Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Men are born soft and supple; dead they are stiff and hard.
Plants are born tender and pliant; dead, they are brittle and dry.
Thus whoever is stiff and inflexible is a disciple of death.
Whoever is soft and yielding is a disciple of life.”
– Tao Te Ching

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
— Andrew Marvell, “To His Coy Mistress”

The Kido wedding was beautiful.

The reception hall was designed to look like a European castle. The room was ringed with round dinner tables with white tablecloths – and a single long table in the center, facing the dance floor. Sunlight filtered through large stained-glass windows, throwing sapphire blues and ruby reds across the tabletops. In one corner, a small bar was already drawing a crowd.

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Sora asked.

She looked up at Yamato, but his eyes were on another corner of the room, where Gomamon was holding court with the Digimon guests. He had climbed up onto a velvet-cushioned box, and he was wearing a tiara and waving a small toy scepter about. All of the Digimon were talking excitedly, but especially Agumon and Tentomon, who had never been to a wedding before.

“Come on,” she said. “This is a happy day.”

With a hand on his elbow, she guided him to their table, where Taichi was leaning in to say something to Mimi. She threw her head back and laughed, loud and unrestrained.

“Hi, you two!” Sora said.

“Sora-san! Look at you!” Mimi waved, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You look great too, Mimi-chan,” she said.

Yamato had already taken his seat, leaving an empty chair between him and Taichi.

Sora slid into the empty space.

Taichi leaned in. “Mimi thinks Jou should have hired her to plan the wedding.”

“I don’t! All I said was that the dance floor should be a little bigger for this many people.”

“C’mon, do you really think Jou’s family are dancers?” Taichi asked.

“Everyone dances at weddings, Taichi,” Sora said.

“Promise me you’ll let me help plan your reception, Sora!” Mimi said.

Yamato glanced away across the room.

“Don’t worry, Mimi.” Sora laughed. “I’ll make sure everything is up to your standards.”

Mimi clapped her hands. “Maybe I should get into party planning! I’m getting tired of the whole influencer thing.”

Sora followed Yamato’s gaze to the table where Takeru was sitting with his girlfriend Rina.

On Takeru’s other side were Hikari and her son, Souta. She was wearing a very cute dress, but her hair wasn’t quite as perfect as Sora expected, and her makeup was just a little simpler. It must be hard, she thought, raising a two-year-old all on her own.

“What is that,” Taichi asked, “your fifth career?”

Mimi sat up a little straighter. “I just like to keep moving! Who wants to get stuck in a job you don’t want?”

Whatever Taichi would have said next, he was cut off as the emcee announced the first dance. The din of conversation fell off as the DJ turned the music up.

They all watched as Jou and his new wife glided across the dance floor. Sora could feel the electric excitement between them at starting their new life together.

She remembered the night Yamato had proposed, almost two years ago. She’d been so excited to begin their own life together.

“Oh!” Taichi jumped to his feet. “Gotta go – I think Agumon noticed the cake.”

He started across the room. Yamato turned to watch him go.

“Agumon might not be the only one Taichi-san needs to worry about,” Mimi whispered. “You might have to hold me back, too!”

As the dance finished, Sora’s eyes slid across the room to check on Hikari. Instead she saw Taichi sweep in and scoop up his nephew, settling the boy on his shoulder. She could see Hikari’s grateful smile.

“Aww,” Mimi said. “Souta-chan’s so cute!”

“He is.” Sora rubbed her thumb along the rough stem of her glass.

“How are things going at work? Have you heard back about that gallery? I can’t wait to come see it!”

“No, not yet.” Sora tucked her hair behind her ear. “I probably won’t get it.”

“Don’t say that!” Mimi said. “Yamato-san, tell her she’ll get it.”

He stared at Mimi for a moment before he turned to Sora.

“You’ll get it.”

Sora put a hand on his leg and smiled. He returned it, but his eyes slid past her. She turned back to the table.

