aiko's otter den

from a compass rose - Katsuki Yuuri is never checking his phone again. He likes his past right where it is. Too bad it doesn’t give a hoot.

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6. Home in the Distance

Date: 02/26/2013 — Time: 17:47

Yuuri talked on a little more and then stopped. His throat hurt and his eyes felt itchy, the familiar itch of tears. Because… Because—

The voices of his childhood were suddenly just so loud in his ears, loud as the music on the rink for the first few seconds, and everyone was looking at him, shining the spotlight at him. And there wasn’t—

“Sorry,” he finally croaked out, rubbing his throat and taking a sip of now ugly lukewarm tea. “I just… I don’t know how to tell anymore. Being in the digital world was… a whole lot of things, for me, for us. And it was… it was different then. It was less horrifying, I think. I don’t know, how we did it really. I don’t want to think about it.”

They sat for a while and then, after a few seconds of tingling throat, Yuuri made himself talk, about something, anything else even vaguely related. “Anyway, the uhm, the eggs. They need heat, but it’s better if you hold them and rub them, like you would a pet. They respond best to the heat of non-eggs. Digimon eggs usually hatch independently. No, no clutches. Sometimes collections or, or villages. But rarely siblings. Never parents.”

Another pause as Yuuri sought out the information he needed. “And babies, baby level Digimon, they are like bottomless black holes. You can’t feed them enough human food. So eventually you just, you have to tell them no. And…”

He trailed off, fiddling with the frame of his glasses, out of anything to say that wasn’t “you’ll see when you get there” because there was no way of mimicking, recreating, a human’s first moments with their partner, absolutely none. There was no way to tell them how to interact with their Digimon, or even how to make them evolve. And it hurt him to even think about it.

Because things were different now, weren’t they? There were other people taking care of saving the world and a whole Chosen Child network coming along, it was like having a baby after leaving a poor housing structure. It was… different.

Yurio suddenly leaped from the bed and snatched one of the eggs — Yuuri missed which one — and made his way towards the exit. “Well, thanks for that then! Anything useful you’ve got for me?”

Yuuri forced himself to swallow and square his shoulders. He made his voice level. “Nothing that’s your business yet.”

The second the words were out, he almost wanted to take them back. But he couldn’t. He refused to. This wasn’t a story to parade around. For heaven’s sake, he’d just been pulled back into this whole reality a day ago! Could he have a minute to process?

Yurio’s face twisted and Yuuri could see the words forming on the younger skater’s lips. Then he stormed out. Yuuri was half-sure Yurio would be leaving grooves in the carpets if he could be.

Phichit made a pouting face after him. “Party pooper!” he shouted as the other made it to the door. “I’ll go tell Otabek on you! Just you wait!”

“Like he goddamn cares!”

When did these two get so close? Yuuri wondered just how much practicing the paired skate had worn him out if he had missed that blossoming friendship.

Phichit watched the door slam with a huff of bemusement. “What a bummer he is.” His voice was warm with affection as he said it. Then he turned to Yuuri, brown eyes still glimmering with pride. ‘Thanks though, Yuuri! I’ll get the rest out of you soon enough. Now I gotta pack though. I need to be headed back to America so I don’t get out of shape.’ He hopped up and picked up his own, the little triangles on the egg seeming more blue in the light of the room. “Catch you online!”

And he was gone, but not before taking a selfie with his egg as he went.

All Yuuri could do was hope that that picture wouldn’t be viral before he managed to get back to Hasetsu to talk to his parents. By the gods his parents were going to be apoplectic. Digimon were the one thing that sent them over the moon with fear rather than excitement. Well that, and a lot of stuff from high school but that was high school.

… Or he’d get lucky and they’d just accept it, as they did everything else. You had to be made of steel to run an inn after all, even in a tiny place like theirs.

What would they say? Was their budget enough for a Digimon? Two Digimon? Would he even really get Hawkmon back? Did he want Hawkmon back? That was… that was the most important question.

Yuuri was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t expect Viktor’s hand on his shoulder. He really should have though, because it was immediately followed by Makkachin on his knee and Viktor’s blue eyes piercing his own.

