TATAKAI



By Aardwulf

April 2001



~*DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the characters associated with "Digimon: Digital Monsters". No profit is sought with the distribution of this story, and no infringement of copyright is intended or should be inferred. Shake vigorously before opening. *~



The dream follows the same path every night. The group has been attacked by some dark evil digimon - the features are in constant shadow no matter what direction it faces, so there's no way of knowing who or what it might be - and my friends are bravely battling it, despite the fact that there's no way they can stand against it. One by one the monster picks them off, and I discover that suddenly, everything's riding on me.



Ikkakumon charges into battle, his Harpoon Torpedoes shrieking through the air towards the enemy, but the attacks aren't even making a dent in their target. He won't give up, though; he continues to press on, evading the other monster's assaults while launching his own. But Ikkakumon isn't built to dodge; his opponent's blows connect more often than not, and my partner begins to weaken.



I gaze frantically at my fallen companions, my eyes lighting on the devolved forms of their digimon. If only Ikkakumon could digivolve again! I pull my Crest out from under my shirt, willing the cursed thing to activate. *Why can't I make it work?* I ask myself frantically. *Everyone's counting on me! I have to do this!*



By now Ikkakumon can do nothing but stand wavering in one place, waiting for his foe to strike him down. His great sides heave from exhaustion; blood mats the thick fur on his shoulders and flanks.



I gaze at the two digimon as though paralysed, clutching the Crest in my hand, feeling its sharp edges bite into the flesh of my palm. *C'mon you stupid thing!* I curse at the trinket with my mind. *They need us! Doesn't that mean anything? Doesn't that count?!*



The beast lashes out one final time, and Ikkakumon reels back, glowing and shrinking into Bukamon. He falls to the ground, lifeless and battered, and a scream of helpless rage freezes in my throat.



The monster turns to regard me with bottomless black eyes, eyes that bore through me and feast on my inadequacies. It knows how hard I tried to make my Crest glow, how badly I wanted to protect my friends and defeat it. And it knows that I failed.



~Not good enough,~ it hisses in my mind, and I blink back tears of frustration and fear.



*I tried!* I scream back silently. *I tried to do the right thing! I did my best!*



~Not good enough...~ The creature draws closer to me, its ebon claws reaching out as though to ensnare me.



I can't move away from it; I can't escape the manifestation of my own doubt and self-loathing. *I tried...why can't it be enough?*



The monster does not reply, but wraps its talons around me and swallows me in blackness.



______________________________________________________________________________________





The dream has plagued me practically ever since we found our Crests and Tai used his to help Agumon digivolve. Night after night I've seen the events replay themselves in my sleeping mind, but even now, at home in my own bed, the vision terrifies me, because I fear it will come true.



Our newest foe, Myotismon, is more powerful than any we've faced before. If we hope to defeat him and find the Eighth Child before he does, we'll need all the power on our side that we can get, and that means every one of our digimon will have to reach their Ultimate stage. What if I can't do it? Am I too weak to make my Crest glow?



I prop myself up on one elbow - careful not to disturb Gomamon, sprawled out beside me in the bed, sound asleep - and finger the brass tag thoughtfully. Sora said once that my Crest trait was Reliability. What does that mean, exactly? I mean, I could probably give you a good textbook definition of the term, but how does one embody that particular aspect?



I've always thought that being reliable means being steady, strong. Those are certainly not words that I'd use to describe myself. I panic at the first sign of trouble, would rather run than fight; I'm not steady or strong at all. But then, why would we have been given these Crests if we didn't deserve them? There has to be some chance that we'll be able to live up to the traits our Crests describe; even Sora, who thought her Crest would never glow, managed to help Birdramon digivolve. So maybe there's something more to being reliable, something that actually relates to me, Joe Kido.



A reliable person is someone that can be counted on. Can others count on me? If so, what is it that they can count on me to *do*? I'm not sure what I add to the group; comic relief, maybe? That element of pessimism and parental nagging of which they'd otherwise be so desperately in want?



People tell me that I'm responsible. Is that part of being reliable? I suppose it is, sort of. Do the others trust me to look out for them, take responsibility for them? Maybe they do, even if they don't realize it. Being reliable is being trustworthy. Am I trustworthy, the sort of person another can turn to with their problems? Am I really responsible and accountable? I try to be.



But sometimes, trying isn't good enough.