“Yamato, why don’t you tell Mimi about your big news?”

Yamato leaned back, eyes on his empty plate.

“Nothing to tell, really.”

“He’s being modest,” Sora said. “He was selected for a crew position on the ISS!”

“What? That’s amazing!” Mimi said.

Yamato had been working toward this moment for almost twenty years now. Some people worked their whole lives and never got there.

“I’m not going.” Yamato said it fast, like a curse.

“What?”

Yamato shrugged, eyes fixed on the tablecloth.

“You said ‘no?’” Sora asked. She was dismayed, but somehow, not surprised.

“It’s not the right time. I don’t want to miss anything happening here.”

Sora wanted to ask what, exactly, he thought he’d miss. Instead, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Let’s talk about it later.” Yamato crossed his arms, face as impassive as placid water.

Under the table, Sora balled her napkin into a fist.

Souta’s laughter filled the room. Taichi was swooping Souta through the air like Superman. Hikari even looked a little more present in her conversation.

Sora imagined it was Yamato, playing with a small blue-eyed child. Her chest ached with want, and she smoothed her napkin back onto her lap as if that might soothe it. The image was insubstantial. It vanished before it fully formed.

The ache stayed with her.

Sora had always put herself second. Her mother’s expectations, her relationship with Yamato, even her time as a Chosen Child – each had swept her up in their wake.

Koushiro slid into the seat next to her.

“Koushiro-san!” Mimi greeted him, a little too chipper.

Mimi began to quiz Koushiro about his life, and Sora gave herself permission to sit out of the conversation for a minute. Yamato was watching Agumon again.

Two years since Agumon and Tentomon came back. Still no sign of Piyomon or Gabumon. It had been hard for her too, but Yamato had taken it the worst. Something sour swirled in her belly.

Taichi returned to the table with Agumon in tow just as dinner was being served. Sora leaned in to inhale the spicy aroma.

Conversation moved on to updates about everyone’s lives. No one’s stories were quite as weighty as his – building a representative council of Digimon to handle negotiations with Humanity was a monumental task, but Taichi seemed to be thriving on it.

In fact, all of their friends seemed to be thriving. Koushiro was deep in a research project that he explained in a little too much detail. But his eyes lit up with excitement while he explained, and even Yamato smiled in the glow of his enthusiasm.

At the end of the meal, Mimi asked the question Sora had been trying not to think about.

“You two have been engaged forever! When can I expect my save-the-date?”

Yamato’s eyes widened, just a little.

The clinking of silverware cut through the murmur of voices in the hall.

“We haven’t found a venue we like,” Sora said. “We just want everything to be perfect.” The practiced lie tasted bitter on her tongue. She twisted the stem of her glass back and forth, causing the wine to swirl. She had the sudden urge to be anywhere else. “Yamato, they’re opening the dance floor.”

He only hummed.

“Dance with me?” she asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not right now.”

Mimi and Taichi shared a glance.

Sora looked down at her lap. The stars. Her. How long were they supposed to wait?

“I’ll dance with you, Sora,” Taichi said, offering his hand.

Sora waited for Yamato to change his mind, but he just kept moving his food around, so she took Taichi’s hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.

It was nice, dancing with Taichi. Simple. She could feel the downy-soft hair at his nape on her wrists. Yamato’s refusal left her feeling brittle.

She wished she was dancing with Yamato. Taichi’s hands were a little bit larger than Yamato’s, a little bit softer, but they were warm as spring on her hips, and she felt herself start to thaw.

Taichi’s friendship had been a constant in her life, and even now she felt cared for. She wondered what he felt from her, right now. She wondered if Yamato was watching them.

It was a glimpse of what might have been, in another life. As the song neared its end, Sora let her head come to rest on Taichi’s shoulder. She could feel his breath on her neck like a warm breeze.

For one forbidden moment, she let herself pretend.

