*Disclaimer: This work is NOT meant for sale or any other way of profit, it was created for entertainment only. All rights reserved to Digimon belong to Toei and other people that created and realized the project. If Digimon belonged to me it surely wouldn't end the way it did. =P


Digimon fanfic: Proud – Fallen Dominos
(various pairings)
Kitsune
February 2003


"They were never given a chance."

Tai fell silent abruptly. He decided to save the notice of all the anatomic injuries to himself. What was it again? Crushed scalp, spine broken one in three and other in five parts, twisted neck, heart stabbed by broken ribs, practically dusted down pelvis, fatal internal bleedings, almost torn off leg... and he stopped counting, the breakfast he nonetheless Mimi's rush insisted on eating was beginning to force its way up his throat. Mimi was almost mirroring his expression, probably feeling just as sick or even worse although she tried to act strong, hugging Kari bravely. Surprisingly the younger brunette was far calmer than he expected, infact seemingly it was Mimi who was clutching on to her in order to remain calm. However, calmness was not something Sora bothered to be proud of at that point.

"Everybody's given a chance! They have to be!" she practically screamed back at him, tears steaming down her burning cheeks. She stood beyond him with her hands clenched in fists and eyes blazing, in the middle of the hospital's waiting room. But now they've lost their purpose of being there for the ones they were waiting for were no more.

"You saw it with your own eyes..." Taichi shrugged helplessly, avoiding her insulting gaze. Again he felt floating away. Above him, dark clouds shielded the warm but cruelly real sunrays and that terrifyingly comforting cold darkness embraced him softly. Like a rain of heaven's tears it soaked him to skin and even deep beneath, awakening the small far since forgotten enthusiasm and lack of adventure, his deep buried courage. He felt eleven again, ready to lead his friends, but trough what? Where to?

"It's not fair..." Sora's last attempt to at least hold back the worst wave of tears snapped. She hid her face in her hands desperately trying to remind herself she was in a public place. But with her eyes closed, all she kept seeing was the pool of blood on the road, flashes of a bleeding, unnaturally flat oak-haired head, of long silky indigo locks glistering crimson wet in the sun as they rested heavily upon their owner's back, spine bowed at an impossible angle. "... no..." she felt her knees giving up underneath her. Why did it happen? Why them? Why was she there to see it?

Firm arms drew around her waist supporting her not to fall, arms she grew to rely on, arms she knew well. Clutching at their owner's shirt she hid her face blindly in the hollow of his neck. In the hollow of her neck. Jun hugged her close, nuzzling in her chestnut locks and begun to softly whisper... "It's OK, Sora-chan, cry all you want..."

And she did. Her broken heart kept bleeding painfully. Her whole being was on fire, burning from the inside. Once, a long way back, she relied with all her being in the fire. She gave it life, observed it grow inside her and then take off to the sky, like the phoenix that it proved to be. Those were the flames of creation, the flames of love. And slowly, but boldly, she felt those flames emerge again, mending her whole being. Her friends needed them, they craved, called for them. Her sobs slowly calmed down, the strong spring within her untapping with flourish; she was called and... would not back away.

Mimi listened quietly as Sora cried. She felt part of her had actually died, never to come back, and trembling, she tightened her grip around Hikari's shoulders. What happened totally and absolutely terrified her out of her skin and she desperately tried to calm down. Somehow it wasn't about the accident alone, the clawing feeling seemed to bold out something way deeper, way older. Something that could still be sensed floating timelessly in the air above them all. Something that wasn't over, but that had actually just begun. Sensing it she felt awakening, as if from a dream, as if a gate to her soul, in which she had locked her true sincere self from the world, banged open, welcoming a wordless and soundless plea.

Koushiro seemed focused on his reflection on the floor, but in truth he never even acknowledged the tiles he was standing on were polished enough to provide one. He was rowing too deep in his thoughts to be able to. What happened one would normally label as horrible, wouldn't he? So why all he felt was... Emptiness? Helplessness? No, not exactly. It was more like the bitterness that usually flooded him after experiencing something he knew was meant to happen, unavoidably. The more he tried to sort things out the more he became aware he was running in circles, always tripping over the same fallen domino brick in the line of events. What pushed it to fall? What did it made trip? He was sure there was more to it and, even if scared a bit, he was equally sure he wanted to know more.

