A/N: The opening to this chapter was the experiment that I wrote a year ago. Some edits were done to make it fit into what was written in the previous chapter, but it's largely identical to the original. Until next chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.
Tangled Up in My Heart
Chapter: 02/ The Dream that Vanishes Before Daylight
The sound of birds tweeting outside was the first thing that Takato heard upon waking up, causing him to grimace as the noise lanced through his head. His brain hurt, and not from thinking too hard, as his friend Rika was oft to tease him about. While he wasn't dumb, thinking was not his strong suit, particularly when it came to problem solving, though he did his best to improve this Achilles heel of his. Fortunately, he was not alone in this. If there was one thing he could count on, it was that he had his friends and family to course correct him where he went wrong.
As the warm rays of the sun filtered in through the window, he shifted against the bed he was on, one hand seeking for a pillow that he could use to blot out the noise from the birds. Eyes still closed, he frowned, marveling at the odd, warm smoothness of the bed he lay on, rising and falling rhythmically like someone breathing…
The bed grunted and shifted beneath him suddenly and his mind, slowed by the aching railroad spike pounded within it, came to the realization that something was amiss. Adjusting his hands, he began to rise, mouthing barely intelligible questions as his eyes fluttered open and…
He froze suddenly. Something most definitely was wrong.
What he saw before him told a great deal, but that wasn't the first thing that caught his attention. What did was the odd sensation of his penis – informing him of his nudity – slipping free from something warm and sticky, and he felt a cool string of liquid connecting him to it, causing a slight chill to rise along his body. The second thing he noticed, once his mind began to finish processing all the sensory data it was receiving were a pair of breasts, rising and falling with increasing intensity, staring up at him, creamy in color. He felt his morning hardness jerk slightly in response at the sight, but questions abounded in his head and he turned his gaze up to find their owner, violet eyes framed by a sea of red hair, staring back at him, eyes wide and no less confused than he. He knew her, and she knew him, though it explained nothing about the situation they found themselves in. Nothing clicked in his mind, save for the pounding in his head.
They stared at each other for a moment, Takato Matsuki hovering over one Rika Nonaka before the young man began to speak, struggling to break the silence.
"Rika?" he began hesitantly, his mouth working, trying to figure out what was going on and already guessing what they were doing together in this compromised position. "Did we…? Are you…?"
He glanced down between their legs and found his penis hovering just above her clitoris, a string of sperm still connecting them together and his face paled in horror at the enormity of it all.
"Oh kami…" he whispered, drawing back and causing the sperm string to break. As if it had been a signal, Rika's face twisted up into an angry snarl and the next thing Takato knew her fist exploded against the side of his face.
"Get off!"
Rika's shout burst upon the walls of her apartment's bedroom as her knuckles slammed into Takato's cheekbone. He lurched, nearly collapsing then and there back on top of her, but she drew her legs up beneath him just in time to smash her knees into his ribs, demanding that he get the hint. Quick as lightning, the boy rolled to the side, clutching himself and coughing.
"Wha… What…?" he began, struggling to get to his feet.
"That's what I'd like to know!" Rika snarled, circling around the bed, his pants in hand. She shoved them at him angrily. "Get dressed and start…talking!"
Rika's violet eyes flashed angrily, the enormity of the situation overwhelming her. Her memories were a jumbled mess and the railroad spike pounding in her head made it difficult to think clearly. The only thing she could remember with any clarity was helping Takato into the bathroom, having had a little too much to drink, and after that…only vagueness. Shapes of things, but nothing definite. Her heart pounded in her chest, fear about what Takato – Takato of all people! – might have done to her seeming more and more like a horrible reality, confirming all the worst things she had ever imagined in the deepest, darkest corners of her heart.
She wanted to cry. She wanted to rage. She never believed that he would do something like this to her, and yet…there he had been, on top of her and looking like a kid whose hand had been caught in the cookie jar.
Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes as her fists shook, but she blinked them away, holding on to her anger. Anger, at least, was useful.
