Tada! The next chapter is here! I'm so glad that so many people like
and my story! This chapter brings the Destined to the Digital World and
when Matt tells his story, more questions than answers result. Enjoy!
As always, Digimon isn't mine. +sigh+ I can dream, can't I? Oh, and, by
the way, things is +these thingys+ are thoughts, unless they're used
in dialogue. In which case they're being used for emphasis, because I
haven't been able to figure out how to italicize things yet. Or indent.
Or center. But that's ok because...well, it's just ok. I think I only
did the 'stars for emphasis' thing once. Well, maybe. Probably. And I
also did these little _ _ things, which indicate italics. Because, like
I said, I don't know how to italicize. Wah...this is long again. Oops...
oh, well. On with the story!
~**~
Chapter Two
~**~
Matt rubbed a towel over his face to dry it, and then sighed, looking
around the bare apartment. The only objects occupying the dusty
residence were large moving boxes, which filled all the rooms of the
middle sized house. Again Matt sighed and turned to face an older man
as he struggled with a particularly large box, attempting to push it
through the front door. Matt helped him with the box and grinned when
the man smiled gratefully.
"Thanks, Matt." He huffed. "I'm not as energetic as I was when we moved
out. What about you? You holdin' up?" Matt shrugged. The man sighed,
defeated. "I hate it when you do that, Matt. It doesn't tell me
anything." Shrugging again, Matt said,
"I'm fine, Dad. Don't worry. Anyway, look at this place! It's so...so..."
"Dusty? Dirty? Run-down? Old? Abandoned looking?" Matt shook his head.
"More like...lonely. I don't remember it looking like this." Matt's dad
nodded and looked around.
"I know. It does look rather lonely. And depressed! It didn't use to
look like this." Matt and his father looked around the room that used
to serve as a living room. Every cobweb told the story of five years of
neglect. When Matt and his father had left, the moving job had been
through. Everything had been taken. Every table, bookshelf, personal
belonging, even the ice treys in the refrigerator. When they left, they
never imagined they'd be returning. It was so final. But now they were
back, to a homecoming that was more than slightly depressing. The
house was now a dark abode for spiders. A thick layer of dust covered
the territory left it by the spiders. It was going to take hours to
clean it, and even longer to turn it back into a home. Matt sighed and
straightened his shoulders.
"Things are looking really bad now, Dad. That's really, really easy to
see. But I think if we work hard we can get this place back up to par.
It might take all night, but I'm ready to pull it. How bout you?"
Matt's dad looked around the dreary place that had housed him for years.
He looked over at where the couch used to be. Matt played there when
he was younger than eleven. Father and son had watched countless movies
sitting on a couch that had been right there. The kitchen was still the
same kitchen Matt used to cook in, creating miracles of flour and eggs.
The house had pulled a cloak of spider webs and dust around itself as a
shield to hide the empty rooms. The shields were high, and the task a
difficult one, but wasn't he the man with the Son of Ice? Hadn't he
pulled down walls higher and far more difficult than these? Surly a
layer of dust wasn't enough to stop him! He grinned and looked at his
son, issuing a silent challenge to the house.
"All right, Matt. Let's get to work!" Matt nodded and went over to a
box, grinning. He knew his father wouldn't be able to resist the
challenge. Pulling out a pair of scissors from somewhere, he went over
to a box labeled 'rags, towels, misc. cleaning supplies' and cut it
open. It was going to be a long night.
Countless hours later, Matt and his father sat on the newly cleaned
floor of what would be the resurrected living room, bushed and sick of
cleaning.
"If I never see another dust bunny," his father began, "it will be too
soon." Matt merely nodded. Moving hurt; talking hurt; breathing hurt.
His father must have noticed, because he sat up and looked at Matt,
asking, "Matt? Are you all right?" Matt attempted a smile, but it came
out as more of a grimace.
"Sorry, Dad." He panted. "Guess I over did it a bit. I'll be ok. I just
need some fresh air. Need anything from anywhere?" Matt's dad sighed
and shook his head.
