nutcracker. By the time she'd gotten to opening a walnut for Yamato, her hand slipped; she didn't know that the walnut was too big and too hard to crack.

Yamato never had many toys growing up, so he made sure to take care of all of them. If one ever broke somehow, he'd be upset for days, trying to repair it. The nutcracker was another story. Truth be told, it wasn't even his, but he felt his heart sink when he touched his fingertips to the jagged fracture of the jaw. Sora muttered apologies to everyone for her clumsiness, but Yamato could hear none of it.

He gently picked up the nutcracker, marveling at the exquisite craftsmanship. Real cloth adorned the wooden body. The jacket was a bright blue number that could have belonged in a marching band, decorated with glimmering gold buttons evenly spaced down the front. The trousers were a deep chocolate color, closely matching the tufts of hair atop the nutcracker's head. Tiny, intricate symbols of the sun adorned metal pauldrons that covered the shoulders, with a leather strap connecting his armor to a belt. A sword hung from the hilt. Everything about the nutcracker was perfect and beautiful except for the fracture in his teeth. Yamato couldn't bring himself to call the nutcracker an it.

Gennai glided over to him, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. "I can fix him up tomorrow, if you'd like. He'll be good as new."

Sheepishly, Yamato smiled, his eyes never leaving the work of art in his hands. "I would like that, but…if it's all right with everyone, I'd feel much better having him near me tonight."

No one argued, and so it came to be that Yamato held the nutcracker close to him as he slumbered on the chaise in the grand ballroom. "Don't worry. Godfather Gennai will fix you up, good as new," he said softly, just loud enough to be heard within the nutcracker's vicinity, as if it were privy to his secrets.

The nutcracker seemed to come alive to this statement, its jaw rattling as if it had been pulled. Startled, Yamato blinked and looked down at the doll. Surely he was just seeing things, and besides, the nutcracker was broken, after all. Before long, his eyelids felt heavy, and he fell asleep.

—

Having forgotten that he was already dreaming, it came as no surprise to Yamato that he could sleep and dream just as well within this new world. He stirred lightly, feeling for the nutcracker. His eyes flew open in shock when he realized it was no longer secure in his arms. An immense feeling of guilt washed over him. He knew it didn't make sense. The nutcracker wasn't his to begin with, yet he felt the need to keep it safe before it could be fixed. He was a child all over again who had misplaced his toys, only to be reprimanded by his father for not taking good care of his things. In a rush, Yamato scrambled to get up, nearly tripping on his legs as he blindly groped around in the darkness. Of course it wouldn't be close to him. Someone must have taken it. The only person who had looked upon that nutcracker with the same caring as he did was Sora. He flushed with hot anger. Hadn't he said he'd take care of it? The anger was quickly replaced by shame. Gennai had given the nutcracker to Sora. He'd just asked to have a turn with it. Aren't I such a child? He thought to himself, embarrassed. Thinking I had some right to it when it wasn't even mine in the first place.

But there was something special about it, something that he couldn't quite put into words. The nutcracker had a warmth to it, as if it had a soul of its own. He scoured the ballroom, hoping his senses were attuned to the spirit he had imagined into it.

An eternity seemed to pass as he moved from the chaise to the tree. He felt as if he had walked much further than a few feet. Confused, Yamato turned to walk back to the chaise, which seemed to have become smaller since he'd left it. To his shock, the closer he went to it, the larger it became; it was growing before his very eyes. In fact, the entirety of the ballroom was growing — or perhaps he was shrinking. The clock began to strike. Perhaps it was later than he'd thought. He turned to look at the grandfather clock, only to be shocked by the image of Gennai pacing atop the rounded clock face. Frightened, Yamato looked down at his hands. They still looked normal to him. It was a small consolation despite the world distorting around him.

He felt his heart race as his brain told him to take flight, to run away somewhere safe. He ran away from the massive clock, thinking he'd make it to the door somehow. Was this how Alice felt when she had eaten the Wonderland sweets? In the back of his mind, he knew there would be a bigger problem even if he got to the door — how would he open it if he had grown so tiny, or if the room had grown so large? Mind muddled with the enormity and ridiculousness of the situation, Yamato kept running, craning his head to look around for any place to hide or to escape. Had he been looking forward, he would have been able to dodge the torrent of mice running past. He would have also had some time to register that these mice were as tall as he was and then some.

Blinking rapidly, Yamato's heart began to beat anxiously. He could not make heads or tails of this place. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see Taichi. He did not want to deal with mystic rooms or giant mice or strange old clocks and their magic.

