Author’s note: Hey! Tsuno Pikash again with yet another depressing story about pain and loss. And, like usual, it’s all happening to T.K. and Matt. *sighs* I’m soooooo predictable. *rests chin on fist as she taps on keyboard*nfksd dnjdfgkl ckjd, vf Okay, I’m bored. This intro is going nowhere fast so I’ll let you get on with the story. As expected, Digimon doesn’t belong to me, it belongs to it’s creators. I don’t claim ownership blah blah blah. Also, domo thanks to Yakumei who’s "Message In The Night" fic inspired me to write this one. Domo arigato, Yakumei, for giving me the privilege to write my own story that follows along the lines of your totally awesome, wickedly terrific whiz-bang-neato-keeno-sexy-cool one. If you haven’t read hers yet, I suggest you do. It was really, really good.*sniffles* it almost made me cry! So, go read hers first, the come back here and read mine so you can see how much of a better author-ess she is than yours truly. *reads over her own fic. almost dies with laughter* HA HA HA HA HA!!!! I’m SUCH a lousy dramatic fan-fic writer! HA HA HA HA!!! I laugh in my face!!!! HA HA HA HA!!! gasp....choke...hahahaha.....cough...wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeze.......*collapses from lack of breath* cough.... cough....anyway....gasp, choke....on with the fic....huuuuffffff.....*,*

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A gentle breeze whispered over the inky hillside, sliding over the long grass and ruffling the 15 year old boy’s hair. On the top of the shadowy hill, moonlight glinted off the small, white-washed stone that was his destination. Clutched in the boy’s hand were a few thin stalks of blue snap dragons that waved in the breeze, tapping against his short fingers rhythmically. A tear slid down the boy’s cherubic face to patter down on the flower’s soft petals as he approached the moon bathed spot at the top of the rolling hill.

Kneeling in front of the polished slab of marble the boy placed the navy blue flowers at it’s base beside a large bouquet of pink roses and a small pot of cheerily scarlet colored marigolds. Reaching out a gentle hand, the boy traced the flowing words chiseled into the stone’s cold surface, words he had read many times before. Too many. Memories of that fateful night three years ago flashed across his mind as he closed his light blue eyes. He could remember it as clearly as if it had happened only yesterday. It had been dark and foreboding, much like it was now, oily clouds flowing across the sky with purpose. They had just been returning home from a movie that night....

***

Barely had the car door slammed shut when the sound of screaming tires filled the air and a beat up old pick up swerved drunkenly through the parking lot on a direct collision course with Matt. The driver punched the brakes but it was too late. Too damned late. With a sickening crunch the pick-up smashed headlong into the young man, sending a spray of blood across the windsheild where he hit and rolled off, comeing to a slow, deathly still stop on the concrete.

T.K.’s eyes watered as the memories flashed so vividly through his mind. He traced the lines on the headstone again, his eyes dancing across the words he had read do many times before; "Yamato Ishida. Loving son, cherished brother."

Pushing to his knees, T.K. ran his hand through the damp carpet of grass that covered the grave of his beloved oniichan. "I still remember you, ‘niichan," he said with the soft whisper of a laugh, "I remember how you dressed, and how you always smelled like mint leaves mixed with salty ocean breeze. I remember how all the girls used to try to hit on you, but you only had eyes for Mimi....God, she misses you so much. She took the news so hard. She really loved you, you know." A sad smile played across his lips as he thought of their rich, pampered friend, the most unlikely candidate for Matt’s girlfriend, but somehow, the two had hit it off perfectly. Tears suddenly clogged T.K.’s throat as a sob escaped his lips. "I miss you so much, oniichan," he cried, leaning on the smooth, marbled tombstone. He cried until he couldn’t cry anymore, until all he could manage was a few dry sobs.

