Yamato Week, Day Seven

yamato week, day seven

characters: yamato and ken

summary: when ken and yamato are sent to méxico, ken doesn't expect to break down in the middle of the Mayan Temple. luckily (or not), yamato is there.

(a different take on the world tour arc, ken and yamato edition) ((also on ao3!))

The Mayan Temple air was stale, heavy with their breath and perspiration. It was well past Ken’s bedtime, but adrenaline invigorated his bloodstream.

Beside him, Yamato was staring at his cell phone, aggravation prickling on his brow. 

“Why aren’t they answering?” He nearly growled. Though he had tried to whisper, Yamato’s voice echoed off the Temple walls. 

Ken sucked in his breath, straining his ears for the sound of the guard’s footsteps. Rosa was too entranced in a staring match with Wormmon to translate for them if the group were to be interrogated. Once it became apparent that the guards hadn’t heard them, the tension in Ken’s shoulders melted. 

Yamato muttered a few obscenities under his breath. “I can’t tell if the others have arrived safely, finished their assignments, or are already home. How much time do we have?”

His cerulean eyes focused on Ken’s, so intense and narrow that beads of sweat began to roll down the younger boy’s neck.

Heart thrumming in his ears, Ken’s mouth ran dry. Those eyes, so commanding, so blue , froze him to the spot. He was hardly aware of Rosa pulling on his sleeve or Yamato’s questioning tilt of the head. 

In his mind’s eye, the Mayan hallway grew darker, elongating itself, the smell of sea salt and mildew nauseating him. Instead of Yamato, Takeru was standing in his way, blue eyes full of contempt and fury. His cheek was bleeding, Ken’s jaw on fire. What was happening? Where was Wormmon?

“Ken.” Loathing dripped from the single syllable, Takeru advancing on him slowly. “Ken?”

He tried to back up, to run away, but his elbows were pressed against the wall. Panicked breaths slipped from Ken’s lips, chest heaving. 

“Ichijouji?” Blonde hair moved even closer, a weird underlying note of tenderness making Ken’s palms sweat. 

Something tugged at his sleeve urgently, but the raven-haired boy couldn’t look away from those angry, blue eyes. 

A pair of clammy hands gripped at his shoulders, knuckles stained white. 

Ken’s vision blurred; when had he started crying?

Those hands pulled him in. Ken was far too weak to resist, instead succumbing to the strong pull of Takeru’s grasp.

“Ken, what’s the matter?” A deep voice asked. Pressed against this person’s chest, it became abundantly clear that this voice did not belong to Takeru.

“Yamato?” Ken’s voice cracked. 

His chest was broad, shirt growing dark with Ken’s stray tears. Ken could hear Yamato’s steady heartbeat in his chest, calm and even and steady. 

A low rumble echoed in his ears, but the younger boy couldn’t focus on the words. Wormmon’s small body wedged between the pair, his antennas tucked neatly beneath Ken’s chin.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, body trembling in Yamato’s grip. 

“No, don’t apologize.” His voice was firm.  “Everyone gets overwhelmed. I promise we will be out of the Temple in no time.” Yamato rubbed his arm absent-mindedly against the cotton of Ken’s shirt, desperately trying to calm his whimpers. 

For a moment, the only sound in the Temple’s walkway was the echo of irregular breathing, a soft hum of encouraging words too low to be discernible. 

Rosa watched on, concern etched across her small brow. Slowly, Ken’s sobs quieted. His shoulders stilled, a small breath of relief slipping from Yamato’s lips.

“Ken,” Yamato ventured, voice soft, “What’s the matter?”

His question shook Ken from his momentary stupor.

Though his arms were still trembling, the younger boy managed not to drop his Digimon partner, instead pulling Wormmon closer. A few deep, steadying breaths grounded Ken. 

Yamato’s gaze never left his face, but it no longer felt as oppressive. Yamato wasn’t angry; Yamato wasn’t Takeru . 

“Has anyone ever told you,” Ken began, voice shaking, “That you look just like your brother?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Rosa feigned interest in a whispered conversation with her own partner, as if she hadn’t even noticed Ken’s breakdown just a moment before.

