Tri: Integrity Lens
Ketsui: Deterioration, Pt 2
Takeru jogged after Yamato, hurrying to catch up- and fleeing the maelstrom of anger, pain, and fear swirling within the gazebo, where most of the Chosen remained. Voice tinged with desperation, he called, "Aniki! Can I get a ride home?"
Yamato ceased his stomping and turned. As he gazed at Takeru, his expression softened from irritation to his typical resting scowl. He was a volatile person, but Takeru knew what calmed him: music, Gabumon, and his kid brother.
Yamato opened the carry bag attached to the side of his scooter. A spare helmet was stowed within, anticipating just such an occasion. The brothers donned their helmets and settled on the bike. Yamato started the engine, and they were off.
And, with no one else around, Takeru was free to ask, "Onii-chan, are you okay?"
Takeru was seated behind Yamato, with his arms around his waist, so he couldn't see his face… But his hands tightened around the handle bars. "I understand how Mimi-chan feels about people hating digimon. But this..."
"Yeah." Normally, Takeru enjoyed watching Odaiba whiz by from Yamato's scooter, especially on a warm late afternoon with a lovely sunset. Today, he couldn't stand to look. He recognized the woman reporting from the helicopter. It was Kae- not Izumi Kae, but a local news personality who had provided daily updates every morning for as long as he could remember. Hell, he had met her at his mother's family-inclusive work events.
Ningyomon found Kae unconscious in the bay. Had her lungs filled with water, smothering her? How wounded was she? Eimi mentioned blood- lots of blood. And the taste of it, which made Takeru's stomach churn.
"We need to be careful." Yamato's voice was hard, unyielding, arresting- impossible to ignore. "That broadcast was probably live. I don't know if our parents can cover this up, like they have been. People could come after Mimi-chan… And maybe the rest of us."
Takeru smooshed his face against Yamato's back. He knew he was right, but he wouldn't have mental or emotional space to spare until he found out what happened to the helicopter passengers. "Okay," he mumbled, aware that Yamato wanted an agreement, wanted him to be safe.
This close to Yamato, Takeru could tell when he relaxed, tensed, shifted, and flinched. It was an ideal setup if he wanted to gauge how he actually felt. Takeru was in prime position to mediate between Yamato and the rest of the Chosen.
Alas, digging up the energy and will to do so was nearly impossible. But something Yamato said in the gazebo unsettled Takeru enough to make that effort. "Onii-chan... I'm sure Jyou-san is doing his best."
Yamato's back went rigid. "How is ignoring everything his best?! We've been through this before! He knows that protecting both worlds comes before school. There might not be school if we don't take action."
"It must be hard on him, though. Something happens every time he's about to take a major entrance exam, and college exams are the biggest ones yet." But that was Jyou for you; a good guy born beneath an unlucky star, and never far from its baleful influence.
"There's no such thing as convenient timing for emergencies," Yamato snapped. "And he's smart enough to know the stakes. We all are!"
That last outburst, Takeru suspected, was directed at the situation with Mimi, or perhaps towards Taichi's hesitance. He understood why Yamato was frustrated, but somehow, Takeru couldn't be mad at anyone. Everything was just so… so hard, lately. Impossibly so. What were they supposed to do? How could they not buckle beneath the pressure?
Takeru's volume dropped so much that he wasn't sure if Yamato would hear him. "Honestly... Right now, I feel like Jyou-san is the smartest of us. At least he... He doesn't have blood on his hands."
His stomach flopped as the scooter abruptly slowed, then revved back up to speed. "We're just as culpable for doing nothing as we are for acting," Yamato growled.
Takeru sighed. "You sound like Eimi-san." He loved Eimi, he really did, but he didn't have the mental or emotional space for an ethics discussion right now.
"I guess. She talked to me after... Alphamon."
That must have been fun. Takeru adored Yamato, and was his self-proclaimed biggest fan (a position he shared with Gabumon, although he would never admit it). Still, initiating a volatile conversation with him was not a happy prospect. Takeru got by because Yamato doted on him. What was Eimi's strategy?