"I told you, Yamato. No over doing it. But do you listen? Noo. Not the
great Matt Ishida. No, he can take care of himself."
"Dad-"
"All I wanted was an obedient son. When I found out I couldn't have one,
I asked for one who would take care of himself. I can't have that
either!"
"Dad-"
"What kind of world is this? I can't even have a son that will listen
to me. That's more depressing than the state of this house! I +work+
and I +slave+ for you, but do you care? Noo!"
"DAD!"
"Whaat?"
"I'm gonna go out and get some coffee. Do you want some?" Matt's father
blinked, then waved Matt away with a hand.
"Mocha. Italian, not French. Hurry back, Yamato! Or I'll hunt you
down!" Matt laughed as he left his house. +My dad's a card.^ He smiled
at the thought. ^A couple of cards, actually.+ Matt thrust his hands
deep into the pockets of his jacket as he walked through a small park.
He paused to look at a bunch of kids that were stargazing. One of them
pointed at something in the sky and began tracing a constellation as he
spoke. Matt couldn't hear him, but he looked up anyway.
"Ursa Major." He whispered. "T.K., do you see it?" Sighing, Matt turned
away from the small group of kids, hunching his shoulders against the
cold and a sudden ache that had filled his chest at the thought of his
beloved younger brother. It had been five years sense he'd seen the
little blond boy. +Not so little anymore,+ he thought to himself. The
last time he'd thought T.K. needed him, the boy had denied it. And the
painful part was, it was the truth. T.K. didn't need Matt's help, but
what T.K. didn't know was, Matt had needed him. Not for protection or
sympathy, but for hope and stability. In a world where simple realities
like marriage and friendship where questionable things, Matt had needed
someone who needed him; someone who would always be there. T.K. had
been that someone for many years, and then he was simply too old to
want his older brother hanging over him, watching his every move. But
that was all right. Matt didn't need anyone to protect anymore. He had
his hands full just keeping himself healthy. Looking up, Matt realized
that he was at the edge of the park, staring at an, as luck might have
it, all-night coffeehouse. He quickly crossed the street and entered
the shop. The girl behind the counter looked up in amazement at Matt's
entrance, the blown bubble on her lips forgotten until it popped. Matt
grinned as he ran a hand threw his hair, looking at the menu. He had
that effect on girls. With his golden blond hair, cool blue eyes, and
lean build, people sometimes told Matt he reminded them of a large
elegant cat, always managing to look somewhat disinterested while
giving you his full attention. Some people also said he looked like an
angel, or a Grecian god, chiseled of the finest marble and coldest ice.
Matt always laughed. What else could he do? As he looked at the menu,
he said in one of those disinterested tones,
"I'll have one French Cream and one Italian Mocha." The girl nodded.
"Will that Mocha be French or Italian?" Matt gave her a tiny half smile
as her words registered. She blushed and hurried to get his order. Matt
thanked her when she got back and paid her, leaving a two-dollar tip.
For being cute, he said. She blushed red as a tomato, pressed a hand
against her cheek, and looked down, a tiny smile on her lips. Matt had
left the coffee shop and was checking his order when he felt it.
Someone's eyes, boring into the back of his head. Straightening his
shoulders, Matt looked at the person, his eyes filled with indifferent
defiance...and froze. There, standing on the other side of the road,
was T.K. At first, nothing else mattered. There was T.K., after five
years, and he still wore the same hopeful expression, the same trusting
eyes. He was taller, more mature; a handsome figure of a
thirteen-year-old boy, but it was still T.K. And Matt knew the boy
recognized him. The coffee slipped threw his numb fingers as a car
drove by, breaking the eye link the boys held. +RUN! RUN!+
His brain screamed at him. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Running
at this point was not an option. Matt was dimly aware that the dropped
coffee had hit his knee and was burning him, but he couldn't move. The
car was gone, and Matt could see that the others were with T.K. They
were all here...Tai, Sora, Mimi, Joe, Izzy, Kari. All of them. Seven
people staring at him, seven people string at the stars on a large
picnic blanket. +That's where they saw me.+ He realized.