The creature's voice returns to me, whispering through my mind, and I shiver, slipping my Crest back underneath my nightshirt. I lie back down, curled on my side, and gaze at the shadowy form of my partner, running my fingers absently through his fiery mohawk. He grins drowsily and mutters something in his sleep, turning towards me, and I feel myself smile a little. Gomamon can cheer me up without even trying, so it seems.



*Not good enough...*



The words have always sounded familiar in the dream, because they're the same words I've heard practically every day of my life. And the black, faceless monster, the one that I think is the part of me that hates myself, is no doubt related to my father.



Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. I do my best, give him a hundred and ten percent, and even then it isn't enough to please him. It infuriates me, but at the same time, I've taken his attitude to heart, and I actually feel displeased with myself when I fail to meet his lofty expectations. I'm starting to hate myself. I hate not being able to do right by my father, and I hate myself for being so weak, for wanting so badly to satisfy him.



What would it take, I wonder idly, to make him proud of me? What would it take to make him gaze at me with that look of approval and admiration that I see when he looks at Jim? Would it change his mind if he knew that his little screw-up of a son was fighting to save the world from eternal darkness? Somehow, I doubt it.



So I keep searching for that unattainable something, that something that will make him happy. Something that will make him love me.



Maybe that's a little unfair. I'm pretty sure that he *loves* me; I'm just not all that certain sometimes that he *likes* me.

There's a difference, you know, between loving someone and liking them. It's as if in some cases you *have* to love someone - your parents or your brothers or your kids - but it takes something else entirely to *like* them, to want to be around them and spend time with them and do things with them. Does that make any sense?



I sigh softly, my breath ruffling Gomamon's headfur. I don't suppose any of that is relevant, anyway. Being reliable doesn't necessarily mean people have to like you. You just have to be there for them when they need you, and even when they don't need you - heck, even when they don't *want* you. Story of my life.



I close my eyes and try to get back to sleep. I still can't figure out exactly what being reliable means, but until I do - and I'd better get a handle on it quick - I'll just have to try my best.



*But what if it's not enough?...*



______________________________________________________________________________________



"'Bye, Mommy!" TK waves blithely to his mother as Ikkakumon carries he, Patamon and I away from the dock. He's smiling cheerfully, as though there's no doubt in his mind that he'll see his family again soon, safe and sound.



Ms Takaishi, on the other hand, is clearly frantic; it's evident in her face, her posture, even as her form grows smaller and smaller, swallowed up in the fog that's settled over the bay and all of Tokyo.



No longer able to see his mother, TK turns to face forward again, settling into the thick fur crowning Ikkakumon's head. We sail in silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of choppy ocean breakers tossed up by an uneasy wind.



The waves bobbing restlessly up and down start to make me feel nauseous, and I turn away, searching for something else to fix my sights on. I find myself watching TK. He has a determined frown on his face, looking unusually serious for an eight-year-old - even an eight-year-old who's been through as much as he has. But there's something shining in his eyes, something that's always been there, I can feel it, but that always seems to shine the brightest when things look bleakest. Hope. TK's Crest trait.



Hope. Hoping requires having faith in something, doesn't it? What is it that TK places his faith in? His digimon partner? Matt? The rest of the group? Or is it something more, something bigger than all of us? Is there even a way to describe what it is he believes in, or is it just a feeling, a gut instinct that things will work out for the best?



Sometimes, I wish that I had something like that to believe in, that undying sense of hope to keep me going. I'm not the jealous type, but there are moments when I think I'd give anything to be able to believe, if just for a moment, that everything really will be all right.



TK turns suddenly to glance at me, and I realize that I've been staring at him for the last couple of minutes. He doesn't get angry or defensive, though, like most people would; instead he flashes me one of those dazzling smiles, that chipper grin he always has at the ready, the grin that says, *Don't worry; just have hope.*



I return the smile with all the conviction I can muster, and I make a vow to myself and to TK. Maybe I can't *have* that faith that he has, maybe I don't know what it is he believes in so strongly, but perhaps I can try to *be* something he can place his trust in. I don't know if I've always lived up to my Crest in the past - if I had, it surely would've glowed by now, right? - but this time I *will* prove that I'm worthy of its title. I will not let my friends down when they need me.



______________________________________________________________________________________



Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse...



MegaSeadramon towers above us, its sleek red body - the colour of fresh blood through the pale shroud of fog surrounding us - entwined around the bridge spanning the bay. Bits of splintered wood and other debris hail into the water around us, the beleaguered structure groaning in protest.



"Harpoon Torpedo!" Ikkakumon's attack merely rebounds off his opponent's gleaming armored hide and serves only to irritate the creature further. The enormous sea-serpent recoils, aiming its jagged horn at us.



