Takeru Takaishi had always thought it strange that his destiny was laid out for him, ever-present and never changing. As a young boy, he couldn't find it within himself to complain. Patamon had quickly become his closest confidant, the one person sworn to be by his side for the rest of his life.
As he grew older, questions surmounted the adventure, doubts clouding his mind's eye. If it hadn't been for the ominous beings that lingered on the sidelines, watching the Chosen with a close eye, would he have still rekindled his relationship with his older brother? In a world without Digimon, would Yamato still invite him over for their weekly dinners, or would they still be practically strangers?
In an effort to regain some normalcy in his life, Takeru had taken to playing basketball. Being a part of the team helped him connect with others, free from the burden of his childhood. Still, a voice nagged at him from his subconscious: If he had never gone to summer camp, would these people still be his friends? Would he have even liked basketball in the first place?
The halls of Odaiba High School were crowded with classmates, the late summer sun beckoning them outside as club activities drew to a close.
Hair damp with sweat, Takeru shoved his school shoes into his locker, cramming his feet into a pair of sneakers.
His muscles were tense with overexertion. Practice had been unusually brutal, the red-faced coach pushing the team harder than ever as the biggest game of the season approached. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky aglow with golden light.
Just on the other side of the entrance, Hikari Yagami stood patiently. Takeru could see the crown of her head as he descended the stairs, his pace quickening.
A grin twitched onto his lips unwillingly. He attributed it to muscle memory; over half of their lives had been spent laughing together. It was only natural that the sight of his best friend brought a smile to his face. The butterflies in his stomach were another matter altogether, but he had ample practice of tampering their excitement.
Before Takeru rounded the corner, Hikari whipped her head around. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, her own lips tilting upward. Around them, birds chirped out their farewells before flying off.
"How was practice?"
By now, her question was a mere formality. Takeru knew she had seen the bags underneath his eyes and the defeated slump of his shoulders. Still, Hikari eyed him with guarded curiosity.
"It was fine."
Though Hikari didn't say anything, Takeru could hear the tension in his own voice. Silence stretched between them as his companion gave him time to think. He had learned early on to keep his feelings suppressed, the thought of burdening someone else with his problems incomprehensible.
Beside him, the sleeve of Hikari's uniform brushed against his. Takeru relished her proximity. Warmth seemed to radiate from her form, Hikari's mere existence putting him at ease.
Thankfully, Hikari remained lost in her own thoughts as they made their way down the road. Usually, their afternoons were spent discussing the minute details of their day, from homework to troublesome teachers, even their plans for the future. They had yet to find a topic either of them were unwilling to talk about; they had yet to have a reason to hide anything from one another.
As of late, the pair had been focused on college entrance exams. An involuntary shiver ran down Takeru's spine despite the warmth of the afternoon.
Walking down the sidewalk methodically, his sore muscles were forgotten as his mind focused elsewhere.
Yamato had once told him that upper education was a trap. Much like their father, Yamato believed that children shouldn't be expected to decide on a career path that will dictate the rest of their lives. Takeru remembered agreeing whole-heartedly, unable to fathom his rockstar brother smothered in a business suit, following orders from elderly men with nasty attitudes.
And yet, even his brother had succumbed to the system, his weekends spent with mathematical problems instead of sold-out venues.
Takeru supported his brother unconditionally, swallowing his questions in lieu of congratulations. He only allowed the questions to float to the forefront to his mind late at night in those moments where sleep evaded him.
If they hadn't spent a summer in another world, would Yamato still have loved the stars so much that he would dedicate the rest of his life to unraveling their mysteries?
"What's on your mind?" Hikari's voice was soft against the breeze. She didn't look his way, focusing her gaze on the path ahead to give him the space he needed.
Sometimes, Hikari's perceptiveness unnerved him. Without so much as speaking a word, she could read his mood, adapting the conversation to fit his needs.
His footsteps slowed until they stopped completely. Hikari looked back over her shoulder, eyebrows gathered with worry.
Words gathered at the tip of Takeru's tongue, his thoughts murky and muddled. With unwavering patience, Hikari waited, hands delicately clasped behind her back.
A shaky exhale was his only preamble before his mouth opened, words falling from his lips in an odd, disjointed way. "In a world without Digimon, would we still be the same people?"
In the grass, a cicada hummed, the sun dipping even lower beyond the horizon.
Anxiety seemed to seep from his pores, a strange sort of anticipation building in his stomach, leaving him queasy.
Hikari tilted her head in thought, as if Takeru's question was as natural as a comment on the weather. Finally, she met his questioning gaze, amber eyes keeping her emotions well-hidden.
