This Kiss Chapter 12: Luck's A Fickle Lady, a digimon fanfic

If someone had been watching Takato Matsuda go through his everyday life, while knowing the intentions of Yana Lang and her gang of bully-boys, they might have marvelled at how Takato escaped constantly escaped harm. They would have wondered how he could not notice something weird going on around him. They will have concluded that Takato possessed the luck of the devil.

***

Monday, 8:23 AM

Takato was biking to school, having just left Ruki at St Hebreke's gates. As had become usual, he was facing another tardy slip, and was therefore pedalling furiously and reaching dangerous speeds.

Unknown to him, a burly boy, a linebacker in the new American football league just starting in Tokyo and an ardent devotee of Yana Lang, crouched behind the bushes nearby. His plan was simple. Wait for the Matsuda kid, then tackle the Matsuda kid. And then beat up the Matsuda kid.

Simple and clean. Well, not very clean actually, but it was at least simple. And that was the important thing.

He peered out of the bushes, and saw a black-jacketed boy just turning the corner. That was it, his prey. He rose up to a ready position, tensing his muscles.

Nearer…nearer…nearer…

Now!

He launched himself.

Unfortunately Takato had glanced at his watch just a second before. This resulted in him seeing exactly how late he was. Which resulted in a sudden burst of acceleration. Which then resulted in the linebacker just missing his mark and ending up with a faceful of concrete rather than a knocked-down opponent.

Takato glanced back at the bigger boy sprawled on the road. He would have turned back to help – such a Good Samaritan is our Gogglehead – except that the guy was clearly okay. He was even getting up and waving his limbs wildly to ensure they still worked.

Others may have noticed the dance of incoherent, hopping-mad rage which had seized the linebacker, but Takato, innocent and sweet, did not.

***

Monday, 3:50 PM

Takato was riding to Ruki's school to meet her after class. This was a routine so regular that you could nearly set your clock by it. Which, of course, made it a perfect time for an ambush.

So perfect, in fact, that several of Yana's would-be boyfriends had chosen it for their attempt to gain Yana's favor. Now, one would think that riding down a street filled with people ready to jump you and inflict intense hurting would naturally result in being jumped and filled with intense hurting. After all, if one didn't get you, another would.

Except for the teensy tiny detail that only one person was going to get to date Yana. Which meant that only one person could beat up Takato.

Takato stopped for a moment to stare curiously, as did several other passers-by, at the roiling cloud of dirt kicked up by the brawling of several teenagers. Angry yelling and cries of pain issued periodically from the dust-cloud, and fists, heads and various random body-parts would emerge from the obscuring dust and then be drawn back in.

Takato shrugged and went on his way.

***

Tuesday, 7:00 AM

The bell over the door of the Matsuda bakery tinkled merrily. A teenage boy had just entered the bakery, dressed in the loose flowing trousers and top of a kendo practitioner. He gripped a bokken very tightly in his hands, pointing the wooden sword dramatically towards the counter. A few early-morning customers and Takehiro, who was manning the register, looked at him curiously.

The boy took a deep breath, turned a little to the side so that the light would hit him just right, and began. "Matsuda Takato!" he announced forcefully. "I, Shutaro Mendo the Third, have come to challenge you for the hand of the fair…" he trailed off as a dark cloud of doom fell over the place. Takehiro turned on the electric lights in order to provide some illumination.

Stomp.

Shutaro Mendo the Third gave a nervous gulp and gripped his bokken tighter. Takehiro sighed with the air of someone who is patient and long-suffering and began to herd the customers to stand near the side-wall, which had been designated a safe-zone. Had Shutaro Mendo more brains and less blind adoration of Yana, he would have joined them.

Safer from what, you ask?

Why, safer from the wrath of an interrupted-whilst-baking Mie Matsuda.

"Who's making all that NOISE?!" she roared, her demon-sized head bursting into view from the kitchens.

Immediately several fingers were pointed at the now completely white bokken-wielder.

She turned flame-filled eyes, the mark of an advanced user of the Demon Head ™ technique, upon him. "Do you know how much attention is needed to bake proper shortcake? Do you?" She then proceeded to rail about inconsideration, loudness, lack of moderation and how sick she was of all this. "How am I supposed to work in these conditions?! Get out!" And before he knew it, Shutaro Mendo the Third, heir to a great fortune and highly trained kendoist, had been kicked out the door, from whence he proceeded to flee like a spooked rabbit.