+It was them at the park. It was...T.K., telling them about the
constellations. How...stupid of me. How utterly foolish of me to leave
the house before I figured out a cover story.+ Distantly, he realized
they were coming over. Not just crossing the street, but running in a
frenzied fashion, as if they though he would disappear. +This is...very
bad. What should I say?+ They were around him, now. Not just in front
of, but to the right, left, and behind. Encircling him. Suddenly, Matt
felt very uncomfortable. They were all talking at once, asking where he
had been, what he had been doing, why had he left. +Too many questions.
Too much. Too fast. Oh, God. What do I do? What do you do when people
you haven't seen in five years are all of a sudden right THERE, in your
face, asking questions you don't want to answer?+ All at once, Matt
desperately wanted his father. +Dad, oh Dad, come quick! I need you.
Help me!+ Joe and Izzy were to Matt's right, talking. Tai and Kari
were behind him, hugging. Sora's eyes were full. She was with Mimi, to
Matt's left. Mimi was hugging Sora and beaming at Matt. T.K was in
front. He reached out to touch Matt, to make sure he was real. Matt
pulled away and stepped back, directly into Tai. There was an explosion
of sound; light that shattered Matt's world, sending him careening into
the dark bliss of unconsciousness. He was only dimly aware that T.K.
and the others were with him, wherever he was. Matt felt himself
falling, and surrendered to the dark, pulling it towards him and
wrapping himself in it. It was good, this darkness. It had saved him
once, it would save him again. As Matt plummeted towards the ground, he
became blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and slipped into a dark
and dreamless sleep.
When Tai open his eyes, his first thought was, +We're not in Kansas
anymore, Toto.+ It was true. Tall skyscrapers were replaced by
towering trees; the river of road by a river of water, crystal clear
and untainted by civilization. Even though it was not his home, this
place was...strangely familiar. It reminded Tai of a place where
something miraculous had happened. He could almost remember. What was
it?
"Oh, my God!" A female voice, Mimi, cried. "It's the Digiworld!"
~**~
It's too big. Please read "The Problem with Friendship - Chapter TwoB
Forgive the inconvience!
and my story! This chapter brings the Destined to the Digital World and
when Matt tells his story, more questions than answers result. Enjoy!
As always, Digimon isn't mine. +sigh+ I can dream, can't I? Oh, and, by
the way, things is +these thingys+ are thoughts, unless they're used
in dialogue. In which case they're being used for emphasis, because I
haven't been able to figure out how to italicize things yet. Or indent.
Or center. But that's ok because...well, it's just ok. I think I only
did the 'stars for emphasis' thing once. Well, maybe. Probably. And I
also did these little _ _ things, which indicate italics. Because, like
I said, I don't know how to italicize. Wah...this is long again. Oops...
oh, well. On with the story!
~**~
Chapter Two
~**~
Matt rubbed a towel over his face to dry it, and then sighed, looking
around the bare apartment. The only objects occupying the dusty
residence were large moving boxes, which filled all the rooms of the
middle sized house. Again Matt sighed and turned to face an older man
as he struggled with a particularly large box, attempting to push it
through the front door. Matt helped him with the box and grinned when
the man smiled gratefully.
"Thanks, Matt." He huffed. "I'm not as energetic as I was when we moved
out. What about you? You holdin' up?" Matt shrugged. The man sighed,
defeated. "I hate it when you do that, Matt. It doesn't tell me
anything." Shrugging again, Matt said,
"I'm fine, Dad. Don't worry. Anyway, look at this place! It's so...so..."
"Dusty? Dirty? Run-down? Old? Abandoned looking?" Matt shook his head.
"More like...lonely. I don't remember it looking like this." Matt's dad
nodded and looked around.
"I know. It does look rather lonely. And depressed! It didn't use to
look like this." Matt and his father looked around the room that used
to serve as a living room. Every cobweb told the story of five years of
neglect. When Matt and his father had left, the moving job had been
through. Everything had been taken. Every table, bookshelf, personal
belonging, even the ice treys in the refrigerator. When they left, they
never imagined they'd be returning. It was so final. But now they were
back, to a homecoming that was more than slightly depressing. The
house was now a dark abode for spiders. A thick layer of dust covered
the territory left it by the spiders. It was going to take hours to
clean it, and even longer to turn it back into a home. Matt sighed and
straightened his shoulders.
