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digitalworldbound · 1 year

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takeru week, day three

what if?

characters: takeru and hikari (implied takari), takeru and yamato (sorry it's a day late!)

summary: as childhood comes to a close, questions bubble up to the surface of takeru's mind. if it hadn't of been for the digital world, would takeru still eat weekly dinners with his brother? would hikari still wait for him after school if that hadn't of been whisked away to another world? Also on AO3 and FFN !

Takeru Takaishi had always thought it strange that his destiny was laid out for him, ever-present and never changing. As a young boy, he couldn’t find it within himself to complain. Patamon had quickly become his closest confidant, the one person sworn to be by his side for the rest of his life.

As he grew older, questions surmounted the adventure, doubts clouding his mind’s eye. If it hadn't been for the ominous beings that lingered on the sidelines, watching the Chosen with a close eye, would he have still rekindled his relationship with his older brother? In a world without Digimon, would Yamato still invite him over for their weekly dinners, or would they still be practically strangers?

In an effort to regain some normalcy in his life, Takeru had taken to playing basketball. Being a part of the team helped him connect with others, free from the burden of his childhood. Still, a voice nagged at him from his subconscious: If he had never gone to summer camp, would these people still be his friends? Would he have even liked basketball in the first place?

The halls of Odaiba High School were crowded with classmates, the late summer sun beckoning them outside as club activities drew to a close.

Hair damp with sweat, Takeru shoved his school shoes into his locker, cramming his feet into a pair of sneakers.

His muscles were tense with overexertion. Practice had been unusually brutal, the red-faced coach pushing the team harder than ever as the biggest game of the season approached. The sun dipped lower on the horizon, the sky aglow with golden light.

Just on the other side of the entrance, Hikari Yagami stood patiently. Takeru could see the crown of her head as he descended the stairs, his pace quickening.

A grin twitched onto his lips unwillingly. He attributed it to muscle memory; over half of their lives had been spent laughing together. It was only natural that the sight of his best friend brought a smile to his face. The butterflies in his stomach were another matter altogether, but he had ample practice of tampering their excitement.

Before Takeru rounded the corner, Hikari whipped her head around. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, her own lips tilting upward. Around them, birds chirped out their farewells before flying off.

“How was practice?”

By now, her question was a mere formality. Takeru knew she had seen the bags underneath his eyes and the defeated slump of his shoulders. Still, Hikari eyed him with guarded curiosity.

“It was fine.”

Though Hikari didn’t say anything, Takeru could hear the tension in his own voice. Silence stretched between them as his companion gave him time to think. He had learned early on to keep his feelings suppressed, the thought of burdening someone else with his problems incomprehensible.

Beside him, the sleeve of Hikari’s uniform brushed against his. Takeru relished her proximity. Warmth seemed to radiate from her form, Hikari’s mere existence putting him at ease.

Thankfully, Hikari remained lost in her own thoughts as they made their way down the road. Usually, their afternoons were spent discussing the minute details of their day, from homework to troublesome teachers, even their plans for the future. They had yet to find a topic either of them were unwilling to talk about; they had yet to have a reason to hide anything from one another.

As of late, the pair had been focused on college entrance exams. An involuntary shiver ran down Takeru’s spine despite the warmth of the afternoon.

Walking down the sidewalk methodically, his sore muscles were forgotten as his mind focused elsewhere.

Yamato had once told him that upper education was a trap. Much like their father, Yamato believed that children shouldn’t be expected to decide on a career path that will dictate the rest of their lives. Takeru remembered agreeing whole-heartedly, unable to fathom his rockstar brother smothered in a business suit, following orders from elderly men with nasty attitudes.

And yet, even his brother had succumbed to the system, his weekends spent with mathematical problems instead of sold-out venues.

Takeru supported his brother unconditionally, swallowing his questions in lieu of congratulations. He only allowed the questions to float to the forefront to his mind late at night in those moments where sleep evaded him.

If they hadn't spent a summer in another world, would Yamato still have loved the stars so much that he would dedicate the rest of his life to unraveling their mysteries?

“What’s on your mind?” Hikari’s voice was soft against the breeze. She didn’t look his way, focusing her gaze on the path ahead to give him the space he needed.

Sometimes, Hikari’s perceptiveness unnerved him. Without so much as speaking a word, she could read his mood, adapting the conversation to fit his needs.

His footsteps slowed until they stopped completely. Hikari looked back over her shoulder, eyebrows gathered with worry.

Words gathered at the tip of Takeru’s tongue, his thoughts murky and muddled. With unwavering patience, Hikari waited, hands delicately clasped behind her back.

A shaky exhale was his only preamble before his mouth opened, words falling from his lips in an odd, disjointed way. “In a world without Digimon, would we still be the same people?”

In the grass, a cicada hummed, the sun dipping even lower beyond the horizon.

Anxiety seemed to seep from his pores, a strange sort of anticipation building in his stomach, leaving him queasy.

Hikari tilted her head in thought, as if Takeru’s question was as natural as a comment on the weather. Finally, she met his questioning gaze, amber eyes keeping her emotions well-hidden.

“It’s impossible to tell,” she admitted. When Takeru didn’t respond, she took a step closer, the toe of her shoe grazing his sneaker. “Is everything alright?”

Concern seemed to radiate off her small frame. Even as they straddled the cusp of adulthood, Takeru couldn’t shake off the need to protect her, to shield her from anything painful.

Takeru had to accept that it meant keeping parts of him away from her, too.

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” he rambled honestly. “But if I had never gone to summer camp, if we had never been to the Digital World and met our partners, met each other, would we still have been friends?”

He paused, his heavy breaths falling between them. Hikari’s silence unnerved him. Anxiously, he searched her face for an answer, coming up empty.

Disappointment settled in Takeru’s stomach; if anyone were to have an answer to his question, it would have been Hikari. Suddenly, embarrassment colored the tips of his ears, vulnerability creeping up his neck.

Though Hikari looked at him with gentle reassurance, Takeru took a step back, excuses bubbling in his throat.

“Takeru?”

Without a word, he backed up, the collar of his uniform shirt overbearing against his throat. “I should probably get home. Mom needs help with dinner.”

Despite Hikari knowing that his mother was out of town on a business trip, she remained silent, stepping aside so that Takeru could pass her.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she offered.

Her voice was lost to the breeze as he broke out into a run, heart pounding erratically in his chest.

As soon as the front door creaked open, the sound of something fluttering filled Takeru’s ears.

“You’re home!” Patamon cried, his paws burrowing into blond locks. Outside, children played in a nearby park, their laughter filling the warm air.

The tightness in Takeru’s chest alleviated a little, Patamon’s infectious happiness making it easier to breathe.

Beyond the doorway, his apartment was bathed in darkness. A news story had been brewing on the mainland, ushering his mother away for the better part of two months. The fridge had been stocked with leftovers and microwavable meals, but Takeru wasn’t feeling hungry.

The silence in his home was off putting. As Takeru listened to Patamon’s excited chatter, he wistfully wished to be eleven. His house had once burst at the seams with Daisuke’s personality and Miyako’s enthusiastic voice. Iori would sit in the arm chair, watching the scene unfold as Ken playfully egged Daisuke on. Hikari and himself would be off to the side, talking about their favorite books or television shows. Outside, the world was falling apart, but it didn’t matter. As long as they all had each other, they knew that they would be fine.

Now, his apartment remained empty. Growing apart was a side effect of growing up; not even the Chosen were immune to the changing fortunes of time.

Without the sound of his mother furiously typing, Takeru’s footsteps were too loud, too out of place. Somewhere, across town, Takeru was sure his father would be working himself to the bone, too busy or too lonely or too lazy to call.

If their children’s lives hadn’t been predestined for another world, would his parents’ marriage be intact? Is there an alternate universe where Takeru comes home to his family, complete and whole and together?

“Did you have fun today?”

If Patamon noticed Takeru’s empty stare or lackluster voice, he didn’t comment. The emptiness of the apartment was soon filled with his partner’s chatter, Takeru taking care not to jostle him from his perch as the door of the bedroom shut behind them.

The muscles in Takeru’s legs protested as he sank into the soft mattress. He laid back, welcoming the weight of Patamon on his chest. Blue eyes unfocused, Takeru stared at the ceiling above him, idly scratching behind his partner’s ears.

As Patamon prattled on about the cartoons he had watched, Takeru’s mind drifted elsewhere.

From the time he had been eight years old, Hikari had always been his sounding board, the one person to tell it like it was, to call him out if the situation called for it. She was sweet and kind and honest; she was his most trusted friend.

But would she have been his friend if their lives hadn't been threatened by digital creatures? Would Hikari wait for him by the gate, no matter the manner in which their friendship had blossomed?

The mere thought of Hikari, one of the only constants in his life, caused Takeru’s pulse to quicken uncomfortably. Atop him, Patamon’s voice tapered off, sentence left unfinished.

“Are you okay?” Patamon’s ears were pressed tightly against his head, large blue eyes shimmering with concern. Takeru’s hand moved from behind his partner’s ears to his middle, patting him in reassurance.

Hikari’s worry from earlier was now reflected in Patamon’s eyes. Takeru tore his gaze from his partner. Posters of various sports players decorated the walls, corners curling with age. A blurred photo of him and his brother stood proudly on the bedside table, stage lights gleaming in the background.

“Just thinking,” Takeru offered. Silence stretched between them. When an explanation didn’t follow, Patamon tilted his head almost imperceptibly.

“It’s just,” the blond stalled, struggling to formulate a coherent thought, “I don’t know. It’s too hard to put into words.”

“Could you try? I want to help you.”

The bedsprings creaked as Takeru turned on his side, Patamon snuggling between his arms and chest. With his ears tucked neatly down his sides, the Digimon burrowed his nose into the starched button-down.

After a moment, thoughts formulated on the tip of Takeru’s tongue, spilling out between them.

“Without you, would I still have liked basketball?”

In Takeru’s grasp, Patamon stilled. “Without me? Why would you ever be without me? Did I do something wrong?”

Takeru pulled his partner closer to him, resting his cheek on Patamon’s head. “Of course not. You’ve been in my life longer than you haven’t; I can’t remember a time before you. But that’s part of the problem. I want to like basketball because I find it enjoyable, not because my circumstances led me to it for a reprieve.”

Patamon’s eyes glittered with an unidentifiable emotion, mouth set in a firm line. “I don’t even know how to play basketball. It seems that you don’t really need me to throw a ball into a net. If you’re worried about the team or the upcoming game, you can always take a break. I’m sure your coach wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s not just about basketball!” Takeru’s ferocity shocked even himself, heart clenching at the way Patamon flinched.

