Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Matter of Perspective ❯ Takeru ( Chapter 17 )

DISCLAIMER: Toei Animation owns Digimon Adventure 02, but I'm pleased to say that I've recently purchased the last ten or so books in the K.A. Applegate's Animorphs series. (Still missing Book 39, Book 45, Book 51, Book 53, and Book 54; yes, those are non-sequential numbers. That's because I bought everything Barnes & Noble had, and they didn't have those crucial books.) I don't think Toei would sue me just to get my Animorphs collection, especially since it's in English, but I guess you never can tell with big corporations. All rights reserved.

A/N: I just thought I would give you all fair warning that Yamato's probably going to be a little irritating in this installment -- more so if you were annoyed with her in either of the last two. This is the end of an unpleasant character arc (the last phase of denial), so please be patient with her. We're only one part away from the real taito now. Fic is very close to ending at this point...only another seven parts to go. Which actually doesn't sound that close now that I count it out, but is still much more than halfway.

The weird thing was how totally relaxed Takeru had felt right before he heard the doorbell ring. Lounging comfortably in his bed with plenty of junk food and the very last issue of Megami Kouhosei, not to mention a really good movie due to start in less than half an hour? Oh, yes. It didn't get much better than this. So what if he'd been turned into a girl? He had a girlfriend who still loved him every bit as much, and -- once you got used to the whole skirt thing -- school was actually much easier now. Hooray for teachers and their ridiculously low expectations where transfer students were concerned.

Being around the other people was a little weird, though. How could anyone get used to walking right past guys who used to try and beat you up without them even paying attention? And it was kind of nice to meet girls without getting that skeptical look like he had asked for a date. Well...nice meeting most girls. Hamasaki-san had never acted anything less than angelic around Takashi Takeru, but she was far less charming in her dealings with 'Kouseki Sakuya' -- even taking the new girl aside to explain patiently that if she even so much as thought about getting a popular boyfriend, she would live to regret it.

It was probably a good thing that Takeru didn't really want a popular boyfriend. Hamasaki-san had the sort of influential parents that could and would at their daughter's request do a thorough background check on his invented persona. Considering that her name was really something of a private joke (Kouseki was just another way of reading the characters for 'Takaishi'), that would have been disastrous. Okay, so between the combined efforts of Jyou and Koushirou, Sakuya had the right papers and her old elementary school at least knew of her existence, but Koushirou had said at the beginning that this wasn't really intended to hold up under anything more than a cursory examination.

At that very moment, just as Takeru was wondering whether he had the energy to get up and grab himself a soda, the doorbell rang. He groaned involuntarily. It wasn't as if he'd invited anyone over, and his mother wasn't even home from work yet. Why should he have to go all the way to the door just to tell someone to come back later? Snuggling deeper into his bed and feeling very defiant somehow, Takeru decided to ignore it.

"Takeryu? Why aren't you answering the door?"

He didn't have to look up to know Patamon was hovering over his head. The apartment was empty except for him and his digimon. Besides, no one else had ever pronounced his name that way. Blindly, Takeru reached up and snatched him out of the air. Patamon landed in his lap with a tiny squeak of protest, and then started tugging on his shirt.

"You can't just ignore them, they'll get upset!"

"Make Oniichan get it," he mumbled. "I'm comfortable."

The little digimon stopped tugging quite suddenly. "Takeryu, I can't. Your brother isn't here."

When he realized what he'd said, Takeru shook himself violently. He knew that, of course. Their parents were divorced. Their parents had been divorced for years now. Even the Keeper of Hope wasn't optimistic enough to think that would ever get back together again. So he put the thought firmly out of his mind and slowly struggled to his feet. Maybe he'd been a little too comfortable. It wasn't the sort of mistake he made when he was fully alert.

Halfway down the hall, Takeru woke up the rest of the way. After all, he thought he'd just heard the sound of someone opening his front door. Patamon confirmed it, landing hard on his shoulder and quivering. They didn't leave extra keys outside. But no one with a key would've knocked first. He must have left it unlocked when he got home from school, but he was usually so careful about their door. His mother insisted on it. "Takeru, I know we live in a nice neighborhood, but I don't ever want you opening the door to anyone you don't know. It's just not safe."

He had always rolled his eyes, because that seemed sort of paranoid to him. Now, as he crept quietly back to his room to get his baseball bat from the closet, he wasn't so sure. Maybe he could knock this guy unconscious and then go for help. He almost laughed at his own fear. Evil digimon who wanted to destroy the whole world he could handle -- but possible burglars sent him screaming for his mommy. Of course, he had always had Patamon to back him up in the Digital World...

"Takeryu? Should I try evolving to Angemon?"