For Takato's part, confusion reigned, though horror at what he feared he had done to Rika was rapidly returning to claim the crown of its rule that had been briefly interrupted. For the present though, he took hold of himself mentally, trying to make sense of the situation, in the hopes that he could answer his friend.
If friends they still even were at this point.
"I…I don't know," he began, starting to climb to his feet, to which Rika stepped back slightly, falling into a defensive stance. "The last thing I remember is almost passing out, and then…then you grabbed me and…" He shook his head, feeling sick. Looking up at her, worry in his eyes, he started toward her. "Rika, are you…?"
"Don't!" she growled, her fists rising. Her heart was cracking, but she fought to ignore it. Takato… The stupid Gogglehead that she cared about… "Don't…come near me. Ever. Get your things and get out."
"But…" he began, looking up at her flabbergasted, but Rika was beyond caring at this point, such was the intensity of the pure fury raging inside her. He, of all people…!
She cringed, feeling something trickling down between her legs. She didn't need to look to see what it was to know. Having seen Takato's penis slip out of her with a string of fluid connecting them told her all she needed.
"You… Gogglehead!" she growled, starting toward him. "What are you still doing here?! I told you to…"
"Rika, will you listen?" Now it was Takato's turn to explode. He had been trying to talk…trying to make sense of everything that had been going on and what happened, but between the headache, the swelling bruise on his face and Rika berating him, he hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise. "I don't know what…"
He gasped, seeing her swing her fist toward him, apparently not listening in the least. Jerking back, he dropped his pants and caught her by the arms, already anticipating another rib shot from times when they had sparred together.
"Let…go!" Rika snarled, stamping a bare foot down on his. Sickening pain shot up his leg, nearly causing him to lose his balance.
"Damn it, Rika!" he exclaimed, blinking through the stars that exploded across his vision. "I just…"
"No!"
With a tremendous surge of strength, Rika broke free and staggered back, her chest heaving powerfully. Looking up at her eyes as he clutched old of his aching foot, Takato felt his anger evaporate. There was anger in there, but there was more. Pain… Hurt and betrayal… Fear. Emotions he was not used to seeing from her except under extraordinary circumstances.
What made it worse, they were all directed at him. He was their source! The sight hurt Takato more than anything the Devas or the D-Reaper could have thrown at him.
When Rika spoke again, it was with the quiet of a storm. Tears clung at the corners of her eyes as her fists shook, but she refused to let them fall.
"I know what you're going to say," she said. "But I want you out of here! Now!"
Takato swallowed, feeling his heart break at her words before he found himself nodding numbly.
'I'm…I'm sor…" he began only for Rika's harsh voice to cut over him again.
"Don't! Don't you dare try apologizing now! Not after this! Just…get out."
That last came out softer than Rika had intended, and it revealed the depth of the hurt that lay just barely concealed underneath the surface. Slowly, shame and pain heavy in his heart, Takato collected his things and left Rika's bedroom to go get changed. Rika waited until he had left the apartment before hurrying to the bathroom and throwing on the shower. In her panic and anger, she couldn't remember if she had taken the pill. She couldn't remember a lot of things right now, at least not clearly, and the splitting headache she had was most certainly not helping things. Snatching up her birth control pills she quickly popped one in her mouth and jumped into the shower. She worked for what felt like an eternity cleaning herself out. Takato had left a lot inside her it seemed from their night and a lot of it had been in there deep.
Kami… What happened?! she thought furiously stepping out of the shower, throwing her now sperm-soaked rag into the trash. She would purchase another one. What… What am I going to do?
Feeling self-conscious and realizing that she hadn't unpacked her towels yet, she cursed and started toward the door, dripping wet. Her foot brushed against a shirt just lying on the floor, she looked down, tilting her head in confusion as she realized that not only was it her shirt, but her bra lay next to it as well.
How…?
"You said I don't like being ogled," a memory flitted to her before fluttering just out of reach back amongst the vague shapes of the rest of last night, leaving Rika standing there, dripping on the tiled floor in utter confusion. After a moment, she shook her head.