With his pulse pounding in his ears, Takeru sat up, propping himself against the pillows. The last remnants of sunlight filtered through the blinds, bathing the room in a golden light.

Tenderly, Takeru pulled Patamon onto his lap. “I’m sorry,” the blond began, voice thick with emotion, “I don’t know where that came from.”

Instead of talking, Patamon opted to muzzle his head against Takeru, allowing the boy to pet him once more absentmindedly. As Takeru’s heartbeat slowed, Patamon’s courage grew.

“If whatever is bothering you is too big to handle on your own, you could always go to Hikari.”

Takeru stiffened, warmth crawling up his neck. Unexplainably, his stomach twisted itself in knots. “I don’t think she’s an option at the moment.”

“Well, then Yamato can help. He always loves helping you out! Plus, if we go over tonight, then maybe he can cook us some real food.”

“Hey!” Takeru’s lips twitched upward with indignance. “Are you insinuating that the delectable, wonderful, tasty meals I make aren’t real?”

“Takeru, I don’t think anyone considers instant ramen to be real food.”

“Whatever,” Takeru laughed. Fishing his cell phone from his pocket, he typed out a quick message to his brother. The bed creaked once more as he stood up, neck sore from tension. Patamon fluttered beside him, a small grin playing on his features.

“C’mon,” Takeru motioned with his arm as he walked towards the bedroom door. “Let’s go.”

Their father’s apartment was as cluttered and disorganized as the last time Takeru ventured over to the other side of town.

His brother answered the door in a pair of ratty sweatpants, their mother’s old apron tied around his waist. “I’m glad you messaged me; I was just getting dinner on the stove.”

From the look of the grocery bags that littered the kitchen counters and brand-new carton of eggs, Takeru doubted that Yamato had been coincidentally making his favorite meal, but he knew better than to push it.

“Thanks for letting me come over at the last minute.”

Gabumon smiled up at him from the kitchen table. With his little chef’s hat, the Digimon looked at home amidst the vegetables Yamato let him chop. Patamon squirmed in Takeru’s grasp until he was released, happily swooping toward Gabumon as they began an animated discussion about one of their favorite shows.

The smell of curry udon elicited a growl from Takeru’s stomach. Sheepishly, he grinned at his older brother, rubbing the back of his neck in the doorway.

“You must have been hungry,” Yamato commented. He turned back towards the broth simmering in a pot, humming a tune too low for Takeru to make out the melody.

“I guess.”

“Takeru only knows how to cook instant ramen, and it always turns out crunchy,” Patamon added helpfully. Gabumon remained silent. For a moment, the sound of spring onions being dutifully chopped was Yamato’s only accompaniment.

Takeru cleared his throat. “Mom’s been…busy.”

Yamato nodded, the tune he hummed intensifying. Takeru didn’t miss the way his brother’s eyes narrowed or the way Gabumon sent him a knowing look.

A dining room chair scraped against the floor as Takeru took a seat. The familiar smells of his father’s house washed over him. A whiff of tobacco melded with the scent of Yamato’s cooking, creating something uniquely male. Takeru was home.

Few words passed between the brothers as Yamato served dinner. Forks scratched against the plates, the low hum of the television filling the space between their thoughts.

“So, what’s going on?”

Over the kitchen table, Yamato’s eyes stared intently into his little brother’s. Beside Takeru, Patamon tensed. Takeru followed suit..

Hard work went into perfecting the way people perceived him. Takeru worked tirelessly to ensure that he didn’t let anything slip, that he never made people feel the need to comfort him or take care of him. All of his efforts were to ensure that no one felt burdened by him, and yet, Yamato was able to read him with a single look.

“It’s nothing.”

With a raised eyebrow, Yamato leaned in. “Sure doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Despite the warm food and his brother’s obvious concern, Takeru felt numb. Immediately after their parents divorce, it was hard to look at one another, much less hold a conversation. Their summer in the Digital World had changed that, and had connected them in the most impossible ways.

Would Yamato even care this much if trauma in another world hadn't bonded them together?

An uncomfortable warmth crawled up Takeru’s neck. The corners of his eyes felt itchy, hands clammy. “It’s just -”

Yamato’s calloused finger stopped him. “Wait, don’t tell me. Did you finally put the moves on Taichi’s sister?”

For a moment, Takeru’s train of thought was thoroughly derailed. “Do you really think I would make a move on Hikari and not tell you about it? With how fast word travels in our group, I wouldn’t make it home without ‘Taichi’s Big Brother Intervention’.”

Gabumon cracked a smile, Yamato’s own lips curling at the edges. Despite all of the changes around them, it was comforting to know that some things would always remain constant.

The tendrils of anxiety loosened. Thoughtfully, Takeru chewed on his food. Once his hunger had been satisfied, he was able to think more clearly.

“Would you still make me dinner even if we hadn't gone to the Digital World?”

Time seemed to stand still. Yamato’s fork hovered in the air, Gabumon frozen beside him. Patamon seemed to be the only one unaffected, happily humming to himself as he continued to eat.

Just as Yamato gathered his thoughts, Takeru barreled on, the words rising up with such ferocity that he was unprepared for what stumbled out of his mouth.

“If we had never gone to that summer camp, would you even talk to me, or would you push me out just like you did Mom?”

The fork clattered onto the plate. “What?”

Takeru said nothing. He attempted nonchalance as he shoveled another forkful of dinner into his mouth, but his hands were shaking.

Underneath Yamato’s incredulous stare, Takeru’s chest grew tight. It was as if a balloon had been inflated, pushing everything out. His words still hung in the air, the tension in the room unbearable. The itchiness in the corners of his eyes only grew stronger, his cheeks inflamed.

Takeru made no effort to stop the tears that welled up in his vision. One by one, they trickled down, trails of water etched down his face.

Slowly, the anger drained from Yamato’s eyes. Takeru had grown a lot since their adventure, the older boy mused. Barely seventeen, Takeru’s height rivaled his own, his boyish features maturing into that of a young man.

Despite all the physical changes, Yamato could still see the boy with the green hat. Takeru had been so young, so recklessly joyful that Yamato was sure he would be fine.

And for a while, Yamato supposed he was.

Yamato’s silence gave Takeru enough courage to continue. Sniffling, Takeru met his brother’s gaze.

“As soon as we stepped into the Digital World, our lives were irrevocably changed. How can any of us go back to normal after caring for another creature, watching our comrades disintegrate no matter how hard we fought to protect them? I didn’t even know how to take care of myself, much less Patamon. I was eight years old! Eight! And I didn’t have a choice.

“Getting to meet the others and bond with you was the best part about all of it, don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful to have been chosen as Patamon’s partner and to be your brother, but the choice still wasn’t mine. Omnipotent beings took our destiny into their own hands, creating a story that fit their narrative. Mom and Dad splitting us up was bad enough, but then we were pulled from the only world we had ever known and were told to defend it with our life if necessary.”

Takeru took a deep breath, his cheeks dry.

A strange sort of passion had taken over him. He no longer thought about what he said, but let the words fall where they may. Even Patamon had stopped humming to listen, food forgotten

Across the table, Yamato was still with attention, guilt simmering in his stomach.

Taking a sip of water, Takeru continued.

“It was as if our lives were never in our hands, not truly. And now, I can’t tell which decisions are mine and which are Theirs. I use basketball as an escape; I do my best to live an average life. I want to feel like a normal kid, but if I had never gone to the Digital World, would I have needed an escape at all? If I had lived a normal life, do you think that I would have chosen a different club for myself? Would any of the others have been my friends? If - If I had never gone to the Digital World, would I still feel this way about Hikari? Would I have even met Hikari?”

Takeru’s chest heaved with every breath. A strange look crossed across his features, hands curled into fists on top of the table. “Would we have gotten closer without the Digital World?”

The question hung uncomfortably between them. Gabumon excused himself, dragging a disgruntled Patamon along.

Yamato’s bedroom door clicked shut; the brothers were finally alone.

Finally, Yamato spoke. His dark eyes bored into his younger brother’s crystal blues. He was mistaken earlier, Yamato amended. Looking into his brother’s face, any trace of the reckless eight-year-old was gone. In front of him sat an anxious mess of blond hair, doing his best to live life on his own terms. Takeru was a man in the making.

Takeru could shoulder the truth.

“Probably not.”

The color drained from Takeru’s cheeks, fists trembling. “But, Yama-”

“Takeru, you are the most intuitive person I know. You knew the answer before you asked the question. Our parents would never have let us spend that much time together unless we went to summer camp. I didn’t even want to go to summer camp, but I knew it was the only time I would get to see you. No one could have made that decision but me. Despite the fighting and the loss, I have never regretted my choice. Have you?”

Takeru let Yamato’s words stew for a few days. School was a blur, his thoughts preoccupied with the ‘what-ifs’.

At night, visions of his parents fighting followed behind his closed eyelids. If he hadn't been predestined for another world, would his parents still be together?

Only the sound of Patamon’s even breathing could coax him back to sleep.

It didn’t take Hikari long to notice the difference in his disposition. The dark circles underneath Takeru’s eyes had grown larger, his normally neat hair mussed with carelessness. Even at the big game, Takeru fumbled the ball, costing his team the point, and eventually, the game.

In the evenings, Takeru was uncharacteristically silent, his mind seemingly elsewhere.

This time, Hikari didn’t pry. She stayed near him, as if she were trying to comfort him with her presence alone. Truthfully, it scared her to see Takeru so dejected.

Still, Takeru was stubborn. The more people pried at him, the further he retreated.

Hikari had learned to be patient, her efforts eventually rewarded.

Summer’s heat had begun to slip away. Clouds had clung together in the sky, the world washed in gray. Remnants of a thunderstorm formed puddles in the street. The air was uncomfortably sticky, moisture almost suffocating.

Takeru’s sneakers splashed carelessly, his head downturn. The first time he had splashed water onto her legs, Hikari ignored it. By the fourth time, her annoyance peaked.

“If you’re going to mope, maybe you should do it somewhere dry.” Her amber eyes looked at him pointedly before she wiped off the dirt and water with her sleeve.

He offered her an apologetic glance, the corners of his lips twitching in mirth. “And here I thought you enjoyed a nice swim.”

Hikari didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her smile. She wouldn’t let his humor deflect from whatever was going on; for once, she held her ground until he gave in.

“I’m just going through a lot right now.”

Together, they turned the corner, bodies pushed closer through the crowds. A row of shops decorated the side of their path, groups of people lingering on the street.

For a moment, the sounds of bicycle bells and murmured conversation were enough for Takeru to gather himself.

