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[tri OOM] The Night Before The Battle.
Apr. 16th, 2019 02:50 amNobody can be sure exactly when the bandits will attack. But the Monitamon scouts say that their numbers are fully amassed now, waiting at the edge of the Great Lake Area, and Yamato knows it won’t be long until they start moving.
He’s relayed as much to the rest of his team, to Lord Goemon, to the various squad leaders: Be ready, this could happen at any moment. They’re all making themselves ready in their own ways, and Yamato has found his way to the northern wall, watching the distant torchlights and playing his harmonica.
Playing the song he always plays when he’s stressed. The one that put Takeru to sleep as a baby, that he used to use to lull the Chosen off to sleep when times were difficult, the one he played when he was missing Taichi or Takeru or whoever. It’s the song he played to say goodbye to Gabumon -- the first time, when he didn’t know if they’d see each other again, and the last time, when he knew but didn’t know that they were saying goodbye at all.
“That’s a nice song.”
Gabumon. Yamato shuts his eyes, pulling the harmonica away from his mouth like the metal is suddenly scalding.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You always did like that one.”
He can’t see Gabumon, but he can feel the Digimon’s gaze on his back. As he opens his eyes again, he hears clawed footsteps, and then a weight settling against his back, and a pelt of scratchy metal fur.
“Do you want me to go?” Gabumon asks, after a moment. “After the battle, I can go back to File Island and you -- …”
“Maybe,” Yamato says, before he can stop himself. “Maybe that’d be better.”
Gabumon doesn’t say anything. Yamato can’t even tell from his breathing if anything is wrong. He doesn’t want to turn around and look, to see what kind of expression must be on Gabumon’s face right now.
“It’s not you,” he says. “It’s -- I thought I’d never see you again. I was planning on never seeing you again, I didn’t want to drag you into … this all over again. And when we met again, I was happy, and then shit hit the fan again. And you evolved. And now …”
He breathes out through his teeth. His emotions are just one confusing jumble right now, and he doesn’t know how he’s meant to sort through them.
“I don’t know how I feel now. I’m terrified, all the time, that you’re going to get hurt or killed again, and I’ll be just as powerless to stop it as I was before,” he says. “And not just you, either. Everyone on the team, my friends in the bar, everyone in town. I feel like I’m an inch away from breaking down, all of the time, and one more death is going to shove me over the edge, and if that happens I won’t be any use to anyone. And …”
He grimaces. This is going to be the hard bit.
“And I miss you. Even though you’re right here, I still miss you,” he says, shutting his eyes again. He feels Gabumon stir against his back, just a little. “We went through so much together -- hell, you had a whole life before you even met me -- and the Reboot just took it all away, and no matter what happens I can’t get it back. You’re here, but you’re still gone, but you’re here, and I don’t know if I’m meant to grieve or just move past it.”
He opens his eyes, biting back a chuckle. “It’s a contradiction, right? Part of me doesn’t even think you’re really back, and part of me is terrified of losing you again. Sorry, it doesn’t make a lot of sense even when I say it out loud.”
Gabumon is silent for a while. Yamato doesn’t want to ask what he’s thinking about, or prompt him in any way. Part of him fears what Gabumon will say, or that he might blame himself for Yamato’s failings.
Eventually: “Take me with you tomorrow,” Gabumon says. “With MetalEtemon. I’m scared too, you know? Even if we only met a few months ago, I still don’t want to lose you. We’re partners, right?”
“We’re not -- …” Yamato starts. He sighs, shaking his head. “The old you had spent thousands of years waiting, knowing that this was his destiny, but you -- you don’t have to make the same choices as him. We don’t have to be partners.”
Gabumon is quiet again. Yamato starts to reach for his harmonica, then thinks better of it, settling his hands on his lap and curling them into fists.
“You can’t come with me tomorrow,” Yamato adds. “You know you can’t. Someone needs to guard Koushiro and -- …”
“Then I should go guard Koushiro,” Gabumon says flatly. Yamato feels the Digimon rise to his feet.