Chapter Text

The cool spring air washed over Yamato as he stepped out of the reception’s happy buzz. The sun had set during dinner, leaving only the last red reflections on the clouds.

He only had a moment to enjoy the cool and the quiet before the door behind him opened, spilling light onto the pavement.

“Nii-san!” Takeru came to stand next to him. “You alright?”

“Fine.”

It was a lie, but Takeru worried, and Yamato didn’t even know where he’d start. It was hard enough just being here with everyone.

“Well, you like Rina, right?”

“Yeah,” Yamato said.

Takeru had introduced them to Rina almost a year ago, and by his standards that was a long term relationship. Yamato didn’t know her very well, but she was fine.

“Well, I think it’s Time. I could really use some help–”

The door behind them opened again, and they both turned. V-Mon bolted through the door with Gomamon’s toy scepter, a wave of laughing Digimon chasing after him.

It seemed like some sort of tag where the rules could change at any moment. Yamato found Agumon in the crowd. He could almost hear Gabumon’s laugh in the chorus.

Even when Gabumon returned, he'd never get these moments back.

“You know,” he said. “I should really get back to Sora.”

“Oh,” Takeru said.

Stepping back in, he saw Taichi dancing with Mimi. Outside, Agumon. Inside, Taichi. Yamato just wanted a break. Ever since Vamdemon, they’d moved in tandem. Even when Agumon and Gabumon disappeared, they weathered it together. But now Taichi was leaving him behind, and all Yamato could do was tread water.

Maybe they’d been here long enough that Sora would agree to leave early.

“Yeah,” Sora said, when he asked. She sounded as tired as he felt. “That’s fine.” She hooked her arm through his elbow. “Let’s just say goodbye.”

They made the rounds, but they stopped short of the Yagamis, who were all sitting at one table now, with Souta sleeping on Taichi’s shoulder. He and Takeru had their heads together, whispering excitedly.

“Let’s just go,” Sora said.

The subway was packed, but Yamato finally felt like he had space to breathe. He stood, but Sora got a seat. They didn’t try to talk.

From their stop it was only about ten minutes to get home. Sora took his hand as they left the train.

Gabumon had loved the springtime. It was the perfect weather for a fur coat, he’d say.

“Did you say no for me?” Sora asked.

He almost asked what she meant.

“I told you, it’s not the right time.”

“I just mean…Six months is a long time to be away, and then there’s all the mission training…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to be away that long.”

“So, are you ready to pick a date?”

He stopped mid-step, and she had to turn to face him. Their hands were still linked, hanging between them like a lifeline.

“Where did that come from?” he asked.

Sora looked away.

“Forget it. Let’s go home.”

The rest of the walk was silent. Yamato kept sneaking glances at Sora. She wore her ‘everything’s fine’ face. His stomach churned.

As they settled into bed, he said, “I want to marry you. I just want them to be there.” A faint trace of her perfume from the wedding hung in the air.

“I know,” she said, “but it’s been two years.”

But it had been six years without Gabumon. Maybe if they just waited a little longer…

He kissed her once – gentle and sweet.

She kissed him back, and the suddenness of her need took him by surprise. She kept pressing in like she couldn’t get close enough. She made a needful sound in the back of her throat. Without breaking the kiss, she rolled on top of him.

Every touch was a promise he didn’t know how to put into words.

Maybe it would be enough.

Chapter Text

Sora was waiting on the couch when Yamato got home. She watched him toss his keys in the bowl by the door. He must have seen it on her face as soon as he turned.

“What?” Yamato asked.

“I got the gallery.” The words spilled out like a confession.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“It’s a huge opportunity.” She hugged her arms around her stomach. “It could make my career – finally get me out from under my mother’s shadow.”

Sora hadn’t even been sure she should apply, but her boss Sato-sensei had insisted.

“So why aren’t we happy?” Yamato asked, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Let’s set a date,” she begged. “Please?”

All traces of the smile fell away. “I thought we talked about it.”