“Do you remember the first night after we got back from the Digital World?” He looked at her, satisfied only when Hikari nodded. “I laid in bed, so tired, so sleepy, but my eyes wouldn't close. At first, I thought it was because I was worried about nightmares. Devimon had scared me pretty badly and I still dream about the way Puppetmon chased me. That first night, I didn’t shut my eyes until I could see the sun peek over the horizon.”

Ahead, the path opened up. Even with his mind elsewhere, Takeru felt a small hint of satisfaction when Hikari remained close. As always, she was his constant, always beside him whenever he needed her.

Fighting the urge to put her palm in his, Takeru stuffed his hands into his pant’s pockets, an easy smile playing on his lips.

“It wasn’t until later that I realized I was waiting for the sound of Yamato’s harmonica to lull me to sleep. For months, the sound of his music was the only thing that could console me. No matter how bad things got during the day, I could always depend on my Aniki-san to be there.

“I’ve been worried that, in a world without Digimon, my brother would be absent. I was worried that he would be just some guy I knew in another life, a body to fill the crowd at my wedding or something. And truthfully, it’s probably true.”

Hikari stopped, her hand reaching out to grab his arm. “Takeru, your brother loves you.”

Takeru looked down, smiling softly at her concern.

The crowd of people parted around the pair as they stood in place.

“I know,” he whispered.

With Hikari’s hand still on his arm, he started walking forward. It was almost time for the both of them to part ways, their apartments too far apart to walk side by side much longer.

“Yamato loves me, and that’s why he was honest with me.”

Hikari’s grip tightened. Takeru could feel his cheeks flush, but made no move to hide. Hikari always had a way of knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“I think,” she began, voice sturdy against the noise of the shops. “I think that wondering about what life could have looked like is only natural. There will always be a part of us that wonders if life could have been easier or happier or better, but I don’t think it matters. Even though it wasn’t our choice, we will never know a world without Digimon. And if your brother is closer to you or loves you more because of Digital World, then maybe our trip is a cause for celebration, not regret.”

Takeru’s smile deepened, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It wasn’t fair that Hikari could sum up his worries and thoughts in such a simple way. It wasn’t fair, but he loved her all the more for it.

“Thank you, Hikari. I was just so consumed with the thought of a destiny I didn’t choose, but Yamato made me realize something.”

“Hmm?”

“Despite me not choosing the Digital World or the fighting, despite that I will never live a normal life, I realized that I wouldn’t want anything different. Because of the Digital World, Yamato and I are closer than we ever could have been. I am strong and confident and have some of the best friends both worlds can offer.” Takeru inhaled, his pulse irregular and palms sweaty.

“Because of the Digital World, I met you, and I could never regret that.”

Around his arm, Hikari’s hand squeezed. Her smile was soft and shy, cheeks tinted pink. Against the gray sky, she beamed, and Takeru couldn’t help but to smile. Even if he hadn't chosen the events that led him to this moment, he would never know of anything different.

He wouldn’t want anything different.

#takeru takaishi #takeru takaishi week #takeruweek2022

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bokura-no-digital-world · 1 year

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Takeru Week 2022 - Day 1: Patamon

Days: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Title: Patamon and Me Characters: Takeru Takaishi, Patamon, Natsuko Takaishi, Koushiro Izumi, Taichi Yagami, Hikari Yagami, Kimi Shincai (OC), Kenichi Takaishi (OC) Summary: 5 moments between Takeru and Patamon throughout the years. I woke up all of a sudden once again. I just had another dream with Patamon. I have lost account of how many times that has happened since we came back from the Digital World. And I always had trouble going back to sleep afterwards; most of the time I didn’t and it was no different this time. So, I just sat up, embraced my knees and cried silently.

I hated living far from everyone. I hated living far from Yamato. I couldn’t help but wonder how he was coping with being away from Gabumon, if he missed him as much as I missed Patamon and if he still kept in touch with the rest of us. I really really wanted to talk to my brother.

The sound of my mom’s voice echoed in my ears and I lifted my head up. I couldn’t tell how much time went by or if I had fallen asleep, but that’s what it looked like. “Takeru?” She called my name again and I jumped out of my bed, walking to the door and unlocking it. She opened it right away, turning on the lights right away. “You should open your window. The sun is shining bright outside already.” “I bet it is.” “Don’t you want to go outside?” She asked unsure and sat on my bed, placing her hands over her thighs nervously. “Your friends from the building came inviting you to play with them, did you hear the bell?” “No, not really. Either way, I don’t feel like going down and play soccer. I just wish I could see Patamon again.” “I know you do, sweetheart, and if I knew a way to make you two meet again, I would do it. But unfortunately I don’t. I’m sorry. I know how much he means to you and you mean just as much to him. You had a strong bond since the beginning and it’s not easy to let it go. But wherever he is, I know he’s thinking of you and wants you to be happy.” “I know.” I dried the tears that were falling silently from my eyes. “I promised him I wouldn’t cry and that I would believe we were going to meet again soon.” “So you should hold on into that.” She said firmly and I looked at her, surprised. “If you believe in it with all your strength, it will come true. Isn’t it what you did back in the Digital World?” “It is.” I nodded, looking down at my shirt. There was a reason why my crest was Hope. “You know what? You’re right. This isn’t the end for me and Patamon. We’re going to meet again. I know he believes it and so should I.” “That’s the spirit!” My mom grinned and leaned a little forward, grabbing my hands within hers. “That’s my son! Now how about we go out and eat some ice-cream? We can also go for a walk if you want to.” “I’d love to.” I smiled widely at her, but quickly turned serious. “But there’s something else I want to do.” “Alright, what is it?” “I want to go to Odaiba.” “But Takeru, school starts on Monday.” “I know, but I need to go there. I need to see Yamato and dad. And the others. Please, mom.” I begged when after noticing she wasn’t going to give in. “Just this weekend, right?” “Yes.” “Okay, we can go to Odaiba.” My face lit up in happiness when she grinned at me. “You can see your brother.” “Thank you.” I ran to her and hugged her tight.

Keep reading it on FFN or AO3

#TakeruWeek #TakeruWeek2022 #Takeru Takaishi #Patamon #Natsuko Takaishi #Koushiro Izumi #Taichi Yagami #Hikari Yagami #OCs #Digimon #Fanfic #Fanfiction

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reliablejoukido · 1 year

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For @takerutakaishiweek Day 7: Hope & Despair

For me, this is one of the most memorable Takeru scenes. Everyone is second guessing themselves and worried about going to Server. Many of them believe it's easier to stay in a place they're familiar with. Taichi is frustrated, but isn't getting through to the others.

...then Takeru, without even knowing he has the Crest of Hope, gives the others just that with a few words. He trusts in the Digimons' opinions. After Takeru chimes in, the rest of the Digimon agree that that is exactly what their friend Angemon would have wanted. And Yamato is the first to agree to go.

I know this is such a small moment, but I think about it a lot. I think about how just a few sentences from little Takeru can turn the tides.

#takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #takeru takaishi #digimon #digimon adventure #hope;#mine: meganedad;#anime to manga edits;

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takerutakaishiweek · 1 year

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Hello everyone! We are one month away from Takeru week and couldn’t be more excited! A few quick reminders:

View a list of our prompts here

Bonus challenge here

Rules & FAQs here

Remember to tag your work as #takeruweek and/or #takeruweek2022

See you soon 😉💛

#Digimon #Takeru Takaishi #tk takaishi #takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #Digimon Adventure #Tokomon

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digimon-adventure-nightmare · 1 year

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@takerutakaishiweek

Day 2: Writing

#takeruweek2022 #takeruweek #takeru takaishi #Digimon #The Romulus Complex #wings au #day two #writing #the future he might never have #classic #pencil #fanart #illustration

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patamon · 1 year

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Takeru Takaishi Week [Day 6 prompt: Sunshine/Happiness]

Yup...still slowly making my way through the prompts. Also, I’d like to dedicate this story to @dnofsunshine, because we both like to see Takeru suffer for some reasons hee hee

Title: Midnight Rain Character: Takeru Takaishi (for @takerutakaishiweek ) Word Count: 4030 Rating: T Summary: Takeru never thought that in his early 20s, he could embody loneliness to this degree. Despite being surrounded by people that seemingly cared for him, he felt utterly alone, at a magnitude that terrified him to his core.

Cross-posted on AO3

Read below the cut 👇

Midnight Rain

Lately, Takeru has unearthed a peculiar heaviness in his corpse.

He has no explanation for it, no theories of origin or cause, only that it feels all encompassing, like he could suffocate from the inside out. There were mornings he woke up crying, and nights he felt so numb, he thought his limbs had somehow severed from his worthless body.

During afternoons walking home from school with friends, or early evening dinners with his mother, he hid the heaviness behind evasive smiles, donning on interesting hats or crisp shirts so the world would attend to the primpings on the outside, and he could divert their attention from the black hole consuming his innards.

Takeru never thought that in his early 20s, he could embody loneliness to this degree. Despite being surrounded by people that seemingly cared for him, he felt utterly alone, at a magnitude that terrified him to his core.

This morning, Takeru woke up drowning. The heaviness felt so vivid, like a galaxy of dark holes had found residency within his soul. From somewhere faraway, he heard the muffled trills of his cell phone rings, piercing through the dark clouds against all odds. Luckily, the device was within an arm’s reach, but he suspected if it was a few centimetres further, he wouldn’t have found the will to answer the call, and perhaps he would have stayed frozen…for how long, he would never know.

“Hello?” he responded in a voice thick with sleep.

“Good morning, sunshine boy,” came Yamato’s voice, impatient and serious like always.

Takeru flinched at his given moniker. Sunshine boy. He couldn’t be sure of how or when it started, only that it spread around their tight group of friends quicker than he would have liked.

“Are you seriously still in bed?” came Yamato’s indignant question.

“Umm…” he began, but found his words drowned in a stagnant bog.

“I thought you had class this morning,” Yamato quipped.

Finally, his muscles unearthed itself. Barely, but enough for him to graze his temple with the tips of his icy fingers.

Did he have class this morning?

“What…what day is it?”

“Were you out partying again last night?” Yamato demanded.

Takeru sighed. Maybe that was the cause for the heaviness in his bone. Maybe he drank so much that he couldn’t remember, and the heaviness was the punishment for his careless actions.

“Umm…Maybe?”

Yamato clicked his tongue in annoyance, “Jesus, Takeru, when will you grow up?”

Takeru flinched at the question. It seemed everyone had been asking him that question lately, both directly by his family, and indirectly by his friends who excelled at everything they do.

“For your information, today is Wednesday, and do you remember what that means?”

Realization dawned on him, “It’s…mom’s birthday”

“Exactly. We have that dinner tonight to celebrate”

The weight on his chest deepened, until he was certain the black holes had consumed every atom in his body. His skin crawled at the thought of all those people at the restaurant, at the smiles he would have to force on, the contrived conversations, fake laughters, all the strategies he would have to put in place to hide himself from the people that knew him.