"Things are looking really bad now, Dad. That's really, really easy to
see. But I think if we work hard we can get this place back up to par.
It might take all night, but I'm ready to pull it. How bout you?"
Matt's dad looked around the dreary place that had housed him for years.
He looked over at where the couch used to be. Matt played there when
he was younger than eleven. Father and son had watched countless movies
sitting on a couch that had been right there. The kitchen was still the
same kitchen Matt used to cook in, creating miracles of flour and eggs.
The house had pulled a cloak of spider webs and dust around itself as a
shield to hide the empty rooms. The shields were high, and the task a
difficult one, but wasn't he the man with the Son of Ice? Hadn't he
pulled down walls higher and far more difficult than these? Surly a
layer of dust wasn't enough to stop him! He grinned and looked at his
son, issuing a silent challenge to the house.
"All right, Matt. Let's get to work!" Matt nodded and went over to a
box, grinning. He knew his father wouldn't be able to resist the
challenge. Pulling out a pair of scissors from somewhere, he went over
to a box labeled 'rags, towels, misc. cleaning supplies' and cut it
open. It was going to be a long night.
Countless hours later, Matt and his father sat on the newly cleaned
floor of what would be the resurrected living room, bushed and sick of
cleaning.
"If I never see another dust bunny," his father began, "it will be too
soon." Matt merely nodded. Moving hurt; talking hurt; breathing hurt.
His father must have noticed, because he sat up and looked at Matt,
asking, "Matt? Are you all right?" Matt attempted a smile, but it came
out as more of a grimace.
"Sorry, Dad." He panted. "Guess I over did it a bit. I'll be ok. I just
need some fresh air. Need anything from anywhere?" Matt's dad sighed
and shook his head.
"I told you, Yamato. No over doing it. But do you listen? Noo. Not the
great Matt Ishida. No, he can take care of himself."
"Dad-"
"All I wanted was an obedient son. When I found out I couldn't have one,
I asked for one who would take care of himself. I can't have that
either!"
"Dad-"
"What kind of world is this? I can't even have a son that will listen
to me. That's more depressing than the state of this house! I +work+
and I +slave+ for you, but do you care? Noo!"
"DAD!"
"Whaat?"
"I'm gonna go out and get some coffee. Do you want some?" Matt's father
blinked, then waved Matt away with a hand.
"Mocha. Italian, not French. Hurry back, Yamato! Or I'll hunt you
down!" Matt laughed as he left his house. +My dad's a card.^ He smiled
at the thought. ^A couple of cards, actually.+ Matt thrust his hands
deep into the pockets of his jacket as he walked through a small park.
He paused to look at a bunch of kids that were stargazing. One of them
pointed at something in the sky and began tracing a constellation as he
spoke. Matt couldn't hear him, but he looked up anyway.
"Ursa Major." He whispered. "T.K., do you see it?" Sighing, Matt turned
away from the small group of kids, hunching his shoulders against the
cold and a sudden ache that had filled his chest at the thought of his
beloved younger brother. It had been five years sense he'd seen the
little blond boy. +Not so little anymore,+ he thought to himself. The
last time he'd thought T.K. needed him, the boy had denied it. And the
painful part was, it was the truth. T.K. didn't need Matt's help, but
what T.K. didn't know was, Matt had needed him. Not for protection or
sympathy, but for hope and stability. In a world where simple realities
like marriage and friendship where questionable things, Matt had needed
someone who needed him; someone who would always be there. T.K. had
been that someone for many years, and then he was simply too old to
want his older brother hanging over him, watching his every move. But
that was all right. Matt didn't need anyone to protect anymore. He had
his hands full just keeping himself healthy. Looking up, Matt realized
that he was at the edge of the park, staring at an, as luck might have
it, all-night coffeehouse. He quickly crossed the street and entered
the shop. The girl behind the counter looked up in amazement at Matt's
entrance, the blown bubble on her lips forgotten until it popped. Matt
grinned as he ran a hand threw his hair, looking at the menu. He had
that effect on girls. With his golden blond hair, cool blue eyes, and
lean build, people sometimes told Matt he reminded them of a large
elegant cat, always managing to look somewhat disinterested while
giving you his full attention. Some people also said he looked like an
angel, or a Grecian god, chiseled of the finest marble and coldest ice.