"It's impossible to tell," she admitted. When Takeru didn't respond, she took a step closer, the toe of her shoe grazing his sneaker. "Is everything alright?"
Concern seemed to radiate off her small frame.
"Yes. No. I don't know," he rambled honestly. "But if I had never gone to summer camp, if we had never been to the Digital World and met our partners, met each other, would we still have been friends?"
He paused, his heavy breaths falling between them. Hikari's silence unnerved him. Anxiously, he searched her face for an answer, coming up empty.
Disappointment settled in Takeru's stomach; if anyone were to have an answer to his question, it would have been Hikari. Suddenly, embarrassment colored the tips of his ears, vulnerability creeping up his neck.
Though Hikari looked at him with gentle reassurance, Takeru took a step back, excuses bubbling in his throat.
"Takeru?"
Without a word, he backed up, the collar of his uniform shirt overbeating against his throat. "I should probably get home. Mom needs help with dinner."
Despite Hikari knowing that his mother was out of town on a business trip, she remained silent, stepping aside so that Takeru could pass her. "I'll see you tomorrow," she offered.
Her voice was lost to the breeze as he broke out into a run, heart pounding erratically in his chest.
As soon as the front door creaked open, the sound of something fluttering filled Takeru's ears.
"You're home!" Patamon cried, his paws burrowing into blond locks. Outside, children played in a nearby park, their laughter filling the warm air.
The tightness in Takeru's chest alleviated a little, Patamon's infectious happiness making it easier to breathe.
Beyond the doorway, his apartment was bathed in darkness. A news story had been brewing on the mainland, ushering his mother away for the better part of two months. The fridge had been stocked with leftovers and microwavable meals, but Takeru wasn't feeling hungry.
Without the sound of his mother furiously typing, Takeru's footsteps were too loud, too out of place.
If their children's lives hadn't been predestined for another world, would their marriage be intact? Is there an alternate universe where Takeru comes home to his family, complete and whole and together?
"Did you have fun today?"
If Patamon noticed Takeru's empty stare or lackluster voice, he didn't comment. The emptiness of the apartment was soon filled with his partner's chatter, Takeru taking care not to jostle him from his perch as the door of the bedroom shut behind them.
The muscles in Takeru's legs protested as he sank into the soft mattress. He laid back, welcoming the weight of Patamon on his chest. Blue eyes unfocused, Takeru stared at the ceiling above him, idly scratching behind his partner's ears.
As Patamon prattled on about the cartoons he had watched, Takeru's mind drifted elsewhere.
From the time he had been eight years old, Hikari had always been his sounding board, the one person to tell it like it was, to call him out if the situation called for it. She was sweet and kind and honest; she was his most trusted friend.
But would she have been his friend if their lives hadn't been threatened by digital creatures? Would Hikari wait for him by the gate, no matter the manner in which their friendship had blossomed?
The mere thought of Hikari, one of the only constants in his life, caused Takeru's pulse to quickened uncomfortably. Atop him, Patamon's voice tapered off, sentence left unfinished.
"Are you okay?" Patamon's ears were pressed tightly against his head, large blue eyes shimmering with concern. Takeru's hand moved from behind his partner's ears to his middle, patting him in reassurance.
Hikari's worry from earlier was now reflected in Patamon's eyes. Takeru tore his gaze from his partner. Posters of various sports players decorated the walls, corners curling with age. A blurred photo of him and his brother stood proudly on the bedside table, stage lights gleaming in the background.
"Just thinking," Takeru offered. Silence stretched between them. When an explanation didn't follow, Patamon tilted his head almost imperceptibly.
"It's just," the blond stalled, struggling to formulate a coherent thought, "I don't know. It's too hard to put into words."
"Could you try? I want to help you."
The bedsprings creaked as Takeru turned on his side, Patamon snuggling between his arms and chest. With his ears tucked neatly down his sides, Patamon burrowed his nose into the starched button-down.
After a moment, his thoughts formulated on the tip of Takeru's tongue, spilling out between them.
"Without you, would I still have liked basketball?"
In Takeru's grasp, Patamon stilled. "Without me? Why would you ever be without me? Did I do something wrong?"
Takeru pulled his partner closer to him, resting his cheek on Patamon's head. "Of course not. You've been in my life longer than you haven't; I can't remember a time before you. But that's part of the problem. I want to like basketball because I find it enjoyable, not because my circumstances led me to it for a reprieve."
