Author's Notes: Cross posted on AO3. Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna was for sale on DVD at my local Target and I purchased it thinking it would be fun to relive my childhood. Somehow, it put the idea in my mind to return to writing fanfiction - an action I have not pursued since I was in middle school. Bear with me, my writing is rusty. BTW - the ending of the movie crushed me.

Set after the main events of Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna but before the end scene set in spring. Ignores the end scene of Digimon Adventure 02 because to heck with Yamato and Sora getting married.

Disclaimer: Is this really necessary? Nah, bro.

CHAPTER 1

He doesn't remember heading home but here he is, at his studio apartment door, hand turning the doorknob. Everything is a blur, tears still building each time he things to the events earlier that evening. The sunset, the cars crossing over Rainbow Bridge, the twinkling of the Daikanransha Ferris wheel against haze of dusk, and the emptiness of the spot beside him. Agumon. Gone.

How long had he stood there? Fists clenched around his faded digivice, sobbing. Strangers had drifted up and down the walkway, an older woman had asked Taichi if he was okay. He remembers choking back his sobs, nodding to the woman. Is that when he headed home?

He toes off his shoes, slides into his slippers, and slides to the floor, back against the wall. The sliding door to his balcony is uncovered, moonlight glistening off the edges of the futuristic high-rise apartments. He can see silhouettes of others moving about their homes. Those whose curtains are open display a different channel, a different person's life in motion. He tries to steady his breathing as he slides the googles around his neck up and over his head. He leans forward, opens the top drawer of his entertainment center, and places them back inside along with the silent digivice. He slides the drawer shut, closes his eyes, and leans back.

His anguish is physical. He feels a sharp jabbing in his chest and his hands tingle. He feels fully present, aware of the hum of his fridge and the sounds of other tenants moving in the apartments next door but also dissociated, like his head isn't screwed on tight. He fights the memories, but they flood in without head. The harder he pushes, the more the memories come until his breath is ragged and the tears are free flowing down his cheeks again.

His arms are wrapped tight around his knees, forehead resting on his knees when he hears a light tapping at his door. He glances up, across the room to the bedside clock: 23:30.

"Yeah?" he calls out, voice hoarse.

"Taichi?" Koushiro's voice.

"It's unlocked," he says and hears the door click open. Koushiro steps in, closes the door softly behind him, locks it, and begins taking off his shoes whilst balancing a takeout bag in his hands. Taichi wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, slightly embarrassed.

Koushiro frowns at the motion. "Don't," he says. "I was in the same state only moments ago." He holds out a hand and helps pull Taichi to his feet. "Where is your tetsubin?"

Taichi nods toward the cabinet above the hotplate as Koushiro sets the takeout bags on the table in the middle of the room. He finds the kettle, fills it, and places it on the hotplate on the counter next to the fridge. From the same cabinet, he takes out two chipped and worn mugs which had been carefully smuggled from diners by Daisuke and Taichi on a dare. As the water warms, he sets to unpacking the takeout.

"Daisuke recommended this place," Koushiro explains, unusually chatty, as he sets a place for each of them. His dark eyes meet Taichi's, and he sighs. "I know you don't feel like eating but Jou said you should not take these on an empty stomach." He pulls a vial from his pocket and tosses it to Taichi who catches it. "They're sleeping pills."

Taichi stares at the orange bottle, 5 oblong pills inside. He nods, pops the top off, and swallows one pill, downing it with half a glass of water Koushiro places in front of him. "Thanks."

Koushiro nods and walks to the sliding doors. He opens the door an inch and the night air slips in. There is a gentle, early spring breeze and the faint sound of quieting traffic. He turns and goes back to the now boiling water, busying himself with making them each tea; oolong for himself and green for Taichi. Taichi pulls two cushions from beneath his bed and they both take a seat, using his bed as a backrest.

Koushiro begins to eat first, flicking on the TV and finding a rerun of a soccer game. It's odd, Taichi thinks, seeing him in this role and without his laptop, on top of this. As he picks up his chopsticks, he feels a wave of nausea. How can he eat at a time like this? Then his stomach grumbles. He begins to pick at the food, taking slow, methodical bites. He stares at the game but does not process what is on the screen. Beside him, Koushiro continue to eat, giving him side glances.

"Kou?" Taichi starts, finishing off his tea. Koushiro turns to him. "Thanks for this - ," he starts but then the tears are back. He swallows hard.

"Don't mention it… I… I… know I'm going to be a wreck when Tentomon…" There's no need to continue. They both know what he's about to say. "Taichi, I'm going to figure it out."

Taichi sighs. "I don't know if there's anything to figure out." He pushes the rest of his food around with a chopstick. When he looks up again, Koushiro's face is blank. "But if anyone can work out what happens to them after… after they leave us. It'll be you, Kou."

"I've been reading up on the physics of death and energy. It's quite fascinating, really. Although I don't care much for the philosophers, but there are genius physicists who have some solid theories." Taichi only half listens as Koushiro rambles on. He doesn't want to verbalize the hollowness he feels, the heaviness of his grief. He thinks it will not be much longer before the rest of the original chosen experience the same loss. And there is nothing he can do to protect them.