…no offense to Terriermon and Lopmon meant.

"Thanks and come again!" Takehiro shouted after the fleeing boy. He turned his attention back to his customers, who had, surprisingly calmly, resumed their line. "Mie's in one of those moods again?" a long-time customer asked, with a sympathetic look on his old face.

"Yeah," Takehiro sighed, tucking the man's pastries into a paper bag. "I've been thinking of switching her to decaf…"

Upstairs, Takato slept on, dead to the world.

***

Tuesday, 11:54 AM

Takato's class was currently attending PE, meaning that their classroom was empty of people. This was the perfect oppurtunity for Hikaru Shinki, one of the more intelligent of Yana's flunkies (meaning his IQ was nearly in the three-digit range) to carry out his plan. Perhaps intelligent is not the word for it; perhaps 'conniving' or 'devious' would be better suited to describe him. Or the word '#&$@*^!!', but this is a PG fic.

Hikaru's plan involved three very simple things: a drug to cramp muscles (obtained from the same chemistry geek from whom he got his steroids), Takato's bento, and hauling the paralyzed boy away to beat him up. So, dressed in the too-small uniform of a Shinjuku High student currently stuffed into a dumpster, he sneaked into Takato's classroom and prowled around until he found the bento with Takato's name on it. Snickering to himself, he sprinkled the paralysis drug all over the food.

Just then he heard the clamor and racket of the returning class, and hurriedly dove into the broom closet. He was just in time as the first few students burst into the room, laughing and yelling.

"Hey," said one, noticing, "someone left the closet open!" He kicked it closed. There was a strange sound then, like someone muffling a scream of pain. But no one noticed.

When the classroom had fallen silent again, Hikaru crawled out cautiously, sucking on pained fingers. He headed to the school foreyard, where he could see a brown-haired boy eating lunch surrounded by a group of classmates. He squatted beside a trashcan to spy on them, ignoring the whispers and stares of other students at this strange boy in the ill-fitting uniform…

An evil smirk crawled onto his lips as he saw Takato pick up his chopsticks.

Then a large red dinosaur – what the hell?! – suddenly appeared at Takato's side, poking his way out of the bushes. Takato rolled his eyes but patted the dinosaur's head fondly, and the way the other students just grinned and smiled suggested that this was a common occurrence.

"Hey Guilmon!"

"Aww, he's so cute."

"Hiya Guilmon!"

"Aw, boy, I thought I told you to stop visiting me at school? The teachers don't like it," Takato groaned, but he was smiling as he said it. And the other students protested, because Guilmon had become something of a school mascot.

"Don't say that, Takato-kun!"

"Yeah, let him keep coming. He's great fun."

"Don't be mean!"

"Who listens to the teachers anyway?"
Guilmon thumped his tail like a delighted puppy, knowing that Takato wouldn't send him away really. "Takatomon, I'm hungry!"

The students laughed at the familiar refrain.

"Here, boy," Takato said, offering his Digimon the bento. "You can have it."

"Aren't you hungry, Takato?" asked one of his friends.

"Not really," answered the Tamer, shrugging. "I had a big breakfast. Besides, I lost my appetite after Coach Isuzu's lovely display of how to sumo-wrestle. Which he did, I'll remind you, in true sumo-wrestler fashion by stripping down to…"

"Shut up!" several people yelled at him.

"Thank you, Matsuda-kun, for bringing that lovely image up in the middle of lunch…"

"I was trying to forget that!"

"Ugh, now I've lost my appetite."

Takato, laughing softly, had meanwhile fed his bento to his eager Digimon, to the horror of nearby Hikaru. Guilmon gulped down the contents in one go, licking his muzzle for the stray crumbs. A strange expression crossed his face a few seconds later. He hiccuped once, twice, and then more and more rapidly. Little puffs of flame came out whenever he did, too small to hurt anything but enough to send the watching students into paroxysms of laughter.

"Noooo!" Hikaru wailed, attracting even more attention than before. He began to stand, deciding to abandon the drug-target-first plan, and just go over and begin the hurting. He did not, for some reason, (maybe the fact that he did not understand what a Tamer was, and also that Yana had never mentioned that anyway) consider what the presence of a fire-breathing dragon beside his target would do to his chances.

In any case, it was a moot point, because at that moment a huge side of ham impacted against the back of his neck. It took Hikaru a few seconds to realize it was not a piece of meat, but rather a large and weighty hand, with fingers as thick as cigars.