Get a grip on yourself…
With a heavy, shaky breath, she took stock of her situation. Ignoring the shirt and bra for the time being, she exited the bathroom. She was going to need to get tested to make sure Takato didn't leave her with any 'going away presents' and…
She paused, dripping slightly on the floor, looking in the direction of the apartment door that Takato exited through. Her hands clenched together furiously. How… How could he have done this?
Of all the stupid, idiot things he could have done, I never thought he would do…do…
Rika bit her lip, struggling to hold back the tears. She trusted him so much… Loved him even…
Wiping at her eyes angrily, she returned her gaze to the door and noticed something curious lying on the floor near the entryway. Hurrying over to it she found a small note wrapped around something. Kneeling down, she took it up and unfolded it, barely catching the key that fell out. She gasped, recognizing it. When she confirmed she would be moving into the apartment she had made him a spare key in the event he needed a place to crash.
He left it behind before leaving…
On the note, in large kanji, were the words, I'm sorry.
Tears finally fell as Rika's knees touched the floor. Leaning her head against the doorframe she wept bitterly, if silently for the loss. The loss of trust. The loss of a friend.
"R-Renamon…" she whispered, calling out to her digimon partner from her childhood.
She was in the digital world however and could no longer watch over her or come to comfort her when she called. She was alone once more.
###
I hurt her…
Takato slowly left Rika's building, his mind in a daze, so much so that were it not for the timely change of the street light, he would have walked right into traffic without even thinking or looking until he noticed how he never paused to check the flow of vehicles. He almost wished he had been a little quicker so as to miss that light. He felt it would be a small recompense for the wrong he had done to his best human friend, and the woman who had, rather unexpectedly, found a place in his heart.
I hurt her…
He thought back to last night, but even now he couldn't recall any bare details beyond passing out on Rika's shoulder. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling the swollen tenderness of the bruise Rika gave him. It all felt so…unreal. Like this whole thing ought to be a nightmare and that he would wake up any second and everything would be back to normal.
"Oof!"
Takato spun about, having bumped into an older man wearing a business suit.
"Sorry!" he quickly apologized, earning him an annoyed grunt from the man who simply continued on his way with little more than a glare. Takato watched him go for a moment to make sure he was all right before resuming his course, losing himself in his thoughts.
Maybe…Maybe a Lilithmon did this? he wondered blearily, trying to rationalize everything. But no. Their digivices – the digital-based artifacts that connected them to their digimon partners – had been silent ever since they were twelve. Yamaki made sure the barriers between the worlds were sewn up tight and that no digimon or human could slip between them. Until Henry could find a way to bring their digimon back, no digimon could get through to the real world ever again.
Or so it was generally believed.
Henry… He thought back to his friend who, now, lived in the United States, pursuing his studies in artificial intelligence and computer programming – among other fields. They kept in touch via email, but the differences in time zone remained a consistent obstacle for routine and timely conversation.
He missed him. He missed his sage advice. Henry, like Rika, helped keep him grounded and balanced, just like they all had for one another over the years. Somehow though, he doubted Henry would be able to help with this. He would need to figure it out on his own.
Arriving at an intersection, he paused and looked skyward, thinking of Guilmon and what he might have to say with regards to advice.
Apologize… he answered himself, and the thought made a tear slip free from his eyes as his throat ached. Guilmon had always been a simple, straightforward creature and friend, much like himself, but he knew in his heart that no amount of apologies could fix this mistake. He crossed a line. There would be no coming back from that.
Oh Rika… he thought, wiping at his eyes before crossing the intersection. I'm…so sorry…
He ran through his memories from last night again, trying to pinpoint where he went wrong. The only thing he could come up with was something Rika had said to him while they were preparing dinner.
From the very start.
I hurt her… his mind repeated like a broken record.
