*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 – Last Course
(various pairings)
Kitsune
March 2003
Author's notes: I feel kind of wired today. It's 15th March, 23:34 PM. I turned eighteen about two hours and 15 minutes ago, it's the moment I've been waiting for for all of my life, yet... I feel empty. Like if I've done nothing truly meaningful during my whole childhood. OMG, I'm an adult! _ME_! Godess, save the world... .;;;
Sighing, Jun let herself lean on the door she had closed behind her, exhausted. It was hard to comfort someone you have no idea what's he going trough, someone who's world was a shade of the real one, expecially when all she kept looking at for all those long years was the sun. What kind of a responsibility carried the 'digidestinied'? What kind of bond tied them to that strange world? Will it ever brake? Will they ever be able to live normally? Sure, she wanted to understand, to help her brother, her love, and the others too, but she had no clue how. Her nerves strained with worry. By what Yagami Hikari had said, it seemed to Jun that Daisuke was in danger...
"Jun..."
A broken voice cracked from across the hall. Draging her eyes up she saw a pair of maple-colored eyes, washed out with tears and sore from crying, looking back at her ever so fearfully. A bleeding, but slowly self regenerating soul was reflecting from their depths. As if beeing nothing other but a shadow of the surrounding firniture, Sora was leant, at first glance lifeless like statue, against the wall across the darkening hall.
"Is Daisuke allright?" she inquired quietly, eyes never leaving Jun's as if fearing one single blink would be enough to find herself alone. She had felt so lost and alone once, a long time back. Earth was cracking underneath her feet, earth strained with blood...
Jun nodded smiling tiredly back at her and pushed herself off of her brother's room door. "He fell asleep." Her hand stole up to make her fingers glide trough the messed up burgundy locks as step after step, swing after swing of hips, took her closer to the stone-still silhouette leant against the wall. It seemed to Jun the trip was taking forever. She found herself musing how much Sora changed in this one, only, day. Orange hues lined up her chestnut haired girlfriend's beautiful features warmly, drawing shades among that soft face that made her look so much more old, older than time. She had no idea of how to file the remarks the whole matter evoked inside her. It seemed as if she was meeting this girl anew, as if she was about to walk upto her and hand her a tissue, just like that one crucial time backstage...
"Here."
Maple-brown, red rimmed eyes whirled around to meet her own. The music banged loud in their ears, the proud beat building up to work the crowd. Then a silky voice, sleek, deep, sensual as no other could ever be, spread gently enchanting every man, woman, boy, girl, animal and plant it touched, every single being seemed to be touching heaven thanks to the breath-taking blonde teen spilling heart-touching lyrics up above them, on the enlightened heaven of a stage.
And fresh tears filled those mapple eyes, tears of painfully restrained love, impossibly chained with the heaviest of despairs. "T- thanks, Jun," and the tear-strained face hid in the white piece of soft paper.
"No prob," shrugged the burgundy-haired girl, sliding her hands in the butt-pockets of her jeans, her eyes lost on the stage, dimly gliding over the singing form of an angel-like boy lost in his song of love. Of love that lost it's meaning in the beckstage once the concert was over. The one and only that he kept blowing out of his way because to him it seemed hollow as a livving lie. The same he himself strained to search for, claimed having found it in the embrace of another man. "Just whish you'd feel better already."
She could actually feel the pressure of those tear-swollen eyes against her face, but she had no intention to flinch away. At least not before having said all she planned to. "There's no point in searching for an angel here on earth. Perfect beings like that would never mess around with such scum as ourselves."
The song echoed in the night, reflecting in the crowd's hearts, floating on emotions' wings to take of for the sky like coutless unseen fireflies dissolving into stars in the space's embrace. But Sora, for the first time, didn't heat it. She glared up in Jun's calm face, upon those peaceful fetures and clear oak brown eyes reflecting the glitter of the stage. They were supposed to be arch enemies, they loved the same boy, did they not? Why did they fall for him in the first place...?
A hand outsteched towards her own and Sora flinched, puzzled, glaring at it as if she'd never seen a hand before. "Let's get out of here," Jun was telling her, "There's no point in trying to lit a candle soaked with tears is there?"