A singular eyebrow rose in question, Yamato’s  silence unnerving Ken further. Wormmon looked up from his perch in Ken’s hold, a small smile of reassurance urging him to continue. Ken hugged him tighter, doing his best to gather his courage. 

“It’s your eyes, really. While you both share blue eyes, Takeru’s hold a lot of resentment . Even if he's smiling or laughing, his eyes always have an edge .”

The ground shook, interrupting his train of thought. Deep within the maze of the Temple, a low grumble reverberating through the floor. 

Wormmon squirmed, slipping onto the floor. “Ken-chan, I’ll go with Rosa and see what that noise was. Stay here and finish your talk.” His tone was unusually serious, but before Ken could object, his partner was gone, running through the hallways with Rosa and her partner. 

Yamato must have read the fear on his face, his fist lightly bumping with Ken’s shoulder.

“They’ll be fine for a moment. Not to pressure you, but the sooner you finish your thoughts, the sooner we can help them.” Yamato was steadfast in his confidence, Gabumon at ease beside him. Casually leaning against the crumbling Temple walls, the rockstar looked almost at ease amidst the chaos. 

Strands of dark hair obscured Ken’s eyes, his bottom lips caught between his teeth. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the younger boy felt the words slipping from his lips, falling clumsily into the tense silence. 

“When Takeru punched me, I deserved it.” Ken anxiously glanced at the older boy, preparing to be punched in the gut. If Yamato was anything like Taichi, then disrespecting his younger sibling would be motive for war. When it became apparent that Yamato wasn’t going to attack him, Ken continued.

 “I deserved worse . As the Kaiser,” his voice broke, “I hurt him, Yamato. At the height of our battle, I knew that the others would be too strong, I knew that I would need a defensive trump card. So, I created Kimeramon .”

It was difficult to ignore the way Yamato twitched, or the tension that clenched his jaw together. 

Ken persisted, the sounds of a miniscule battle urging him to force the words from his throat. “It was awful, Yamato. Takeru was so, so mad, taunting me and mocking me. I hit him. I hit him with my riding crop, straight across the face. His cheek bled . Blood trickled down his cheek; when he punched me, his blood splattered on my hands.” 

Stingmon’s attack rumbled against the walls. They didn’t have much time left. 

Tears continued to trickle down his cheeks, the salt water stinging his chapped lips. “Yamato, his blood is on my hands . His eyes will never stop being angry.” 

Ken’s words muddied the air between them. Without Wormmon, his arms wrapped around himself, sobs wracking his frail frame. Shame burned at the edge of his stomach.

Yamato’s stony expression gazed at him through his tears.

Above the noise of the growing battle, approaching footsteps spurred the boys into action. Without a word, Yamato and Ken ran, Gabumon leading them towards the others.

Together, they flew through the corridors, following the sound of Stingmon’s voice. Even as the guards closed in, Yamato was fearless. 

“¡Detente ahí!” one of the men yelled. Though he could hear his heart pounding in his ears, Ken was sure that it had stopped beating. With a tug, Yamato pulled him into a small alcove, their forms pressed too close for comfort. Gabumon stood in front of them, fur standing on edge. 

“Ken,” Yamato managed, the sounds of the guards growing closer, “Whatever happened between you and Takeru is in the past.” It was too dark for Ken to discern the look on Yamato’s face. He opened his mouth to apologize, but a hand squeezed his wrist, cutting him off. 

“If it helps, there are bigger things to focus on. Let’s figure out a way out of this Temple first, then I’ll help you sort through the bigger stuff. “

Once the coast was clear, he flashed Ken a quick smile, radiant despite the circumstances.  The anxiety that had knotted itself in the pit of Ken’s stomach began to unravel. Before he could thank Yamato, the ground rumbled once more. From somewhere deep within the Temple, Rosa screamed. 

Digivice in hand, the pair took off, footsteps echoing down the hall.