###
Rika slipped her hair back into its ponytail and looked at herself in the mirror. On the surface, she looked more like herself again, but appearances, she knew, were just that. Appearances, and they ran only skin deep. Inside, she remained a mess. Against her wishes, memories came to her as she dressed and took medication for her headache. Small things here and there – a faint memory of tasting vomit for some reason, and in particular an image of Takato, hovering over her, shirtless in her bedroom, a dopy, drunk smile on his face while her hand pressed against his chest – but nothing as yet that felt like a cohesive whole. She shuddered, trying to push the memories away, not wanting to recall them, and she ducked out of the bathroom, continuing to ignore the shirt and bra that still lay on the floor, evidence of Takato's mischief that she needed to consider.
He…swept me off my feet, she thought dully, entering the living area. And I…bit him.
She lifted one hand to her neck, rubbing the spot unconsciously where she remembered biting him. I fought him. I…did fight…right? She frowned. Of all her methods, biting seemed like the least likely technique for her to use, and anyone who knew her would have been surprised. The bruising on Takato's neck, now that she thought about it, hadn't even seemed all that bad. Very mild in fact, and only recalled after the fact, as she had time to collect herself. In fact, it resembled more like the kinds of 'love bites' that her mother bore after an 'adventurous' all nighter with her new boyfriend.
Did I even look that closely? she wondered before shaking her head. She had been far, far too angry to really even do more than catch sight of it when she awoke to find him over her with his crotch buried into hers.
That…look on his face… Her breath caught and she clenched her eyes shut tightly. No! Get…Get a hold of yourself! He was just using me! He… He… Oh kami…
Her clenched fists shook as she sat herself down at the table where last night's festivities occurred. It no longer looked as inviting as before, but she made herself sit there, thoughts and feelings continuing to boil within her. She took a shuddering breath, her legs cringing in memory of the feeling of Takato's 'present' seeping out of her. Even now, she felt its ghost, crawling about inside of her, working trouble…
Stop it…
Attempting to compose herself, she reached into her back pocket where she kept her old digimon card deck; something of her good luck charm and the closest thing she would have to her old life and partner digimon outside of her digivice and set it atop the table, just as she had all those years ago when she had no friends. Emotion became distant and she turned the top card over, revealing the image of a golden-furred fox, surrounded by a storm of leaves. Renamon.
"Hey…" she said to the card, a finger caressing it lightly. "It's…been a while, huh?"
She paused, feeling foolish for doing this. Much like visiting the old concrete shelter had been to Takato following the departure of the digimon, or the puppet had been for Jeri, this had become a bit of a habit of hers as a teenager when feeling particularly out of sorts – trying to remember how Renamon spoke; what she would say to her if she saw her looking down. A habit that she thought she had weened herself off of before entering university.
"So… Some stuff happened after the move," she continued, her eyes narrowing as she glanced away from the card. She sniffed, feeling the old hurt of separation joining with the new one, but she refused to cry. "Stuff…between me and Takato."
In spite of her sincere desire to not cry, tears welled up in her eyes anyway, and she curled her fingers into her palms.
"I…don't know what to say. Or how to describe it. I woke up this morning and he's…there. He was on top of me. He…did something to me while I was out. He…He says he doesn't remember anything and he sounded sincere, but…"
She turned away from the card, scowling at herself.
"This is stupid. I'm talking to a card about something I don't even remember all that well!"
Her breath, though low, felt loud. Strangely loud to her ears. It wasn't what she wanted to hear. She wanted it to be her. Renamon's voice, and if not her, then…
The image of Takato's horrified visage flashed through her mind, and she ground her teeth together. A tear, hot and wet, slipped free from her eyes and rolled down her face. Furiously, she scrubbed at it, cursing it and herself for feeling the way she was. Feeling like a little girl all over again. After everything she had been through over the years…
"What am I trying to say? That it's not like him to do that sort of thing? That he couldn't have done it?"
Yet she knew everyone was capable of doing something dark. Why would Takato be any different? She had seen him at his worst before.
Yet… She had hoped…that he was different. Hoped that, perhaps someday, he would have asked… Or accepted her own invitation…
She glanced back at the card of her partner.
"Could he have done it?" she asked it. Of course, no answer came to her, but the memory of his expression from that morning stuck with her. Turning the card back over atop her deck, she climbed to her feet. Heading over to where she kept her keys, she snatched them up.
