Interlude: Downpour
(One Year before Chris, Joey, Kristen, Jennifer, and James became Digidestined...)
Sora sat on the couch bored, watching the television. The city was under a severe storm alert and her mother had decided to close the flower shop for the day—where Sora worked usually. Matt had been gone a month by now on tour, along with Tai and Yolei. Matt hadn't called recently and her thoughts drifted to her boyfriend as she stared at the drops of water burst against the window, coming down in sheets.
"I wish I hadn't lost Mimi's e-mail..." Sora thought to herself about how her computer had crashed. Izzy had fixed it, but had replaced the hard drive, clearing out her Address Book in the process. Mimi's e-mail was long and complicated, so she couldn't remember how it was exactly. She knew everybody else was busy that day, so all she could do in the rain was sit and watch the TV.
After a half-hour of this the phone rang, startling her. She jumped at the sound and stared at the phone in shock for a moment before she realized it was the phone. She exhaled and jogged over too it, picking up off the receiver on the wall.
"Hi honey, I'm almost done down here making sure everything's secure. Are you alright?"
"Yes mommy, I'm perfectly fine." Sora said mockingly as she always did when Ms. Takenouchi treated her like a little kid.
"Okay... well I should be home in an hour or so."
"Right, just drive slow. It's really coming down here."
"Alright, I will. Bye."
"Bye." The phone clicked on the other end and Sora put it back on the receiver. She had barely turned around when the phone rang again. "Hello?"
"Hi Sora..." Matt's voice gradually emerged, lagging from the distance between the two. He spoke tiredly, as if he was anxious to get to something else.
"Matt!" Sora's face lit up at the sound of her boyfriend's voice. "I haven't heard from you in so long. How's everything going?"
"Well Sammy broke his leg so we're..."
"Are you coming home early?" Sora felt like doing a back-flip as she cut Matt off. She was tired of the same old routine she had been getting recently.
"No, we're just postponing everything. The tour's too important to just cancel Sora." Matt's voice sounded embittered. "Listen... I think we ought to see other people." Sora's jovial mood instantly pulled straight up and did the back-flip she had been planning, diving into a tailspin. Smoke plumed from the motors as the plane that was her heart hurtled towards the ground.
"What?"
"It's just things have really changed and I know that we aren't going to keep up with each other so far apart. We're just going to grow apart anyway so..." Sora slammed the phone on the receiver, her eyes burning.
"No... I won't cry over a guy. I won't do it..." Sora's mix of rage and misery battled against each other for control. The phone rang again while Sora's hand was still clenched tightly around it on the receiver. She contemplated not answering for a moment before finally picking it up. She pulled her composure back together.
"Hello?" Sora spoke into the receiver in the most sing-song forcibly happy fashion she could stand.
"Ms. Takenouchi?"
"This is her daughter, Sora."
"Yes, this is Odaiba Central Hospital. I'm afraid you need to contact your mother and get down here as soon as possible. There's been an accident..."
An hour later Sora and her mother learned that Mr. Takenouchi had been killed in an accident as he drove home from work—his office had closed early due to the weather. A large truck had run a red light, slamming right into the driver's side of his car.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the world, another person was receiving a shower of grief at his funeral.
"We are gathered here today in memory of Justin Webster Walls, beloved child and brother." The solemn proceedings took place under the cover of a makeshift carport set up over the open grave, awaiting the open casket. Rows of people crying and mourning were lined up, all sitting in hard, cheap, brown, metal, fold-out chairs. The cold air bit at all, but few noticed. I sat in the front row with my head tilted down. My mother and father sat in the chairs beside me, mourning the loss of their second child. However, I didn't cry. I had been to many funerals and had always at least shed some tears, but now there were none.
"He was a joyous child that brought smiles to all who knew him..." The preacher went on speaking about the youth he had never known as if he was his own son. I didn't hear most of it; the sounds were drowned out by the heat of my blood amplifying the blaring of my own thoughts.
"It was my fault. I killed him. My fault, my fault, my fault, my fault..." I clenched my fists as the words repeated themselves through my head, over and over and over, without stall. Finally, a single burning tear of fire trickled down my face—not of sorrow, but of pure, sheer hatred of myself.
"Let us pray together..."