Silently lifting her eyes back up to lock with the girls, Sora slowly shook her head. Hesitantly taking the offered hand she let herself be lead out into a new world, a better place that she could only hope would not scar her as the old one did.
/ We need a change, so do it today /
A hand outstretched towards her. This time, Sora took it without hesitation, ducking under its arm till it rested over her shoulders and nuzled close in hollow of Jun's neck. It was alright, this new world, no matter how different and repressed, was all she needed right then, all she thought she'll ever need. As long as Jun was there she felt unbeatably strong and reliably protected. But still... That cold creeping feeling that haunted her subconcious... It seemed resolved not to leave her, not even in Jun's embrace.
"May I sleep here, Jun? I don't really feel like being alone tonight..." she muttered bitterly.
A loving kiss landed on her forehead, telling her, beyond words, what she wanted to be told.
~o@o~
The pain rocked aburptly to a halt. Everything shushed down around her, all the blaring claxons and searing screetching of rubber against the rough grey asphalt of the road, it all stoped as if it never exhisted at all. She couldn't move, her limbs wouldn't obey her. She couldn't breathe, her lungs wouldn't stretch. She couldn't see, her eyes wouldn't open.
Slowly, surounded by an endless blackness, she felt her initial shock dissolve into silence. Her up to then franatically pounding heart lulled it's beating to a soft halt... She was dying – no – dead.
What would happen to her now? Was she supposed to think over her life so far? Or would she simply enjoy the the eternal peace stretching beyond her? Odd...
If only she hadn't had took that turn... She never used the shortcut by the park, never save for this last, fatal time. She could practically tell something bad was going to happen, even the way-pointer switch refused to activate at her first try. As she was waiting at a red light preparing to take the turn her wont hand slid off of it. It confused her slightly, but not too much. She shrugged the cold flow that shot trough her spine and simply grasped it another time, efficently kicking the flashing light on her scooter on. Her gaze slid up to the semafor. It glowed red, crimson red, reminding her of the color of blood. Bemused at her own thoughts, she watched it fade to blackness, as thick as death. Beyond it, from those grieving depths, rose a bright yellow, a rasing sun, a call of hope, and just before fading again in the blank darkness, she could swore a pair of deep blue eyes gazed at her warmly. The green flashed to life, a spring of remembrance, a reviving kiss, but for what it was worth it filled her with sorrow.
The scooter's engine purred with life and the flow of air devoured them in. For the last time.
"... till the end of time."
She had lied. Time was still flowing by for thousands and millions and milliards of oblivious people, the Earth still spun and the Sun kept tripping over the sky. Life went on as it always had, as it probably always would. Some died, some were born, some cried, some smiled...
"Something's missing, isn't it?"
A cieling formed beyond her. When had she opened her eyes? Were they opened at all? Deciding it didn't really matter she tried to sit up, wincing in advance as she readied herself for the incoming pain.
Nothing. Slightly surprised as there wasn't any, she ellegantly sat up, taking in the sight of a room. But not just any room. Although the enlightment seemed to be mild, if any, it prooved sufficent for her eyes to distinguish pretty much everything. A white door, filled with 'Doremi' stickers that her little sister liked to collect, a big double-winged wardrobe hanging carelessly open, welcoming dust on a green, neatly ironed, high school uniform that hung inside it, awaiting patiently Monday morning. By it, a wide wooden desk stood among the wall beyond the window, the windowsill replacing the lacking bookshelf, cradling a bunch of thick fiction novels and a dictionary, livened up with a fresh lilly tucked in a simple vaze of transparent glass. A soft ochre carpet spread across the floor and the smooth texture beyond her fingertips revealed to be her favourite green blanket.
It was her room. Suddenly saddened, she gazed spleenfully at the regiment of collorful stuffed animals and neatly clothed porcelan dolls resting on the nest of her pillow. Mom will be so sad when she finds out! Who would help her out in the shop now? And what about her little brother and sisters? How would they take it when told their oneesan was not comming back to play with them, ever again...?