For a moment, he felt for certain that he couldn’t - and wouldn’t - survive. But then an idea struck him…

Maybe…just maybe…he didn’t want to survive.

The thought was so enticing and chilling, it left him breathless.

“Takeru?”

He snapped back at the voice, the sharpness in Yamato’s voice awoke something in him, and he finally managed to force his body up to a sitting position.

“Takeru? Are you listening? Are you still there?”

There was a long pause on the other end, during which, Takeru could hear his heart hammering loudly, fearing that at long last, Yamato could sense that something wasn’t right, that Takeru was no longer aligned with how the world saw him. Panic seized his muscle, the heaviness that once reigned his body became a jittery restlessness that propelled him from his bed.

Sunshine boy. No matter what, he had to remain everyone’s sunshine boy. It was the only way he could ward off the creeping tendrils of failure.

“Uh…yeah…yeah, sorry Yamato…I’m up. It was just…uhh…wild night last night.”

Yamato sighed, and he swore he could see his older brother shake his head through the phone. He swallowed the fear and forced on his mask, asking the question he knew his brother expected of his smartass brother.

“Let me guess…You wish you were there with me?”

Yamato clicked his tongue, “Whatever, Takeru…I just want to make sure you have the gifts ready for mom.”

“Of course, and I have it addressed from the both of us, since you were too busy to get her a gift yourself”

“That’s not…we spoke about this…you get the gifts because you would know what to get mom.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

“And the flowers?”

“Yes, yes, I’m picking it up from Hikari after class.”

“Alright…see you tonight, then.”

“Okay.”

Without saying goodbye, Yamato’s line went dead, and Takeru was left frozen in his silent bedroom once again.

Now that the stage was clear, he could remove the sunny veil he hid behind and immersed himself in the darkness once again. Familiar tears stung his vision, but he held them back, pushing it desperately back into his eyes. He took in a shuddering breath, and as the stale air hit his lungs, he became acutely aware of the exhaustion that soaked his bone.

He tilted his face towards his bedroom window to catch a glimpse of the sun spilling in between drawn curtains. The light desperate to claw its way towards him, but fell short a few feet as he laid panting on his bed.

“Sunshine boy,” he whispered, “You can do it, sunshine boy.”

But just for once in his life, he wondered if he could seek permission to draw the curtain close on this act he found himself playing day after day after day after day…

—

Hikari spent the majority of her hours after school in a flower shop at the junction between Takeru’s and her college. They both knew it was an in-between gig to scrape together pocket money while they were in school, and even though Hikari lamented that it was a dead end job, Takeru thought it was universes better than where he was, since all he had to show for himself were half-written resumes and odd jobs with his mother.

He entered the flower shop that afternoon, an indistinguishable but pleasant mix of aroma hitting him all at once while the bells above rang out its greeting. The shop was empty of patrons, the only occupant being Hikari by the counter arranging roses in a vase.

Her face usually lit up when he walked through the door, a fresh light that resembles the shine of the early morning sun. But today, Takeru sensed a slight shadow, like clouds passing by on a pleasant afternoon. Unlike Takeru, Hikari allowed the hue of sadness to tinge her features when she felt them, so Takeru knew the happiness that graced her features was hers and hers alone, and similarly, he could also pick up on the bouts of grey that might dabble her light.

He often wondered what it would be like, to allow himself to feel all the sadness hiding behind his sunny demeanour. The thought both scared and exhilarated him.

Hikari waved him over, the innocuous glide of her fingers summoning him to the stage once again. Despite the paramount exhaustion that haunted his spirit, he accepted the role, putting on his mask and flooding his features with the fluorescent light of his sunshine boy smile.

“I’m here to break you out,” he informed her in an exaggerated whisper once he was near enough to the counter.

Hikari giggled, “I wish, but it’s another two hours before the store closes, then another hour of clean-up before I can actually leave.”

Takeru winked, “That’s why I’m breaking you out.”

Hikari rolled her eyes in response, but otherwise ignored his attempts at engaging with her, devoting her attention instead to the flowers she was arranging. Despite her donning on a casual smile, the grey clouds burgeoned before his trained eyes. He took it as a cue to assume another role, one that he perfected and embodied just for Hikari.

The hero.

“Is everything okay?” he asked in a firm voice that unsettled even himself. He imagined the question echoed back at him from another voice…

Is everything okay?

…the idea of answering such a simple question shook the very ground he stood on.

“Of course,” Hikari responded without changing her position, her eyes still trained on the flowers before her, her fingers moving diligently through each stem.

But Takeru was unconvinced. He pressed his fingers on top of her gloved hands, stopping her work and finally summoning her eyes towards him.

“What’s wrong?” He repeated the question.

Hikari sighed and abandoned the flowers, peeling both gloves off in one concise movement. Takeru could sense her defenses tumbling down, the curtains unfurling to allow him in.

“You always seem to know…” she conceded with a sheepish smile.

“You should know by now, Hikari…that’s kind of my superpower”

Hikari rolled her eyes, but nevertheless, Takeru knew the walls had tumbled down. Hikari brushed aside the flowers on the counter and laid soft eyes on him.

“You’ll think I’m silly,” Hikari asserted.

“Never”

Hikari bit her lips, her fingers digging into her elbow before she finally offered a response.

“I’m just worried…I’ll never catch up to everyone else around me, Takeru.”

Takeru’s heart dropped. He opened his mouth to offer a response, but Hikari marched on, her eyes now downcast to study the flowers resting between them on the marble counter.

“I know it’s…it’s a silly thing to worry about…but…I look at everyone, and they all have their lives figured out, they’re all doing amazing things like travelling the world and working big girl jobs, and here I am, pruning leaves and arranging flowers in vases. What if I’m stuck here forever?”

“Of course you won’t be,” Takeru countered.

Hikari offered a sad smile, “I don’t think you get it, Takeru, but…that’s okay. I wouldn’t expect someone so confident and happy to understand this type of turmoil.”

Takeru’s knees shook hard. He had to stabilize himself by placing a trembling hand on the counter.

If only she knew.

“Come now, Hikari. So you’re feeling a little uncertain about your life at the moment, but who doesn’t? It’s normal to feel that way. What’s important is that you still haven’t given up on yourself, and besides,you’re already worlds above so many other people. You have a career goal, friends that love you, family that will be there for you. ”

Hikari tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ears and shook her head, a smile of disbelief teasing her lips “How do you do it, Takeru?”

“Do what?”

“How do you always have this boundless positivity? How do you hold onto hope day after day after day the way you do?”

If Takeru had a mirror before him, he wouldn’t be surprised to find his reflection pale and gaunt, for he could feel it all. He could feel the blood draining from his face, the ghosts of his failure haunting his every move, stealing his words away from his tongue. But luckily, Hikari responded for him, and although he was certain she meant for it to be a compliment, the statement iced his blood and shattered his heart.

“I guess that’s why you are the child of hope.”

The only response Takeru could give was a tilted smile, relishing in the disconnect between his reputation and the distressing world beneath his flesh. Luckily, Hikari seemed none the wiser.

He prefers it that way.

“Oh…I’ll be right back…”

Her words trailed off. She then slipped past a set of string curtains to a room in the back, leaving Takeru alone with the flowers around him. For a moment, Takeru thought he could collapse into a heap of skin and bone in the quiet store and allowed his spirit to float away, but before the tears could fall, Hikari returned with a vase he guessed was his mother’s birthday flowers.

He blew a whistle of admiration as she placed it down before him.

“I hope your mom will like it.”

Takeru nodded and studied the arrangements in depth. Shooting tall from a bed of baby’s-breath and decorative leaves were two types of lilies of Hikari’s choosing.

“You remembered lilies were my mom’s favourite” Takeru commented with a genuine smile.

Hikari’s face reddened, she gestured to the different flowers in her arrangement and began narrating her work.

“The blue orchids represent Yamato, because blue represents calm and openness, something I know your brother and mother had to work hard at to achieve after years of absences in each other’s lives”

Takeru nodded. He knew what the yellow meant, and he could feel his inside flip as he waited for Hikari to say the inevitable.

“And of course, the yellow represents you, because you are sunshine and happiness, not only to your mom, but to all of us.”

His insides pinched violently. He stuffed his fists in his pocket, if only in an attempt to hide the tremor from Hikari’s watchful eyes.

“They’re absolutely beautiful. I think…I know my mom will love it.”

Hikari beamed, the light hitting her features at all the right angles.

“Oh…oh, I’m so glad, Takeru…I wish I could be there to see her face when she receives it.”

“I’ll take pictures and send them to you, I promise.”

He gathered the vase up into his arms, moving it carefully so as not to ruin Hikari’s arrangements.

“Thanks again, Hikari.”

Hikari returned the smile, “No…no, thank you, Takeru. Thank you for always being there for me, thank you for always knowing the right thing to say, thank you…for being the sunshine in all our lives.”

His mouth went dry, but somehow, he managed to pull himself together enough to respond, and when he spoke, he was shocked at how sturdy and self-assured he sounded, as if he was losing touch with the facade he put forward on stage each and every day of his frauding life.

“Don’t mention it, Hikari. After all, that’s my job as the chosen child of hope”

—

“You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re almost there.”

He scrutinized his reflections in the finger-smudged bathroom mirror. Beyond the swinging doors, he could hear music and laughter filtering through, snippets of scandalous conversations bellowed out in voices loud and quiet.

He wondered what others truly see when they lay their eyes on him, for all he ever saw in moments like this, during intermissions between acts of his one-man show, was a pale boy desperately fitting the embattled masks over his exhausted features.

He inhaled deeply, then wrinkled his nose at the stench of cigarette smoke and stale room fresheners.

“You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re almost there,” he repeated the mantra.

His watch was telling him it was nearly 10 PM, and considering that they were in between the main and dessert course, he estimated another half-hour at the restaurant, a potential for 15 if he leans into his lie about an early morning class tomorrow.

“Survival is just around the corner.”

He exited the bathroom, then made his way back to the private dining room at the secluded corner of the busy restaurant. Drawing the curtain aside revealed the boisterous party, his mother sitting close with her partner of two years, surrounded by a sea of her family, friends, and coworkers. Yamato was included on one side, beside an empty chair that was designated as his.

Immediately, Yamato stood up. Takeru watched as he sidestepped the crowd carefully before he came up beside him.

“There you are! Listen, the cake is coming and…we thought once it’s here, maybe you could say something before we break into song and dance and all that jazz.”

“Me?” he surveyed the room with wide eyes, taking in the familiar and strange faces before him.