...and he had him now, too. The sheer force of 'duh' was enough to make him wish he could just bury his head in the sand and never come out again. Thank god Daisuke wasn't here to see this. "Um...no, that's okay," he said after a minute of thought. "That'd be slightly obvious. But get ready, little buddy. Just in case I need your help."

The person in his entranceway was doing something that involved the soft rustle of fabric. Taking off his or her coat. Why would a burglar bother with social niceties? Didn't matter. He would get a good look at whoever it was in a few more seconds. Five...four...three...two...

"Takeru?" Yamato asked in a puzzled sort of voice. Bent over in the act of taking off her shoes. "What are you doing with that bat?"

It was his brother. Or sister, really. She had a dress on, after all. Suddenly, Takeru was very glad he hadn't gone ahead and told Patamon to evolve. He shifted the baseball bat behind his back as casually as he possibly could. "Um...nothing. How did you get in?"

"Mom gave me a key, remember?" She scowled at him pointedly. "Which I shouldn't have had to use, since you're obviously home."

He shrugged, unrepentant. Give Yamato this much: the dress actually looked good on her. It made him feel weird and self-conscious in his own clothes. But he was pretty sure she would've done the same thing if her original clothes still fit. "I was comfortable. Besides, if you'd bothered to let me know you were coming over, I would've gotten up."

They went into the living room with Yamato laughing. She let him win that round, and then steered their conversation into such fascinating topics as the weather this week and how he had done on his recent test. It made Takeru deeply uncomfortable. He and his brother were close, in spite of the divorce and in spite of growing up -- too close for him to not notice that she kept changing the subject whenever he tried to ask her what she was doing here.

"Stop that," he said after the tenth time. "You do know you're just making me more suspicious, right?"

She startled guiltily in a way that just could not possibly have been a good sign. "Oh, um..." Flounder, flounder. Yamato ducked her head as if to collect her thoughts, and when she lifted it was very serious and quiet. "First, I have to know. Is Mom home yet?"

Okay, and that was definitely not a good sign. Wait. Did this mean she was actually going to tell him something important for once in her life? He wasn't 'too young to know' anymore? His anticipation was mixed with sudden fear. What could possibly be bad enough that Ishida Yamato would risk sharing it with him?

"No," he said at last. He met her eyes, trying to make himself look both loving and supportive. She might need it.

This seemed to reassure Yamato, but then she glanced at the digimon still sitting on his shoulder and frowned. "Patamon, I kind of want to talk to my brother alone for a while. Is that okay with you?"

Patamon leaned forward to check his expression, but he left quickly enough when Takeru nodded. Obviously, his sister didn't really need an audience for whatever she was about to say. Not something that helped his nervousness in the least. Yamato was actually talking to him and she didn't want his digimon to hear it? How much worse could things get at this point? Then his sister spoke, and Takeru realized that things could get a lot worse.

"...I think I'm losing myself."

The words didn't really penetrate. "What do you mean? You're right here," he blurted like an idiot. Panicking internally.

But she didn't seem to care about her little brother's babble. "Music is my life, Takeru. I don't like a lot of the stuff that comes with it, but I've always told my band that the day I stopped being able to enjoy my music would be the day I died." She closed her eyes tightly and drew a sharp breath. "I died last night. During the concert. Maybe it showed and maybe it didn't, but...my fingers were so numb by the end of it. I could barely even play my guitar. Do...do you know that the whole thing was Taichi's idea? Did he tell you or the others?"

Even as he shook his head, Takeru could not help noticing the weird stress on her best friend's name. He didn't think he'd ever heard her say it quite in that tone of voice before. She wasn't exactly pleased. Not angry or frustrated. Almost admiring, but most definitely nervous at the same time. Excited? Well, what she actually reminded him of was the way the other girls sounded asking whether Hikari thought some boy liked them. Which would sort of imply that his sister...had a crush on Taichi. Finally. He tried not to stare at her. Please let this be what Oniichan wanted to talk about. That much, I could handle.

"Well, he didn't tell me, either," she was saying with more familiar irritation. "I don't think he even really wanted me to know. Takeru..." Yamato paused and bit her lip; seemed to argue with herself internally. "He said he loved me."

That sounded promising. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," his sister agreed. She was chewing steadily on her lip now. "It...confused me. I know I should've been upset -- I mean, Taichi's only my best friend. He's a guy. But that's not how I felt at all. Just...confused." Then Yamato laughed a slightly bitter laugh. "What's the matter with me, Takeru? I never would have felt confused before. Flattered, maybe. Sympathetic. But not confused."

She had a slightly crooked smile on her face, gazing at him through her bangs expectantly as if he should find her misery amusing. Takeru reached over and took one of her small white hands in both of his own, just squeezing it gently. Some freak of the transformation meant that he and Yamato were about the same size now, so even as he thought this Takeru knew that his hands were really every bit as small. It made him feel powerless to help her.