To make matters worse, the human-sized mice began to flock toward a central figure. Yamato wanted to run. He willed himself to. There was no good that could come out of this. But his legs were frozen. He cursed himself in his mind, praying to any god that would listen to his pleas. He wanted to run. He wanted to get out of here. He tried and tried, moving his shaking legs back toward the clock, but to no avail. Stumbling to the ground, Yamato started using his arms to attempt to scramble away. The shadowy figure turned.

It was one of the most horrific things Yamato had ever seen. Seven heads emerged from a singular neck of the furry creature, the middlemost one with an ironic golden crown resting between its set of ears. Surely, it was a mouse, but anyone would have been frightened at the sheer size of the beast, especially when the number of heads came into account. Suppressing a shudder, Yamato backed away as quickly as he could while the Mouse King's attention was focused on the dancing mice around him. He felt bile rise in his throat and willed it away. If this is a dream, oh, please, let me wake up, let me wake up…

Before the Mouse King could turn, a flurry of wooden soldiers rushed in, brandishing swords and shields. It was an odd sight. They were two-dimensional and looked like unfinished paper dolls. The air suddenly smelled of ginger and nutmeg. As the army began to battle with the mice, Yamato realized that they weren't wooden at all. They were gingerbread men. Baffled beyond all reasoning, Yamato found that he had strength to move once more and turned to flee.

He should have seen it coming, but the major flaw in a gingerbread army was that they were, unfortunately, delicious.

It was, therefore, not long until the armies of the Mouse King quite literally turned tail and started biting at their assailants. Grimacing, Yamato held his breath, trying to keep his focus on the way out. The more he struggled to get to the door, the further away everything seemed to become. At this point, the Christmas tree was no longer normal-sized. It now closely resembled a many-storied skyscraper, and he couldn't even see the ceiling above him. He willed himself not to get dizzy.

There was no way he could get past the skirmish, however. The two armies of mice and gingerbread men swarmed around him, giving him very little room to escape without getting harmed. Though the weaponry they had looked whimsical and silly, he could not deny the pointy ends of the gingerbread men's toothpick-like swords, nor the razor-sharp teeth that all the nightmarish mice possessed. Yamato hardly had anything on except for his comfortable pajamas. It was not the best choice of armor when one is suddenly thrust into a battlefield.

"Hey! You! What are you doing in the middle there?" called a voice, one far from the fray but coming closer, from the sound of it.

Not wanting to look away and get stabbed, Yamato only spared a quick glance before ducking through the legs of a gingerbread soldier. Propped up on his elbows, he started to crawl through, hoping that there would at least be a matchbox (he had started to accept, however much he disliked it, that he had either shrunk or the room expanded to giant heights) or something similar that he could hide in until the ordeal was over.

A slim, strong arm hefted him up, drawing his body up from his armpits. The owner of the said arm started to pull him up and away from the battlefield; Yamato could tell because the clinking of swords and teeth and lessened considerably. Dazed, Yamato turned to thank the figure, but sputtered as he realized what — no, who — it was.

Dressed handsomely in the nutcracker outfit was none other than his very own Yagami Taichi. How had he not seen it before? The brown hair, the silly goggles…there was no one else who could have modeled the nutcracker. Gulping, he realized exactly why he had been jealous of Sora maintaining possession of the nutcracker, but he didn't want to say anything about that now. It was too bizarre to see his boyfriend dressed like some kind of valiant knight pulling him out of a fight. This was especially true considering the fact that it was usually Taichi who got caught in such things. Yamato felt his heart leap.

"That was a really bad place to be, y'know," said the Taichi nutcracker prince. "Why were you in the middle of that? You're…well…you're not exactly dressed for it."

Taichi smirked, looking Yamato up and down. Though Yamato had no reason to be embarrassed about his pajamas, he felt his cheeks turn pink as he looked away, huffing. "It's not like I asked to be there," he muttered. "I'm not even sure what happened, Tai — er…sorry, I'm not sure I know what your name is, mister…"

"You can just call me Taichi. Don't go around yelling it or anything, but I'm the prince around here. You should probably head to somewhere safe. I've led you a short ways away, and I can't guarantee that these mice won't follow us, but I'll do my best to make them go the other way. Give you some time to get out and back to bed, where it's pretty clear you'd rather be. Oh, sorry, and what's your name? I know it's rude of me to ask, especially when you seem so familiar to me…"

Yamato wanted to argue, to tell him that they'd fought together more often then now (and often with each other, just because), but somehow that didn't seem to be the most productive use of his time. He instead surveyed the small area of safety that Taichi had brought him to. He scoffed, realizing that there actually was a massively oversized matchbox for him to use for his convenience. "I'm Yamato. And I guess I can just hide in here," he said. "Thank you for helping me get out of there."

"It's no problem. It's my job, you know. I'm a prince and all that. Got to keep people safe," Taichi said, flashing him a bright smile. "Will you be all right on your own?"