Maybe some fresh air will help, she thought, only for her thoughts to be broken up by the distant ringing of her phone. Scowling, realizing that her phone was in the bedroom still, on its charger – a place she didn't want to be in right now – she hurried over, yanking it off its power cord and hitting the reply button before she could even glance at the caller ID.
"Yeah?"
On the other end, there was a sound of buzzing, and she narrowed her eyes at it. It was her manager at her mother's modeling agency.
"Now?" she grated heatedly. The buzzing on the other end grew agitated and Rika gave an exasperated sigh.
This day…is just not getting any better, she thought, feeling her skull ache just a bit more.
###
The door to the Matsuki bakery dinged open and Takehiro looked up to find his wayward son entering. A smile began to draw itself upon his face upon spotting him, but it froze as he saw the despondent look he wore, and the bruise swelling along his cheek.
"Uh… Hey there, son," he greeted, a bit alarmed as the young man trudged toward the living section of the bakery. As he drew closer, Takehiro noticed the vacant look in his son's eyes.
No, he thought, quickly reevaluating his initial assessment. Not vacant. Haunted. Something's happened.
"Hey," Takato replied dully, not even looking at his father as he passed him by. Frowning slightly, Takehiro followed after him.
"Is…everything all right, son? When your mother told me that you had a bit of a rough night, I didn't think… Well… You kind of look like you got into a fight."
Takato stopped briefly at the stairs, and Takehiro saw him close his eyes, as though something more than just the bruise pained him.
"I…I don't want to talk about it right now," he replied, before climbing the steps that would lead to his room. "S-Sorry."
Takehiro tilted his head to one side as Mie stepped into the hall, having heard their son come home. Having spotted the bruise, she gave her husband a questioning look, only for Takehiro to shrug.
He looks really out of it…
"I'll go see to him," he said, following after their son while Mie looked on worriedly. They couldn't remember the last time they had seen him like this, save for when the digimon were forced to return to the digital world. Quickly arriving at the top of the steps, he called out to his son just as he stopped in front of his bedroom door.
"Hey, are you sure you don't want to talk?" he asked, making his way over to him and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Feeling him freeze up under his touch made him blink, and he noticed that, at no point, did Takato turn to look at him. Even from this angle however, he could see the expression of pain writ within his eyes. It was as though he were barely holding back the torrent raging inside him.
"I'm…sure," Takato said throatily, closing his eyes. "I'll…I'll be down in a few minutes. I just…need to change."
Takehiro withdrew his hand, hearing the low, wavering tone in his son's voice. It was the voice of someone who felt lost and had no idea about what to do.
"Takato…"
The young man slid the door to his room open but didn't step in just yet.
"Sorry…" He hung his head, swallowing. "Sorry for worrying you guys. Just…sorry."
"Takato, if you need to take some time to work some things out…"
"I won't," Takato shook his head. "Not anymore."
Urgency surged through Takehiro just then, and taking hold of his son by the shoulder, he spun him around.
"Takato! What's going on? Talk to me! Please!"
The shattered look on Takato's face almost broke his heart. Something serious had happened last night. Much more serious than just a simple fight, and it savaged the young man's spirit so much that it was all he could do just to keep going.
"I…I didn't mean…" Takato began, his voice tattering as he found himself unable to meet his father's eyes. "I…I don't…"
"Takato…"
Wrapping his son in his arms, he pulled him into a powerful hug as he had when he was much younger. The fact that Takato found himself unable to return it spoke volumes as to how seriously whatever had happened impacted him. He was shuddering violently now, the dam on the verge of breaking.
"Please… Tell me!" he urged.
The world span in Takato's eyes as he attempted to speak. To say something. His mouth worked, but all that came out was a low, choking sound as the words, unvoiced, broke through in his mind with crystal clarity.
Rika… I raped Rika…
Sheer, utter blackness slammed home with all the force of a sledgehammer, and Takato crashed into unconsciousness, hanging limply in his father's arms like a doll whose strings had been cut.
8