Her eyes stopped on one of the toys questioningly. Odd, she never remembered having a stuffed hawk. But she did remember it from somewhere else...
Wide ocean-blue eyes suddenly blinked. Only then she noticed the bird-shaped thing was returning her the gaze. Lurching back in shock, she gripped at the leg-frame of her bed, gasping.
"You feel the void within, don't you?" the strange animal was asking her, stretching it's smooth red wings up along it's sides and then bating them gently, only once or twice, till it floated weightlessly above the rest of the toys. Another stroke of wings followed and moments later the red thing was cozily resting upon the bed next to her, wide blue eyes regarding sadly her own. "Don't you, Miyako?"
A single silcky red feather that the strange creature probabbly lost during its brief flight, lulled sofly in the air above her, gently landing in her lap. She frowened slightly as she felt her mind being flooded with memories all in a rush, her hand clutched stiffly the green blanket, rumpling it aburply within it's grasp. The other one slowly stole down, reaching for the fluffy red feather. She was sure she wasn't seeing the hawk-like being for the first time. In fact, she felt as if she knew it very well, as if they've been tied together tightly by destiny itself sometime before... Her hand gently picked up the delicate feather, bringing it close to her face as if she wanted to study it toroughly. But before she could have taken a chance to do so, it split into tiny pieces, defluorishing at the edges, with the small bits fying haphazardly away in every possible direction, dissolving into air briefly afterwards.
Data? Melting with the surroundings?
"Hawkmon..." she murmured sitting upright, her grey eyes never leting the dissolving feather free of her gaze. So the birdling was a digimon... Her digimon...
"Don't worry. You will be whole once again," the bird-bred skiddled closer to her, gracefully folding his red-feathered wings, and softly nuzled close to her, "But you must understand first."
She found out she couldn't properly pay attention to what Hawkmon was telling her. For what she cared, it could make no sense at all and she'd never figure. Both of her hands now layed to rest upon the smooth red feathers, soothing them down softly. Was she dead? Alive, given another chance? Was the accident a dream? Was she still dreaming?
Then, just like when the feather dissolved, small bits emerged out of nowhere and flew together, linking one to another. She watched them, bemused, as more and more of them kept emmerging, forming hands, shooes, shoulders... Before she knew it, shimmery black eyes glared searchingly back at her. A man, nicely tall and ellegantly lean suddenly stood in the middle of the room.
"Come on, he'll tell us everything we need to know," Hawkmon nudged into her side encouragingly.
If what her digimon was telling her before had appeared sensless, what he was speaking of now seemed totally indefinable. Nontheless, she nodded obbediently and stood up. As if carrying her own child, a part of her own soul, she cradled the hawkling in her arms. In a state of artifical numbness, she paced across the room till she stood beyond the untill then silent stranger.
He smiled sleekly down on her while his hand dived underneath the jacket of his black suit, in the breast pocket of his pale-yellow shirt, retrieving a pair of oval glasses. Ellegantly putting them them on, their glow enticed his almond-shaped ebony eyes. His hand dove into his neatly cut short dark green-hued crow locks for a moment and then rested upon the door's knob.
"Let us go, then," he smiled.
/ I can feel my spirit rising /
~o@o~
"You didn't need to do that."
Yamato rolled his eyes once in annoyance then quickly placed his gaze back on the road again, shrugging. Next to him, on the co-passanger's seat, his little brother tangled his fingers in his lap worriedly. Why the hell was he sorry? Why was he bothering what that bitch thought? She'd never accept him anyway...
"It had to come out eventually. Better sooner than later," he said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road.
"But she must feel horrible!" cried Takeru, blue eyes, veiled up with tears, turned to look at Yamato. How could his brother not see? This day prooved to be the worst he could remember having lived through so far. Not only he had lost his best friend and Miyako and Iori died in an accident, now his mother was about to deny him too! Dropping down, his eyes took in a quickly packed up duffel bag lying on the car's floor between his feet. Lungery, a few trousers and sweaters, two english litterature books and a toothbrush was what his life up until then suddenly shrinked to. He felt pretty much lost by the sudden change, by the sudden lack of stable ground underneath his feet.
