Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2016-05-07 10:44 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2016-05-07 10:44 pm
[tri] [OOM] This is all totally healthy and normal definitely certainly probably
They go their separate ways before too long. Mimi insists on accompanying Meiko back home, but Yamato doesn’t know where the others go, because Takeru takes him by the arm and drags him towards where the news vans are starting to gather.
Their father’s there. Of course he is, it’s his job, and Yamato can see their mother a little further off, interviewing people and taking notes. They both catch sight of them at the same time, and Yamato sees Takeru give them his best unflappable smile.
Yamato doesn’t bother. Covered in dust and grime, bruises starting to mottle his face where he landed against the ground, Tsunomon cradled asleep under his arm - there’s no point pretending to be fine. Instead he tips his chin up and hardens his gaze, because he can at least look like he’s in control.
---
Yamato tries to insist that he’d rather go back to his own home, but nobody else goes for it. No, his mother’s apartment is closer, and it has a guest room (‘And the sofa’s comfier,’) and nobody talks about how they’re only going there because everyone’s shaken up over the destruction of Balette Town, and neither parent can stand to leave either of their boys right now.
When they get there, it takes all three of them to get him to sit down long enough for Doctor Kido - Jyou’s father, not his brother, who is also Doctor Kido and who is apparently already on his way to hospital to deal with an influx of patients - to arrive and check him over. The man’s basically Jyou scaled slightly up, and he has all of the Kido family bedside manner, which means that Yamato spends twenty minutes being poked and prodded just to make sure.
Eventually, Doctor Kido says something about bruises, scrapes, and a few shallow cuts (which he quickly plasters as he finds them). The worst of it are some bruised ribs (“I don’t think they’re cracked, but take it easy anyway.”), and some minor soft tissue damage. No broken bones, nothing that a few weeks rest won’t deal with.
He hasn’t even finished his last sentence when Yamato stands up and crosses to the guest room without taking off his shoes, ignores his father hollering for him to sit down, and shuts the door behind him.
(“Ever the charming patient,” Doctor Kido remarks wryly once the door is shut. “Hiroaki, you have my number. Now, Takeru …”)
He settles Tsunomon onto the armchair, drops his digivice down next to him, and then drops onto the bed without bothering to take off his jacket or shoes.
He doesn’t sleep.
Or he doesn’t think he sleeps, at least, but somewhere down the line, as he’s listening to his parents make phone calls and avoid talking to each other, day turns to night, and he can’t remember exactly when.
The phone calls stop eventually. He hears his mother let out a quiet sigh. He shuts his eyes for a moment.
“Shit, you probably haven’t eaten all day, have you? I’ll make … er …” His father trails off, and Yamato can almost hear his mother’s eyebrow rising. “... A phone call to a pizza place. Who knows, maybe the smell will rouse the four of them.”
“Actually,” his mother says after a moment, “if the two of you are going to be staying over, then Yamato’s going to need some clothes that aren’t - anyway, I don’t think Takeru’s clothes are going to fit him, so you should go and bring some back for him. I’ll find some blankets and pillows so that you can stay on the sofa.”
“Right,” his father says, a little awkwardly, “I’ll go do that, then.”
There’s a long silence, and Yamato’s sure he can hear the two of them shuffling and looking anywhere else except at each other’s faces, and god knows they shouldn’t have come up with a plan to stay over if they couldn’t sit in a room together.
His father speaks first. Yamato can hear a little bit of a tremor in his voice. “They did good today, you know? I know it doesn’t feel like it, but things would be a lot worse if they hadn’t - …”
“I know,” his mother says, a little sharply. “I just don’t know how many times I’m going to have to wonder if one of my children isn’t coming back. I saw - Well, it doesn’t matter who I saw. Go get those clothes.”
Yamato hears the door open and shut, and glances at Tsunomon. Still fast asleep. Rubbing his hands over his face, he grabs his digivice, slides it onto his belt, and heads for the door.
Their father’s there. Of course he is, it’s his job, and Yamato can see their mother a little further off, interviewing people and taking notes. They both catch sight of them at the same time, and Yamato sees Takeru give them his best unflappable smile.
Yamato doesn’t bother. Covered in dust and grime, bruises starting to mottle his face where he landed against the ground, Tsunomon cradled asleep under his arm - there’s no point pretending to be fine. Instead he tips his chin up and hardens his gaze, because he can at least look like he’s in control.
Yamato tries to insist that he’d rather go back to his own home, but nobody else goes for it. No, his mother’s apartment is closer, and it has a guest room (‘And the sofa’s comfier,’) and nobody talks about how they’re only going there because everyone’s shaken up over the destruction of Balette Town, and neither parent can stand to leave either of their boys right now.
When they get there, it takes all three of them to get him to sit down long enough for Doctor Kido - Jyou’s father, not his brother, who is also Doctor Kido and who is apparently already on his way to hospital to deal with an influx of patients - to arrive and check him over. The man’s basically Jyou scaled slightly up, and he has all of the Kido family bedside manner, which means that Yamato spends twenty minutes being poked and prodded just to make sure.
Eventually, Doctor Kido says something about bruises, scrapes, and a few shallow cuts (which he quickly plasters as he finds them). The worst of it are some bruised ribs (“I don’t think they’re cracked, but take it easy anyway.”), and some minor soft tissue damage. No broken bones, nothing that a few weeks rest won’t deal with.
He hasn’t even finished his last sentence when Yamato stands up and crosses to the guest room without taking off his shoes, ignores his father hollering for him to sit down, and shuts the door behind him.
(“Ever the charming patient,” Doctor Kido remarks wryly once the door is shut. “Hiroaki, you have my number. Now, Takeru …”)
He settles Tsunomon onto the armchair, drops his digivice down next to him, and then drops onto the bed without bothering to take off his jacket or shoes.
He doesn’t sleep.
Or he doesn’t think he sleeps, at least, but somewhere down the line, as he’s listening to his parents make phone calls and avoid talking to each other, day turns to night, and he can’t remember exactly when.
The phone calls stop eventually. He hears his mother let out a quiet sigh. He shuts his eyes for a moment.
“Shit, you probably haven’t eaten all day, have you? I’ll make … er …” His father trails off, and Yamato can almost hear his mother’s eyebrow rising. “... A phone call to a pizza place. Who knows, maybe the smell will rouse the four of them.”
“Actually,” his mother says after a moment, “if the two of you are going to be staying over, then Yamato’s going to need some clothes that aren’t - anyway, I don’t think Takeru’s clothes are going to fit him, so you should go and bring some back for him. I’ll find some blankets and pillows so that you can stay on the sofa.”
“Right,” his father says, a little awkwardly, “I’ll go do that, then.”
There’s a long silence, and Yamato’s sure he can hear the two of them shuffling and looking anywhere else except at each other’s faces, and god knows they shouldn’t have come up with a plan to stay over if they couldn’t sit in a room together.
His father speaks first. Yamato can hear a little bit of a tremor in his voice. “They did good today, you know? I know it doesn’t feel like it, but things would be a lot worse if they hadn’t - …”
“I know,” his mother says, a little sharply. “I just don’t know how many times I’m going to have to wonder if one of my children isn’t coming back. I saw - Well, it doesn’t matter who I saw. Go get those clothes.”
Yamato hears the door open and shut, and glances at Tsunomon. Still fast asleep. Rubbing his hands over his face, he grabs his digivice, slides it onto his belt, and heads for the door.