"Hello, gaki." Hikaru, a boy with the stocky, powerful build of an ape and only marginally less facial hair, was not often called 'brat', but the man who hoisted him from the back of his stolen uniform jacket was massive enough to justify his calling anyone 'gaki'.

Dark eyes set into a craggy face peered into Hikaru's. "Now, would you mind telling me why a kid I've never seen before should be crouching beside the garbage in a school he doesn't go to? Especially when he's wearing Saegara's uniform, while most definitely not being Saegara?" Too late, Hikaru's eyes darted to the name embroidered on the jacket's left breast.

"I…I…I…"

"Saa, saa," said the massively-built bruiser, also known as the PE teacher of Shinjuku High, in a voice that was like the grating of rocks and which was, Hikaru realized with fright, the man-mountain's attempt at gentle. "While you're being so eloquent, why don't you tell your story in the principal's office? I'm sure we'd all love to hear it. Why, we can even call up whoever the hell your principal is, and invite him to share in the fun."

"I…I…I…"

"That's the spirit, boy. Let's go," and he walked off, dragging Hikaru behind him. By this time everyone in the foreyard was watching with interest. Hikaru was trying to run away, of course, but all his churning legs did was kick up the dust into a whirling dustcloud. He might have been trying to run away from a tractor he'd been hitched to, for all the progress he made. Isuzu steamed on, as relentless as a train.

Takato watched with mild curiosity, idly patting Guilmon's head as his classmates speculated on the boy's possible motives.

***

But these theoretical observers might also remember something: sooner or later, good luck will end. Which it did for Takato and for numerous other people.

***

Tuesday, 3:48 PM

Yashida Imato, whose athletic skill was decidedly second to his experience at bullying, loved only two things in his life. One was Yana Lang (if the word love could be applied). The other was his dog, who he had fondly christened Killer, mangling the English name everytime he said it. So he thought it fitting that he would involve the one in obtaining the other.

The two waited in ambush by the edge of the park. When Yashida saw Takato approaching, he unclipped Killer from the leash, and stepped back as Killer took off, anticipating the carnage.

Killer rushed at Takato, fangs bared in a snarl, and succeeded in knocking Takato to the ground. The dog stood over his fallen prey, drool dripping from his jaws onto the struggling boy. Takato, in his thrashing to get free, turned his head to the side, and saw Yashida watching and grinning, clearly the owner of the dog by the unclipped leash hanging from his hand.

"Hey!" Takato yelled, holding up his forearms to protect his face. "Call – aargh! – call your dog off!" Killer had bitten him on the arm. Takato grit his teeth with the pain, grimacing further as one of the dog's scrabbling paws managed to scratch gashes into Takato's cheek.

Yashida only grinned more widely, and called encouragement to his dog. "Thatsa boy, Killer, good doggy, yes." Takato gaped at him for a moment before he had to return his attention to fending the dog off.

"Yes, good Killer, we'll hurt this brat just like she said to us…what?!"

For a red blur had just rocketed out of nowhere, knocking Killer back with such force that the mixed-breed was hurled a good five feet away from Takato. The dog landed on his side, whimpering as he skidded on the grass.

Takato sat up, teeth still gritted and his left hand clasped over the bleeding wounds on his right forearm.

"T…Takato?"

He looked up to see Guilmon, who had returned to his usual shed in the park after lunch, watching him with worried golden eyes.

"H…hey boy," Takato said in a shaking voice, attempting to smile at his Digimon. He had to break off in a hiss of pain. Guilmon came nearer, snuffling at his partner. His muzzle touched Takato's cheek gently, nudging at the claw-marks on his cheek.

He turned slowly away from Takato, a smear of blood merely a smudge of brighter red against his own coloring. Black pupils narrowed into slits as a low, thunderous growl began from somewhere deep in his chest. He stalked towards Yashida, snarling violently and snapping his jaws as the boy began to back away fearfully.

With a howl, Killer smashed into Guilmon, a reversal of Guilmon's earlier rush, only that Guilmon hardly budged before turning on the animal with viral rage. Yashida, in terrified awe, had fallen as he stumbled blindly away, and could not seem to get up as he gaped at the two fighting animals. Takato staggered to his feet and threw himself into the fray, hooking his arms around Guilmon's and pulling him away.

"Guilmon, Guilmon, calm down!" he shouted, pain coloring his tone as the action pulled at his wound. Guilmon stopped at the sound of his Tamer's voice, eyes reverting though he continued to growl. Takato sighed with relief and slumped, hunching over his arm.