"Brave of her," Takeru teased- but with a tinge of concern.
Yamato tsked. "Who knows what her goal was. She agreed with me that we need to take action, but she also said Taichi is right to be cautious. I didn't get it. How can we both be right? But after today… Seeing things go so wrong because one of us acted too carelessly…"
A long pause followed, and Takeru tried to focus on the wind in his face, on the hum of the machine beneath him. Anything to avoid really thinking. Which, of course, is what Yamato was trying to do.
Takeru felt Yamato's stomach expand and contract with a deep breath. "Eimi took action on her own today, but it worked out because she and Galemon were suited to her plan. And it was reactive. She did it to fix a problem, not because…"
Another breath, a muted curse. "Mimi-chan caused a disaster because she wanted people to see her perspective. I know why she did it. I hate how people talk about digimon, too, but she's acting way too freely. I don't always see things the way Eimi does, but she understands the stakes and can respond in the moment. Unlike Taichi, who is so worried about things like this happening that he can't act. And Jyou…"
Takeru craned his neck for a glimpse of Yamato's profile. His lips were pulled back from clenched teeth, an impressive grimace. "He's just fucking ignoring it."
Takeru wriggled, suddenly uncomfortable. He wished he could relate to Eimi and Koushiro, who were taking careful measure of the situation and doing what they safely could. Yamato stood ready to fight, to defend. Taichi and Sora seemed focused on keeping tempers smooth and trying to understand the various perspectives of the Chosen as friction built between them.
Takeru was just numbly stumbling along, drifting after the group, too frightened and overwhelmed to act. And while he knew he should focus on the distortions and the other problems in front of them, well…
His heart was with Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken. Hikari's, too. The Chosen secure communication app on Takeru's phone and PC housed thousands of messages between Hikari and him, brainstorming, fretting, despairing, hoping.
Was he ignoring things too, like Yamato said Jyou was? And Yamato normally didn't swear to that degree, at least not in front of him, although he was loosening up as Takeru grew older. Takeru was beginning to suspect that Yamato was even more upset with Jyou than he let on.
After a frustrated pause, Yamato continued, "We can usually rely on Jyou, but now… Hell, he might as well be a grade schooler crying for adults again. He won't even respond to my messages."
Lightning struck, a jolt that sizzled from neuron to neuron, sparking understanding. Finally, Yamato's response made sense. "You miss Jyou-san. You want to be able to count on him."
Yamato's shoulders jerked up, then back down. Takeru almost smiled. His brother was not the effusive type. In fact, his standoffish behavior made it easy for acquaintances, and even friends, to misunderstand him. But Takeru saw right through it:
His brother felt abandoned by a dear friend, and was hurting.
Yamato shot an irate look over his shoulder before returning his attention to the road. "It's not- This isn't a personal- We need to be able to count on him! We're fractured and fighting, and things keep getting worse."
So, business as usual. The quip danced along Takeru's tongue, but he didn't have the heart for wit. He wondered if Yamato felt like he had no one to lean on, especially since his jogress partner was out of sync with him.
As for Takeru… He didn't even know if his jogress partner was safe.
Takeru pinched his eyes shut tight. He told himself that watching the scenery zip by was making him nauseous, but even he didn't buy that excuse.
I wish you could rely on me, Onii-chan. I wish I knew what to do. I wish my second team were here. Even with Yamato so close, Takeru couldn't speak those words. He refused to add to Yamato's burden. And, deep down, he knew he couldn't bear to lose standing in his brother's eyes, the way Jyou and Mimi seemed to be.
"We'll get through it." Takeru couldn't believe how confident he sounded. Who taught him to act so well? The answer whispered in his mind: a lifetime of trying to convince others that he was fine, especially when he wasn't.
His stomach churned again.
"We have to." Yamato's voice was barely audible over the whoosh of the wind around the scooter. Takeru took his low volume as an excuse to drop the conversation, as if he hadn't heard anything.
What else was there to say, regardless?
