Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2018-01-01 10:07 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2018-01-01 10:07 pm
[01 OOM] Digitamamon's Diner, Yamato's Side
Jyou is bad at this.
It’s not just how he can’t stop himself chatting to customers, or how he can barely cook to save his life, it’s also that he seems to be followed by a cloud of catastrophe that turns everything he goes near into a disaster.
The older boy’s out of his element, and Yamato chalks it up to how badly Jyou copes when he’s out of his element. When they arrived in the Digital World, Jyou barely stopped talking about how the adults would be along to rescue them, and had alternated between insisting that every Digimon they met was a detailed animatronic, and panicking over the slightest hint of danger.
When they arrived, Jyou was everything Yamato didn’t like in people: A stickler for the rules; somehow both self-important and cripplingly self-deprecating; perpetually fearful and anxious.
But he also kept one eye on Takeru’s safety at all times, and cared for him like it was his responsibility as much as Yamato’s; diligently patched up every injury they got, however minor; and whenever a crisis hit, Jyou’s bravery was outmatched only by Taichi’s -- he might be shaking in every limb as he did it, but he and Ikkakumon were always right there on the front line. Jyou’s sense of duty was second to none, and when the chips were down, Yamato had seen it override every flaw he had.
Having someone who he could rely on in any circumstance had been comforting enough that Yamato maybe hadn’t hated having Jyou around. Maybe. He’d missed him when he was gone, at least.
So, Yamato worked, and quietly swept up after Jyou, because even if the other boy was clumsy, at least he was always doing his best.
After three days, though, he needed to get back to Takeru, and he took an opportunity to take Digitamamon to one side.
“I need to leave, just for a day,” he said. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll be happy to keep working for you, I just need to check on my brother.”
Digitamamon’s eyes had narrowed in the crack in his shell. “Eh? You promised to work, not to swan off on a social trip. Any leave has to be filed for six weeks in advance.”
“I’ll be right back, I just need to check on my brother.”
“Is that right? I guess you don’t care about what happens to your friend in the meantime, then,” Digitamamon had said. “Well, go on, then.”
Yamato straightened up, eyebrows rising. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out. The kid’s just so clumsy, you know?” Digitamamon said. “And if you’re gone, I’ll be free to do whatever I like to him.”
Yamato had reached to his digivice on instinct when Digitamamon shook his head (well, shell).
“Don’t bother. I’m a Perfect-level Digimon, you know? You can’t break this egg,” he said. “And the moment Veggiemon hears any fighting, he’ll have a vine around the scrawny kid’s throat before you can say ‘chicken jalfrezi.’”
“Yamato, what do we do?” Gabumon had asked, wringing his paws.
Yamato hadn’t seen any choice but to relent, so that’s what he did, going back to the diner and vowing to work twice as hard to clear the debt.
No matter how hard he worked, Jyou’s mistakes seemed to match him measure for measure, always managing to get enough orders wrong or break enough dishes to undo all of Yamato’s work.
---
On the eighth day, Jyou catches Yamato midway through his shift.
“Maybe you should leave,” Jyou says “Takeru must be worried.”
Yamato doesn’t say anything, staring at the stove in front of him, but Gabumon is quick to respond in his stead.
“It’ll be fine! Takeru has lots of food, and Tokomon,” Gabumon says. “And we’ll have worked off the debt any day now!”
“Right, I’m just … I’m sorry for keeping you here,” Jyou says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Yamato still doesn’t say anything. He hears Jyou leave to start taking orders, and for the rest of the evening until their shift ends, they work with as little conversation as possible.
As Jyou heads to their impromptu sleeping quarters in the boiler room, Yamato ducks out for some fresh air, heading down to the lake’s shore on his own, and plucking out his harmonica to play.
He’s been playing the same tune over and over for ten minutes when a small, round shape flutters down nearby.
“That’s a beautiful melody,” the shape says, moving forward a little so that Yamato can see batlike wings and yellow eyes.
