A.N.:So, the final prompt for OTP week last year was "Pain/Grief". I very much went with the latter on this one, but I like to think that this is a fic which takes place when they are all old. That's what I had in mind anyway. I hope everyone has enjoyed this little collection, and with any luck in the next couple of weeks I'll be able to get back to actually continuing my digimon fics, instead of all my writing energies going on other projects. I can dream, right?
The Sound Of Goodbye
They gave my brother a state funeral. Not all of it was public, of course, but for those parts which were, thousands turned out. The roads were awash with flowers and tears. They said no one had ever seen the like. He would have liked that, I suppose. Being unbeaten, I mean. Taichi was never really one for flowers. But he made friends well enough, and over his life he'd won the affections of so many people, even if he had rubbed them up the wrong way sometimes.
I can look at the footage now, though it took me a long time to manage it. I still can't quite believe how many people turned up, thronging the streets as far as the eye could see. I don't think I've ever felt so proud, or so sad.
There's only one bit I can't watch. We all paid our respects, and the Prime Minister gave a lovely speech, really she did. Honouring his life and work, and the sacrifices he made to protect both worlds. And then Yamato stood up, and at first he didn't say anything at all. He didn't need to—he didn't owe the world a speech, not right then. But he did his best, telling us all in broken sentences how important Taichi had been, and how he'd been the glue which held us together. How he'd never given up on anyone, or anything, even when things were at their worst. The footage shows him standing there, not bothering to wipe the tears from his face, and then stepping down from the podium and walking out of shot.
But when the speeches finish, the camera cuts back. Cuts to Yamato, standing at the edge of the gathering, underneath a tree in full bloom and staring out into nowhere. I remember it, of course. We were all stood by him, away from the dignitaries, as he fished in his pocket and pulled out his harmonica, and played us one final tune. I always have to turn it off there. It was the last time he played any instrument at all.
My brother's remains were buried in the digital world, in the end. Yamato was laid next to him, just a few months later. I don't think anyone was surprised. They were a pair, partners in each and every sense of the word. In time I think we'll all join them there. I can't imagine wanting to end up anywhere else, I know that much.
It's funny, in a way. I think deep down Taichi always knew he'd be the first of us to go. He lived life too fast—he did everything too fast—and he told me once that he wasn't afraid to lead us there, too. I know he is, somehow. It's how I made my peace with it all, anyway. How I keep going, day by day. I know I'll see him again, and that's that. And he'll be stood there, with his arm draped lazily around Yamato's shoulder, beckoning us one by one into a brand new adventure.
I can see him now, calling me over. Asking what took me so long. Telling me he's missed me, these last few years. That he's only had Yamato for company, and we all know how god-awful a fate that is. And Yamato thumps him, but he's smiling all the same. They both are.