"You're so handsome."
Rika looks up from her toast, the rings in her brow glinting with the subtle upwards quirk. "I've got marmalade on my face, haven't I."
Renamon smiles so indulgently. "All the better for me to lick it off."
Her Tamer smirks at that. The smirk melts into her Digimon's muzzle.
Another weekend of being utterly useless to the world, together.
Renamon slips away again, like a gentle breeze, returning to her breakfast.
Rika sighs, dropping her toast on the plate before she moodily yanks on the hem of an old band tee-shirt, pulling it overhead and tossing the article aside. Hair tied messily back, perky breasts jostled, she proceeds to wriggle impatiently out of her shorts. An ugly scar runs down from her armpit to part of her ribcage. She is covered in old wounds.
The Digimon has a tub of plain yoghurt, adorably small in her mighty paws. The hilt of a spoon projects from her maw, askance. She has paused with intrigue.
Her Tamer pushes her plate and marmalade toast aside and manages to mount the kitchen counter with a low, feminine grunt.
"Rika?"
"Hold on, gimme a sec." She permits herself to bend a little too far, exaggerating her curves, huffing softly with the strain on her back as she bares her vulnerable belly and breasts, the aperture between her thighs. She tightens her muscles and finds leverage for her palms and elbows on the kitchen counter top. It is cold enough to leech, unyieldingly hard, with cutting edges and a digging corner. She tries not to readjust herself too much.
Renamon has entirely forgotten her yoghurt, spoon slipping from her teeth with a clatter to the tiles below.
"Okay. Ready."
"Rika!"
"This is the part where you fuck me like in that movie."
"Your position does not appear comfortable."
"A woman's lot in life. Mm. It's not sanitary, either." The Tamer bites her lip. "Is it turning you on, though?"
"You needn't do these things, for me, Rika." Nostrils flare, eyes fixed with predatory intent. "You turn me on regardless. You know that."
"I know, Renamon. Come here."
"Perhaps you ought to leave the athletics to me." The Digimon discards the tub, then descends upon flesh, all tongue and teeth and talons.
"Ohh, yeah–"
This is the purpose of their weekends.
Rika finally tires of the kitchen counter.
Renamon carries her to the couch.
This is how they spend their time.
"Hey."
They lock gazes.
"Mm?"
"You wanna put yoghurt on my tits?"
It makes the Digimon rumble softly, not quite with laughter, not quite growling.
"C'mon. You loved it last time."
"…Very well."
Her Tamer does try to be generous.
They don't need the downpour as an excuse to lounge about and ignore Rumiko's calls, Takato's texts, Henry's emails, a letter from Jeri. It's all been put on silent. Do not disturb. Away.
Rika lifts Renamon's paw, pressing it to her face, inhaling deeply. The human smells herself, then retreats with a soft moan.
"I love you," murmurs a tragic monster.
"I love you, too." Callused fingers gently play with a talon.
Renamon cannot cum. But this has never stopped her from undoing most of the layers in Rika's defences, peeling back ancient armour to bare a shred of the hot, knotted, throbbing torment beneath. There is satisfaction in this. This must be enough. The Tamer still has her doubts, though she clings onto her Digimon's loyal service.
"Careful."
"I know."
Renamon sighs, eyes on Rika's tongue, stroking the weaponised curve, playing with the tip of that claw. A little bit goes into the mouth, to be sucked on.
"I want this inside me," the woman murmurs, a strand of saliva bridging the gap upon departure. Not for the first time. "I want you to do awful things to me, inside of me."
"Rika."
"Shh. It's okay."
Blue eyes wander aside. "…I wish I could."
"You'll be late," Seiko had intoned gently.
After ignoring the initial blare of the alarm clock, Rika sighed, slowly sat up in bed, and resigned herself to another pointless day.
Grandmother watched granddaughter mark off the date on the calendar in red with the listlessness of a moving corpse, like a ghost haunting the site of some sort of awful ritual, then slid the door shut to afford the teen her privacy.
Three years without Renamon. Guilmon. Terriormon. Impmon. Little Calumon. So many more lives lost to space and time, besides.
Rika hated to cry. So she refused to. She opted to get ready for school with a trembling lower lip and hard eyes, struggling against the fragile outward displays of her heartache. She made sure her uniform was properly set, tied her hair back, and gave herself a morose glare in the mirror until the trembling stopped.
"You should eat something."
"Not hungry."
Rumiko and Seiko exchanged another concerned glance, then rose together, abandoning their cups of tea and following Rika to the front door, only to awkwardly linger on the periphery as she stepped into her shoes.
"See you later."
"Hey, sweetie…"
Rika looked up.
"I'll take you to school," mother told daughter, managing to slip into a resigned hug. "I've got some time this morning. I'll grab you something nice on your way."
"It's fine," daughter murmured, not unkindly. "I'll walk." She stepped out of mother's arms, then kissed grandmother's cheek. "Love you."
"We love you, too."
The older women watched their quietly distraught girl go.
Rika was not alone. She had her broken family. Perhaps her father would write back. Takato and Henry were the best of friends, and the boys suffered too, but they remained kind and good people, people she suspected she was only holding back from rebuilding their lives. Even Jeri still had the light in her eyes and such kindness to give. Could Rika ever be enough for them? She certainly was never enough for herself.
Only Renamon had come close to making Rika feel whole, and fate clearly had other plans.
"Perhaps homeschooling would be better for her," Rumiko murmured to Seiko, returning to their cups of tea, once Rika was gone.
"The last thing she needs is to be more isolated than she already is."
"She hates this. I… hate seeing her, like this. If she stayed home, she'd have you, and I could…"
"Hush, my darling."
School was routine, a faint distraction, like eating and drinking and everything else. Maintaining impeccable grades was just something to do. Hanging out with friends was a little warmer than most of the distractions. Perhaps they'd get some coffee in cans and waste some time together in the park, later.
Rika kept her hard eyes downcast as she waded achingly through the wake of Renamon's absence, no more a Tamer, just another girl caught up in a cold and uncaring universe, with broken friends she couldn't comfort as much as part of her truly wanted to, considering it a small victory that she even got out of bed that morning. Another hopeless, meaningless morning.
And that was it. That was life.
Rika sometimes thinks back on her teenage self and wishes she could reassure her past that Renamon would return, because deep inside, that hurting ghost still haunts listlessly in the present.