Night Terrors

The atmosphere was heavy, thick and overbearing like a threatening storm cloud. It was enough to unsettle the young Takeru, who fidgeted with unease as he held his mother's hand in a vice.

Takeru frowned as he looked at his father, the elder Ishida standing several feet from Takeru with an unreadable expression. Beside Hiroaki was a young Yamato, a grimace twisting his face as he stood obediently by their father.

"What's going on?" Takeru asked, his voice dazed. The scenario was familiar, painfully familiar, and yet their surroundings were completely foreign. A thick fog obstructed everything except for the Chosen of Hope, Yamato, and their parents, leaving the fractured family as the only occupants of the endless gray.

Rather than responding to his son, Hiroaki suddenly turned on his heels and began to walk away. Yamato lingered for a moment before he quickly followed after the retreating man.

"Wh… wait!" Takeru said as a jolt of panic surged through him. "Dad? Yamato?!" He reached out towards them as the familiar sense of loss flooded him - the same loss he felt the first time they left him, during the divorce."Where are you-?!"

"...It's not fair."

Takeru paused as his mother's voice pierced his thoughts, cold and distant. He looked up to stare at her, startled to see Natsuko glaring after Hiroaki and Yamato. Her jaw was clenched tight, her eyes hard as steel.

"Not... fair?" Takeru repeated, his voice tentative.

"Why am I the one stuck with you?" Natsuko asked. "Do they really think I have nothing better to do? Because I'm a woman?"

Takeru gaped at his mother, his face going pale as his eyes became wide like saucers.

"I didn't ask for this," Natsuko continued, despite her son's stricken reaction. "I already raised one child, and he's the one getting the benefit. Now I have to waste my time doing it again? Alone?"

"M-Mom, I…," Takeru stammered, tears forming. "I'm sorr-"

Natsuko finally turned her head to glare at Takeru, hatred consuming her stern features. Even the horrified expression of her child didn't dull the intensity of her loathing. "I should never have given birth to you."

Takeru jerked awake with a start, sitting up with a gasp. He barely registered the fact that he had sent Patamon tumbling, his mother's voice ringing in his ears. His skin had grown slick with sweat despite feeling chilled to his very core, and his lungs ached as if he had been holding his breath. He panted heavily, gulping down air as his room slowly came in to focus.

After several moments, the Chosen of Hope gave a small shudder and slumped forward. His hand instinctively went to grasp at his shoulder, which throbbed violently beneath the gray taint that marred his skin.

"Takeru?" Patamon landed on the bed beside his Chosen, staring up at him with obvious concern. "Is it your shoulder again?"

Takeru grit his teeth as he let out a soft hiss. "I-it's fine… I'm fine…"

Patamon frowned, his ears drooping slightly. Even though he wanted to press the subject, he knew enough by now that it'd only make Takeru even more defensive. "Takeru…"

Takeru didn't look at Patamon, instead glancing to his alarm clock. He grimaced at the sight - a neon green 2:21 am on proud display. It was far too early to be awake, but still late enough that he knew the next day at school would suffer for it.

Turning, Takeru slid his feet over the side of his bed. He pulled back his blankets to expose his white and green striped pajamas to the night air before he ventured through his room towards the door.

"Takeru?" Patamon repeated the Chosen Child's name, inquisitively.

"I'm just… getting a drink of water," Takeru murmured, his voice rough, before he proceeded through the doorway without waiting for a response. "I'm fine."

Patamon hesitated before he crouched, fanning his wings and then taking flight to follow after his partner.

Takeru slowly made his way to the kitchen, his footsteps heavy. While the pain had subsided, it still left him feeling heavy, as if every motion was a chore. It took far more energy than it should have to enter the kitchen, and the Chosen of Hope unceremoniously flopped down in to one of the chairs.

Takeru closed his eyes before he propped his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands as he let out a heavy sigh. He didn't even remove them to acknowledge Patamon as the Digimon landed on the table nearby. He was certain his partner's face would be filled with concern, and he quite frankly didn't want to see it.

The Chosen of Hope sat at the table in silence, his partner offering silent support nearby. After several moments, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. While soft, there were no other sounds to stifle them, leading to each step echoing loudly through the kitchen.

Takeru kept his eyes covered, listening. He heard the footsteps head over to the refrigerator before opening it. Jostling signalled that something had been removed, along with a cabinet creaking open seconds before the Chosen of Hope could hear liquid being poured - milk, if he were to hazard a guess.

Soon enough, his suspicions were confirmed when a glass of milk slid in to view under his hands, guided by the familiar hand of Yamato.

Takeru stared at the glass for a moment before he sighed heavily. "You should be in bed."

"So should you," Yamato replied as he sat down at the table opposite his brother. "And yet, here we are."

"You don't need to do this." Takeru said.

"No, I don't," Yamato agreed. "But I did it anyway."

Takeru hesitated for several moments before he let out another sigh, finally lowering his hands to accept the glass of milk in front of him. "I'm fine. It's not a big deal."

"Doesn't matter," Yamato said with a shrug, leaning back in his chair as he draped his arm over the back. He wore his own sleeping clothes, a loose white tank top over blue boxer shorts.

Takeru took a sip of his milk before setting the glass down, then let out a low chuckle. "You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Yep," Yamato said, grinning lopsidedly. "Can't help it. It's genetic."

"Which means I'm really annoying too," Takeru said, his smile becoming wry as he looked down at his glass. "Poor Mom."

"Yeah," Yamato agreed. "But she'll manage."