XXX
It was nearly ten PM, and Yamato sat on the edge of his bed, practicing bass. Gabumon sat beside him, silent, listening, offering support without demanding that he talk, talk, talk. Yamato loved everything about his partner, but his willingness to exist in companionable silence was one of his most beloved traits.
So why the hell did he want to mess with perfection by calling Koushiro?
"Yamato." As always, Gabumon's pitch gently rose and fell, almost singing his name. Affection was evident in his tone, even though a hint of warning registered.
Yamato grunted. Gabumon wouldn't take offense (yet another of his stellar attributes). Unbothered, he continued, "You're playing the same chords over and over. I think you've learned this part."
With a massive sigh, the sort only a teenager could produce, Yamato lifted the bass over his head and placed it on the stand by the bed. "I'm distracted. I should just get it over with."
This time, Gabumon's pause had gravitas, a weight that put Yamato on edge. "Are you calling Jyou again?"
"No!" It was a testament to Yamato's love for Gabumon that he managed to avoid further grousing. He opted to change the subject instead. "Koushiro."
"Koushiro?" Gabumon echoed, tipping his head. "Why?"
"If he picks up, I'll put it on speaker." Yamato didn't want to explain himself, and it wouldn't be necessary if Koushiro wasn't available. He wondered if he had pushed calling off in the hopes that Koushiro would fall asleep, but that was wishful. After the disaster at Shiokaze Park, he'd be surprised if Koushiro slept at all.
As if reading his mind, Gabumon said, "Tell him to sleep." Yamato offered an affirmative grunt as he composed a text message.
Can you take a call? Just you, I mean. And, as he hit send, Yamato realized that he was waiting for Eimi to go to bed, not Koushiro. While her work ethic was high, she wasn't capable of pulling all-nighters. In fact, their shared time in the Digital World made Yamato suspect that, if things were dire enough, she could sleep standing up.
Trails of dots populated as Koushiro worked on his response. It wasn't like him to fuss over texts, but then, Yamato's message was abrupt. Yes. Eimi is asleep. I'm not alone, though. Tentomon is here.
As years passed, that distinction became both more and less important. A Chosen and their digimon were a unit, two halves of a whole, even when separated by dimensions. When you spoke to one, you spoke to the other; there wasn't much point in trying to keep secrets from your own heart. Yamato knew damned well that people lied to themselves all the time. But withholding from your digimon partner… Somehow, that was harder.
The older Yamato grew, the more Gabumon felt like a child, rather than a peer. And yet, Gabumon knew Yamato like no one else, more than Yamato knew himself. The digimon were simple but profound, innocent but wise. Only a fool underestimated them. Only a fool shut them out.
Sure. Gabumon is with me, too.
Then I'll call.
Soon after, Yamato's phone rang. "Hey, Koushiro. Thanks for talking this late. I'm putting you on speaker with Gabumon."
Koushiro exhaled in a modest, pleasant sort of way. "That's never any trouble. I'll do the same. Tentomon, say hello, but please speak softly."
"Good evening, Yamato-han! Gabumon!"
Gabumon wiggled closer, until he was hip to hip with Yamato, who held the phone between them. "Hello Tentomon, Koushiro." As always, the digimon reacted to one another with excitement, as if they hadn't spent most of the day together in the Safe House.
Yamato leaped straight to his point, aware that the small talk could go on forever if left unchecked. "I'm calling about Eimi."
He couldn't see Koushiro's face, but his pause spoke volumes. "Oh?"
Yamato rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was aware that he sometimes came on too strong, or too abruptly. Now he was locked into a topic without knowing how he intended to approach it. He heaved another sigh, followed by a tsk.
"Look," he spat, his tone sour with annoyance. "Maybe I shouldn't say anything, but… Is she okay?"
This pause was significantly longer than the first. At last, Tentomon buzzed, "Why do you ask?" Which meant that Koushiro was at a loss to respond.
And wasn't that promising.