On the wall near the distracted redhead, Iyou was leant stiffly. His butt was a bit sore from the early encounter he shared with him, but that had no credit for his lack of comfort. The devastating news had momentarily blasted out of him the whole cheeriness of the event, anchoring him harshly to the real world. What were they to do now? Watching Sora cry in Jun's arms, he felt his every fiber scream with anxiosity. Things were not about to settle like that! He wasn't sure what was he actually feeling, nor why did it feel right, but he felt ready to do it. For the group, for himself – they could all rely on him.

Night sky eyes danced trough the small room, quiet, save for Sora's eventual sharp intakes of breath. Amusingly, the radiating grief that seemed ready to swallow every living being in it was suddenly winded away, Yamato could tell, for even from his observing spot in the corner, he was able to acknowledge the fresh scent of newborn determination. It radiated from each of the one-time digidestinied, true, but Taichi particularly strong. The more the blonde concentrated on that curious flow, the more he felt drawn to the brunette, to them all. It was as if the needle of destiny tightened the stitches of friendship they've been sewed together with. Curious. All that took for them to become a tight group again was death...

A crescendo of thudding footsteps echoed from the hall and a flash of golden blonde locks later, Yamato had an armful of his younger brother. A brother who relied on him to hide the scalding tears that were brushing down his paled cheeks away from the world and hold him close. Complying immediately, he drew Takeru in a strong embrace, wordlessly. His small brother was obviously much more affected by the event than he himself was. But was his nonchalance real? Deep down inside he knew his heart was just as big and frail as Takeru's. It was why he had built the barbed wire fence around his own, letting no one near. Whoever tried to touch it got hurt or even blown out of his life. But then again there were people that he allowed to come near, people he loved and respected, people like Takeru and... And Taichi. It was strange, even to him, the way he liked to veil himself with countless flings and swings, how it was easier if he simply forgot about them and the rest of the world, successfully detaching himself from all that was familiar. But embracing Takeru in that moment suddenly disintegrated all of those forced detachments, connecting all the lost links, and as his misted eyes lifted to gaze upon the panting form of Daisuke, of Taichi, Sora, Koushiro, Iyou, Mimi and Hikari, he remembered the valor of being the bearer of friendship.

/ You could be so many people /

Daisuke was desperately trying to catch his breath. He had no idea Takeru could run so fast, it had been months since he left football! However, trough the whole trip, he never got a chance to ask the small blonde what the hell actually happened. He felt somewhat lost, watching all the long faces that suddenly turned his way.

"What happened?"

After a while of tangible tension, Iyou bit his lip, lowering his eyes "They're dead."

Confused, Daisuke watched Sora hide her face sorrowfully in Jun's neck. He felt a lump big as a fist forming in the pit of his stomach. "Who is?"

Hikari's eyes, dispassionately dark and expressionlessly calm, met his own across the room and even before she mouthed the answer, he felt his knees collapse.

"Miyako and Iori." [09]

~o@o~

"I don't have anything black to wear..."

Dispassionate hazel eyes lost themselves in the endless waltz of the cloudless sky as he paused by his desk, gazing out of his bedroom's window. An empty feeling was washing over Koushiro restlessly like an ecliptic deja-vu. Iori Hida. It sure was a heartblowing loss, painfully so – to him especially. Iori really seemed to be fond of all of his projects as well as of all of his theories. He was nicely polite, highly intelligent, totally reliable... Next to him, Koushiro felt like a sensei helping his student to build a stabile lifepath, like a high intellectually developed person sharing observations with somebody his own IQ level. He always viewed the young kendo fighter, Iyou and himself as a special unit, tied together with stronglined friendship, so strong he practically took it as the most granted social bond of all. He never questioned himself if it bordered on something else, at least not up until the sudden lack of it cracked the ground underneath his feet. Sorting things from a wholly different point of view, the pattern they were forming changed drastically. Just like the one he shared with Iyou, the relationship that tied him to Iori expectably surpassed mere guy-to-guy friendship. But while the one between Iyou and him took a strong shade of love, the bond with the younger boy tinted in more of a sponsor-like hue, almost boarding on parental support. But he thought he never had the attributes to be an efficient parent. He, of all of them...