“When Sato-sensei told me, you know what my first thought was?”

Yamato shrugged.

“I thought, ‘what if it conflicts with the wedding?’ I almost backed out.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Sora stared at him. His eyes were the same clear, bright blue that she’d always loved losing herself in.

“You gave up the ISS.”

“That’s different.”

“There isn’t going to be a wedding.” The dam gave way, and the words rushed out before she could stop them.

“Of course there is,” he snapped. “As soon as they come back.”

“No,” Sora said. “I can’t…” She pressed her fists against her knees and forced herself to go on. “Yamato, this isn’t living.”

She could see his walls going up as he began to pace.

“I don’t know what you want,” he said. For once, it wasn’t a dismissal. He sounded lost.

“I want us to get married. I want to start a family. I want to be excited about the gallery, and come home to a husband who will celebrate with me.”

She could feel the tears running down her cheeks.

“Let’s go out,” he said, like their lives weren’t falling apart around them.

“You’re not listening to me.”

“You want to celebrate? We’ll celebrate!” His voice rose. She hoped their neighbors couldn’t hear them.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

As soon as it was out of her mouth, she heard the finality of it.

Sora slid the ring off her finger.

Chapter Text

She set the ring on the coffee table in front of her.

Something inside him cracked the day Gabumon disappeared, and now the fractures spiderwebbed through his whole body. “What are you doing?”

“Yamato.” It sounded like a reprimand.

“We’re in this together.”

“Are we?”

He moved to sit beside her on the couch. He reached for her hands, but she pulled away.

“Please, let me fix this.” His voice cracked.

“I’m going to stay with Mimi tonight.” She didn’t look at him as she got up. He sat there, listening to her pack, saying nothing.

He wanted to stop this, but the thought of Gabumon missing the wedding was too awful. How could she just go on like Piyomon wasn’t coming back?

It wasn’t until she was back, suitcase in hand, that he jumped up and blocked the door.

“Please, stay.”

“Let me go,” she said. He didn’t know how.

The sound of the door closing lingered in the still air. He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. He couldn’t bear the idea of sleeping in their bed without her, so he stayed on the couch, staring at the ceiling until dawn.

By morning, he called off work. The hours blurred. Just after lunch, his phone buzzed – Taichi.

Just heard. What can I do?

Yamato left it on read.

In the back of their closet, Sora kept a box full of memories. A movie stub from a date they went on. A pressed flower he had given her. And so many photos.

The one he picked out was a photo of them from the Summer Festival of their senior year. They were both wearing yukatas. Sora had picked them, of course. She’d always had a good eye for that sort of thing.

And at the very bottom of the box, his old harmonica.

There was a banging on his door.

He tried to ignore it, but when he heard Taichi yelling his name, he knew it was useless.

He hauled himself to the door and opened it with a jerk.

“What?!”

“Jeez, excuse us for worrying,” Taichi said.

He tried to push his way in but Yamato kept his foot behind the door. Agumon peered around Taichi, holding a takeout container.

“Really?” Taichi asked.

“Not really in the mood to talk,” Yamato said.

“Because you’re so busy stewing?”

“Eating makes me feel better,” Agumon said, offering up the takeout container.

“Look, I’m fine. You can tell the others you checked up on me.”

Yamato tried to close the door, but Taichi shoved it back open.

“Bullshit,” he said. “You’re a mess.”

“It’s none of your business, Taichi. Go home.”

This time, when he shut the door, Taichi let him.

Yamato went back to the bedroom. In the box, the harmonica was waiting for him.

He remembered its somber song and felt Gabumon’s fur at his elbow.

He brushed the dust away and lifted it to his lips. The first notes sputtered out, thin and mournful. He tried again, forcing the melody, but it broke apart in his throat.

He hurled the harmonica across the room. It clattered into the trash can.

After a long silence, he picked up his phone.

I just want to talk, he texted.

She kept him waiting.