Yuuri, graceful as ever, yelped and and fell backwards onto the bed. “Vik-Viktor!”

“Yuuri~” His husband sang back, completely unperturbed. Well, on the surface anyway. The way those eyes were looking at him was not comfortable at all. “How did you skate with all of this on your mind, Yuuri?”

Yuuri flushed, but it wasn’t out of embarrassment but a little annoyance. “I didn’t… I didn’t think about it. At all, really.”

Viktor paused, briefly, enough to start petting Yuuri’s hair like was the one with the fluffy fur. “You didn’t?” A finger traced a smooth swirl on Yuuri’s open palm with his ring finger.

Yuuri shook his head, adjusting his legs to give Viktor a more comfortable position to sit on the bed. Makkachin leaped up beside them like the furry armrest he enjoyed being. “I tried to forget about it really… the three of us did. The other two… they may have tried. I don’t know, we lost contact after we left the Digital World. They lived in the bigger cities, so it was difficult to make ourselves go and see them and… remember.”

Viktor nodded, but his eyes held that same intensity, not unlike the times he told Yuuri the new routine, or when he had declared, wholeheartedly, that he would be his coach to begin with.

Yuuri had looked away before, or only looked because he couldn’t not look. Now, he looked back because he was not afraid and because it was true and he had no reason to be ashamed.

Viktor didn’t look away but he ran his hands over Yuuri’s anyway “I see… And now they’re here.”

Yuuri nodded, smiling a little because the horror had been yes, but it had been fun sometimes, fun and good and much more. “And now they’re back here. And you have one.” That didn’t hurt, no, it stung, it stung because he didn’t know all of the answers because Maki hadn’t had them all either despite being the cause of all of it. “And now you have an egg, yes. It’ll be like having a baby Makkachin.”

Makkachin made a noise of confusion and delight and burrowed into Yuuri’s armpit.

“A baby poodle?” The intense tone of voice faded from Viktor’s voice, replaced by the eager one like a child, carefree and walking across tiny beams with arms outstretched.

Yuuri thought about it. “I don’t know, actually but it would suit you. There are a few dog digimon.”

“Nothing to replace Makkachin,” Viktor began, a playful warning note in his voice.

“Of course not!”

Makkachin borked his bafflement at them, and earned mixed laughter. No other questions were asked and Yuuri was grateful for that. That was the last thing he needed.

---

It was late.

Yuuri had somehow re-accustomed himself to sleeping on the other side of a slippery, occasionally wiggling egg. It was nice and warm which was good for the egg, and it gave a sense like the nests that appeared to cradle the hatching babies.

Yuuri closed his eyes and tried not to think of the many many eggs and hatching babies he had seen popping into view before his eyes until they had just stopped.

Except for one, all except for one.

And his partner, but then again, his hadn’t died.

Or had they, when the reboot happened? Maki hadn’t mentioned it. She may not know. Had she been back since causing the reboot?

Somehow, Yuuri did not want to know.

Instead, Yuuri focused on the window outside, on the steady humming from the radiator and the dog snores from the sofa. He breathed slowly, in and out, the discomfort of the day slowly seeping out of his shoulders and legs.

At least, he thought with a rueful smile to himself. It had happened now, rather than during that disastrous Grand Prix final. He was stronger now. He could bear… whatever he was feeling. And he had Viktor and everyone by his side.

Things were different now.

And yet the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

As Yuuri settled into a restful sleep, their cell phone’s briefly glowed in a rainbow of color before going out once. No one was awake to see Nishijima Daigo appear in the room and look around.

His suit wasn’t stained red this time. It was plain, unobtrusive. His footsteps made no sound as he crossed the room. He could feel the warmth from the radiator, the chill attached to the side of the window. The near-silent hum of the bathroom light and the gurgling of the new pipes. He heard and felt it all.

And yet he could really touch none of it. The very thought made his yet-to-be bloody hand twitch with longing and he didn’t quite know how to stop it from doing that. So he cast another gaze around the lavish hotel room.