“Who are you?”
“Just a Digimon passing by. Name’s PicoDevimon,” the shape says. “Seems like you’re burdened with some pretty heavy troubles.”
“How would you know?”
PicoDevimon waves a wing. “That melody of yours doesn’t lie. Besides, I’m a regular at the diner. You might have seen me around!”
Now that Yamato thinks about it, he has. Not in the diner itself, and Yamato’s usually in the kitchen anyway, but he thinks he’s seen PicoDevimon out front, and maybe in the storage area around the back.
“So you know what’s been going on,” he says.
“Sure thing, kid! You’ve been sacrificing yourself for a friend,” PicoDevimon says, solemnly. “I just figure it’s a shame that your friend isn’t doing the same for you, you get me?”
“Jyou?” Yamato asks. “What about him?”
“Well, it’s just a rumour, so don’t take my word for it or anythin’,” PicoDevimon says. “But I heard he’s making mistakes on purpose.”
“What?”
“Somethin’ about being worried you’ll leave him behind. It’s probably nothin’.”
Yamato feels his chest tighten, and something a little like nausea and a little like anger roil up from his stomach. He keeps his tone as flat as possible when he talks. “Jyou wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, why would he have to worry about that, y’know? You’re a good guy,” PicoDevimon says. “Well, I’ve gotta be gettin’ home, but hey, how about I do you a solid and pass on a message to your brother, eh?”
Yamato blinks at him. “You’d do that?”
“Of course!”
“I guess -- I guess just tell him I’ll be back soon, and if he needs to find me, he should take one of the pedal boats over the lake,” Yamato says. He pauses, then, quietly: “And, er, that I miss him. I suppose.”
“Consider it done,” PicoDevimon says, saluting with one wing. “Adios!”
As he flies off, Yamato curls his hands into fists, staring at the waterfront. He’d said that Jyou wouldn’t try to make him stay, but wasn’t it Jyou who’d abandoned him and Takeru in the first place? Maybe he did have a reason to be worried, at least in his head.
It’s not just how he can’t stop himself chatting to customers, or how he can barely cook to save his life, it’s also that he seems to be followed by a cloud of catastrophe that turns everything he goes near into a disaster.
The older boy’s out of his element, and Yamato chalks it up to how badly Jyou copes when he’s out of his element. When they arrived in the Digital World, Jyou barely stopped talking about how the adults would be along to rescue them, and had alternated between insisting that every Digimon they met was a detailed animatronic, and panicking over the slightest hint of danger.
When they arrived, Jyou was everything Yamato didn’t like in people: A stickler for the rules; somehow both self-important and cripplingly self-deprecating; perpetually fearful and anxious.
But he also kept one eye on Takeru’s safety at all times, and cared for him like it was his responsibility as much as Yamato’s; diligently patched up every injury they got, however minor; and whenever a crisis hit, Jyou’s bravery was outmatched only by Taichi’s -- he might be shaking in every limb as he did it, but he and Ikkakumon were always right there on the front line. Jyou’s sense of duty was second to none, and when the chips were down, Yamato had seen it override every flaw he had.
Having someone who he could rely on in any circumstance had been comforting enough that Yamato maybe hadn’t hated having Jyou around. Maybe. He’d missed him when he was gone, at least.
So, Yamato worked, and quietly swept up after Jyou, because even if the other boy was clumsy, at least he was always doing his best.
After three days, though, he needed to get back to Takeru, and he took an opportunity to take Digitamamon to one side.
“I need to leave, just for a day,” he said. “I’ll be right back, and I’ll be happy to keep working for you, I just need to check on my brother.”
Digitamamon’s eyes had narrowed in the crack in his shell. “Eh? You promised to work, not to swan off on a social trip. Any leave has to be filed for six weeks in advance.”
“I’ll be right back, I just need to check on my brother.”
“Is that right? I guess you don’t care about what happens to your friend in the meantime, then,” Digitamamon had said. “Well, go on, then.”