Lost deep in the riddle of his thoughts Koushiro never noticed his hands tracing across the desk, absently fumbling with his oldest source of answers. It had grown to become a reflex reaching for his laptop when he felt there were questions forming within him, when there were solutions to be found. He kept standing by the desk, gaze locked on the sky above. Perhaps this time his pineapple couldn't help him. Perhaps the answer he was looking for could only be found within him, deep inside his heart? And if so, how could he begin to search for it?

The door softly closed behind him, the little red kitten's button-nose clashing slightly against the knob as the flow of air lulled it in a gentle swing. Hesitant footsteps, muffed by a pair of worn-in slippers, paced slowly across the room only to reach his side, silently stopping. Koushiro's fingers halted their absent typing on the keyboard, for their owner became too busy focusing on the wish that burst to flames inside him, a call for physical touch, for spiritual support. A call for love.

A mug of hot chocolate was placed on the desk and then, in the silence of the room, arms folded around his waist from behind and long blue locks caressed the side of his face as Koushiro let his cheek kiss Iyou's, leaning back in elation.

"You're blaming yourself."

"You were crying," Koushiro stated in answer. His fnigers begun tracing abstract patterns on the gentle hands resting on his waist. Now that things had been cleared out between them, there was no need for a thorough debate to know how the other felt. Looking in the stainless blue of the sky both of them knew the other was just as saddened as he himself was, despite the different shade of it.

"The more I think about it, the more I'm sure he was searching for a father," Iyou nearly whispered as he kissed softly his love's temple, keeping his lips in the spot to sense the heartbeat. As far as they knew, Iori lived with his ever-working mother and kendo-teaching grandfather... and no one else. Jet the understanding boy that he had been, he watched not to give them a hard time about asking over the lost parent, but rather silently struggled on by himself. It was a rare thing for the detached kendo champion to open up or even get close to anyone, so it was that much of a wonder he claimed to feel close to Koushiro and Iyou. Over the years they had hung around together day after day, month after month, the two older boys taking care of him and each other as if trying to build a stabile environment for their younger friend, as if creating a new loving circle, a second family.

"He found him in us both."

The sense of loss felt so much more painful as Koushiro realized it, allmost unbearably so as he mouthed the thought. He had sensed the closed up little boy needed much more support and care than his environment could offer him. Subconsciously his heart cradled him deep inside it, instinctively giving him all it thought a child should not be denied of. In a way, Koushiro was already behaving like a real independent parent without even taking notice. But realizing it brought another truth floating on the surface of his mind. Without Iyou by his side, he was sure things would never work out as well as they did.

It was what Iyou believed for him too.

They stood like that, silently trying to ease their grief within each other's arms, letting slowly out of them the heavy sadness, one breath at a time.

'You're blaming yourself.'

'You were crying.'

Koushiro stiffened, shocked. Iyou's arms, Iyou's scent, the color of the sky... He was sure this wasn't the first he lived that moment.

'Don't cry, Lanalaa said we shall meet again.'

Like a lightning bolt the feeling of remembrance slashed trough him, painfully like a killer blade, jet clearly as a ray of holly light. Mind-blowing agony mixed with the darkest shade of despair, lurching up from his stomach and burningly clawed his throat. He felt a strong urge to scream, to let it out, let it blast out of him and into the endless sky.

'Fools! Who are you to determine who shall live and who shall die?!'

"'shiro?"

He clutched at Iyou's arms as if they were his last grasp of sanity. Where were the voices coming form? Why did they sound familiar? Why did this breathless grief feel familiar?

'You claim to be all-knowing, you claim to be all-mighty – so ANSWER ME!!'

"Koushiro, what's wrong?!" Iyou was starting to panic. The redhead was breathing harshly, holding his wrists in a death grip. Was it Iori's loss that was cracking the solid wall that Koushiro built around his feelings and sensations? Years over years of cold routine efficiency must have filed aside quite an impressive amount of them. Human beings couldn't live perfectly, but robots never possessed feelings of their own. The redhead thought he had a choice. Crossing out happiness, one could cross out hurt and sadness too. But being denied perfection, one cannot become a perfect robot...

He held Koushiro firmly in his embrace, expecting a blasting frenzy, a tsunami worth sixteen years of pent up feelings, a bloodstained soul howling with hurt.

But Koushiro only panted soundly, standing perfectly still save for his heaving chest.

