chapter 1 revision

chapter 1

Juice

Takeru's turn...



One of the only things Takeru preferred about living alone with his mother, his father and his brother Yamato now gone and living on the other side of Odabia, was having his own room. It was not that he didn't like sharing one with his brother though - he actually missed it a lot, and although he wasn't a little kid anymore, he missed that secure feeling of having him in the same room at night. That space was their refuge from the realities of the world, the dissonance that should have respected the boundaries of their home but marched in and laid siege at their bedroom door. Despite that his memories of their old room somehow maintained their innocence, unscarred by events that played out throughout the rest of the apartment. They had since moved, but every detail of it was cemented in his mind.

Those days always ended with his brother boosting him up onto his bed. Yamato let Takeru have that coveted spot, one that most brothers fight for. However, sleeping on the top bunk was never something that he enjoyed. He knew that Yamato would have gladly traded places had he known about Takeru's fear of heights, but Takeru had never confided that in him. He always wanted to be a big boy, and so he kept it to himself. He knew Yamato wouldn't think any less of him if he decided to tell him about it now, but there was no real point in confessing a fear that he had gotten over.

The bunk beds were now gone though, replaced by a single full-sized mattress that Takeru was now laying on. Although it was a larger bed, it didn't seem to take up much more space than his older one. Perhaps that was simply because there was not another above it, not to mention that Yamato's stuff was no longer strewn about the room. Their room had always been a mess, one that occasionally became difficult to walk through. His brother had a habit of tossing his stuff everywhere, a habit that Takeru never picked up on, evidenced by his meticulously organized and spotless desk. Gone were Yamato's books, Yamato's guitar, Yamato's dirty clothes… Maybe I don't miss all of it, Takeru thought. Having a room of his own and a bed no more than a foot and half off the floor was much better than the cluttered and disorganized space where he fought his acrophobia on a daily basis as a young boy.

He found mornings to be much easier when he could simply put his feet on the floor and not have to descend on a ladder or jump down to the floor with stiff joints and semi-atrophied leg muscles to cushion his descent. He sat up slowly and hung his feet off the bed, careful not to touch the ice-cold wooden floor, put his slippers on and finally managed to get himself up. Saturday mornings were usually quiet in Takeru's apartment, for his mother was at work, helping piece together another giant Sunday edition of Tokyo's biggest newspaper. She would return in a few hours before scrambling back to help finish the job later that night. He walked to the bathroom, switched the light on, and shut the door, careful not to make too much noise. He relieved himself, as he found that he always desperately needed to do every morning, washed his hands and splashed some cold water in his face. His hair looked like his brother's did when he was younger, but bedhead was permissible on a Saturday morning. At least I'm not as skinny as him, he thought, posing for the mirror in his boxers.

The refrigerator was mostly empty, but there was butter, some eggs and some orange juice, all that he really needed to make some breakfast. He grabbed the butter and the two cartons and shut the door. The clock read 8:32. Darn, Takeru thought. I missed my favorite show! It would be on again at 9:30 though, and as long as he didn't go back to bed he'd be sure to catch the second episode. He started to pour the orange juice, one glass for him and another for…

There were three loud knocks on the door, almost like someone was trying to knock it down. Takeru first thought about the string of burglaries that had hit apartment complexes much like his lately. In fact, his mother had warned him about it just days before. She told him not to open the door for anyone he didn't know, advice that he shrugged off as matriarchal paranoia. Maybe they'll just let themselves in this time, Takeru thought, before he reeled in his imagination. No, that's not it. What if it was the police? No, how could they know? Takeru's mind raced, running through the events of last evening, quite sure that nothing he did was against the law. He stood frozen until he realized that his glass was overflowing and another loud knock at the door shook him to his senses. He set the glass down, quickly toweled up his mess and proceeded to the door, trying not to step on any noisy floorboards. He squinted through the peephole and was relieved not to find a swat team or a group of kidnappers outside. In fact, he didn't see anyone. All he saw was a big stick, which smacked right into his field of vision and startled him so much that he stumbled back, making enough of a ruckus that whoever was out there would know that someone was home.

"Hello?" It sounded like an old woman with emphysema, or Iori. "Are you here Takeru?"

Takeru was in no mood to talk to him now, but being that he was a fellow Digidestined and that it could possibly be an emergency, he opened the door for him. He made sure to open it only 45 degrees or so, enough to see what the boy wanted but not enough to constitute an invitation to come in.

"Oh, hi Iori." What the heck is he doing here now?

"Hi Takeru. My grandpa and I are going to practice Tai Chi this morning. He says it will help my balance when I'm doing Kendo and that it will help me find inner peace and enlightenment, do you want to come along? It's a rewarding physical exercise and grandpa says it brings him into harmony with the universe. Hey, can I have some orange juice?"

Only if you'll get out of here now, Takeru thought. Somehow he got his foot in the door and walked right under Takeru's outstretched arm, his shinai smacking Takeru in the knee. As he clutched his leg, smarting from the pain, Iori stole his juice and began making himself at home. He felt slightly uncomfortable having the strange boy in his apartment in the first place, partly because he was just spooked by him, partly because he hadn't had time to put on any pants.