The sleeping pills begin to take effect, calling him to sleep like sirens surrounding a sinking ship. Koushiro notices that he keeps closing his eyes longer and longer between plays and switches off the TV. He separates the recycling and the trash then asks Taichi if there's anything he can do. Taichi just shakes his head. Once Koushiro leaves, locking the door on his way out, Taichi pulls off his shirt, kicks off his pants, and falls into a medicated sleep, listening to the sounds of the night as he drifts into a forced slumber.

It's a fight to get out of bed in the morning. He keeps hitting snooze in response to the alarm set on his phone over and over again. The alarm clock he had taken with him from his parent's house, the egg shaped one, goes off as his final alarm and he knocks the clock to the floor. He buries his face deep in his blankets, rolls onto his stomach, and pushes his arms beneath his pillows. Class, he reminds himself, you have got to get your ass to class. Without his usual energy, the morning moves by in slow motion. He gets caught in the mirror, runs his fingers down the bruising alongside his face and the dried blood caked in his hair from the last battle. He steps into the shower and stays under the hot spray until his skink is red and his fingers are wrinkled. He aches everywhere. There are bruises and marks down his side from when he was tossed. There's blood in the water. When he steps out of the shower, he digs through the bin under his sink for bandages and topical relief creams. Jou has a habit of resupplying his friends with first aid items each new year, has done so since he started his medical studies. Between soccer, general clumsiness, and battles, they are all grateful for the thought.

Patched up and wearing clean clothes, well, clothes that were washed recently, Taichi grabs his bag, keys, and phone and heads out the door. He is late. He curses as he takes the elevator down the eleven floors to the ground level. If he had his bicycle, he'd make it to class on time, but it had once again been crushed in a Digimon battle. He thinks about the money in his bank account, considers whether he should grab a cab, and steps into an insulting beautiful day.

He hears the motorcycle but doesn't register it beelining to him until it's practically on top of him. It's Yamato's newest toy, a bright white crotch rocket. It comes to a halt alongside the sidewalk, the rider untangling a spare helmet bungee corded to the backseat. The leather clad arm reaches out, offering the helmet to Taichi who accepts it. He stuffs his head in swings a leg over the back and takes his place behind Yamato who takes off from the curb before Taichi has gotten comfortable. He grabs around Yamato's waist to keep from flying off and clenches his thighs tight against the bike. They are airborne, zigzagging through slower cars, headed towards Taichi's school.

Once he's better settled on the bike, he reaches to the side of the helmet, and holds down the Bluetooth button until it beeps, indicating its connection to Yamato's helmet.

"Don't you have class today?" he asks Yamato, leaning with him around a tight bend. Though he doesn't love riding bitch, he doesn't deny that the speed and dexterity of the motorcycle is thrilling.

"I'm not going," Yamato replies.

"Why?"

There's no response. They fly over Rainbow Bridge, hustling from Shibaura to Odaiba, where Taichi's college lies.

"Yama," Taichi implores. He swears Yamato shifts into a higher gear, moving faster. He moves his hands from the side of the bike, where two grips fold out, and brings his arms around his best friends' waist. He could swear Yamato leans into the touch.

"I can miss a day," Yamato states dryly, "but your dumbass certainly can't."

"Hey," Taichi whines but it's true. His thesis is overdue, and he hasn't made any progress, especially during recent events. Recent events… his breath hitches. "Yama… this sucks."

Yamato tenses, turns his head as they roll to a stop at a redlight. He is quiet. When the light turns green, they tear off. "I didn't sleep," Yamato confesses.

"You should talk to Jou," Taichi murmurs.

Yamato shakes his head, sunlight glinting off the gold stripes in the white helmet. "I need to feel it, you know."

Taichi doesn't know. "What do you mean?"

"When Gabumon… Tai… he was there and then he just wasn't there." Yamato stops talking. As they get closer to Taichi's school, the roads become more congested with cars and constant pedestrian crossings. Taichi squeezes Yamato then releases him, shifts to place more distance between their bodies. Their approach is from a different section of campus, Yamato had taken the long way to Taichi's university.

He directs the motorcycle into the commuter lot, let's Taichi hop off by the student center. Taichi swings himself off the bike with uncharacteristic grace pulling the helmet off. He fluffs his hair and straps the helmet securely on the back seat with the bungee cords.

"Thanks, man," he says, and they bump fists. He can't see Yamato's eyes beyond the tinted visor. "See you at Koushiro's tonight?" Taichi asks, reminding Yamato that the bi-monthly regrouping of the chosen children is still happening, as scheduled. There is the briefest of nods then the bike tears off. Taichi follows it with his eyes until it zips around a high rise. Nearby, a group of college women giggle and nudge each other – snapping Taichi back to reality. He checks his watch and curses. He's going to have to run to make his first lecture.