Matt always laughed. What else could he do? As he looked at the menu,
he said in one of those disinterested tones,
"I'll have one French Cream and one Italian Mocha." The girl nodded.
"Will that Mocha be French or Italian?" Matt gave her a tiny half smile
as her words registered. She blushed and hurried to get his order. Matt
thanked her when she got back and paid her, leaving a two-dollar tip.
For being cute, he said. She blushed red as a tomato, pressed a hand
against her cheek, and looked down, a tiny smile on her lips. Matt had
left the coffee shop and was checking his order when he felt it.
Someone's eyes, boring into the back of his head. Straightening his
shoulders, Matt looked at the person, his eyes filled with indifferent
defiance...and froze. There, standing on the other side of the road,
was T.K. At first, nothing else mattered. There was T.K., after five
years, and he still wore the same hopeful expression, the same trusting
eyes. He was taller, more mature; a handsome figure of a
thirteen-year-old boy, but it was still T.K. And Matt knew the boy
recognized him. The coffee slipped threw his numb fingers as a car
drove by, breaking the eye link the boys held. +RUN! RUN!+
His brain screamed at him. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Running
at this point was not an option. Matt was dimly aware that the dropped
coffee had hit his knee and was burning him, but he couldn't move. The
car was gone, and Matt could see that the others were with T.K. They
were all here...Tai, Sora, Mimi, Joe, Izzy, Kari. All of them. Seven
people staring at him, seven people string at the stars on a large
picnic blanket. +That's where they saw me.+ He realized.
+It was them at the park. It was...T.K., telling them about the
constellations. How...stupid of me. How utterly foolish of me to leave
the house before I figured out a cover story.+ Distantly, he realized
they were coming over. Not just crossing the street, but running in a
frenzied fashion, as if they though he would disappear. +This is...very
bad. What should I say?+ They were around him, now. Not just in front
of, but to the right, left, and behind. Encircling him. Suddenly, Matt
felt very uncomfortable. They were all talking at once, asking where he
had been, what he had been doing, why had he left. +Too many questions.
Too much. Too fast. Oh, God. What do I do? What do you do when people
you haven't seen in five years are all of a sudden right THERE, in your
face, asking questions you don't want to answer?+ All at once, Matt
desperately wanted his father. +Dad, oh Dad, come quick! I need you.
Help me!+ Joe and Izzy were to Matt's right, talking. Tai and Kari
were behind him, hugging. Sora's eyes were full. She was with Mimi, to
Matt's left. Mimi was hugging Sora and beaming at Matt. T.K was in
front. He reached out to touch Matt, to make sure he was real. Matt
pulled away and stepped back, directly into Tai. There was an explosion
of sound; light that shattered Matt's world, sending him careening into
the dark bliss of unconsciousness. He was only dimly aware that T.K.
and the others were with him, wherever he was. Matt felt himself
falling, and surrendered to the dark, pulling it towards him and
wrapping himself in it. It was good, this darkness. It had saved him
once, it would save him again. As Matt plummeted towards the ground, he
became blissfully unaware of his surroundings, and slipped into a dark
and dreamless sleep.
When Tai open his eyes, his first thought was, +We're not in Kansas
anymore, Toto.+ It was true. Tall skyscrapers were replaced by
towering trees; the river of road by a river of water, crystal clear
and untainted by civilization. Even though it was not his home, this
place was...strangely familiar. It reminded Tai of a place where
something miraculous had happened. He could almost remember. What was
it?
"Oh, my God!" A female voice, Mimi, cried. "It's the Digiworld!"
~**~
It's too big. Please read "The Problem with Friendship - Chapter TwoB
Forgive the inconvience!