“Gabumon -- …” Yamato starts, but the Digimon is already gone, nearly sprinting across the wall and down the stairs. Yamato listens to him go, and slowly, quietly lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
He just needs to make it through the battle. Just that, and then … and then he doesn’t know.
He’s relayed as much to the rest of his team, to Lord Goemon, to the various squad leaders: Be ready, this could happen at any moment. They’re all making themselves ready in their own ways, and Yamato has found his way to the northern wall, watching the distant torchlights and playing his harmonica.
Playing the song he always plays when he’s stressed. The one that put Takeru to sleep as a baby, that he used to use to lull the Chosen off to sleep when times were difficult, the one he played when he was missing Taichi or Takeru or whoever. It’s the song he played to say goodbye to Gabumon -- the first time, when he didn’t know if they’d see each other again, and the last time, when he knew but didn’t know that they were saying goodbye at all.
“That’s a nice song.”
Gabumon. Yamato shuts his eyes, pulling the harmonica away from his mouth like the metal is suddenly scalding.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “You always did like that one.”
He can’t see Gabumon, but he can feel the Digimon’s gaze on his back. As he opens his eyes again, he hears clawed footsteps, and then a weight settling against his back, and a pelt of scratchy metal fur.
“Do you want me to go?” Gabumon asks, after a moment. “After the battle, I can go back to File Island and you -- …”
“Maybe,” Yamato says, before he can stop himself. “Maybe that’d be better.”
Gabumon doesn’t say anything. Yamato can’t even tell from his breathing if anything is wrong. He doesn’t want to turn around and look, to see what kind of expression must be on Gabumon’s face right now.
“It’s not you,” he says. “It’s -- I thought I’d never see you again. I was planning on never seeing you again, I didn’t want to drag you into … this all over again. And when we met again, I was happy, and then shit hit the fan again. And you evolved. And now …”
He breathes out through his teeth. His emotions are just one confusing jumble right now, and he doesn’t know how he’s meant to sort through them.
“I don’t know how I feel now. I’m terrified, all the time, that you’re going to get hurt or killed again, and I’ll be just as powerless to stop it as I was before,” he says. “And not just you, either. Everyone on the team, my friends in the bar, everyone in town. I feel like I’m an inch away from breaking down, all of the time, and one more death is going to shove me over the edge, and if that happens I won’t be any use to anyone. And …”
He grimaces. This is going to be the hard bit.
“And I miss you. Even though you’re right here, I still miss you,” he says, shutting his eyes again. He feels Gabumon stir against his back, just a little. “We went through so much together -- hell, you had a whole life before you even met me -- and the Reboot just took it all away, and no matter what happens I can’t get it back. You’re here, but you’re still gone, but you’re here, and I don’t know if I’m meant to grieve or just move past it.”
He opens his eyes, biting back a chuckle. “It’s a contradiction, right? Part of me doesn’t even think you’re really back, and part of me is terrified of losing you again. Sorry, it doesn’t make a lot of sense even when I say it out loud.”
Gabumon is silent for a while. Yamato doesn’t want to ask what he’s thinking about, or prompt him in any way. Part of him fears what Gabumon will say, or that he might blame himself for Yamato’s failings.
Eventually: “Take me with you tomorrow,” Gabumon says. “With MetalEtemon. I’m scared too, you know? Even if we only met a few months ago, I still don’t want to lose you. We’re partners, right?”
“We’re not -- …” Yamato starts. He sighs, shaking his head. “The old you had spent thousands of years waiting, knowing that this was his destiny, but you -- you don’t have to make the same choices as him. We don’t have to be partners.”
Gabumon is quiet again. Yamato starts to reach for his harmonica, then thinks better of it, settling his hands on his lap and curling them into fists.
“You can’t come with me tomorrow,” Yamato adds. “You know you can’t. Someone needs to guard Koushiro and -- …”
“Then I should go guard Koushiro,” Gabumon says flatly. Yamato feels the Digimon rise to his feet.
“Gabumon -- …” Yamato starts, but the Digimon is already gone, nearly sprinting across the wall and down the stairs. Yamato listens to him go, and slowly, quietly lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
He just needs to make it through the battle. Just that, and then … and then he doesn’t know.