The Thunder Javelin strikes Ikkakumon in the side; he lurches, bellowing in pain, and TK and I are thrown roughly into the choppy sea, Patamon fluttering above, calling out frantically.



I force my head above the surface, spluttering, and catch sight of Ikkakumon - dazed and in pain, but unwilling to surrender - charging towards MegaSeadramon. The overgrown water snake constricts its body about the bridge more tightly, bracing itself for Ikkakumon's approach and preparing another Thunder Javelin.



TK is nowhere in sight.



Alarmed, I whip my head this way and that, searching, a spray of water droplets flying from my hair. *Where is he?* I tread water desperately, awkwardly, gagging on mouthfuls of seawater that slip in as my head ducks erratically under the surface.



Amidst the sharp violent sounds of splintering wood, something slams into the side of my head, and stars explode before my eyes in a blinding display.



*...Did I pass out? For how long?*



*Maybe I'm dead...*



It's very quiet, wherever I am now. Quiet and dark. I can see something like moonlight wavering down at me, muted, distorted, as though it's struggling through...



Through water...



The sudden tightness in my lungs spurs me to action, despite the pounding in my head. I push my way towards the milky light, struggling through the darkness, a darkness that pulses and intensifies as it threatens to overtake me.



Something moving out of the corner of my eye...



TK.



Just sort of drifting, making no movements of his own, sinking very slowly and gracefully, like a dandelion seed carried on the wind.



Something inside my skull throbs dangerously, painfully, as I alter my course and make my way over to the small vulnerable figure a few feet away. I hook my arms under his and kick towards the foggy moonlit sky.



We surface into frigid night air and clinging fog, our ears filled with the sounds of two behemoths clashing overhead. As TK coughs and struggles weakly, his limbs working in a feeble imitation of a dog-paddle, I cast about for something he can hang onto, something that will float. I know that I won't be able to keep bearing him up much longer.



Something nudges against my right shoulder: a piece of driftwood, possibly the same one that had made such violent contact with my skull a few moments ago. I seize hold of it and drag it before me, pushing TK onto it; he clings to the rough, weathered timber instinctively, and I release my hold on him to concentrate on keeping my head above water. Not an easy task when one's surroundings keep wanting to fade out of existence.



"TK!" Patamon's squeaky voice is barely audible above the lapping water and the sounds of battle. The boy's pale blue eyes flutter open to stare dazedly at his partner, and he blinks a few times to bring things into focus. His gaze drifts over to me.



"Joe!" He sounds worried. Not about the fact that two gigantic water beasts are duking it out practically on top of him, or that the fate of the world is hanging in the balance while we float here in the middle of the ocean. He sounds worried about me. *Do I look that pathetic?* I wonder.



I try to reassure him. "Jus' hang onto that, an' you'll be fine," I manage to slur to him. Why's everything getting so fuzzy? The throbbing in my left temple is becoming almost unbearable, and the black spots skirting my vision are getting a little more assertive. "I wouldn't want your mom t' worry 'bout ya," I continue, spluttering through a mouthful of water. "You're just a kid...I-I'm responsible for you..."



I can't think anymore. My head hurts, and for some reason my limbs don't want to cooperate and keep me afloat. I wearily let my eyes slide shut as my head slips under the water and I feel myself start to sink into the icy depths of the bay. Panic surges through me and a part of my brain that's still alert enough to take notice of these things screams at me to do something, to take action against the devouring water and the fiery burning pressure in my waterlogged lungs. Not that I can respond, of course. Not that anything I did would be enough. All I can do is drift here and ponder as my lungs burn and my brain goes into a frenzy of panic.



*I tried, you know. I did my best. I made a vow, and I tried to keep it.*



That smug little voice from my nightmares whispers in my ear.



~Still not good enough...~



I sigh, sending a cascade of bubbles towards the surface. I just want to do the right thing. Why can't that be enough? I tried. Isn't that good enough, sometimes?



I feel something warm against my chest, something working its way out from under my shirt, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. Through closed eyelids I can perceive a blinding, brilliant white light, a light both terrifying and familiar.



The same light I saw in the desert when Tai summoned his courage...



The light that pierced the darkness when Sora discovered that she could love others after all...



The light that shone outside the diner when Matt looked at me with eyes full of friendship.



It's warm and bright and wonderful, and even as I feel myself begin to lose consciousness entirely I take comfort from the light, and I think that maybe, just this once, doing my best was good enough after all.



-fin-