Yamato Ishida (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2020-01-27 09:41 pm
angry_friendship_wolf) wrote2020-01-27 09:41 pm
[tri OOM] Dork Sun and Dweeb Moon
The first day of the voyage is surprisingly uneventful. Yamato does see a few Muchomon wandering around, chattering about how they can’t wait to start shoving Penmon around, and it reminds him again that he really needs to provide some advance warning.
The ship’s corridors and cabins are a little too confined for his taste, though, and being stuck on the open water, simultaneously stuck on a slow moving ship with no space to move freely and exposed to attack on all sides, has him twitchier than usual. After all, the last time they tried an ocean trip, they all nearly died.
Going out on deck helps. Well, it helps a little.
He’s out on the stern, watching the foam trail behind the ship, when Taichi ambles out to join him. He mentally braces himself for some dumb Titanic joke, but it never actually comes.
“You okay?” Taichi asks instead.
“Just thinking,” Yamato replies. “Once we get to File Island, the Mystery Man’s going to throw everything he has at us, we can be pretty sure of that.”
“Guess you better start thinking up a plan, then.”
“I’m trying.”
Taichi chuckles, moving alongside him and resting his arms across the railing, leaning over them to peer over the edge. Yamato absently grabs the back of his t-shirt, just in case he goes tumbling straight into the sea.
“... If I offered you the goggles,” Taichi says nonchalantly after a few moments. “Would you take them?”
Where the hell did that come from? Yamato furrows his brow, staring out at the horizon.
“No.”
“Geez, Yama, you’re meant to say yes.”
“Well, I’m saying no. You’re our leader.”
“Right, but …” Taichi sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair. “What if. What if … I maybe wasn’t around. For a few years.”
Yamato’s frown deepens. He’s outright avoiding looking at Taichi now, stubbornly looking anywhere else. At least the sea doesn’t say weird things.
“You’re leaving us?” He’s surprised by how bitter he sounds about that. There’s a part of him which angrily, resentfully realises that Taichi’s been on track for … whatever this is … since the day those Kuwagamon attacked.
“No,” Taichi says quickly. Yamato grimaces at exactly how fast he says that, that Taichi must have realised even before he came over that this would bounce around Yamato’s abandonment issues like a game of pinball at triple speed. “No, Yama, I’d never leave any of you, c’mon. Hell, we’re fusion partners, I’m pretty sure no matter how far I go, I’ll still be tuning into your dumb music dreams when I try to get a nap.”
Yamato cracks a smile at that. “Then …”
“There’s a, er, program. Run by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, for … foreign affairs-y diplomacy-y stuff? And it involves studying in the US for three or four years,” Taichi says awkwardly. “I’ll still be around, I’ll be back in the summer and at Christmas, and I’ll be texting all of you dumb shit every day, and you -- have a supersonic jet wolf, Yamato, you can visit. But I won’t be in Japan, and it’d be difficult to lead the team from abroad.”
Yamato actually does look at him now, staring at him to try to figure out if he’s joking. He isn’t. Of course he isn’t.
“... You want to be a politician?”
“You want to strap yourself into a thin piece of metal and catapult yourself through the air?”
“You want to be a politician?”
“I want,” Taichi says, aggrieved, “to find a better way than fighting. Every time we go into battle, I wonder if this is going to be the fight where one of us gets killed, or where we can’t save people in time, because I know that fight is coming. Law of averages says that one of us dies sooner or later. Law of averages says that it’ll probably be you.”
Yamato stares at him for a few moments more, trying to make sense of that. The idea that one of them could die isn’t new to him, he’s always known that, but the idea that it’s inevitable is -- it doesn’t make sense to him.
He loops an arm around Taichi’s shoulders, shoving a fist against his hair. “Can’t wait for you to become a backstabbing viper of a politician, Yagami.”
“Can’t wait for you to become an insufferably arrogant fighter jock, Ishida.”
Yamato grins. “You’ll be great, you know that? You really will,” he says. “But as for me being … whatever, interim leader until you get back, you know I can’t do that.”
“I know you can do that, that’s why I’m asking,” Taichi replies stubbornly. “There were even odds that you’d respond to this by throwing me overboard, Yama, I wouldn’t take that risk if I wasn’t sure. You’re my pick. You’re the only person I would pick for this.”
“The last time I led a team on my own, we all split up, Jyou became an indentured servant, Koushiro had his curiosity stolen, and Mimi became a despot,” Yamato says flatly. “Remember? I suggested you for leader because I fucked it up.”
“No,” Taichi says. “The last time you led a team on your own was just now, when we were all separated, and you saved two towns, rescued two hostages, and kept that team alive and together. The time before that all of you split up, because you were eleven years old, thought I was dead, and were grieving.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t grieving, every time I think you’re dead I hope it’s going to stick,” Yamato says. “And it never does.”
“Har har.”
Yamato sighs, pulling his arm from Taichi’s shoulders and leaning heavily on the railing. “I’m not you, y’know. I can’t … inspire the team the same way you do.”
“You inspire the team all the time, you’re just too dense to realise it,” Taichi replies. “So don’t give me that. Just trust me when I say I’ve spent months thinking about this, and it’s always been you. Not to sound cocky or anything, but I’m a tough act to follow, it takes someone pretty special to fill my shoes.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Taichi snickers childishly, knocking his shoulder against Yamato’s. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think about it. Oh, and Yamato?”
“Yeah?”
Taichi prods his arm. “Did you -- did you think I wouldn’t notice the massive new scar? Did you think I wouldn’t ask Koushiro about how you got it? I’m going to tell Jyou, and if he doesn’t drown you, then you’re on laundry duty for just … just forever, man.”