“Yeah…we thought it’d be a good idea, you know…since you’re good at these sorts of things.”

“Takeru, what took you so long?” his mother called out before he could respond to his older brother’s request.

Despite the haze of exhaustion, Takeru straightened his posture and waved back at her. But before any further words could be exchanged, there was a clamour before them, followed by his mother’s birthday cake being wheeled in by several wait staff. His mother laughed and clapped her hands in delight, while applause erupted around them.

Amidst the celebration, he felt a tug on his arm, and looked up to see Yamato ushering him up a small raised platform. Countless pairs of eyes turned on him, and despite his mouth becoming bone dry and his head spinning like no tomorrow, he felt something heavy thrusted into his grasp and looked down to find a black microphone.

He gulped, but then his eyes strayed over to his mother’s, and Takeru could not help but admire the delicate glow on her aging face. After years of watching her work herself to the bone to raise him, he was truly thankful for moments where he could bask in his mother’s happiness.

I hope you know, Takeru, how much I love you. Everything I do, I do for you, because you’re my little sunshine.

It was his mother’s birthday. The least he could do was push himself a little further and finish up his role as sunshine boy.

He put on his smile, tightening the grip on his mic as he began speaking.

“They say everything in this universe rests on a foundation it owes itself to, from the roots of the thousand-year old trees you only see in magazines, to the source of breathtaking rivers giving life to everything around it. Mom, you are the sturdy land I’ve anchored myself on all my life. Without you working hard and sacrificing everything, I don’t think I’d be half the man I am today. So thank you mom, and happy birthday.”

The room erupted in applause once again as he returned to his seat. Natsuko turned to him, her fingers hastily wiping away tears before she clutched Takeru’s hand between hers.

“Thank you, Takeru. Thank you so much. You really do have a way with words.”

Takeru cleared his throat and smiled, which was enough of a cue for his mother to continue.

“Do you know what I want for my birthday, Takeru?”

Takeru threaded his eyebrows together, but otherwise kept silent as he responded with a shrug.

“I want…I want you to remain happy forever, Takeru. For my birthday wish, I wish for you to never lose the light that defines your aura, Takeru. I want you to be the sunshine in my life, for as long as possible.”

Despite an overwhelming urge to crawl underneath the table and cry, Takeru nodded, his facade sharpening with the conviction of his rehearsed smile.

“Don’t worry mom, you can count on me. I’ll always be your sunshine, I promise.”

—

It was pushing midnight before Takeru found himself an escape route from the party. Quietly and carefully, he slipped out of the restaurant like a shadow without a body, leaving behind half-eaten slices of cake and empty bottles of booze.

He knew his mother wouldn’t be returning to their apartment tonight, but will opt for a night with her boyfriend instead. His brother was passed out in a corner after one too many sake, so as long as he messaged Sora at the right time to bring him home, he would have fulfilled his duty as a diligent little brother.

Finally, there was silence.

For a child that grew up wishing for the excited buzz of a happy home, he found it surprising how much he craved lonely evenings like these, when he could shed the costumes and props of the role he assigned himself to play, and simply be himself.

But still, during quiet moments like these, when there was no escape from the voices inside his head, he was faced with the realization that the inside of his head is what scared him the most.

He turned the corner of the street he was on and found himself facing a lonely bridge overlooking the Tokyo river. Beneath concrete grounds, he could hear the rush of water streaming through, and if he leaned into it and listened carefully, he could hear something else, too, a hushed whisper calling out to him in a sing-song voice.

Takeru…

In spite of his exhaustion, electricity jolted his muscles. He moved closer to the bridge’s edge, listening to the voices calling out to him again.

Takeru...Takeru…

He shivered. There was something so foreboding, yet comforting about the voice, it sent a chill up his spine.

With difficulty, he tilted his head up towards the dark sky, the clouds above him were swollen and heavy, as if it, too, were stockpiling tears it didn’t dare shed.

“It’s okay,” he whispered underneath his breath, reaching shaky hands forward to touch the clouds, wishing he could puncture a hole to offer it some relief, “You can cry.”

How peculiar for the sunshine boy to yearn for a little midnight rain.

But just like his taut emotions, the sky would not - could not - rain. The tension from the strain was palpable in the air, not unlike the tension within himself, straining to hold in all the emotion and all the tears, hiding every part of his authentic self behind bloated dark clouds so he could remain the sunshine boy everyone wants him to be.

His eyes fluttered close, before opening them again to the sight of rushing water. Without warning, as if a gate had tumbled down, he was struck with the thought of what it would be like, what it would amount to if he could end it all at that moment, so he would never have to put on another act ever again.

He jumped…

…away from the bridge, and back to concrete ground. His body shook with fear at the potential he exposed himself to.

Slowly, with shaky breaths, he made his way back to his apartment with his palms clenched tight. He won this battle, but truth be told, he didn’t know how much fight he had left in him, or worse yet, the line between victory and defeat was blurring, and some days, when the heaviness was so pronounced, he didn’t know which side he wanted to be on.

Lightning flashed overhead, and at long last, the midnight rain he longed for poured itself down upon him. Immediate relief overwhelmed his senses, for he could finally allow salty tears to mingle with rainwater trailing down his cheeks.

Once upon a time, Takeru remembered cherishing hope like it was his greatest gift. He considered it a well-practiced trait, a superpower he perfected throughout the years. But now, it was a burden at best, an expectation he no longer wanted any part of.

But still, old habits die hard, and during quiet moments like these when he’s left alone with the monsters in his head, he can’t help but give into the overwhelming desire to hope…but his hopes were now for a different purpose altogether.

All he wanted, all he hoped for was for others to see who he truly was, and ask him what he truly wanted, and not what they wanted of him. Because for once in his life, he hoped for a chance to peel off the sunny cloak of expectation, he hoped for no excuses to feel everything, and to cry as hard and as long as he wanted without the judgment of others.

He hoped to never be the sunshine boy again, for all he wanted was a lifetime of midnight rains.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure #takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #Takeru Takaishi #Breewrites

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digimon-adventure-nightmare · 1 year

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@takerutakaishiweek

Day 1: Patamon

#takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #Takeru Takaishi #Patamon #The Romulus Complex #wings au #day one #happy memories before the main arc #bittersweet in retrospect #gamine #pencil #fanart #illustration

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digimon-adventure-nightmare · 1 year

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@takerutakaishiweek

Day 3: Childhood

#takeruweek2022 #takeruweek #Takeru Takaishi #Yamato Ishida #The Romulus Complex #wings au #day three #childhood #memories #natural #pencil #fanart #illustration

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patamon · 1 year

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Takeru Takaishi Week [Day 3 prompt: Childhood & Growth]

Could also be for the prompt about the hat too, just sayin’

Title: The Great War Character: Takeru Takaishi ( for @takerutakaishiweek ) Word Count: 3313 Rating: G Summary: Had Takeru known last night was the last time he would see his brother, he would have hugged him tighter and told him he loves him, perhaps apologized for taking the last fudge popsicle at the beach when he knew Yamato would have wanted it too.

Cross-posted on AO3

Read below the cut 👇

The Great War

It was the fifth night in a row Takeru jolted awake to the thunderous roars whipped up by his parent’s storm. Although his eyes were still blurred by the specter of sleep, his ears were woke enough to catch the sharp words and murderous tone flung between his mother and his father. It froze his limbs and shook his teeth. Some words were too long and sophisticated for him to understand, but he understood enough from the tears and the screams, the heaviness that sat in his heart as he listened to the storm brewed on.

It took his mother’s sobs to unbuckle his muscles, movement returning to him the louder his mother’s anguish cry became. During the day, his mother was sunshine and smiles, bending down to wipe a smudge of dirt from his cheek. But under the cover of night, his mother’s sunshine becomes clouded by grief, and Takeru could only lay helpless as he listened to her howl out her anguish after another contentious fight with his father.

He peeked his head up and eyed his bedroom door. Much to his surprise, a slim offering of light poured through the tiniest of cracks, and with it, Takeru saw his brother pressed close to the gap, standing tip-toe and straining hard to catch sight of the commotion outside.

“Onii-chan?” Takeru called out.

His brother whipped around quickly. Even under the dim lighting, Takeru could see his brother’s eyes wide in fear, the sight so unsettling, it pushed tears to his eyes. His brother was everything he aspired to be, nothing could break him, nothing could scare him, so to see Yamato now so shaken up, Takeru thought he would rather have the floor eat him alive.

“Takeru? What are you doing awake?”

Takeru swung his leg off the bed and let it dangle freely from the edge, he rubbed more sleep from his eyes, then pressed his palms against his ears in a futile attempt to muffle out his mother’s cry.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Takeru explained.

“No?”

Takeru shook his head, then made an attempt to hop off his bed. But before he could plant his feet on the ground, Yamato had shut the door. It closed with a subtle click, dampening his mother’s cry. Right away, Takeru felt he could breathe a hundred times better. He settled back in between his pillows, just in time for Yamato to shuffle onto the bed beside him.

“Guess what?”

“What?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

Despite a heavy sigh rolling up to his throat, Takeru remained silent. It was disquieting, hearing Yamato admit to his weaknesses and limits. He wondered if Yamato knew how much he needed his onii-chan to be the land he could balance himself on, especially during these moments, when their parent’s fighting threatened to split their ground asunder.

“I’m sorry you had to be awake for this, Takeru.”

With a primal desperation, Takeru pushed his thumb into his mouth. The feel of it took away some of the butterflies in his stomach, but not all. He shrugged and nestled himself closer to Yamato, until Yamato knew to wrap his arms around him.

“I thought it was a good night tonight,” Takeru whispered, “I thought…I thought it would be peaceful”

Yamato nodded, a faraway look haunting his eyes. Indeed, the evening did start out peaceful. For the first time in weeks, his father came home from work before dinner was ready. Takeru was thrilled, everyone was thrilled. But to Takeru, what mattered most was the delight on his mother’s face when his father walked through the door. They ate together that night, his mother and father on either side of their square dinner table, with Takeru facing Yamato. He thought he could burst with happiness in between helpings of rice as he listened to his father laugh and joke with them.

It was the best night Takeru could remember in a very long time.

So perhaps this was what shattered his heart most. The near perfect night they could have had, there was no reason Takeru could think of that could lead to a fight this vicious. It strengthened the inevitability that anger and turmoil were destined to call their family home.

His mother stopped crying, but only for a moment, because next thing they knew, the screaming picked up again, followed by smashing and banging of heavy objects hitting the floor. Immediately, Yamato dislodged himself from Takeru and swung off the bed, his bare feet hitting the hardwood floor as he rushed out in a mad dash.

Now, Takeru found himself alone.