It truly was much noise for nothing! It wasn't like he had a boyfriend! Because Daisuke... Daisuke didn't care. Well, at least not the way he wanted, no, needed him to. His eyes silently grazed towards the glass window at his right and he watched silently as the blank features of countless gray buildings he never before noticed Tokyo was so thickly filled with flowed by as if in a spleenful haze. The view his suddenly tear-filled sad blue eyes were taking in reflected the feelings whirling in his heart. Everything he had, every single moment of his life that he could smile sincerely, that he felt truly happy and free, every sinlge one of them was rushing away from him just like they were.
The engine roared subtly but rythmically as the car drove out of the city in the rain. Where was he going to? Where was his future taking him? Was there even a furture for him out there? Takeru silently watched his own reflection on the thick glass. Two sad, profoundly desperate night sky eyes glared back at him as he watched the drops slide outside upon the smooth surface, mirroring the tears on his own face. He felt so numb, so tired, and so depressed that he hadn't even been surprised as he suddenly become aware the reflection that gazed back at him wasn't his own.
"Who are you?" he asked, still silently crying. Night sky eyes blinked, even though his did not. Long golden hair, braided in a plate pooled over his shoulder, even if his own only barely reached to his ears. A fair, heavenly white shirt shined back at him, even when he was wearing his green and yellow turtleneck. Who's reflection was he looking at? Even if it wasn't his he felt as if it somehow was, for the man that gazed back at him looked just as lost and pained as he himself was. He placed a hand upon that fair face as if wanting to brush those bitter tears off, the same tears that strained his own face. And a hand, now all but a reflection, topped his own, holding it close. And Takeru could swear the glass underneath his fingertips slowly merged to take the form of that beautiful sad face and, before he could muse how, the upto then glassy coldnes felt soft and warm and wet from the tears that run over it.
Yamato frowened, watching as his brother's hand slid softly upon the glass. He was suddenly flooded with guilt. Their parents never gave them a choice, never asked their opinions, never bothered to regard them as indipendent-thinking beings. Now, with shock, he realised he was no better. He too had never considered what Takeru would think, that he might like living in secrecy. He himself hated their mother, but he never had before she did so herself. Yes, she hated him for choosing to live with their father instead of with her. But then again, he would never bare to live with the woman that took revenge over her own husband just because he was something he never chose to be. Sure, she could have feel betrayed, but nothing in the world, not a single feeling she could have been flooded with apologised what she did in her anger. He remembered his father silently crying so manny nights when he thought his son was fast asleep. All of Yamato's uncles and grandparents, all of his cousins and a good part of family friends suddenly never wanted to know them again. He almost lost his job and the appartment too, and it all happened because that wench of his mother spilled his father's sexual orientation for all the world to hear.
It had been rough, and it hurt so much to be cut away from his little brother. He promised to himself that Takeru would never have a reason to cry as long as he was able to draw breath. But Takeru did cry. He called out his name, desperately, as their mother dragged him away. He had been so little then, what was he? Three? Four? And how old was he now? Fourteen, soon to fifteen. And he was still crying desperately, Yamato bit his lip. He watched his little brother, who was little on more, silently let his silver tears slide along his angelic face in sorrow. Yamato never considered that by wanting to protect him, to take care of him, he could hurt him so much.
He placed his eyes on the road again inwardly cursing the rain that kept pouring harder and harder. He was out of Tokyo, directed towards the weekend house near the sea. They needed to be alone, to straighten things out, to rest from the sudden loss. The visibillity was poor, but Yamato really didn't care all that much. He knew the road by heart now counting all the nights he drove his lays there. The rides back were always silent, but then again two total strangers never had anything further to say to each other beyond the clische weather topic. And he liked to keep it that way. But now the silence was greving, swalowing him. This was not one of his fucks in the car with him, this was his little broken-hearted brother, the one and only he'd give happily his life for, given the occasion.
Nervously, he bated his wet eyelashes. No, Ishida Yamato *never* cried. Ishida Yamato never cared.
But there were tars in his eyes and his heart felt like bombing out of his chest. He wasn't the cool-looking cold life model that everybody worshipped, not then, not there – not anymore. But who was he then?