Patamon's eyes glittered with an unidentifiable emotion, mouth set in a firm line. "I don't even know how to play basketball. It seems that you don't really need me to throw a ball into a net. If you're worried about the team or the upcoming game, you can always take a break. I'm sure your coach wouldn't mind."
"It's not just about basketball!" Takeru's ferocity shocked even himself, heart clenching at the way Patamon flinched.
With his pulse pounding in his ears, Takeru sat up, propping himself against the pillows. The last remnants of sunlight filtered through the blinds, bathing the room in a golden light.
Tenderly, Takeru pulled Patamon onto his lap. "I'm sorry," the blond began, voice thick with emotion, "I don't know where that came from."
Instead of talking, Patamon opted to muzzle his head against Takeru, allowing the boy to pet him once more absentmindedly. As Takeru's heartbeat slowed, Patamon's courage grew.
"If whatever is bothering you is too big to handle on your own, you could always go to Hikari."
Takeru stiffened, warmth crawling up his neck. Unexplainably, his stomach twisted itself in knots. "I don't think she's an option at the moment."
"Well, then Yamato can help. He always loves helping you out! Plus, if we go over tonight, then maybe he can cook us some real food."
"Hey!" Takeru's lips twitched upward with indignance. "Are you insinuating that the delectable, wonderful, tasty meals I make aren't real?"
"Takeru, I don't think anyone considers instant ramen to be real food."
"Whatever," Takeru laughed. Fishing his cell phone from his pocket, he typed out a quick message to his brother. The bed creaked once more as he stood up, neck sore from tension. Patamon fluttered beside him, a small grin playing on his features.
"C'mon," Takeru motioned with his arm as he walked towards the bedroom door. "Let's go."
Their father's apartment was as cluttered and disorganized as the last time Takeru ventured over to the other side of town.
His brother answered the door in a pair of ratty sweatpants, their mother's old apron tied around his waist. "I'm glad you messaged me; I was just getting dinner on the stove."
From the look of the grocery bags that littered the kitchen counters and brand-new carton of eggs, Takeru doubted that Yamato had been coincidentally making his favorite meal, but he knew better than to push it.
"Thanks for letting me come over at the last minute."
Gabumon smiled up at him from the kitchen table. With his little chef's hat, the Digimon looked at home amidst the vegetables Yamato let him chop. Patamon squirmed in Takeru's grasp until he was released, happily swooping toward Gabumon as they began an animated discussion about one of their favorite shows.
The smell of curry udon elicited a growl from Takeru's stomach. Sheepishly, he grinned at his older brother, rubbing the back of his neck in the doorway.
"You must have been hungry," Yamato commented. He turned back towards the broth simmering in a pot, humming a tune too low for Takeru to make out the melody.
"I guess."
"Takeru only knows how to cook instant ramen, and it always turns out crunchy," Patamon added helpfully. Gabumon remained silent. For a moment, the sound of spring onions being dutifully chopped was Yamato's only accompaniment.
Takeru cleared his throat. "Mom's been…busy."
Yamato nodded, the tune he hummed intensifying. Takeru didn't miss the way his brother's eyes narrowed or the way Gabumon sent him a knowing look.
A dining room chair scraped against the floor as Takeru took a seat. The familiar smells of his father's house washed over him. A whiff of tobacco melded with the scent of Yamato's cooking, creating something uniquely male. Takeru was home.
Few words passed between the brothers as Yamato served dinner. Forks scratched against the plates, the low hum of the television filling the space between their thoughts.
"So, what's going on?"
Over the kitchen table, Yamato's eyes stared intently into his little brother's. Beside Takeru, Patamon tensed. Takeru stilled.
Hard work went into perfecting the way people perceived him. Takeru worked tirelessly to ensure that he didn't let anything slip, that he never made people feel the need to comfort him or take care of him. All of his efforts were to ensure that no one felt burdened by him, and yet, Yamato was able to read him with a single look.
"It's nothing."
With a raised eyebrow, Yamato leaned in. "Sure doesn't seem like nothing."
Despite the warm food and his brother's obvious concern, Takeru felt numb. Immediately after their parents divorce, it was hard to look at one another, much less hold a conversation. Their summer in the Digital World had changed that, and had connected them in the most impossible ways.
Would Yamato even care this much if trauma in another world hadn't bonded them together?
An uncomfortable warmth crawled up Takeru's neck. The corners of his eyes felt itchy, hands clammy. "It's just -"
Yamato's calloused finger stopped him. "Wait, don't tell me. Did you finally put the moves on Taichi's sister?"