He shivered in the darkened bedroom. Beyond the open door, the screaming picked up in intensity, followed by Yamato’s squeaky voice interjecting every so often, attempting to disrupt the conflict. But despite his brother’s best effort, the war waged on, no peace treaties could be found on the war torn land of their embattled family. Destruction was inevitable.

Takeru shivered involuntarily. Without fully understanding why, fear possessed every fiber of his being, tightening and loosening all the wrong muscles, and with horror that rivaled his worst nightmares, he felt wetness radiating from the lower half of his body. He looked down and gasped, then rolled onto the floor, his body hitting the hard ground with a loud thud.

He should have felt pain, instead, he felt a peculiar emptiness gripping all of his body. The dampness seeped through his pants and onto the floor. He could already hear his mother yelling at him, and his father’s derisive comments when they inevitably discover him in a puddle of his own urine and tears. Outside, the screaming raged on, this time accompanied by glasses hitting the floor, the shattering of peace and happiness in his ragged soul.

Through tear-streaked vision, a glimpse of something shiny caught the corner of his eyes. Takeru lifted his head slightly, honing in on a discarded object beneath their bunk bed. He reached forward into the darkened space, his eyes squeezed shut in uncertain fear, the acrid smell of urine burning his nose while sounds of his parents screaming deafened his ears. But when his fingers clenched around the feel of soft fabric, everything - from the screaming and the crying, to the wetness of his recent accident - disappeared in a haze of happiness.

It was his green hat. But not just any green hat, the green hat his parents bought him on their last family outing to the beach.

Instinctively, he placed the hat on his head, his fingers traced the seams and bumps on its pronounced stitches, then the smooth face of the gemstone mounted in the centre of the hat. In spite of everything around Takeru, he was transported away from his bedroom, away from the battles being fought over their kitchen table, away from uncertainty and despair, and back to the last time he could remember them all together, laughing and at peace.

It was…afternoon, around the time he would be coming home from preschool. Except that day, Takeru remembered his father driving their family past his little school, and straight to the beach at the end of the road. Right away, his father bought them ice creams from the little old lady at a tiny convenience store. He had chosen the last fudge popsicle, while Yamato settled on the vanilla. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, his vision caught the shiny decorative gemstone nestled high on a shelf. His parents immediately cued in on the enraptured gaze of his son’s face, and silently, without saying one word to each other, they purchased the hat together and gifted it to their youngest son.

With the hat firmly on his head, he could taste the sweetness of the chocolate on his tongue, hear the waves singing out its song to them as he dug his feet into soft sand. And before him, framed against a picturesque sunset was his parents holding hands as they walked down the beach together, forever stretched before them while their two young sons trailed behind them.

This was the world he wanted to remain in. Forever.

Suddenly, his mother turned around, then much to his surprise, the smile on her face collapsed, replaced by a stern frown. She drew her hand away from his father’s grasp and reached forward, extending her fingers towards him

Takeru, he heard her call.

A sudden fear took hold, prompting Takeru to backtrack, Unperturbed, his mother advanced on him, while his father and Yamato remained behind.

Takeru! she called again.

Takeru shook his head and broke into a desperate run, all the while, his mother closed in. Only, it was no longer his familiar loving mother, her arms seem to have elongated, her fingers sharpened into claws. Takeru had no understanding of the situation, only a frantic desire for escape.

TAKERU.

With a powerful lurch, his mother took hold, her claw-like arms digging into his flesh, eliciting a choked scream from Takeru’s parched throat. He turned around in panic to find his brother and father in the distance, drifting further and further away as his mother pulled him towards the enveloping ocean.

“Takeru! Takeru! Wake up, wake up!”

Takeru groaned. That time, the voice sounded suspiciously clear, the sinister air evaporating bit-by-bit.

“Wh–what?” he managed to croaked out, and realized then that he had fallen asleep, and everything he saw was a fragment of his dreams.

He opened his eyes, blinking sleep away to find his mother staring down at him, her eyes puffy and red from hours of crying.

“Takeru, wake up,” she repeated the directive.

He obeyed robotically, turning and standing in a dreamlike daze. The hat he had on fell to the ground, and as his eyes followed its movement, his gaze caught the drying yellow puddle by his feet, and the characteristic crinkles in his clothes he knew far too well.

He blushed, while his mother shook her head and sighed.

“Again?” his mother inquired, disapproval heavy in her tone.

She led him to the bathroom, where she washed and changed him. Outside, their apartment was surprisingly dark and quiet. Takeru’s inside wringed with fear, wondering where Yamato could be this late in the night. Afterward, while Takeru sat on the toilet watching his mother scrub his soiled underwear in the bathtub, the green hat clenched in his hands, he mustered the courage to ask his mother in a quiet voice.

“Mommy…where’s Yamato?”

His mother’s face darkened at the question. She dropped her task at hand and stood up, then moved over to kneel before him. Takeru dug his finger into the soft fabric of his hat, his finger tracing the lines and seams mindlessly as he waited for his mother to respond.

“Takeru…how…how would you like to go away with me?”

“Go where?”

“I…I don’t know yet…Maybe…maybe we’ll stay with grandma for a bit first, then I’ll find a new place for us”

Takeru scrunched his face in confusion. He waited and waited for his mother to answer his question about Yamato, but she stayed silent, her blue eyes on him as she waited for him to respond. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He squeezed the hat in his hands again before asking.

“Mommy, where’s Yamato?” he asked, this time with desperation in his shaky voice.

His mother’s eyes grew wet, but she wiped at them quickly. Without another word, she moved back to the bathtub to resume scrubbing his pants.

“Mom?” he repeated, this time in a louder voice, the volume scaring even himself.

“Yamato…is with your father,” his mother finally responded, “They…went to your Uncle Kazu for tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because…because they…they decided to have a sleepover.”

“A sleepover?” his breathing quickened, the more things didn’t make sense, the more his head spun. Next thing he knew, tears blinded his vision, overflowing his eyes before they trailed down his cheeks.

“Takeru…”

“I…I want onii-chan. I…I want Yamato. Please mom, please can we go to uncle Kazu? I want to have a sleepover, too. I want to see Yamato”

“TAKERU! STOP!”

His mother’s shrill voice pierced his heart, and as sudden as the tears came, it stopped. But still, the heaviness in his heart grew, despite the smear of confusion from his current predicament, he thought he understood one thing.

Things were never going to be the same again.

He clutched his hat to his heart, inhaling the scent of ocean waves and fudge popsicles, of happiness and peace, of his whole and complete family before it was torn asunder by conflict. In that moment, trapped in a vortex of uncertainty and confusion, where pain clung to him and his family like a bad tattoo, his hat represented safety and warmth, the last hope he could cling onto for a semblance of normalcy.

He placed the hat on his head again and pulled the brim over his eyes, ducking his head low so he could cry silently. Beside him, he heard his mother resume the task at hand, sniffling every once in a while as she worked to scrub away the yellow stains from his clothes.

Perhaps she cried too, but he’ll never know.

—

Next morning, Takeru was shaken up early by his mother. Outside their bedroom window, the sky was painted a confusing pink. Takeru never knew the sky could be anything but blue and black. He watched it in amazement, then turned to Yamato on the top bunk, eager to tell his onii-chan about how the sky resembled the bubble gum they found at the corner convenience store.

But much to his chagrin, Yamato’s bed was empty. Instead of finding his brother half-asleep, he found his dishevelled blanket instead.

“Takeru, I’m sorry but we need to go.”

Takeru looked around with confusion and realized for the first time that his mother had on her outside clothes, a sweater swung over her arms. An outfit had been picked out for him, too, and hung on its hanger by the door.

“Come on,” his mother beckoned, and scooped him up and into the bathroom, where she took the lead in brushing his teeth and washing his face.

“Go get change,” she ordered, pointing to the clothes hung by the door.

He stumbled back to his room and obliged, pulling down his pyjamas in exchange for the sweater his mother laid out. As he fit his legs into his pants, he noticed his mother in the bathroom hurriedly tucking his toothbrush into a small bag.

The action took his breath away. The only times his mother put his toothbrush away was when they were going somewhere far and wouldn’t be returning home for the night. His fingers began to shake, he surveyed the room, wondering how long they would be gone for, when he could see his toys again. He wondered if Yamato would be waiting for him wherever his mother was taking him.

But then, his breathing stopped, for when his mother turned away, he realized Yamato’s toothbrush was still in its place.

“Takeru, are you done?” His mother called out.

“Yes,” he responded instinctively, just as she burst through the door.

She clicked her tongue and dropped to her knees, before yanking him violently towards her to pull his sweater off.

“You put it on backward…again. Honestly, Takeru, can’t you do anything by yourself? Yamato was already taking care of you when he was your age.”

Takeru ducked his head low, tears stinging his eyes as his mother donned the sweater back on for him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Don’t cry, Takeru, please…I can’t…not this morning…For once, act like a boy and stop crying all the time. Come on, we have to go. Our ticket leaves in an hour”

Tickets?

“Where are we going?” he asked in panic.

His mother got up and pulled him outside their room. It was then that he noticed two suitcases waiting by the door, his school backpack perched neatly on top of one of them.

“We’re going to your grandmother’s,” his mother responded simply.

“For how long?”

“I don’t know yet”

“Will Yamato be there?”

There was a long pause, during which time his mother wiped fervently at her eyes, and when she pulled her hand away, he swore he saw tears clinging to the tips of her finger.

“No,” she finally responded, before pulling him to the door.

“Why not? When will I see Yamato?”

“Takeru,” his mother heaved a heavy sign, then dropped to her knees and clenched his shoulders until he flinched, “I’m sorry Takeru…but…this is how it will have to be…at least for the next little while. Your brother…your brother has chosen your father so…it will just be you and I from now on. But…but it’s going to be okay because…because we have each other, and I promise you…I promise you I’ll always be here for you. It’ll be okay with just the two of us. I promise.”

Takeru averted his gaze quickly. His inside twisted and squirmed, and he felt an overwhelming desire to throw up on his mother’s pink cardigan. He didn’t want his mother’s promise. He didn’t need it.

He only wanted normalcy again. He craved quiet evenings in front of the sofa, family outings to the beach, and Yamato always within an arm’s reach.

Had Takeru known last night was the last time he would see his brother, he would have hugged him tighter and told him he loves him, perhaps apologized for taking the last fudge popsicle at the beach when he knew Yamato would have wanted it too.

“Can I…can I get something before we leave?” he whispered.

It took a few seconds, but at last, she nodded.