Cole: Hey... Weird question but... Do y'all consider me a friend?... Genji: Yeah! Lena: Totes! Fareeha: Of course! Reinhardt: YES! Brigitte: Affirmative! D.va: Sure! Zarya: We are indeed comrades! Baptiste: Yeah dude! Echo: Absolutely! Mei: Mhm! Winston: Why of course! Angela: Of course you're our friend Cole! But why do you ask? Is something wrong? Cole: *sighs* Gabe made a jab durin' our last encounter that I don't have any friends... Got me overthinkin'... *Suddenly everyone in the room looks ready to kill* D.va: Mr. Cassidy, I haven't known you long but I think you're an awesome guy and I'm happy to be on this awesome team with you! Even if you could be much better looking. Baptiste: Same here, even if you punched me in the face, you have a good heart, fighting by your side is an honor. Fareeha: Cole I practically grew up with you! You're more of a brother to me than anything! Zarya: Anyone who helps to protect the ones I love is a friend in my book! Cole: *smiles and tips his hat down to hide his tears* Thanks y'all, it really means a lot t' hear that... --- *Later, during a mission that is a fight against talon, almost everyone goes after Reaper* Moira: They're quite upset with you. What did you do? Gabe: *covered in bruises and cuts* I said Cassidy was friendless...

(Inspired by that rude ass interaction between cass and reaper!)

“somewhere in these eyes, im on your side”

76: *injured in battle, laying beside a biofield* shit-

Reaper: *steps over him holding his guns to his head* too late boy-… *freezes feeling the biofield take effect restoring his body to its painless state before the explosion* what- *drops his guns and removes his gloves to see his scarred but healed hands* it was?… that easy?… *looks over at moira*

Moira: *shitting bricks realising her lies that she couldn’t heal Gabriel finally came to light* I-I- okay now listen I can explai-

Reaper: *pulls jack up giving him a kiss before dropping him and grabbing his guns* YOURE DEAD MOIRA!!

76: *laying there so confused* Ah-

Gabe made Cole’a cowboy outfit cont.

So it’s just a few weeks after Cole had agreed to join OW and he’s not adjusting very well. He threw a fit over getting one of his confiscated items back, an old ratty knit blanket that was half falling apart and Gabriel pulled some strings to get it out of evidence for him

Realizing the thing probably wouldn’t last and feeling antsy, Gabriel printed off all the evidence photos and set to work

Jack came home to Gabriel sitting in the middle of the living room floor all of his yarn stuff drug out with all the printed off pictures of Cole’s blanket and seraph patterns scattered around, attempting to reverse engineer a pattern out of the pictures

Jack just sighs, knowing his husband already has his heart set on this and turns on one of Gabriel’s favorite telenovelas for background noise, sitting down next to Gabriel and begins to help color match yarn

It takes Gabriel a about four months for him to finish the serape to his own satisfaction. Jack allow him to present it to Cole alone and privately

Cole is so touched by it that he starts crying because the blanket was actually knit by his grandma when he was a baby and was nearly worn out beyond repair and he’s glad to have something close but not the same to replace it with

OW/Talon Chat Fics...

Maybe it’s just me, but almost every Overwatch chat fic I have EVER come across starts more or less the same way. 

Winston starts it and says “It’s for emergencies only”

And then, predictably, it all goes to shit. 

I’d really like to see a Talon chat fic where they knew better than to even pretend that it wasn’t for shitposting. 

Moira talks only in anime memes. She has a folder of 50 Gig’s worth so she has the perfect pic/gif for almost everything. 

Sombra has made herself both admin and mod (either by hacking, or they gave up and just let her be it from the beginning because she was going to do it anyway). She abuses those powers on a daily basis. 

Widow low-key roasts everyone (fashion choices, life choices, everything really). she also sends pictures of whatever she’s eating (with three million filters on it and arranged artfully on a plate).

Reaper has set his text to be blood red and sends random pics to the chat. He sends everything from cute selfies to the sewing projects he’s working on to his latest kill. He will also copy paste parts of “My Immortal” or other really shitty fanfics just to annoy people sometimes. 

Doomfist sends those fake inspirational posters and some really shitty dank memes when he’s bored at Talon meetings. Otherwise he just lurks and says nothing. 

Maximilien lurks and waits for the right opportunity for puns and jokes. He especially loves math, number and gambling related ones the best. 

(I don’t have anything for Sanjay, sorry) :|