Yamato's father, Ishida Hiroaki, had warned him against offering sensitive information to a third party without permission. Hiroaki also asked him to at least try to be careful with the feelings of others, especially girls his age and younger (a request that earned him a sarcastic remark and an impressive eye roll). If Eimi wanted to keep her secrets, then that was her business. And yet…
Even after six years of comradery, including living with her in the Digital World and surviving extreme situations together, there was a lot Yamato didn't know about Eimi. Like Takeru, and very much unlike Yamato, she excelled at keeping her thoughts to herself when she so desired. He knew firsthand that she was capable of self-isolating and being eaten alive by her feelings and struggles, even when hands reached for her.
Well. Maybe they weren't so different, after all.
In an instant, he made his decision, and the words popped free. "She puked." Before she got on his motorbike, thank the gods.
"What?" Which confirmed Yamato's guess: Eimi hadn't said a damned thing.
Yamato collapsed forward, propping himself up with his elbows against his knees. Gabumon's hand landed on his shoulder, supportive and warm. "She stumbled out of the park entrance like she was drunk. Then she puked. No offense, but she looked like shit."
"She… didn't seem well," Koushiro replied. "We went to the office after, but she… Just stared at her screen. I sent her home early. Mom says she fell asleep not long after returning."
"You sent her home alone?" Yamato tried to keep any anger and disbelief out of his voice. Frankly, Koushiro knew Eimi best, but… Didn't she deserve some support, especially after the rescue mission?
"Koushiro-han…" The concern in Tentomon's voice hinted that Yamato had struck a nerve. His teeth slammed together and began to grind. He hadn't meant to hurt Koushiro. This was why it was best to keep his damned nose out.
"I… see," Koushiro murmured. "I… Appear to have prioritized incorrectly. There was so much work to do, I…"
Yamato shared a look with Gabumon. He wanted to say the right thing, but difficult conversations were hardly his strong suit. Slowly, carefully, he ventured, "Look… I think you might be the only person taking all of this seriously enough. I always respect what you do for us. But…"
His brain twinged with pain. Was he being hypocritical? He was just complaining about the Chosen refusing to take action and pretending that nothing was wrong, so why was he coming at Koushiro?
"I don't know," Yamato growled, frustrated. "You're doing the right thing as a Chosen, but you're also Koushiro. A high school first year, a son, a boyfriend."
"He's right," Tentomon interjected. "There's a time to work, and there's a time to take care of yourself and other aspects of your life. We've had a difficult day. I think you should check on Eimi-han and go to bed."
And, by some miracle, Koushiro replied, "I want to argue, but… You're right. Thank you for telling me this, Yamato-san."
If we all worked together, then maybe there wouldn't be so much pressure on you. There was no way Yamato could say that. For one, he was beginning to sense that his contributions of responding to emergencies in the moment couldn't compete with Koushiro's constant working, to the point of losing sleep and misstepping in his relationships. For another, Koushiro just fought with Mimi. Bringing up teamwork might seem like a cheap shot instead of an offer of support.
"How are you doing?" Yamato asked, because it was about damned time someone did.
This time, he expected the hefty pause that followed. "I've… Been better. But I'm glad you called. The reminder to rest is appreciated."
"You'll get help if you need it, right?" Even as he asked, Yamato knew the words were next to worthless. Who could help Koushiro with his work? Eimi took on tasks that she could manage, but she had no hope of handling most of Koushiro's work. There were precious few people who could.
"I'll… Try." It was a shit response, but Yamato couldn't blame Koushiro. What else could he say?
Yamato wanted to ask if Koushiro had heard from Mimi, but he already seemed to be struggling. The reminder would likely be unwelcome. He was casting about for a topic when Koushiro said, "By the way, I apologize for reacting stiffly when Taichi-san suggested that you wait for Eimi."
Yamato was so surprised that he jerked upright. "Koushiro- you literally didn't say a word."
"Well, yes," Koushiro stammered. "But I…"
But you didn't control your face. Yamato saw the reluctance stamped over Koushiro's usual polite expression when Taichi made his request. "You were worried about her. I get it."
Koushiro's sigh was far more proper than Yamato's were. "Thank you for understanding." After another pause, his voice dropped, nearly to a whisper. "I… Haven't felt myself, today."
Yamato's responding snort was out before he had any hope of containing it. "No kidding."