“O-okay but…quickly. We have to leave soon”

Without hesitation, Takeru ran back into his room, flinging the door open in desperation. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to locate the object of his search. It was there, tangled with his blanket, the green hat with the blue gemstone he distilled comfort from last night. He crossed the room and retrieved the hat, and immediately after the soft fabric fit around his crown, his stomach loosened and the jitters vacated his muscles. He was once again transported back to ocean waves and salty air, cultivating a glow in his heart.

It’s not impossible. One day, they could be a happy family again.

—

Years and decades later, Takeru would claim that the trip to his grandmother after his parents’ last fight would be his earliest memory in life.

It wasn’t the shaky bus ride or cold sandwiches that he remembered most, nor was it his mother sobbing quietly beside him that he could recall with mental acuity. It was that although he should be confused and anxious, he felt eerily calm, like a supernatural power had overtaken him as he watched the Tokyo buildings transition to the trees and water of countryside Japan.

He knew his family had fractured, there was no salvage from his parent’s war, but he still clutched within him a desperate whisper of hope, an unwavering belief that this was all temporary. Occasionally, his armour would crack ever so slightly, especially during moments where he thought of Yamato, when his yearning for the sturdy grasp of his brother’s hands became so compelling, he felt he would shatter and join his mother in mourning the loss of the only life he had ever known. But once he reached up and pressed against his green hat, the memory of the happy family he once had would return to him, convincing him of the delusion he would cling onto for years to come.

They were happy once, so it’s not impossible. One day, they could be a complete family again.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure #takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #Takeru Takaishi #Yamato Ishida #Breewrites

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patamon · 1 year

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Takeru Takaishi Week [Day 1 prompt: Patamon Angemon]

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but like....yeah...life is hard

Title: Lost Character: Takeru Takaishi (for @takerutakaishiweek ) Word Count: 4017 Rating: G Summary: A disastrous turn in event left Takeru isolated and alone in an unknown part of the Digital World. But he insists he doesn’t need help, not even from his own Digimon partner...

Cross-posted on AO3

Read below the cut 👇

Lost

These days, Takeru rarely feels the grips of fear as he wanders through the unknown terrains of the Digital World. It’s not that he was particularly brave, that title he would gladly hand over to Taichi or Daisuke, but the possibility of certain death at the hand of a ruthless monster no longer shook him the way it used to when he was eight. Perhaps he’s gotten too comfortable, too used to the adrenaline coursing through his veins, his fight-or-flight instinct has become a comforting friend.

But still, on days like these, Takeru is slammed with the reminder that things could go wrong, that hiccups could still occur during mundane missions like these.

It started with the six of them, the group of younger Chosen scouting out a suspicious data packet Koushiro detected in the Digital World. It was Takeru that found the packet first, and it was Takeru that discovered their peculiar purpose of transporting anyone that came in contact with it to a random part of the Digital World. Takeru learned this all the hard way after he tumbled hard into the depth of some digital forest, where the trees around him towered high into the atmosphere, the trunks of each the size of apartment buildings he grew up with in Odaiba.

He’s only seen pictures of settings like these, like the Amazon rainforests he stumbled across while flipping lazily through his mother’s National Geographic magazines. The forest ground was slick with moss, and climbing up and over fallen logs left him breathless, but still, he forged on, guided by a silent Angemon before him, impassive and serious as he hurried through with a desperate urgency.

Without warning, Angemon turned to face him sharply, the abruptness startled even himself. But he gathered himself back when he noticed Angemon extending his hand towards him, and before them, another log decomposing on the soggy forest ground, albeit this one possessed a girth he hadn't seen before.

“Come, Takeru,” Angemon beckoned, “I can help you over.”

But Takeru squared his shoulder and walked forward, straight past Angemon to seize up the obstacle. Finally, he nodded.

“I can handle it on my own,” Takeru asserted, then scaled the barrier without waiting for a response.

The going was tough, his feet slipping a few times as he struggled to find a divot to anchor himself in. At times, he felt Angemon’s sturdy hand on his back, or on his arms in an attempt to help him through, but he shrugged it all off in a huff.

“I’m fine…I don’t need help” he wheezed.

Until at long last, his feet landed on the slick forest ground on the other side. He was panting and in a mess, but satisfied that he did indeed make it over on his own.

Of course he could handle it on his own.

After all, he wasn’t the same scared little kid clinging to his older brother when they found themselves lost in the Digital World the first time, nor was he the overly cautious adolescent surrounded by a gaggle of new Chosen. He had cut his teeth on the most jagged of adventures to earn his place amongst the veteran Chosens. He was grown and experienced. He definitely didn’t need anyone, or any Digimon, to constantly dote on him like a lost child.

He turned back to find Angemon frozen in place, his wings wilting slightly before he flew effortlessly over the log. They exchanged gaze for a mere second, but long enough for Takeru to pick up on the tight frown on his lips. He could sense it in the air, the pensive sadness leaking through the tight-fitting mask. He felt a surprising tug in his heart at the subtle defeat in Angemon’s stance, but he ignored it and pushed forward.

It’s not real, Takeru chanted in his head, it was my imagination.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t the case. Only he could pick up hints of Angemon’s hidden expression and buried feelings, and likewise, Angemon could read him like no other. Not even Patamon could compare to Angemon’s intuition. They shared an unparalleled bond.

They were family.

It didn’t take long for Angemon to catch up, unsurprising because Takeru’s stiff muscle had begun to drag him back like friction on carpet. But instead of overtaking him, Angemon hung back, keeping pace with Takeru as he laboured hard to even his breathing in the angel’s presence.

“Takeru, I think you should rest.”

“I’m fine,” Takeru responded shortly.

“But…”

“I said I’m fine,” Takeru repeated, but this time, with enough force to convince Angemon to drop the subject.

At least for now.

A few steps further brought them across a rushing stream, the water dyed a murky brown. Angemon halted first, prompting Takeru to do the same. He watched as his partner kneeled down and surveyed the water, dipping his fingers in tentatively to test something Takeru could not guess.

“Takeru,” he finally said, “Are you okay?”

Takeru forced a strain smile, “I’m fine,” he assured his partner.

“Are you really fine?” the angel pressed.

In response, Takeru clicked his tongue and turned away. In spite of his best effort to keep a level head, he felt the irritation creeping up slowly from the tips of his fingers to his aching head. He knew he was being irrational, but knowing doesn’t stop him from experiencing it all.

The fact is, he had become accustomed to Patamon and his innocence. Often, especially as he got older while Patamon remained static and carefree, he took on the caregiver role between the two of them, doting and tending to the small Digimon, making sure he didn’t get himself in a mess too sticky to disentangle himself from. For once in his life, he was the older and more mature one, he was the one watching over and not being watched.

Truth be told, he liked it.

But Angemon was not Patamon, and this ordeal drove home that fact.

“Yes, yes I have told you hundreds, if not thousands of times that I am fine. You don’t have to ask me every five minutes if I’m fine…because I really am fine.”

If Angemon was taken back by Takeru’s tirade, he would not show it. Instead, he stood up to his full height, the tips of his wings brushing against a lower branch as he turned to face him fully.

“Forgive me, Takeru, but you seemed irritated by my presence.”

Takeru faltered, he averted his gaze to the ground. All of a sudden, he felt like he was eight again, explaining his transgression to his mother in their living room.

“No…no…it’s just…this is stressful, that’s all”

There was a rustling of feathers, and when Takeru looked up, he saw that Angemon had moved close to lay his gloved hand on his shoulder.

“I know it is, but trust me. Takeru, I will get you back as soon as possible. I will protect you, I promise”

Takeru nodded in understanding. After all, he was still a vulnerable human in a dangerous world. Despite his insistence that he didn’t need help, he would be in grave danger if attacked by a feral Digimon without Angemon around.

But still…

He looked up and surveyed the feathers on Angemon’s wings. Despite the close bond the other Chosen shared with their own Digimon, he could not recall the others being coddled by their partner the way Angemon did with him. Even Hikari and Angewomon were on a more level playing field, unlike the hierarchy Angemon placed himself above in a bid to play the role as guardian and protector.

Often, on quiet evenings or lonely afternoons, Takeru wondered about the rationale for their chosen partners. Why was Yamato assigned a wolf Digimon, while he was blessed with what seemed like a guardian angel. Was the answer as simple as their crest, or was it more complicated and mysterious?

Or maybe…it was because he needed that protection, because he was the weakest Chosen and will always be weakest amongst the group.

Lost in thought, Takeru’s feet caught something wedged on the ground. The floor disappeared below him, the sensation flipping his stomach upside down. He squeezed his eyes shut and anticipated the pain from the fall, but instead, he landed in familiar arms. He opened his eyes to find Angemon standing over him, a concerned look painting his features.

He separated himself immediately, brushing away imaginary dust as he fought the heat creeping across his cheeks.

“Sorry…I…I wasn’t looking.”

“Takeru,” Angemon snapped. He stood to his full height once again, his staff in his hand as he skewered Takeru with hidden eyes, “It’s time for you to rest.”

“I’m fine,” Takeru repeated, enunciating each syllable with more force than he should have, “I said I’m fine. Now come on, the quicker we go, the quicker we can get back to the others.”

“Takeru…”

“I said I’m fine,” Takeru screamed out. He wheeled himself around to return Angemon’s expression, his breathing hard as he struggled to form his words, “Why won’t you believe me when I tell you I’m fine?”

“Because, Takeru, I can see you’re not fine. We’ve been walking for a good two hours, and you’ve had no rest and nothing to eat or drink. Even if you weren’t my partner, I understand human biology enough to know it is hard for anyone to keep up that pace without rest.”

“Well then, you’re wrong,” Takeru snapped, “Because everyone else can keep going without help from their partners. I’m no different, I can do this. I’m not weak.”

“Takeru, I’m not saying you’re weak, I’m saying it’s okay if you need rest. I’m worried about you…”

“Well you DON’T have to worry about me.”

“I’m your Digimon partner, how can I not worry about you?”

“I get it, you’re here to protect me, it’s your duty. But I don’t need you to dote on me like I’m eight. If I tell you I’m fine, then I’m fine. I don’t…I don’t need you to be my father. ”

The air sharpened between them exponentially, Takeru watched Angemon backtrack, bit-by-bit until there was a good three feet between them. His stomach sank to the sole of his feet, this was not where he wanted to take this conversation.

“I wasn’t trying to be your father,” Angemon finally offered in a low voice.

Takeru remained quiet, studying the twigs by his feet as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life.

“Perhaps…perhaps you would prefer Patamon’s company in times like these,” Angemon continued.

Takeru’s eyes snapped up, panic worming its way through his innard while Angemon lowered his gaze.

“I’ll be back…if and when you want me to…”

Then with a flash of bright light, he was gone. Takeru looked up to find the smaller form of Patamon before him, his eyes wide with confusion as he surveyed the surroundings.