He looks happier, Daigo thought, seeing Yuuri breathing easy in a way they couldn’t have before. It was a thought without bitterness, like hot chocolate. He was relieved at the idea of it, of his best friend being here without the world’s concerns on top of him.

He sat on the floor. The dog hadn’t woken up but that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t and he didn’t want to risk it. Seemed like a sweet old dog, he didn’t need much more in his old age. So Daigo just sat and breathed in and out. It wasn’t a mimicry either, he knew. He hadn’t wanted to believe, of course, but he was coming back to life. All of them were.

And that may have meant the ghouls, the nightmares that haunted his dreams and drove him for that last beer can in the blisteringly early hours, were coming back themselves.

He had no idea, but… he could only hope that the children, the adults now, had taken to the future and destroyed them properly, as they themselves had failed.

Because once your journey was over, you surely deserved peace.

Hime-chan didn’t, some childish, tired part of him whispered. I don’t.

Or maybe she hadn’t believed it was real, and that was why he was here now. He too remembered the skidding of tires and the sudden smell of smoke.

And now a different pain from the stabbing agony of the falling rocks filled him now. Envy. It was practically boiling under his palms. Yuuri hadn’t been there. None of them had been there on that day, or the months after, or the years after to watch the aftermath. They’d fled, back to their own lives, their better futures, their normalcy. Even Yuuri had gone back to normalcy with Yuuko and Takeshi.

They had left Daigo and Maki behind and being somewhere between half-alive and half-dead and permanently one or the other, all Daigo wanted to do was throw up all over the plush blankets and rip the pajamas.

But he wouldn’t dare. He couldn’t even dream of such a thing.

He wouldn’t take away someone else’s happiness.

It would only be temporary, whispered the childlike, tired voice. A maid woman would fix it, blame them, or think there was a problem. But they’d be long gone by then, and it would get a blind eye. The privileged people always turn a blind eye.

Daigo chewed his lip and then Yuuri’s phone buzzed on the mantle. He jumped and willed himself to linger. If he wasn’t careful he’d end up—

Well, haunting one of his now former students was even less interesting than haunting one of his former friends.

The phone continued to buzz until Daigo made to reach for it. Then it made a very loud shrill shriek. Both men jumped in their beds. Daigo almost risked laughing. Almost. He didn’t want Yuuri to notice he was here quite yet.

Yuuri cursed and groped for his phone. He swiped with his finger the second he touched it. Viktor grumbled, arms around the egg. Where was his Digivice? He was a Chosen now, right? Surely he needed one. If there was a threat to look after anyway, he needed one. But it was nowhere in sight. What was Homeostasis playing at?

Nothing.

Daigo jumped and his elbow jammed into the wall. He yanked it out with a huff and turned his head to the right. She wasn’t visible, but then, Homeostasis never was for him.

You don’t look willingly. That’s not a bad thing.

His fists clenched. Daigo forced himself to unfurl them. “What are you doing?” he whispered as Yuuri sat up, hearing frantic babbling too low to understand.

Nothing, Homeostasis repeated. You met your digimon when they were children, like you. The digivice will come when they hatch. That’s all.

“I don’t believe you.” It was easy to be honest now. Homeostasis was a very easy target. She could not, and did not, fight back.

No one ever does. Sometimes that works out in my favor.

Daigo scowled. No one saw.

Instead, Yuuri was showing Viktor his phone. “Takeshi and Yuuko,” he was saying, wide awake and hoarse from sleep. “Their kids they… they got an egg.”

Viktor pauses, rubbing his eyes. “Aren’t they… five or so?”

“Yes!”

Nothing, Daigo’s left eye. She was definitely up to something, and he wouldn’t let her get away with ruining children’s lives anymore.

You sound just like Himekawa.

His stomach hurt. He looked away from Yuuri, whose ears were turning pink in panic, and Viktor, who spoke serenely and got them both to lay down once more, and disappeared.

He wasn’t looking but even if he had been, he wouldn’t see the girl standing there, the sad look on her face, nor the way she reached out to place a hand on a wrist. Yuuri didn’t either.

But Viktor did.

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