Here's a li'l songfic I wrote. Yama-based, of course. My first attempt

at a songfic, so don't laugh!

^_^**

"Walk on the Edge"

A harmonica’s mournful, thoughtful tune rose into the night, over and

through the trees, the melody

flowing with the wind and the undicided, uncertain heart of Yamato

Ishida. Trying to defeat the

Dark Masters… Sometimes it just seemed hopeless. Hope was T.K.’s main

trait- not his.

We’re not ready yet, just look

If I’m right and we really get crushed

Then what’s the point?

The thought of T.K. made the teenager wince, shadowed blue eyes

flicking involuntarily toward the

smoke that marked the DigiDestined camp. T.K. said he didn’t need Matt

anymore… and maybe

the kid was right. Yet… he wished he could still protect his little

brother from the world; from the

evil digimon; from… from life itself. But T.K. wanted to test his

wings.

Well, if you want to I can’t stop you

Just because you’re passionate about it

Doesn’t make it right.

He clenched his gloved fists around the harmonica, lowering the

instrument with a sigh. His senses

swam with the turmoiling emotions that fought for recognition- now

despair, now false cheer, now

anger. He told himself to calm down, tried to force himself to do so.

Try being a little cooler

Cool off your head

There’s a chance of winning

Any game.

Yamato gradually forced down the turmoiling emotions as a streak of

pink light appeared on the

horizon. He rose from the ground, eyes once again wandering to the

campsite of the group.

Immediately he forced his gaze away. Can’t go back ‘till this problem

with your personality is

solved, he told himself forcefully, facing away from the DigiDestined

camp. Gotta find who I am.

No matter what.

I’m all right on my own

I’ll even walk the edge of a knife.

He bent over near the smouldering remains of his fire and shook the st.

bernard digimon that lay

there. Gabumon stirred, groaned, and slowly awoke. He looked at Matt’s

set jaw and shadowed

eyes, and nodded in silent understanding. The teen turned and walked

resolutely into the forest, not

knowing where his feet were leading him, and not really caring.

I’m not trying to be tough

But I can’t become enough of a kid

To be weak.

No- ne never tried to be tough. He was aloof and alone because it was

the only way he could

protect himself. When he was younger, he’d been bullied, both

phyisically and verbally, for naivety

and the stumbling retorts he’d thrown at the mockers. He’d learned

quickly- learned how to fight,

how to insult, how to take care of himself. And he’d always had to

protect T.K.- from the bullies,

from his parents’ fighting… from the world. He’d never had time to be a

kid- never had time to

learn to be a kid. He was too busy making sure T.K. didn’t turn out to

be a callused, friendless

jerk like his older brother. Too busy making sure T.K. didn’t have to

go on foolish journeys to find

out who he was, how to grow, how to change. Foolish journeys with no

appearant progress.

I still can’t find the data

But I’ll try

Being myself.

And his thoughts kept turning to T.K. Young, innocent, playful,

hopeful, caring, friendly Takeru.

His younger brother. The one he was sworn to protect- and now could not

protect. That

innocence- spoiled? That caring heart- hardened? That friendliness-

lost? Like Matt’s had been,

long ago? The thought made him shudder, and he saw with a wry smile

that held no happiness or

mirth that his fists were clenched, as if to fight. Fight what? The

fact that T.K. could lose himself,

could lose that which made him what he was? He murmured a plea, an

instruction, an

encouragement to the young digidestined under his breath.

So just be cool

And don’t lose yourself

No matter what the rules

I’m sure you can break through.

Screams! Shouts! The sounds of battle reached Matt’s ears, and he

realized with a shock that he

was near Puppetmon’s house. My friends are losing! The panicked

thought raced through his

head to be replaced by grim determination. His crest- the Crest of

Friendship that he sometimes

felt so undeserving of- glowed. MetalGarurumon stepped out of the

brush. Matt watched in

disgust and barely with-held mirth as the rotted bundle of matchwood

tried to control his digimon;

as Puppetmon insisted he was the master, the boss. The teen joined

MetalGarurumon with a

mocking "guess again." Then Puppetmon was dead with an impressive

explosion by the metal

wolf’s attack. Yamato allowed himself a smile as a swell of triumph

rose within him. Maybe the

Dark Masters wouldn’t be so difficult, after all.

Possible, impossible.

But if we’re

The chosen children

Then we can do it.

Then the others were running toward him- Tai, Sora, Joe, Mimi, Izzy,

Kari… and T.K. T.K. with

those happy blue eyes so like his own except for the light of hope and

pride and joy. T.K., whom

he could no longer protect. He looked at the group wistfully- all with

their abilities to somehow get

through life’s trials with the same unchanging love, courage, hope,

sincerity, reliability, curiousity,

and inner light as before. They could use their strongest traits, their

crest abilities, their hearts to

shield themselves.

I have

A passionate heart, too

But I just can’t

Use it as a shield.

A wistfulness and sadness for what he was certain could not be- not in

the near future, and not

now- could not be kept from his eyes and face. He turned to go, unable

to bear the confusion and

sadness and silence of the DigiDestined- the team unable to understand

that he could not be with

them until he resolved his emotions and seemingly unchanging self. He

tried to convince himself that

he didn’t really need them. He repeated it over and over in his head as

he walked thorugh the

forest with MetalGarurumon.

I’m all right on my own.

I’ll even walk the edge of a knife.

As he walked through the shadows that seemed to darken with his

confused and saddened heart,

his jaw set. Walk the edge of a knife? If that was what it took to

change and find himself, he

would. The edge was precarious and fraught with dangers, but if he fell

off, there waited

depression and the dark pit of despair below.

I’ll even walk the edge of a knife.

~*~*~*~*~

NOTE: The song "Walk on the Edge" was written by Kazama Yuuto. It was

originally in

japanese, which is why the verses in this songfic don’t rhyme. (The

song doesn’t FULLY rhyme in

the japanese version either, but…)

~Danielle/Sounasha