"I've faced worse."

"Sorry if I don't believe you. You look a bit…not super tough."

"I appreciate your honesty. And also, ha-ha. I can take care of myself, thank you very much."

Grinning, Taichi pulled his sword from its scabbard, slicing a door-shaped hole into the matchbox. "Go on ahead. Stay safe, and if you see anyone else that needs help, please get them and make them stay hidden with you. Can't have the Mouse King think that he can have all the glory."

Yamato nodded, moving into the matchbox. He poked his head out before shutting the makeshift door. "Wait, did you just say you're a prince?" he asked incredulously.

"Mmhmm. That's what I said. Take care in there, and if anything goes wrong, slip out as quickly as you can. Try not to make too much noise. The Mouse King's creatures like that sort of thing," Taichi said, and with that, he shut the door for Yamato and ran back into the fray.

Honestly, if this were the kind of play it would be, he always thought that he would be the prince, not Taichi. But that was an argument for another time. Perhaps Taichi had to be royalty every once in a while. He would have to remember that if he ever got back to his world. After a fair amount of near-death experiences, he started thinking of more and more ways to surprise his boyfriend aside from dedicating songs to him. Plus, he had to admit that Taichi looked awfully good in a smart jacket. The red fitted coat with gold buttons certainly gave the soccer player a regal, distinguished look that Yamato found that he enjoyed immensely. The sword was also a nice touch. Yamato felt himself grinning as he watched Taichi's back, his slim figure running off into the distance.

Following Taichi's instructions, he enclosed himself inside the place. It did feel oddly safe, though he found that he kept tripping over matches that were stacked up like haphazard logs.

Nevertheless, Yamato was glad to be in the matchbox, regardless of how bizarre it was. It was not the worst thing that could have happened. Still, he was fascinated to see his boyfriend dressed so cleanly. That man may not have been his Taichi, but that didn't mean the doppelgänger was any less a lovely creature upon which he could rest his gaze. He decided that it was all right to look outside, just to make sure that things were okay. The fact that the handsome Taichi was out there as well was simply an additional bonus. Steeling himself, he cracked the door with its ragged edges open to take a peek.

Yamato was dismayed by the scene before him. Things weren't going as well as Taichi had hoped. The prince was gallantly directing the gingerbread army toward the Mouse King's, but it wasn't quite enough. It was a fascinating sight, seeing cookies crumble like walls and mice fighting with swords, but it became very clear that it was all too real when one of the evil mice struck at Taichi's face with their terrible claws. A bright line of red appeared on his face as he slashed back with his own weapon. Yamato bit down on the inside of his cheek, forcing himself not to cry out. He would just become a distraction, and he had a strong feeling that this world's Taichi would still be the type to play the valiant hero, ready to rescue those who needed help. If Yamato made a sound, he knew the mouse army would bound toward him. He would bet his guitar that the prince would roar and make a mad dash to make sure that Yamato remained safe, all the while ready to chastise the blond for his reckless behavior.

More and more mice filled in. They had a plan. All as tall as Taichi, and some even taller, began to surround the Nutcracker Prince. Their beady eyes looked menacing, ironically reflecting light from the otherwise cheerful Christmas lights strewn around the house, which now resembled large spotlights rather than tiny specks of light. They clawed and bit fiercely, and there were too few gingerbread soldiers left in tact to help him. Taichi put up a valiant effort in fighting them off, hoping to keep them at bay, but he was overwhelmed by their numbers. He hacked and slashed away with his saber desperately. Before long, though, he had become too injured to go on. The mice seemed to sense their eminent victory, rounding on him, ready for the kill. Yamato couldn't bear to watch as Taichi screamed in pain as the mice attacked all at once.

Surely there had to be something Yamato could do! He looked to the matches he sat upon, but knew immediately that it would be a fruitless endeavor to try and pick one up. They may have just been silly little matches — or they would have been, if he had remained his normal size — but as it was in this topsy-turvy world, the matches were as large and as heavy as logs. This ruled out torching the army, then…

Suddenly, a high-pitched noise invaded Yamato's eardrums. The mice that were attacking Taichi immediately drew back, their tails and backs straight as if in a grotesque salute. They seemed to have been called off by some force.

The Mouse King was stalking about. Yamato gasped as he realized that the dreadful creature was sneaking behind Taichi, sword raised high. Apparently, the rodent army and their king had no regard for honor when it came to fighting. They weren't too far away, but it was still too much of a distance for him to scale. If only he had something, anything…Taichi was wounded! He was the only one who could help. He didn't know how to. What could he possibly do, with only his pajamas on? He at least had the sense to wear proper shoes, but that wouldn't be of much use. Running would either ram him straight into trouble or attempt to get him out. He was not about to let Taichi down. Even if it wasn't his Taichi, he still felt that connection, and he knew that he would never forgive himself if he even considered leaving the boy he loved behind. It was just a similarity in visage, but Yamato could feel his ears ringing as he imagined what would happen if that were his Taichi. He felt his heart thud in his chest, desperately willing him to hurry up and act.