"And..." The other girl returned his grip, but in such a way that he found himself wondering whether she thought he wanted her to squeeze as hard as she hurt. "And it's not just Taichi. It's everything. I mean, I've been using the girls' locker room at school, okay? There are naked girls all around me every day, and I don't care. Sora probably thinks I'm just pretending not to or something, but I really don't. I can look right at them, and I still don't feel..." At this point, Yamato seemed to abruptly remember who she was talking to. "I don't feel anything."

He rolled his eyes in tolerant irritation. "Right. I'm a big boy now, Oniichan. You can say 'turned on' in front of me."

Maybe he shouldn't have told her that. It obviously hadn't helped his sister's embarrassment. She ripped her hand out of his. "Yeah, well..." she muttered. "This is hard enough already, okay? So why don't you just get off my back for three seconds."

"Why even bother telling me?" Takeru shot back. Knowing he wasn't really being fair but so completely sick of this treatment. "I'm just your baby brother, remember? So why did you even come here?"

"Because you're the only one who might understand what I'm going through!" his sister exploded unexpectedly. "God, Takeru...you got turned into a girl, too. I guess I thought -- thought that maybe the same thing might be happening to you."

They stared at each other, neither one speaking for a moment. Takeru lowered his eyes first. He couldn't help feeling guilty. She had come to him because she needed his support, and this was how he responded... He cleared his throat and tried again to take Yamato's hand. "That sort of depends, doesn't it? What exactly is happening to you?"

Heavy sigh. At least she hadn't shoved him away. "I don't know. I mean, I do know, but...look, the thing about not really being all that...interested in girls? It...it goes both ways."

He blinked rapidly, wondering. Jeez, if his sister meant that the way it sounded, maybe he wouldn't have to do much convincing. "You mean..."

"I keep having these thoughts," Yamato continued as if he hadn't said anything. She still looked desperately embarrassed, but the words were flowing more easily now. "About -- about men. I'll be talking to one of the others or even the guys in my band, and then suddenly I'm wondering whether they think I'm cute this way. Whether they'd want to do things. Little things, sure, but completely out of nowhere. It's really hard to concentrate sometimes."

"Oh, well," he began, not at all knowing what would come after that. He hadn't experienced anything like what his sister was describing, but apart from telling her that the only thing he could think of to do was get up and dance. Taichi had been so miserable for so long...

And yet, there was a haunted look in her eyes that prevented him from actually climbing to his feet. "I thought...that maybe it was normal at first. I mean," her lips quirked into a wry smirk, "I am a girl now, so that sort of thing is just to be expected. Not as if I even really wanted what I was thinking about, right?" It faded away; left Yamato looking barren and vulnerable. "Except for Taichi, who won't get out of my goddamned head. Maybe because he said he loved me...?"

"Err," Takeru replied in his most helpful voice. Definitely beginning to wonder at this point whether simply keeping his mouth shut was the best thing he could do for her.

Already, his sister was shooting down her own suggestion. "But, if I'm honest with myself, this didn't start on Wednesday. It started on Sunday." Yamato's hands twitched spasmodically; reaching for guitar strings that weren't anywhere near them. She probably would have been much more comfortable working through her feelings in a song. "And it isn't just thoughts with Taichi. I -- we've -- done more than that. I've kissed him, Takeru, and he's kissed back. And I was so messed up the other day that I even wanted..." A hint of color in her pale face.

She didn't seem all that inclined to finish her sentence, but only an idiot wouldn't have figured out what she meant. Not like Takeru didn't feel plenty idiotic at the moment. Somewhere, buried in this situation, was a smooth and extremely clever way to lure his sister into accepting herself. He could sense it, practically even taste it. And he had the maddening notion that it was right there in front of his face, so close it all but scraped his nose. So why the hell couldn't he see it?

Where was Hikari when you really needed her?

Had to take a wild stab in the dark and hope he got lucky. He didn't have any other options. "What happened? I mean, obviously you stopped."

"He stopped me," Yamato corrected bluntly. "Thank god for that much. We're still friends. Barely. Hanging by a single thread." She put her head in her hands and dug trembling fingers into her face as if she were only just resisting the urge to claw it off. "But I'm so afraid I'll do it again. Royally screw over everything. Takeru, he said he loved me! If I gave him another opportunity, why wouldn't he take it?"

Her voice just kept rising, both in volume and pitch. She was full-on panicking now. Looking at him desperately between sentences like he could make everything better if only he tried.

Except that he was trying. Just not succeeding.

When you can't think of anything subtle...

Last resort.

"Would that really be so bad?" he asked conversationally. "If he took the opportunity, I mean. You miss him, don't you? And the attraction is obvious. What's the worst that could happen?"