Yamato straightened up, eyebrows rising. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Figure it out. The kid’s just so clumsy, you know?” Digitamamon said. “And if you’re gone, I’ll be free to do whatever I like to him.”
Yamato had reached to his digivice on instinct when Digitamamon shook his head (well, shell).
“Don’t bother. I’m a Perfect-level Digimon, you know? You can’t break this egg,” he said. “And the moment Veggiemon hears any fighting, he’ll have a vine around the scrawny kid’s throat before you can say ‘chicken jalfrezi.’”
“Yamato, what do we do?” Gabumon had asked, wringing his paws.
Yamato hadn’t seen any choice but to relent, so that’s what he did, going back to the diner and vowing to work twice as hard to clear the debt.
No matter how hard he worked, Jyou’s mistakes seemed to match him measure for measure, always managing to get enough orders wrong or break enough dishes to undo all of Yamato’s work.
---
On the eighth day, Jyou catches Yamato midway through his shift.
“Maybe you should leave,” Jyou says “Takeru must be worried.”
Yamato doesn’t say anything, staring at the stove in front of him, but Gabumon is quick to respond in his stead.
“It’ll be fine! Takeru has lots of food, and Tokomon,” Gabumon says. “And we’ll have worked off the debt any day now!”
“Right, I’m just … I’m sorry for keeping you here,” Jyou says. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Yamato still doesn’t say anything. He hears Jyou leave to start taking orders, and for the rest of the evening until their shift ends, they work with as little conversation as possible.
As Jyou heads to their impromptu sleeping quarters in the boiler room, Yamato ducks out for some fresh air, heading down to the lake’s shore on his own, and plucking out his harmonica to play.
He’s been playing the same tune over and over for ten minutes when a small, round shape flutters down nearby.
“That’s a beautiful melody,” the shape says, moving forward a little so that Yamato can see batlike wings and yellow eyes.
“Who are you?”
“Just a Digimon passing by. Name’s PicoDevimon,” the shape says. “Seems like you’re burdened with some pretty heavy troubles.”
“How would you know?”
PicoDevimon waves a wing. “That melody of yours doesn’t lie. Besides, I’m a regular at the diner. You might have seen me around!”
Now that Yamato thinks about it, he has. Not in the diner itself, and Yamato’s usually in the kitchen anyway, but he thinks he’s seen PicoDevimon out front, and maybe in the storage area around the back.
“So you know what’s been going on,” he says.
“Sure thing, kid! You’ve been sacrificing yourself for a friend,” PicoDevimon says, solemnly. “I just figure it’s a shame that your friend isn’t doing the same for you, you get me?”
“Jyou?” Yamato asks. “What about him?”
“Well, it’s just a rumour, so don’t take my word for it or anythin’,” PicoDevimon says. “But I heard he’s making mistakes on purpose.”
“What?”
“Somethin’ about being worried you’ll leave him behind. It’s probably nothin’.”
Yamato feels his chest tighten, and something a little like nausea and a little like anger roil up from his stomach. He keeps his tone as flat as possible when he talks. “Jyou wouldn’t do something like that.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, why would he have to worry about that, y’know? You’re a good guy,” PicoDevimon says. “Well, I’ve gotta be gettin’ home, but hey, how about I do you a solid and pass on a message to your brother, eh?”
Yamato blinks at him. “You’d do that?”
“Of course!”
“I guess -- I guess just tell him I’ll be back soon, and if he needs to find me, he should take one of the pedal boats over the lake,” Yamato says. He pauses, then, quietly: “And, er, that I miss him. I suppose.”
“Consider it done,” PicoDevimon says, saluting with one wing. “Adios!”
As he flies off, Yamato curls his hands into fists, staring at the waterfront. He’d said that Jyou wouldn’t try to make him stay, but wasn’t it Jyou who’d abandoned him and Takeru in the first place? Maybe he did have a reason to be worried, at least in his head.