/ We need a change, so do it today /
Up front, beyond his eyes, something moved. He briefly focused on the front glass window, slightly curious. Shocked, he saw his reflection's lips move, a reflection that looked nothing like him, and he heard a voice, deep and sesual, echoing trough his head.
"Why?"
The steering wheel slid out his shocked hands and he dimly heard Takeru jelp his name. After that, only darkness embraced him.
But the voice was still there, crying.
~o@o~
It had been going on for good fifteen minutes.
"... Yes, mom... Sure... Uh-huh... I will, mother... No, I won't, mother... No, I won't forget... Yes, I will. Right. Have a nice weekend! See you both Sunday, then. Oh, mom! Sure, what could *possibly* go wrong? I know how to handle things 'round here, I'm 18, ain't I?!..."
Finally Mrs. Yagami seemed to have run out of precautions to list. She and her husband took a short weekend honeymoon in celebration of their 20th marriage anniversary. A wooden cabin underneath mount Fujiyama sounded peaceful enough... Nonetheless, something was worrying the chocolate-brown haired woman. Something... undefinable. Her mathernal instinct was screaming at her every bloody second since she stepped out of their apartment in Odeiba, baggs loaded, each in one hand, ready to be taken down the stairs to the car. She only sighed then, trowing one last glance at her children.
"Bye, okaasan," nodded her little girl, smiling slightly.
"Yeah, bye!" her little boy grinned, draping protectively his hand over his sister's shoulders in a silent promise to take care of her.
She never wanted to addmit to herself they weren't little anymore. Maybe that was why she couldn't stop worrying? Sure, Taichi and Hikari were often left alone, but never for two whole days in a row. Then again she had to addmit her fear was silly. And that sinking feeling that kept flooding her was as well. She glanced out of the window, out over the golden and bronze hues that the autumn had painted the poetry of trees in, contrasingly framing the silvery snow gleaming on the top of the mountain. But as the rain kept falling, it veiled the view with transcendent curtains of gray, draing colour from the beautiful landscape wherever the eye was cast. She fiddeled with the wire of the telephone she was using. There really was no point in worrying like that. She wouldn't let the heavy rain of preoccupation soak her honeymoon! But still she couldn't help but reccomand her son a few things more...
"...No! Of course I won't get drunk or bring girls home, mother!" Taichi had to frown at that, remembering his parents were still oblivious about his prefferences. To tell the truth little raccomandations like that always made him feel a bit better. In a way, he felt in charge of his life, no matter how much of a temporary feeling it was. But he didn't feel OK this time. Probably it was just the shock to be blamed, and he most deffinetly looked forward on sleeping a good amount of the remaning and also the next day. "Listen, stop worrying and try to have a nice time. We'll call dad on the cell if anything happens, OK? Allright, bye now. Yes, I love you too."
As soon as he dropped the phone he rose his hands to his temples, feeling a subtle ache creeping inside his scull. He rarely had headaches but having two of your friends ran over by a car was most deffinetly a good reason for his head to protest over the shock his brain was exposed to. He rubbed them absently a couple of times and then decided an aspirin once in a while never hurt anybody. He turned away from the phone to go get one but as soon as his head spun he found himself staring into two dark-hazel depths.
"We must prepare ourselves," Hikari told him coldly, something in her voice pinning him in the spot, a subtle command that his nerves perfectly understood, but that his brain couldn't quite place. So he glared, stunned, down in her eyes, never daring to move a muscle. And as her hands, her soft delicate hands, so little among his own, tangled their fingers gently with his, he heard her whisper... "For our last course, oniisan."
A blasting feeling burst to life inside him and he grasped her hands tightly, not quite sure they weren't the cause of it, but simply having to grasp onto something.
"Let the preparations take place, men! We shall leave at sundown!"
Where did that came form? Why was his head so heavy? His eyes cast brefly out of the window and he glared out through the glass into the rainy sky. The heavy gray clouds that kept pouring, inexorably, the sky's tears, tore painfully above the horizon and, horrified, he took in the last glimpse of the sun.