Koushiro opted to ignore that less-than-polite sound. "Yamato-san… I hate to burden you, but… I'm troubled by how I spoke to Mimi-san."
There was a twinge of… Something Yamato couldn't identify. Guilt? Shame? Here was proof of what he suspected: Koushiro did hold back, even with them, even after all this time. He forced his grit teeth apart to say, "You're never a burden. I know you think you're being polite, but don't talk like that."
"He's right, Koushiro-han!"
Hoping to spare Koushiro a lecture from his well-meaning and put-upon partner, Yamato continued, "As for Mimi-chan, someone had to say it. I'm surprised it was you, but then… Maybe that will help her understand."
In the pause that followed, Yamato could almost see Koushiro's face: big eyebrows crowded together with concern, dark eyes downcast, uncertain, contrite. "I… don't know if it was my place."
Yamato had to get his snorting under control. He swallowed hard before responding, "Weren't you planning to stay up all night to deal with the helicopter crash aftermath? I think it's fair for you to have opinions."
"I see your point," Koushiro allowed. "And frankly… I stand by what I said. I just wish… I didn't intend to be so blunt. I was so angry and frightened and frustrated."
Yamato shared a long look with Gabumon. He possessed some modicum of self awareness. Although he was loathe to admit it, he knew Koushiro was addressing a man of large emotions, as a man with relatively subdued ones. But hell, that didn't make Yamato some kind of guru. If anything, it felt like the opposite was true. What was he supposed to say?!
"Feelings aren't bad," Gabumon ventured- and Yamato grasped his shoulder with gratitude. "Everyone has them. And things have been hard."
"You didn't go easy on her," Yamato said. "But given the circumstances, that's fair. And haven't you mentioned wanting to explore yourself, like with clothing? Expressing your emotions more could be part of that. I think it's good to tell the group how you feel, especially when you're struggling."
"That may be so." Koushiro's laugh was more defeated than amused. "I suspect that this isn't the time for such experiments, however."
"We're in a pressure pot. Again. Emotions are going to run high."
There was a defensive, confused edge to Koushiro's mild tenor. "Well, yes- But, but back then- I was so much calmer, and that was six years ago! Today, I yelled at Mimi-san and failed to check in with Eimi."
"So apologize," said Yamato, the king of Ignoring It and Not Apologizing. "And go check on Eimi. Although I think you should leave Mimi-chan to Sora, for now. She's always been best at getting through to her."
"Yes… I suppose we would simply argue more if I reached out now…"
The encounter at the gazebo was more of a dressing down than an argument, but Yamato opted not to say so. Koushiro was right; Mimi was the type who didn't hear difficult things until she was ready to.
Which was potentially deadly in their current situation.
Yamato cupped his aching forehead. "Right… You might have to dance around one another for a bit. I know Sora wants to keep the peace, but I'll ask her to make sure Mimi-chan knows she can't do something like this again, no matter how frustrated she is."
"Thank you. I hate to doubt Mimi-san or imply that she isn't capable, but…"
"No, you're being realistic. She wanted to help, but she did the opposite. That's the situation we're dealing with."
"I see… Thank you for the reassurance." Before Yamato could respond, Koushiro's tone shifted to crisp and business-like, his typical cadence. "Pardon me for changing the subject, but what should we do with the news camera that Eimi recovered? I don't like having it in my family's apartment."
No kidding. Eimi recovered the camera so Koushiro could delete any footage of Mimi and Togemon stored on it, but having it around could have horrible repercussions for the Izumis. "I meant to ask Dad, but he didn't come home. He's just as swamped as you after the accident. I think he'd be a good person to talk to about…"
"The implications of the accident," Koushiro supplied. "Mitigation strategies. I thought so, too."
"Right. He'll know what to do with the camera, too. Keep it hidden for now, and don't talk about it."
"Should we have a codename for it?" Tentomon suggested. "How about dango?"
Yamato cracked a reluctant smile as Koushiro murmured, "Are you hungry?"
"I'll set up a meeting with him," Yamato said. "Might take a few days. God knows when he'll materialize."