For a moment, Takeru's train of thought was thoroughly derailed. "Do you really think I would make a move on Hikari and not tell you about it? With how fast word travels in our group, I wouldn't make it home without 'Taichi's Big Brother Intervention'."
Gabumon cracked a smile, Yamato's own lips curling at the edges. Despite all of the changes around them, it was comforting to know that some things would always remain constant.
The tendrils of anxiety loosened. Thoughtfully, Takeru chewed on his food. Once his hunger had been satisfied, he was able to think more clearly.
"Would you still make me dinner even if we hadn't gone to the Digital World?"
Time seemed to stand still. Yamato's fork hovered in the air, Gabumon frozen beside him. Patamon seemed to be the only one unaffected, happily humming to himself as he continued to eat.
Just as Yamato gathered his thoughts, Takeru barreled on, the words rising up with such ferocity that he was unprepared for what stumbled out of his mouth.
"If we had never gone to that summer camp, would you even talk to me, or would you push me out just like you did Mom?"
The fork clattered onto the plate. "What?"
Takeru said nothing. He attempted nonchalance as he shoveled another forkful of dinner into his mouth, but his hands were shaking.
Underneath Yamato's incredulous stare, Takeru's chest grew tight. It was as if a balloon had been inflated, pushing everything out. His words still hung in the air, the tension in the room unbearable. The itchiness in the corners of his eyes only grew stronger, his cheeks inflamed.
Takeru made no effort to stop the tears that welled up in his vision. One by one, they trickled down, trails of water etched down his face.
Slowly, the anger drained from Yamato's eyes. Takeru had grown a lot since their adventure, the older boy mused. Barely seventeen, Takeru's height rivaled his own, his boyish features maturing into that of a young man.
Despite all the physical changes, Yamato could still see the boy with the green hat. Takeru had been so young, so recklessly joyful that Yamato was sure he would be fine.
And for a while, Yamato supposed he was.
Yamato's silence gave Takeru enough courage to continue. Sniffling, Takeru met his brother's gaze.
"As soon as we stepped into the Digital World, our lives were forever changed. How can any of us go back to normal after caring for another creature, watching our comrades disintegrate no matter how hard we fought to protect them? I didn't even know how to take care of myself, much less Patamon. I was eight year old! Eight! And I didn't have a choice.
"Getting to meet the others and bond with you was the best part about all of it, don't get me wrong. I'm grateful to have been chosen as Patamon's partner and to be your brother, but the choice still wasn't mine. Omnipotent beings took our destiny into their own hands, creating a story that fit their narrative. Mom and Dad splitting us up was bad enough, but then we were pulled from the only world we had ever known and were told to defend it with our life if necessary."
Takeru took a deep breath, his cheeks dry.
A strange sort of passion had taken over him. He no longer thought about what he said, but let the words fall where they may. Even Patamon had stopped humming to listen, food forgotten
Across the table, Yamato was still with attention, guilt simmering in his stomach.
Taking a sip of water, Takeru continued.
"It was as if our lives were never in our hands, not truly. And now, I can't tell which decisions are mine and which are Theirs. I use basketball as an escape; I do my best to live an average life. I want to feel like a normal kid, but if I had never gone to the Digital World, would I have needed an escape at all? If I had lived a normal life, do you think that I would have chosen a different club for myself? Would any of the others have been my friends? If - If I had never gone to the Digital World, would I still feel this way about Hikari? Would I have even met Hikari?"
Takeru's chest heaved with every breath. A strange look crossed across his features, hands curled into fists on top of the table. "Would we have gotten closer without the Digital World?"
The question hung uncomfortably between them. Gabumon excused himself, dragging a disgruntled Patamon along.
Yamato's bedroom door clicked shut; the brothers were finally alone.
Finally, Yamato spoke. His dark eyes bored into his younger brother's crystal blues. He was mistaken earlier, Yamato amended. Looking into his brother's face, any trace of the reckless eight-year-old was gone. In front of him sat an anxious mess of blond hair, doing his best to live life on his own terms. Takeru was a man in the making.
Takeru could shoulder the truth.
"Probably not."
The color drained from Takeru's cheeks, fists trembling. "But, Yama-"
"Takeru, you are the most intuitive person I know. You knew the answer before you asked the question. Our parents would never have let us spend that much time together unless we went to summer camp. I didn't even want to go to summer camp, but I knew it was the only time I would get to see you. No one could have made that decision but me. Despite the fighting and the loss, I have never regretted my choice. Have you?"
Takeru let Yamato's words stew for a few days. School was a blur, his thoughts preoccupied with the 'what-ifs'.