“I hate you so much.”
“I’m going to tell Sora too,” Taichi chirps. “Good luck.”
The ship’s corridors and cabins are a little too confined for his taste, though, and being stuck on the open water, simultaneously stuck on a slow moving ship with no space to move freely and exposed to attack on all sides, has him twitchier than usual. After all, the last time they tried an ocean trip, they all nearly died.
Going out on deck helps. Well, it helps a little.
He’s out on the stern, watching the foam trail behind the ship, when Taichi ambles out to join him. He mentally braces himself for some dumb Titanic joke, but it never actually comes.
“You okay?” Taichi asks instead.
“Just thinking,” Yamato replies. “Once we get to File Island, the Mystery Man’s going to throw everything he has at us, we can be pretty sure of that.”
“Guess you better start thinking up a plan, then.”
“I’m trying.”
Taichi chuckles, moving alongside him and resting his arms across the railing, leaning over them to peer over the edge. Yamato absently grabs the back of his t-shirt, just in case he goes tumbling straight into the sea.
“... If I offered you the goggles,” Taichi says nonchalantly after a few moments. “Would you take them?”
Where the hell did that come from? Yamato furrows his brow, staring out at the horizon.
“No.”
“Geez, Yama, you’re meant to say yes.”
“Well, I’m saying no. You’re our leader.”
“Right, but …” Taichi sighs, rubbing a hand through his hair. “What if. What if … I maybe wasn’t around. For a few years.”
Yamato’s frown deepens. He’s outright avoiding looking at Taichi now, stubbornly looking anywhere else. At least the sea doesn’t say weird things.
“You’re leaving us?” He’s surprised by how bitter he sounds about that. There’s a part of him which angrily, resentfully realises that Taichi’s been on track for … whatever this is … since the day those Kuwagamon attacked.
“No,” Taichi says quickly. Yamato grimaces at exactly how fast he says that, that Taichi must have realised even before he came over that this would bounce around Yamato’s abandonment issues like a game of pinball at triple speed. “No, Yama, I’d never leave any of you, c’mon. Hell, we’re fusion partners, I’m pretty sure no matter how far I go, I’ll still be tuning into your dumb music dreams when I try to get a nap.”
Yamato cracks a smile at that. “Then …”
“There’s a, er, program. Run by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, for … foreign affairs-y diplomacy-y stuff? And it involves studying in the US for three or four years,” Taichi says awkwardly. “I’ll still be around, I’ll be back in the summer and at Christmas, and I’ll be texting all of you dumb shit every day, and you -- have a supersonic jet wolf, Yamato, you can visit. But I won’t be in Japan, and it’d be difficult to lead the team from abroad.”
Yamato actually does look at him now, staring at him to try to figure out if he’s joking. He isn’t. Of course he isn’t.
“... You want to be a politician?”
“You want to strap yourself into a thin piece of metal and catapult yourself through the air?”
“You want to be a politician?”
“I want,” Taichi says, aggrieved, “to find a better way than fighting. Every time we go into battle, I wonder if this is going to be the fight where one of us gets killed, or where we can’t save people in time, because I know that fight is coming. Law of averages says that one of us dies sooner or later. Law of averages says that it’ll probably be you.”
Yamato stares at him for a few moments more, trying to make sense of that. The idea that one of them could die isn’t new to him, he’s always known that, but the idea that it’s inevitable is -- it doesn’t make sense to him.
He loops an arm around Taichi’s shoulders, shoving a fist against his hair. “Can’t wait for you to become a backstabbing viper of a politician, Yagami.”
“Can’t wait for you to become an insufferably arrogant fighter jock, Ishida.”
Yamato grins. “You’ll be great, you know that? You really will,” he says. “But as for me being … whatever, interim leader until you get back, you know I can’t do that.”
“I know you can do that, that’s why I’m asking,” Taichi replies stubbornly. “There were even odds that you’d respond to this by throwing me overboard, Yama, I wouldn’t take that risk if I wasn’t sure. You’re my pick. You’re the only person I would pick for this.”
“The last time I led a team on my own, we all split up, Jyou became an indentured servant, Koushiro had his curiosity stolen, and Mimi became a despot,” Yamato says flatly. “Remember? I suggested you for leader because I fucked it up.”
“No,” Taichi says. “The last time you led a team on your own was just now, when we were all separated, and you saved two towns, rescued two hostages, and kept that team alive and together. The time before that all of you split up, because you were eleven years old, thought I was dead, and were grieving.”
“Believe me, I wasn’t grieving, every time I think you’re dead I hope it’s going to stick,” Yamato says. “And it never does.”
“Har har.”
Yamato sighs, pulling his arm from Taichi’s shoulders and leaning heavily on the railing. “I’m not you, y’know. I can’t … inspire the team the same way you do.”
“You inspire the team all the time, you’re just too dense to realise it,” Taichi replies. “So don’t give me that. Just trust me when I say I’ve spent months thinking about this, and it’s always been you. Not to sound cocky or anything, but I’m a tough act to follow, it takes someone pretty special to fill my shoes.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
Taichi snickers childishly, knocking his shoulder against Yamato’s. “You don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think about it. Oh, and Yamato?”
“Yeah?”
Taichi prods his arm. “Did you -- did you think I wouldn’t notice the massive new scar? Did you think I wouldn’t ask Koushiro about how you got it? I’m going to tell Jyou, and if he doesn’t drown you, then you’re on laundry duty for just … just forever, man.”
“I hate you so much.”
“I’m going to tell Sora too,” Taichi chirps. “Good luck.”