"Thank you. I want to ask him about what I've seen on news sites. Apparently, the footage was live, but all recordings and copies have mysteriously vanished."
Yamato shared a long look with Gabumon. "The Bureau, do you think?" Surely, it was good if the Bureau used their resources to protect Mimi's identity. But the implication that they had that much power was not comfortable.
Koushiro's hesitance hinted that he was thinking something similar. "That… might be our best case scenario. Apparently, there is no official identification of the student at the scene, but the uniform is recognized as belonging to Tsukishima Comprehensive High."
"God," Yamato muttered. "Mimi-chan…"
"Hopefully, she isn't identified. Thanks again for calling, Yamato-san. If you don't mind, I'd like to check on Eimi."
Yamato was officially Done with this conversation. "Good idea. See you tomorrow. And get some sleep, okay? We've had a long day."
After everyone exchanged good nights, Yamato hung up and placed the phone on his night stand. "Are you going to practice more?" Gabumon asked.
"Nah. We should rest." Yamato was so goddamned tired. His mind was a haze emitting a high-pitched buzz. The sooner he was unconscious, the better.
He hated how many nights ended with that thought these days.
XXX
"It was nice of Yamato-han to call."
Koushiro nodded as he plugged the charger into his phone. His emotional capacity shattered hours ago; he had no idea how to digest this conversation. He sensed that important information, valuable life lessons, were sprinkled in there, but absorbing them seemed impossible.
Haven't you mentioned wanting to explore yourself, like with clothing? Expressing your emotions more could be part of that. I think it's good to tell the group how you feel, especially when you're struggling.
As if reading his mind- something Tentomon often seemed able to do, almost like Galemon read Eimi's- Tentomon said, "How do you feel?"
Koushiro pressed the insides of his wrists against his closed eyes. "I want to see Eimi. She's asleep, but…"
"Then let's do that," was Tentomon's gentle response. "And Koushiro-han… Yamato-han is right. Your friends care about how you feel. They want to know when you're struggling. And they see what you do and appreciate it- appreciate you."
How I feel… Koushiro wasn't ashamed of his emotions; he understood that they were a natural part of the human experience. It was just…
"It's… difficult," he admitted. "Even though my friends are kind. And I often don't understand how I feel, or why I feel that way. It's easy to wonder… Should I be feeling less? More? Which of my feelings are burdensome? Should I share what I'm feeling if I don't understand it? But then, how would I verbalize it?"
That familiar sense of inadequacy breached his exhaustion. Why did he struggle with something so basic, so integral to being human? Did that make him less than? Was he stunted? Repressed? If so, how did that impact the people around him, the people he loved?
Tentomon shifted closer and placed a three-digit hand on Koushiro's knee. He turned those huge, neon-green eyes to Koushiro's. He couldn't emote with them, but the concern in his voice was evident. "It's like Gabumon said: feelings aren't bad or good. What matters is that we explain our perspectives and try to be kind, and that we reach out when we're overwhelmed and check in on others."
Koushiro cleared his throat. The words he wanted to say seemed to be stuck there, unable to pass. "Tentomon… I fear I failed to be kind today. Maybe, if I were more skilled at understanding my emotions, I wouldn't have been so hard on Mimi-san."
"I think you were being kind," Tentomon replied. "It's just that kindness isn't always gentle. Eimi-han has taken on the role of saying difficult things before if she knows they might protect her friends, even at the risk of affronting them. As long as you stick to facts and don't take digs at the other person, it's okay to express yourself and share your feelings- even if they're difficult ones."
"I appreciate your perspective, but… I don't think I can effectively talk about this tonight." Tentomon's advice was likely good, as it often was. But until Koushiro knew what happened to the unconscious woman in the helicopter, he couldn't impartially analyze his discussion with Mimi.
"Then we should rest. You can always apologize if you decide you should. Mimi-han is kind; she'll hear you out when she calms down."
"You're right. Please wait here while I get ready for bed." Koushiro rose and approached his closed bedroom door, intending to take a quick bath and brush his teeth. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Tentomon… Thank you."
"Any time, Koushiro-han. Please, don't be too hard on yourself."