/ If you make that break for freedom /

A short beeping sound snapped both of the boys attention to their surroundings. A brief moment afterwards Koushiro somewhat regained his cold composure and gently disentangling from Iyou's uncertain embrace sitting down at his desk. The message on the screen of his pineapple announced him he got e-mail. From Digiworld.

"Iy... Iyou!!"

~o@o~

"Why did you say that?"

Kari smiled slightly letting the breeze play with her silky oak locks that kept glittering golden in the afternoon sun. Questions, there were always so many questions. Was this what life was about? Forming questions and then struggling timelessly, unstoppably, to dig out answers? Over and over again? Then again, there were the ones she never asked for, the ones that, softly like delicate butterflies, settled on her palm and spread their little colorful wings for her to read the message written in the countless patterns that only she could understand. Night by night they came to see her, delivering small little promises of darkness, promises of death.

She stopped in her footsteps, her eyes gliding back over the enormous shape of the hospital. Even from here, from the central park in Odaiba, the apex of the white complex could be recognized, for no other building emaciated such sterile strictness with it's big colorless windows, not even the cobalt hue of the sky could reflect in them. She wondered if architects designed it like that on purpose, wanted to make it look like the soulless prison that it was, the last one it's occupators would have the fortune to see. A prison indeed. Only the hospital had this power over the human kind. It helped them come to life, it helped them grow, helped them breed, give birth and die. Without even knowing it, every single person was already born addicted to it, when the only thing they should bring along into the world with was primal sin.

Was it worth struggling to be the best when you know you're just a file number in an endless archive? When you were never given a choice to live freely? What was the point of storing your first salary remains for your funeral? Of course, that and more for the society protection, the one that kept nature from blasting her rage over them to finally rid herself from the dominative race. But until when? No matter the efforts, the money gathered, the protection guaranteed – they all remained slaves of their own destiny.

Mimi stood a few feet behind Hikari, her eyes gliding worriedly over the calm features, the distant hazel-nut eyes, the slightly waving oak brown locks. It made absolutely no sense. Right before refusing her brother's offer to drive her home with him, Kari waved to them all and took off to the park. But just after a few paces she turned around swiftly, as if forgetting something, and poised her eyes on the still shaken-looking Disuke.

"Keep away from the dark or you may not see light ever again."

It seemed like a perfect threat to keep away from Takeru. Or at least it would, if it wasn't Kari mouthing it. But even if so – at a time like that? No, Mimi was almost sure there was more to it, if not other, her heart – no – that newly untapped empathy was spelling it out loud deep inside her soul. Something way older, deeper and just as intangible floated within the younger brunette. Hikari slowly, as if in slow motion, turned her eyes to face her, eyes that beheld decades and hundreds and thousands of years of numbed hurt and forcefully accumulated wisdom, a soul perhaps older than time and worn out with effort desperately forcing one last attempt. The smooth, still nearly childish face was calm and still, like a porcelain doll's. And delicate lips moved.

"I love you," a whisper touched her ears. "I'll always love you."

A slap still echoed over the grass field as Mimi dropped her throbbing hand back down at her side. Now she understood. All she kept searching, all she kept looking for was another Alicia. It was only now that the realization sunk in – she wasn't ready to protect her love, jet again. Mimi knew she must have been trembling and a suspicious diamond glitter was beginning to gather in her eyes.

"That... That was a spelled death sentence. And you know it."

Hikari's eyes were still poised on the ground in the same position where from when her head had flew in the blow. Her features remained unchanged, not even a cringe of pain strained her porcelain-like expression as her fingers absently traced along the burning surface of her cheek. "Birth alone is a death sentence," she stated calmly.

Kari was right. No matter what one does or how hard he tries to push it in his subconscious, death never missed it's target. Again, dark hazel eyes lifted upon her own, the same cast of brown that was shown to Daisuke.

"You can't deny my feelings."

/ What have you done today to make you feel proud? /

And not only that, Mimi knew she couldn't deny her own feelings either at that point. Without really taking notice, she found herself planting a hesitant kiss on the brunette's soft lips. After all, wasn't the closest human beings could get to perfection experiencing something that was meant to happen?

And nothing, not a single thing she could think of, felt closer to perfection than love. X


[09] - ... OMG, was this part draining or what? I better get to bed before my head crashes on the keyboa... rd... *thud!* hjdfsjfvbguweoqu8rz7r5t9pqwwiudyghtz

off to chapter n°9

mail to Kitsu