At night, visions of his parents fighting followed behind his closed eyelids. If he hadn't been predestined for another world, would his parents still be together?
It didn't take Hikari long to notice the difference in his disposition. The dark circles underneath Takeru's eyes had grown larger, his normally neat hair mussed with carelessness. Even at the big game, Takeru fumbled the ball, costing his team the point, and eventually, the game.
In the evenings, Takeru was uncharacteristically silent, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
This time, Hikari didn't pry. She stayed near him, as if she were trying to comfort him with her presence alone. Truthfully, it scared her to see Takeru so dejected.
Still, Takeru was stubborn. The more people pried at him, the further he retreated.
Hikari had learned to be patient, her efforts eventually rewarded.
Clouds had clung together in the sky, the world washed in gray. Remnants of a thunderstorm formed puddles in the street. The air was uncomfortably sticky, moisture almost suffocating.
Takeru's sneakers splashed carelessly, his head downturn. The first time he had splashed water onto her legs, Hikari ignored it. By the fourth time, her annoyance peaked.
"If you're going to mope, maybe you should do it somewhere dry." Her amber eyes looked at him pointedly before she wiped off the dirt and water with her sleeve.
He offered her an apologetic glance, the corners of his lips twitching in mirth. "And here I thought you enjoyed a nice swim."
Hikari didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile. She wouldn't let his humor deflect from whatever was going on; for once, she held her ground until he gave in.
"I'm just going through a lot right now."
Together, they turned the corner, bodies pushed closer through the crowds. A row of shops decorated the side of their path, groups of people lingering on the street.
For a moment, the sounds of bicycle bells and murmured conversation were enough for Takeru to gather himself.
"Do you remember the first night after we got back from the Digital World?" He looked at her, satisfied only when Hikari nodded. "I laid in bed, so tired, so sleepy, but my eyes wouldn't close. At first, I thought it was because I was worried about nightmares. Devimon had scared me pretty badly and I still dream about the way Puppetmon chased me. That first night, I didn't shut my eyes until I could see the sun peek over the horizon."
Ahead, the path opened up. Even with his mind elsewhere, Takeru felt a small hint of satisfaction when Hikari remained close. As always, she was his constant, always beside him whenever he needed her.
Fighting the urge to put her hand in his, Takeru stuffed his hands into his pant's pockets, an easy smile playing on his lips.
"It wasn't until later that I realized I was waiting for the sound of Yamato's harmonica to lull me to sleep. For months, the sound of his music was the only thing that could console me. No matter how bad things got during the day, I could always depend on my Aniki-san to be there.
"I've been worried that, in a world without Digimon, my brother would be absent. I was worried that he would be just some guy I knew in another life, a body to fill the crowd at my wedding or something. And truthfully, it's probably true."
Hikari stopped, her hand reaching out to grab his arm. "Takeru, your brother loves you."
Takeru looked down, smiling softly at her concern.
The crowd of people parted around the pair as they stood in place.
"I know," he whispered.
With Hikari's hand still on his arm, he started walking forward. It was almost time for the both of them to part ways, their apartments too far apart to walk side by side much longer.
"Yamato loves me, and that's why he was honest with me."
Hikari's grip tightened. Takeru could feel his cheeks flush, but made no move to hide.
"I think," she began, voice sturdy against the noise of the shops. "I think that wondering about what life could have looked like is only natural. There will always be a part of us that wonders if life could have been easier or happier or better, but I don't think it matters. Even though it wasn't our choice, we will never know a world without Digimon. And if your brother is closer to you or loves you more because of Digital World, then maybe our trip is a cause for celebration, not regret."
Takeru's smile deepened, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It wasn't fair that Hikari could sum up his worries and thoughts in such a simple way. It wasn't fair, but he loved her all the more for it.
"Thank you, Hikari. I was just so consumed with the thought of a destiny I didn't choose, but Yamato made me realize something."
"Hmm?"
"Despite me not choosing the Digital World or the fighting, despite that I will never lead a normal life, I realized that I wouldn't want anything different. Because of the Digital World, Yamato and I are closer than we ever could have been. I am strong and confident and have some of the best friends this world can offer." Takeru inhaled, his pulse irregular and palms sweaty.
"Because of the Digital World, I met you, and I could never regret that."
Around his arm, Hikari's hand squeezed. Her smile was soft and shy, cheeks tinted pink. Against the gray sky, she beamed, and Takeru couldn't help but to smile. Even if he hadn't chosen the event that led him to this moment, he would never know of anything different.
He wouldn't want anything different.