Yashida, still sitting on the ground, was staring at where his dog lay unconscious on the ground. Guilmon's fangs and claws had opened deep gashes in the dog's side, and the fur on his flank had been singed off by an uncontrolled burst of flame-breath – not a proper Pyrosphere, for which Takato was thankful.

"Look here," he began, turning to the other boy. "I don't know what this is all about, but…"

Yashida leapt at him, screaming in anger. Takato yelled and rolled out of the way, moving with the reflexes that years of dealing with Wild Ones had instilled. Yashida came at him again, and this time he did not dodge but, thoroughly infuriated now, met the other boy with a snarl very like his Digimon's.

They rolled around in the dirt, exchanging short, brutal blows. The fight between Guilmon and Killer was scarcely more savage than their own. Takato seemed hardly to notice his previous injuries as he fought, blind, almost berserk rage acting as a better painkiller than any drug.

Guilmon circled the two brawlers, growling but not daring to charge in with his Tamer there. His tail lashed madly, and he snarled angrily everytime Yashida managed to land a blow on Takato. However, this was not often because Yashida was not actually a very good fighter, relying too much on his reputation and his dog's fangs for intimidation. Takato, on the other hand, was discovering he was unexpectedly competent at it. He had to deal with Guilmon, Ruki, Renamon and Wild Ones on a regular basis, after all. In the manner of teenage boys, too, Jenrya and he often tussled playfully. He never won, Jenrya being a trained martial artist, but he'd gotten used enough to Jenrya's patterns of movement that he could sometimes land his own blows in.

Apparently, that translated well into street-fighting and schoolboy brawling. Takato was a little surprised on how pleased that made him. Not very, though, because he had to focus most of his attention on the scuffle he was currently in.

Finally Takato managed to pin Yashida. He knelt on the boy's arms, too far forward for Yashida to kick him, and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him up. For several moments they just glared angrily at each other's eyes, breathing deeply.

Yashida's face was a sight, with a bleeding nose and the beginnings of a black eye, and Takato knew he wasn't much better. He could feel the sticky warmth of blood on his face and trickling down his arm. His adrenaline was still coursing, damping the pain, but Takato knew he would be very sore come the morning. Right now, however, he was too action-high and angry to care much. He stared at Yashida, wondering if it was worth it to give this nut another punch to the face, before forcing himself to let the rage go.

He took one last deep breath before asking, in a voice that shook with the effort of control, "What the hell is your problem, you bastard? Why are you attacking me?"

"Your freak thing there killed my dog!" Yashida spat in a voice charged with hatred.

Takato was torn between more rage and sheer disbelief that Yashida could be foisting the blame on him. "You set him on me! For no apparent reason, I've never even seen you before!" He glared. "Of course Guilmon would try to defend me. And your damn mutt's not dead, anyway."

He glanced to the side, to make sure that Guilmon had not changed that while they'd been fighting. While he looked away, Yashida's hand closed around a stone on the ground. As Takato looked back, ready to restart his questioning until he got an answer, Yashida wrenched his arm out from under Takato's knee, raised his stone-clenched fist, and dealt Takato a stunning blow to the side of his head.

Takato dropped. Guilmon roared.

***

Well, the first fight scene in This Kiss. Would you believe it wasn't meant to get this serious? Not yet anyway. But somehow, I kept on writing and it kept on getting more violent. Finally I looked up, noticed Takato was in a brawl, and looked for a way to end it. Takato getting knocked out was supposed to happen later, by another guy (this one with a baseball bat) but Yashida's meaner than I thought.

Again it's taken mucho time to update. Sorry to anyone who's been following this series, if there's anyone left. Also lately I've been dissatisfied with my writing style, and I've been trying to overhaul it somewhat. Am hoping to wrap this series up soon so that I can try writing another Digimon fic, kinda different from this one. With a way different writing style. Also have a bunch of ideas I'd like to air.

Well, ja ne. I'm off to try out my new iPod, the best birthday gift I've received in a while. Of course, being a PC junkie, I had to first hunt around for the 'optional' connection cables before it could work…(sigh) G'bye.

Next chapter: Ruki finds out that Takato's been beaten up. Then the gang finds out why. Includes Raging!Guilmon, Raging!Ruki, and…well basically it includes a lot of angry people. Due May 5 2004. If I miss this deadline, please rest assured I will bash my head against a wall repeatedly. Maybe setting deadlines will motivate me to work…