Koushiro nodded, but the frog in his throat prevented further response. He fled to the privacy of the bathroom, where he struggled to gather and calm himself. On his way out, freshly bathed and wearing a robe, his mother intercepted him in the hall. The rapidness of her appearance suggested that she had been waiting for him to emerge.
Koushiro blinked, surprised by her animation. She grabbed both of Koushiro's hands and cried, "Sweetheart, she's going to be okay! Kae-san is stable!"
Koushiro's knees buckled, and his mother grabbed his elbow. Tentomon appeared in the hall, drawn by the noise. "Is she- Is she going to fully recover?"
Kae's smile flagged. "They seem to think so. Do you want to watch the news coverage?"
Koushiro's stomach flipped. He was beyond relieved that the reporter would live, but it sounded as if permanent repercussions were still a possibility. "I'd rather see a written article." He couldn't deal with commercial interruptions and anchor discussions. He needed facts, delivered succinctly.
Koushiro brushed past his mother and was almost to his room when Tentomon cleared his throat. Koushiro spun around, face burning. "Oh! Thank you for telling me."
Kae placed a hand on his shoulder. "You should rest. Please."
"I intend to. Should I wake Eimi and tell her?"
"No," Kae said gently. "If she managed to fall asleep… I would wait until she wakes."
"Yes… I see your point. Good night, Mom. Thanks again for telling me."
"Good night. Make sure you sleep."
Koushiro murmured a response and hurried to his laptop, where he pulled up a news feed. A quick scan indicated that Kae was awake, responsive, and stable, but there wasn't much more information. Just recounts of the horrible, unprompted monster attack that nearly killed the pilot, cameraman, and beloved local news personality.
By now, Koushiro knew better than to read the comments, unless he wanted to fear for Tentomon's life more than he already did.
Tentomon seemed to be reading the feed over Koushiro's shoulder. "You should shut down. You've been glued to the news for hours. There will be more information when you wake."
Normally, that suggestion launched a volley of bartering and discussions of priorities. Tonight, Koushiro turned off his system without argument. "Let's check on Eimi and go to bed."
Tentomon followed Koushiro to Eimi's room. Carefully, Koushiro opened the door and inched inside, shutting it behind them. The tiny room was Masami's former office, emptied and painted white for Eimi. An outcropping featuring a large window was filled by her full bed, covered with white sheets and a white duvet. A gauzy white canopy hung above it, with fairy lights draped among its folds. Their warm, gentle glow revealed Eimi curled up with Galemon in the darkness, fast asleep.
Koushiro stood at the foot of the bed, processing a complex wad of emotions. This wasn't the first time he failed to consider Eimi's feelings. As was often the case, he was too focused on putting out fires to consider what the individuals around him were going through.
Fighting fire benefited everyone. If no one addressed these dangerous situations, then they would grow, and potentially consume them all. But Yamato was correct; Koushiro was more than a problem solver. For example, he was Eimi's partner. She loved him, relied on him. And he sent her away when she was hurting.
His eyes stung and prickled as the dark room blurred. He wanted to wake Eimi and apologize, but it would be unkind to disturb her after the day's events. Just sleeping beside her would be a relief, but with Galemon there, he couldn't crawl in without waking someone.
All he could do was hover miserably at the foot of her bed. Suddenly aware that this wasn't helping, Koushiro swallowed hard, turned, and retreated to his room.
As he settled into bed with Tentomon, Koushiro wondered if someday, he could sleep without having a list of failed interactions to address tomorrow.
Author's Notes: Ohhh, Koushiro, darling boy. Don't be so hard on yourself during such a difficult time! We all have those days, believe me.
This chapter is my entry for Koushiro week 2023 over on Tumblr. The prompt is emotion, an exploration of how Koushiro feels about personal expressions and his feelings, and where he's at in regards to them right now. I feel like Koushiro can occasionally feel vulnerable about expressing himself, and even wondering what he's feeling in the first place. He'll keep growing and learning, of course, but we all have those moments where feelings can be difficult.
Love you, thanks for reading! Take care!