His sister's answer stunned him. "I could ruin the rest of my life. Yes, I miss Taichi. God, I miss him more than I've ever missed anyone or anything but you. And part of me actually wanted to say yes when he...but I'm not going to be like this forever! Sooner or later, Koushirou will figure something out. What do you think happens then?"

He barked out an angry laugh. "Is that what you think? That it's all about being a girl?"

"Yes," Yamato said. Quiet but intense. "Maybe I've never really had sex with a girl, but it has to be better than the alternative."

Even in the middle of their grave conversation, he found himself laughing again -- more genuinely this time. "You're a virgin? You? What, did Sora-san go all religious or something?"

"I never said I was a virgin."

Silence. Absolute and total silence. Yamato snapped her mouth shut as if she could somehow trap the words before they escaped, and he stared at her. Not quite sure he seriously believed what he had just heard. If what she'd said before was true (and why would anyone lie about that?), his sister could only have lost her virginity in one way. Which didn't even begin to make sense.

"When?" Simple question.

For a minute, Yamato looked as if she might not answer. Then she shook her head slowly. "Years ago. Look, there was this party -- this college party. One of Akira's brothers got the whole band in, despite the fact that we were all way too young for it. And your jealousy is really transparent, Takeru. Don't be. I wish he hadn't."

"...You never told me."

"It's not the kind of thing you announce."

Well, that was certainly true enough. More silence, and Yamato's hands twitched again. He watched them vacantly. Wishing he'd kept his face from showing her that split second of irrational jealousy. It wasn't even about the party itself, just the thought of how his own mother probably would never have let him go to one even when he was in college. At the same time, knowing that his father let Yamato get away with these things because he never paid attention. And considering his next question -- whether it would just come across as too rude or invasive. "Oniichan...do you mind...I mean, can I ask who he was?"

A flash of something crossed his sister's face too quickly for him to identify. "You can ask, but I don't really know. See, after my third drink, things kind of blurred together. He probably did tell me his name at some point, but -- well, that's not one of the details I remember. He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere so that we could talk and I really just agreed to get away from all the noise that was giving me a serious headache. Then it's just disjointed images, and they don't make a whole lot of sense."

Which, Takeru realized almost immediately, was a lie. Whatever else she might have remembered, she didn't want to share it with him. Not that he had trouble understanding that. It wasn't as if he rushed home to tell his mother the details of his sex life. "How old were you?"

Another flash. Gone again. "Fifteen."

"Fifteen?!" he all but shrieked. "What sort of a creep molests a fifteen-year-old?!"

"Oh, he didn't know," she told him in what was obviously meant to be a reassuring sort of voice. "There weren't really supposed to be any kids there. Besides, when I was fifteen, people constantly mistook me for older. If it makes you feel any better, he panicked when he found out the next morning. Called me jailbait." Ghost of a smile. "It was a mistake, Takeru. On all our parts."

The words were out of his mouth before he'd really had time to think about them. "Are you sure about that?"

"What do you mean?"

He should have heard the strange intonation. Should've left it at that, before he crossed a line he wouldn't be able to uncross. But he didn't hear it, and so he kept talking. "Oh, nothing. I just thought alcohol was supposed to lower inhibitions."

Colors swirled nauseatingly, and only then did Takeru notice the sting in his cheek. He had a sharp metallic taste in his mouth, from where he'd bitten down on his own tongue when his sister's clenched fist connected. The urge to say something nasty and entirely untrue about hitting like a girl rose temptingly, but drained away when he realized Yamato was already heading for the door. He staggered to his feet. Shook off the dizziness, and spat out words he thought might make her stay. "Where are you going? Don't tell me you seriously think you can run from this."

She stiffened, but did not turn to look at him. Spoke through gritted teeth. "I'm not running from anything."

"Bullshit!" he thundered. The sickness made him mad. Yamato had never, never laid a hand on him before -- not even when they were little kids and he got on his big brother's nerves. He didn't like what this was doing to her. "Let me tell you something, brother of mine: Hikari-chan and I are actually closer now because of what happened to me, and I sure as hell haven't started sucking face with Daisuke-kun. So you can repress this all you want, but stop trying to blame the stupid body! You're gay. And deep down inside, I think you already know that."

"...Are you done?" Her voice was quavering, either with suppressed anger or suppressed tears.

"Yeah." The rush of adrenaline had exhausted him. "I guess I am."

"Okay, then." And Yamato left without another word.

Standing in the entranceway alone, Takeru was suddenly struck by the thought that maybe this was why his sister never came to him with her problems. With the anger slowly draining away and the horrible creeping realization that he had probably only made things worse, he turned back towards his bedroom and felt, for the first time in several years, that maybe he wasn't quite so grownup after all.

End of Part Seventeen.