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.