“Takeru? What happened?”

Takeru shrugged, then bent to pick up the much smaller form of his partner.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, “I don’t need him anyways. We’ll be fine, Patamon, just you and I”

—

He wasn’t fine. Not by a long shot.

The more he walked, the more lost he seemed to be. He was hungry, and thirsty, and his muscles ached like never before. Every tree, every rock, every shrub around him began blurring together in an incoherent smudge. He swore he passed by the same tree stump at least five times now. Pretty soon, he was certain he would pass out from exhaustion.

“Takeru, I think we’ve been here before.”

Takeru looked towards the squeaky voice and found Patamon straddling mid-air as he surveyed a particularly mangled tree.

His heart dropped. Patamon did have a point, he’s definitely seen this tree before. He remembered joking with Patamon that whatever creature made those marks better not find them.

Takeru sucked in a hefty breath, the despair threatening to topple him over. But yet, he adjusted the strap on his backpack and moved ahead.

“That’s fine…we’ll keep going,” he mumbled, “We have to be close to getting out of this forest, we have to be…”

“Unless we were just walking around in circles,” Patamon piped up.

Takeru sighed, but bit his tongue and watched as Patamon circled higher and higher up, before dipping low to hover beside him.

“Isn’t it better if we try to find our way out by going up?” Patamon asked.

“Angemon tried that, but…all he could see around us was trees, trees, and trees. Whatever forest we’ve landed in, we seemed to be right in the thick of it.”

“So…why didn’t he fly us back?”

“He thought it would be safer if we travel by foot since there’s too much exposure in the air.”

“Oh…that sounds like a good idea”

Takeru nodded, feeling a little abashed as he watched Patamon flit a few feet higher from where they stood.

“Yeah…it was…but, it’s okay. We can still find our way out…on our own.”

Patamon wheeled around suddenly and studied Takeru with his large eyes, the blue so innocent it left him on edge.

“Are you two fighting?”

“What? Who?”

“You two. You and Angemon.”

Takeru flinched, but nevertheless turned his back on Patamon and walked forward.

“We’ll try this way,” Takeru narrated, “We ended up where we were when we walked the other way, so we’ll try this way…”

“Takeru, wait!” Patamon called out, and skidded up beside him, “So does that mean you two are fighting?”

Takeru rolled his eyes, but this time, he did not attempt to hide it. He made sure the gesture was grand enough that even Patamon took pause in the air.

“Hey, that wasn’t nice,” Patamon commented.

“What wasn’t nice?”

“That, the thing you did with your eyes. I know what that means.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means you think I’m stupid”

“Shut up, you don’t know anything”

“Why don’t you shut up?”

“How can I shut up when I wasn’t the one talking? You are the one that won’t shut up. In fact, you haven’t shut up since you appeared so why don’t you shut up?”

In response, Patamon rammed his round body into Takeru’s shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet.

“Ow! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Takeru, I’m your partner, you can’t talk to me like that.”

Takeru ran his fingers through his hair and drew out a shaky sigh. The quivering puff of air was all that held him back from a nervous breakdown. He squeezed his eyes shut, but even beneath shuttered lids, he could hear Patamon’s ears flapping, telling him the little Digimon had not moved from where he was.

Under normal, stress-free circumstances, he would know Patamon stayed because he would never abandon him. But now, lost in the heart of an unnavigable forest, where his ire fought with exhaustion to drown the last of his hope underneath an ocean of despair, Takeru fell victim to the most sinister of intrusive thoughts.

He’s mocking me.

Without thinking, he swept his arms forward to knock Patamon back, before stomping hard like an impetuous child. He could feel the ridiculousness of his actions, pushing him towards the valley of shame he would fall into once the dust has settled.

But yet, he didn’t care.

“Why don’t you do something useful for once in your useless existence?” he demanded.

Patamon gasped, tears welling up in his blue orbs.

“I HATE YOU,” Patamon screamed, “You’re…you’re the useless one. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.”

They froze, each one staring the other down with murderous glances. Between the two of them, when the going gets good, nothing could drive a wedge between them. But the flip side of it was the storm their fights whipped up. Their worst moments were as bad as their best moments were good.

Out of all the Chosens and their partner, Takeru did not know any other pair that fought the way he and Patamon did. Even if they rarely fought, when they did, it was a spectacle to behold. At times, Takeru wondered if the ensuing war was the result of Patamon being a perfect reflection of his most immature side. The side that felt everything all too much, from the joy of discovering happy news, to the anger when incited, to the sadness of his depressive spells.

Takeru forced himself away to march forward, but it seemed his biological need had finally caught up to him. The sky spun sideways in the most violent manner, and splotches of darkness overtook his senses.

Takeru? He heard a familiar voice called out, one he recognized as Patamon’s.

Then, a flash of light, and just as the world pulled away from him, he heard his name called out again. This time, the voice sounded hollow, but with a firm command to its tone.

Takeru!

In spite of himself, he smiled. Somehow somewhere, he knew…

He was going to be fine.

—

The first thing he noticed when he woke up was the splitting headache he somehow acquired. That, and the fire crackling merrily before him, ignorant of the harm it could do if it gave away his position to some flesh-eating digital monster.

He stirred, one hand clutching his temple while the other wrapped around his hollow stomach.

“Easy there,” a familiar voice instructed.

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know who the voice belonged to.

“Angemon?”

The word grated his throat like sheets of sandpaper, drawing forth a tortured cough. Almost immediately, something cool pressed against his lips, then something sloshing wet. His heart leapt with joy.

Water, glorious lifegiving water.

He gulped it down without thinking, his instinct taking hold as it compelled him to swallow and swallow and swallow, until he felt put together enough to pry his eyes open.

“Angemon,” he greeted.

Angemon placed the thermos down and turned his body away, eliciting a slight moment of panic within Takeru. But luckily, the angel turned back almost immediately to press something moist on his forehead. He reached up to take hold of the item, surveying the thick leaf drenched with dew.

“Where did you get the water?” Takeru inquired.

Angemon shrugged, “I found a stream nearby,” he responded without looking up, then moved to retrieve something close by the fire. When he brought it to Takeru, he saw that it was a thin branch with a fish speared through it, the outside charred by the fire before them.

It made sense now why Angemon would risk their location with a fire.

“I guess it came from the same stream?”

Angemon did not respond, but offered a knowing smile instead.

Takeru gladly took the fish and bit into it. Before he could stop himself, he moaned, emitting a deep satisfied grunt as he bit into the fish again. He wasn’t exactly a fan of fish, but at that moment, it tasted like the fanciest meal at the most expensive restaurant.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking,” Angemon commented with a smug smirk.

Takeru rolled his eyes, but kept silent as he continued devouring the fish.

It was quiet for the next few minutes, save for the continual crack of the fire and the sound of Takeru’s hearty chewing. He watched Angemon poked at the fire as he ate, his wings angled at him with his head bent low.

A wall.

He knew it was him that had put it up, and it’s up to him to break it down.

“Have you eaten anything?” Takeru ventured.

“Would it make a difference if I said no?” Angemon responded.

Takeru gulped, his stomach dropped as if he was on a rollercoaster, not surprising, because here was the valley of shame he predicted he would fall into, and he was falling headfirst with nothing to slow down his plummet.

He moved closer and offered the half-eaten fish to Angemon, all the whilst training his eyes hard on the ground.

He heard wings rustling, then soft motion pushing the fish back towards him.

“Don’t worry, I ate already.”

Takeru nodded, not sure if he believed his partner, but glad he could have the rest of the meager fish to himself.

“Umm…about before…” he began in a low voice.

Angemon waved it away, but kept his face turned so Takeru could only see his side profile.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me, Takeru. I’m your Digimon partner, I’ve been with you long enough to know…”

“Know what?”

Finally, Angemon turned to Takeru, a soft smile dappling on his lips.

“Know that there will never be hard feelings between us.”

Takeru’s throat closed. Suddenly, the fish in his hand didn’t seem appetizing anymore. Unlike Patamon, Angemon never fought back in all their disagreements. They didn’t disagree much to begin with, but when they did, it felt like oceans swallowing up their space, suffocating the air - and life - out of them. Angemon would concede, but Takeru could feel his discontent. It was palpable, and uncomfortable.

If Patamon was a reflection of his most childish self, then perhaps Angemon would encompass the version of himself he was growing into. Like Angemon, he found comfort in hiding his real feelings from others, and ingratiating himself by bending to conform to their will, no matter how uncomfortable it made him. It was his coping mechanism, building walls and hiding himself behind it.

It was a mask.

“Well…I…I still want to apologize…so…I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I acted.”

He watched Angemon’s jaws clenched, his hands balled into fists as he maintained his effort to avoid Takeru’s eyes.

“I owe you an apology as well, Takeru…”

Takeru almost scoffed, but somehow held it back, replacing it with a question instead.

“For what?”

Angemon was silent for a while, when he finally spoke, his voice shook in a way Takeru had never heard before. It made him weak, knowing Angemon could be this vulnerable.

“You’ve grown so much, Takeru, enough to be fine on your own. I knew that. But…knowing that made me feel…”

Angemon sighed, the grip on his wrist tightened as he lifted his chin in the air.

“...useless.”

Takeru clutched his chest. He moved closer until he could make out the distinct feathers on Angemon’s wings by the fire light. He thought about making contact, perhaps a firm grip of his shoulder, or a gentle touch on his forearm, but decided against it. Instead, he let his words cross their distance to hopefully break through Angemon’s defenses.

“You are not useless. You are the closest thing I had to a father, Angemon. No matter what, I still need you in my life, in more ways than you know.”

At long last, Angemon turned to Takeru, his expression as stoic and impassive as ever, but Takeru caught a hint of something bright behind it. It was a spark only he could detect, and it made his heart swell.

It was all he needed to know that the walls had come down between them.

“Rest up, Takeru. We’ll continue in the morning,” Angemon instructed, his words disturbing the silence between them.

The urge to return to sleep was overwhelming, but Takeru chose to remain still. He tilted his head up to the sky, expecting to see stars, but instead saw the tree canopy blanketing the heavens. He shivered at the sight, at the thought of how the forest dwarfed everything it encompassed in this world.

“Will we ever find our way out?” he asked.

Angemon stood up and flexed his wings. It took a while, but at long last, he turned to Takeru and nodded, a firm smile on his lips.

“Have hope, Takeru.”

Takeru’s heart lightened. He nodded and looked back up at the sky. It was still the same starless black, but somehow, the universe seemed to have shifted.

Without a doubt, he knew they were going to be fine.

#Digimon #Digimon Adventure #takeruweek #takeruweek2022 #Takeru Takaishi #Angemon #Breewrites

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