"Thanks Takeru. So do you want to come with us? My grandpa does Tai Chi all the time. Did I mention that my grandpa likes liquid yogurt? We drink it all the time, do you have any?" Iori now proceeded to rummage through Takeru's refrigerator.

He continued to ramble on about his grandpa and all the wonderful things they did together. These stories were not new, and even when they were they were not very interesting. Takeru tried to look interested, but it was hard. If Iori wasn't a Digidestined, there was no way that he would ever spend time with him. He tried to look back at when he was younger and the older Digidestined had accepted him as one of their own. I know I should be nicer to him. After all, we are a team, right? The question remained unanswered in his mind, replaced by hunger pains that he could not satisfy until Iori left him alone.

What's wrong with me? Why does he get to me so easily? It wasn't just his personality though. His immaturity and childish behavior had become a burden in the digital world. There he wasn't just annoying, he was actually dangerous. Takeru hadn't taken much of a liking to Iori's Digimon either. Whereas he enjoyed the company of Patamon, Veemon, Gatomon and Hawkmon very much, Armadillomon was just as annoying to be around as the child he was chosen to protect. He hadn't done much to assist them in battles either, for his attacks were dangerous to everyone. When they first faced the Digimon Kaizer, Daisuke and Miyako had nearly fallen to their death when Digmon smashed the ground beneath their feet. Why does he have the crest of knowledge? Takeru wondered. If he was half as perceptive as Taichi he would know that he been a liability to us the whole time. I hope the Digital World remains in harmony, I don't want to have to go into battle with him again. For that thought, Takeru mentally slapped himself. Why do I feel like this? He's like my partner. How he was paired with Iori he would never know. It should have been me and Daisuke.

He knew he wasn't alone in his feelings though. He could tell that Iori seriously annoyed Hikari. How long had it been since he last searched her eyes? It hadn't been more than six months since he decided that pursuing her was a futile act, that they had no future as a couple. He still loved her, but just as a good friend, almost like a sister, but not in the way he once thought he did. He was learning through experience that people change, and luckily Hikari could accept that. Why am I thinking about her now? He remembered as he looked up and saw that Iori was now practicing his Kendo patterns in the middle of his mom's kitchen, swinging his stick dangerously close to some very fragile and irreplaceable plates and pots on the shelves. Once, he had brought out a look in her eyes that he had never seen before.

It was a day just like any other, one where the five of them congregated in the computer lab after school. He could not be sure, but Takeru figured it had been three, maybe four months ago. As they discussed how to confront the Digimon Kaizer, Iori began begging to go home. It didn't take much to send him off on a guilt trip, and he was currently torn between going with them and staying behind, as he felt he was lying to his grandfather about the true nature of his after school activities. Morally, it was a real dilemma, but not one that anyone wanted to be forced onto them, especially at such a critical point in their mission. At one point Hikari put her hands on her head and heaved a heavy sigh. She emitted a pure state of impatience and frustration, one that at the time made him want to just put his arm around her and whisper soothing words of encouragement ("It's okay", "relax", etc…) accompanied by a massage or some kind of comforting physical affection. Since then he had seen her like that more and more often, usually in the reluctant presence of Iori.

To make matters worse, Takeru felt stuck with him, as Angemon needed Ankylomon to digivolve to Shakkouamon. It wasn't as important as it had been when they were fighting Arachnamon and Mummymon, and of course, Malomyotismon, but the six of them still had to be on their guard for new disturbances in the Digital World. Experience had taught them to never take its peace for granted. Their Digimon could not spend much time in the real world, at least not outside of their apartments. None of them wanted to face the possible trouble that would come if scientists knew that Digimon were still in their world. Besides, they were needed back in the Digital World, as it was still in the process of rebuilding itself. Despite the troubles that they faced, they visited each other every chance they had. It sucks, Takeru thought. But at least we don't have to spend our time destroying dark towers when we're there. Speaking of wasting time...

"Well, uh…look Iori. I was just getting up to get something to drink when you got here, so I think I'm going to get going back to bed now…" He might be young, but some hints are obvious to anyone, Takeru thought. "Stay as long as you want, but I'm going back to sleep." It didn't seem like a bad idea, but he didn't want to miss his favorite show. He should go now, he assured himself.

Iori continued to proceed through his pattern, but naively responded to him. "Ok, but my grandfather will be disappointed. He always wanted you to try kendo. He said that because you have long arms…no, wait…it's because you're tall. You see, that gives you a better reach than your opponent…Actually my grandfather says that kendo is more suited for shorter people since they have a lower center of gravity. Plus you have blonde hair, which some people think means that you're less resistant to pain…" His speech was cut off by a loud crack. It wasn't ceramic or glass as Takeru first feared, but something much heavier that quickly tumbled to the floor with a loud thud.

…end of chapter 1