Suddenly, the cold air around him began to warm up as the wind hissed to a deathly silence. A soft, giggle reached his ears and he spun around, his eyes widening at what he saw. The sun had appeared, glowing a bright, dazzling yellow, the sky a gorgeous baby blue with only a few lacy, white clouds dancing across it. A large tree was now in the middle of the hill which had turned into a flat plain surrounded by forest and Matt’s grave had disappeared entirely. The scene was hazy, as though he was looking at it through a thin fog but it was clear enough he could make everything out. Taking a cautious step forward he found that the ground swirled like fog, curling around his ankles in graceful, feathery tendrils.

"Can’t catch me!" a faint voice suddenly cheered, echoing gently. As he watched, a little boy materialized out of the fog, running around and around the tree with a look of pure joy on his youthful face. It took T.K. a moment to realize that the boy before him was himself from nine years ago. In amazement he walked up to the child, but it was like he was invisible. The boy continued his cheerful antics like before, no sign that he had noticed the older version of himself.

"I remember this..." T.K. whispered, watching his younger self skip merrily around the lush tree. "This happened in the Digiworld..."

The words were barely out of his mouth when the youngster suddenly tripped on a tree root and scraped his knee. It wasn’t a serious wound, it was hardly even bleeding, but the little boy began to cry none the less as if he’d just cut off his foot.

But T.K. just smiled sadly. "Don’t cry," he whispered, "There’s someone looking out for you. He always was there for you..."

As if on cue an older boy appeared as if stepping out of a curtain. T.K. felt his heart jump into his throat at the sight of him. There was no mistake. It was a younger Matt, looking just as T.K. remembered him; strong, lean, proud.

Without a word the young version of Matt held out a reassuring hand to the child and smiled. The boy’s sobs stopped as he looked at the welcoming hand and slowly a smile spread across his face. He took it and Matt picked the boy up, expertly balancing him on his gaunt hip.

"Matt, we’ll always be together, right?" young T.K. asked, hope evident in his voice. Matt began to walk, slowly dissolving back into the misty background. But his words stayed behind to linger in the thick air.

"Always, kiddo....always."

With those words the wind picked up again, blowing the scene before T.K. away like autumn leaves and he again found himself standing on a dreary hillside beside his brother’s grave. Shaking his head, T.K. walked to the top of the hill overlooking the city, staring up at a pale blue star that winked at him from an opening within the clouds. Closing his eyes, T.K. could hear Matt’s harmonica on the wind, playing the song he’d written for his otooto. He took a faint breath, listening intently to the faint melody that rose and fell with the rolling waves of fog, spiraling around the youth until it seemed like it was coming from all around.

"You’re the best, ‘niichan," he whispered, again looking up at the flickering sapphire star overhead. It flashed a bright blue, reflecting in the young man’s eyes as he stared at it’s brilliance. He rested his hand on the headstone, remembering his brother’s words that fateful night; "As long as you remember me....I’ll be there with you...I’ll always he here." He nodded and spoke. "We’ll be together forever, oniichan. I promise." He wiped his tears away and said one final, silent goodbye before slowly making his way back down the hill, soft harmonica music tinkling in his ears.

As he left, a sudden glint of something metallic caught his eye. He turned and stared but when he saw nothing shrugged it off as his imagination. But perhaps if he had moved a split second faster he might have seen the shadowy figure of a man leaning against a tree, a small metal instrument pressed to his mouth.

And even after T.K. left the notes lingered, slowly fading away with the whisper of a voice on the wind.

"Always, kiddo....always...."

The End

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Okay, okay. You can stop your gagging and uncover your eyes. It’s over. You made it through the whole thing without tearing your eyes out. Congrats. Anyway, a few minor notes I feel I should explain. In NO WAY should you believe that T.K. is seeing ghosts or angels or anything of the like. I only meant to sound as if he was. But HE ISN’T. It’s all a bunch of tricks his mind is playing on him. It happens to the best of us. So I repeat, this story has NOTHING to do with ghosts or angels or magic or anything. Just mind tricks and wishful thinking. Sorry to burst your bubbles, kiddies. Well, I hope you had as much fun laughing at this story as I did. I should go now. Arigato again, Yakumei-chan, for letting me kill your story! I hope I didn’t mangle it too much. ^_~

~Pikash 4 Evah~