"This may be my last course, Tiphareth, my prince..."
He lurched backwards, blindly seeking support for he knew his knees were trembling. He bumped onto the small table and soundly the phone skiddled over it's surface, thuddling on the floor. A soft dull melody of equal beepings filled the living room, synthonising perfecly with his raged breaths that he never noticed escaping his lungs. All he could hear were his heartbeats rushing in his ears. Somewhere in between them he thought he heard the doorbell, but he couldn't tell for sure until suddenly, his sister retreated her touch. His brain snapped to focus on his suroundings again and he found himself holding on to the small table behind him with a death grip. What the hell was that?
"Come in. We've been expecting you."
His head rose wearily towards the source of the voice and, not little surprised, he took in the sight of Ijoujishi Ken stepping over his treshold, trough the door that Hikari held welcomly opened for him. Wordless, he gazed as the boy shed his shoes and ellegantly stripped his wet jacket, hanging it carefully next to his favourite one, the one that Hikari liked to borrow sometimes. Entrance door closed again, both of the younger ones' eyes fixed on him and, in perfect synthony, they walked upto him. His head was still spinning and he still kept gripping at the small wooden surface behind him, and that was how he remained till both of the aproaching forms stood beyond him. Panick gripped his soul as he suddenly felt as if he had never met them before.
Ken's eyes, endlessly violet and indescribably dark, dove into his own. Soft, lifelessly cold fingers touched his aching temples sootingly and all he could do was glare back, confused.
"Geburah..." Ken mouthed, simply, softly, soothingly and Taichi surprisingly felt himself relax underneath his touch. "I'm sorry, I should have never came to life," the dark haired boy bowed his head in grief.
"... but even if so, I shall come back. I'll never give up."
Courage, he felt the courage of facing any possible and imposible disaster that lay ahead within the veil of words that filled his heart. He felt himself drifting to a heavy but peaceful sleep that stretched slowly trough his body. He understood then, it all settled inside his head. What remained to be found out were mere detailes, further eplanations, and he silently welcomed them.
"I'm grateful..."
"I'm grateful I have had the honor to protect you, once more."
/ I can see a clear horizon /
Hikari watched silently as her brother slumped down on the floor, unconcious, underneath Ken's touch. All of her visions have come true up to then, each and every one of her dreams took place beyond her eyes like she knew they would. But the visions ended here, with violet eyes lulling her into a sleep worth a lifetime of sadness, grief and regret, into etherninty. And, truthfully, thore violet eyes settled upon her own and she felt herself panicking slightly.
"Please," she murmured, "let me settle by him."
They both dragged the limp body of the older boy on the couch. His long chocolate locks settled haphazardly upon the soft surface and carefully, Hikari cuddled herself within her brother's lifeless arms. She tried not to think about how cold he was becoming, but nonetheless, a crystal tear slid down her face.
"Go ahead," she crisped, quietly.
"Go ahead, my dear Necah. It is our fate."
Feeling her breath calm down, Ken withdrew his hand. His saddened violet eyes lingered over the limp brothers. But even if he never wanted to do it, he knew it was what he was supposed to do. For the best or worse, only god knew, for angels only followed orders. And were never allowed to question them.
"Hope dies last," he murmured absetly and putting on his shoes and jacket he walked out of the apartment, out of the building, away from Odeiba. Soft raindrops tripped down his face and soaked his entire form, even the broad navy umbrella he was carrying, closed, by his side. Sometimes being sorry just couldn't be enough.
And in the appartment he left his sin behind, laying forgotten on the floor, the phone kept beeping on numbly.
The journey had just begun.X
One of the cutest gifts I got was Robbie Williams' 'Escapology'. Thanks, Ana & Sara!! *blows kisses* It really inspires me greatly *^^* especcialy the songs 'Feel', 'Love Somebody' and 'Cursed'! I read somewhere Robbie's depressed and doesn't seem to find a reson to live. It really reflects from his songs. Hope he'll be OK. I know he's probably not reading this but... Robbie, do never give up like Kurt Cobain did, please! I (along with at least a bunch of milion other people) need you! =*
off to chapter n°10
mail to Kitsu