Without thinking, Yamato ran out of his hiding place, sprinting toward the Mouse King. He would not be able to tackle the massive fur-covered thing, but he did have at least two projectiles handy on his feet. Stopping abruptly, he pulled off one of his shoes, took careful aim, and chucked at at the king. "Get away from him!" he screamed, shocked at the sheer rage that echoed from his voice. It was an effort, yes; perhaps not the best kind, but he felt his veins pulsing, as he realized that he was truly incensed.

Raw emotion tended to take hold of him in times like this; with a grim half-smile, he recalled when he had gotten into his first fist fight with his Taichi, back when they were just kids. All he'd wanted to do was find his brother, yet at the same time, he needed to touch someone, and the one he wanted was the boy in the goggles. That was the only person who could give him comfort in his time of need. All he could see now was the person he loved the most being threatened. All he wanted to do was remove the threat.

Amazingly, it was a direct hit, catching him right at the base of his neck. The Mouse King squeaked, which sounded more like a banshee's screech, turning and looking for his assailant. Yamato saw red as his gaze fixed upon the Mouse King, who had turned to face him. The ugly monarch leered at Yamato and started toward him. "You dare interfere, weakling?" he growled menacingly. "Then face me!"

This unwarranted distraction gave Taichi just enough time to flip back over. He clutched his sword and struck. The blade met the Mouse King's right flank. With an animal howl, the King toppled over, bleeding from the new wound. The King wanted to strike back, but he had also taken a fair amount of blows during their battle, and like any good soldier, he knew when it was time to retreat. A series of squeaks and grunts summoned a small number of the army to him. They glared at Yamato and Taichi before swiftly pulling out of sight.

Breathing heavily, Taichi winced as he looked down at the blood from his own coat. But he didn't want to focus on that, not now. Instead, he looked up at Yamato with a serious expression on his face. "You, sir, are one of the craziest men I have ever met," he declared. "But I will say this: I owe you my life, Yamato. I am truly indebted to you."

Yamato wasn't listening. He was already beside Taichi, and he was working on ripping off sections of his shirt as makeshift bandages. Coming home to a bleeding Taichi due to one accident or another was a normal occurrence for Yamato back in the real world. He tried to remember why, but his memory started getting hazy. In fact, it was harder and harder to remember why this Taichi was so different from his Taichi. Was there even another Taichi? Taichi was Taichi, no matter what. Wasn't that right? Shaking his head from his odd thoughts, Yamato continued to nurse the prince.

"You say you're the Nutcracker Prince," Yamato said softly, gently dabbing at the wound with the fabric in his hand. "I can't say I understand what's happening, but…to be honest, you don't quite look like you're made out of wood, Prince Taichi."

This emitted a warm laugh from the brunette, which quickly turned into a series of "ow" as Yamato held him still. "Well, usually, I am. This…well, this warmth of blood…this is new. I'm not entirely sure how it happened myself. But I am glad that someone here knows how to take care of things like this."

Yamato smiled. Taichi looked up at him, feeling his stomach flutter. The blush on his cheeks made Yamato look down immediately; he had to conceal a smile. Soon enough, the prince would know that he was completely loved, possibly to the point of idiocy on some days, by this pajamaed young man.

Taichi stopped the blond for a moment, resting a hand over his. Chocolate brown eyes met sapphire blue, and they simply gazed at each other. Neither of them were surprised that the couldn't keep from smiling.

"Thank you for doing this," murmured the prince, gesturing to the makeshift bandages. "As is customary in my world, I'd like to treat you to something special. Do you like sweets? Would you care to join me?"

The boys stood together, hand in hand, and Yamato simply smiled and nodded.

A part of him still nagged at his mind, certain that something was off, but Yamato couldn't put his finger on it. Things seemed to be unfurling too perfectly, but the familiarity of it all kept him comforted. And now that he had Taichi again, he saw no reason to feel afraid. As he clutched the Nutcracker Prince's hand, he felt excited for the surprises to come. He knew instinctively that he was about to see something so brilliant, so infallibly given by the love of his life, that there could be nothing for it but to feel joy.

And so it was as they walked together in the moonlight, toward the fragrant pine forest that had appeared out of nowhere. Neither cared much about the impossibility of their surroundings. Everything was focused on the possibility of their union, and the thoughts of sweets and honey and lovely things to come.