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Tai doesn’t argue when Izzy suggests they rest.
That alone is enough to make Sora uneasy.
Normally, Tai would protest. Push. Say they couldn’t afford to stop, that they needed to keep moving, keep fighting, keep doing. Instead, he just nods once, short and distant, and walks away from the group without another word.
Agumon trails after him, quiet.
Sora watches Tai sit down a little way off, knees drawn up, arms resting uselessly on them. His shoulders are tight, hunched in on himself like he’s bracing for another blow that never comes.
She waits.
She gives him time — because she knows him — but when he still hasn’t moved, hasn’t spoken, hasn’t even looked up, she exhales and follows.
She doesn’t sit right next to him at first.
She drops down a little to his side, close enough to be there, far enough not to crowd him.
For a long moment, neither of them speaks.
The forest is too quiet.
Finally, Tai mutters, “I messed up.”
Sora turns her head toward him. “Tai—”
“I messed up bad,” he continues, voice flat. “I pushed Agumon. I didn’t listen. I just—” His hands curl into fists. “I wanted him to be stronger. I wanted to win.”
Sora stays silent.
He laughs once, bitter and hollow. “And look what happened.”
SkullGreymon.
The name doesn’t need to be said. It’s there between them anyway — heavy, ugly, unforgettable.
“I’m not fit to lead them,” Tai says quietly. “I thought… I thought being brave meant never hesitating. Never backing down.”
He finally looks at her then, eyes too bright. “But I scared him. I hurt him. What kind of leader does that?”
Sora feels something twist painfully in her chest.
She shifts closer now, knees brushing his. He flinches like he didn’t expect anyone to come near him at all.
“Tai,” she says softly, “you didn’t do that because you don’t care.”
“That doesn’t matter,” he snaps — then immediately deflates, shoulders slumping. “Intent doesn’t change what happened.”
“No,” she agrees gently. “But it does say something about you.”
He shakes his head. “Everyone followed me. They trusted me. And I—”
His voice cracks, just slightly. “I almost got Agumon lost.”
Sora reaches out before she can overthink it and places her hand over his clenched fist.
He freezes.
She doesn’t pull away.
“You’re allowed to be afraid,” she says.
“You’re allowed to make mistakes. Being a leader doesn’t mean being perfect.”
He swallows hard. “Then why does it feel like I broke something?”
“Because you care,” she replies immediately. “And because you’re learning.”
Tai lets out a shaky breath. “What if I don’t deserve their trust anymore?”
Sora shifts fully toward him now, eyes fierce in a way that surprises even her.
“Then you’ll earn it again,” she says.
“By listening. By leaning on us. By not trying to carry everything alone.”
He laughs weakly. “I don’t even know how to do that.”
She squeezes his hand, firm and grounding. “Then let me help.”
For the first time since the battle, Tai doesn’t pull away.
He leans forward instead — just a little — forehead dropping against her shoulder like the weight of everything finally caught up to him.
Sora doesn’t say it’s okay.
She just stays.
The next fight comes too soon.
Not a major one — just a roaming Digimon, aggressive but unfocused — the kind of encounter Tai would normally handle without thinking. He watches from the edge this time, arms folded tight across his chest, saying nothing.
Izzy looks to him instinctively. “Tai?”
Tai doesn’t answer.
Matt steps forward instead, voice sharp with uncertainty. “Agumon, stay back—”
The hesitation costs them.
Nothing catastrophic, but enough chaos that the fight feels messy, uncoordinated. They win in the end, but it’s sloppy. Breathless. Wrong.
When it’s over, Agumon pads back toward Tai, tail low.
“Tai… did I do okay?” he asks softly.
Tai’s chest tightens.
“You did fine,” Tai says, too quickly. Too flat. “You always do.”
Agumon tilts his head. “But you didn’t tell me what to do.”
Tai looks away.
That hurts worse than the SkullGreymon memory ever did.
Later, when they make camp, Tai keeps to himself. He sharpens a stick that doesn’t need sharpening. Stares at the fire without seeing it. Every time someone glances his way, he shifts like he’s bracing for judgment.
Sora notices all of it.
She tries small at first.
“Want help with that?” she asks, nodding toward the fire.
“I’ve got it.”
“Tai, you haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
She presses her lips together, frustration and worry tangling in her chest.
That night, she hears him pacing.
Quiet steps. Back and forth. Back and forth.
She sits up, blanket slipping off her shoulders. “Tai?”
He stops.
“I’m fine,” he says from the darkness.
She swings her legs off her bedroll anyway and walks over, stopping just short of where he stands.
“You’re not,” she says.
He doesn’t argue this time.
“I don’t trust myself,” he admits, voice low. “Every time I open my mouth, I think… what if I push too hard again?
What if I break something?”
She steps closer. “You’re not alone in this.”
“But I was,” he says, bitter. “I was the one who forced it. I was the one who decided.”
Sora reaches for him — he flinches before he can stop himself.
That stings.
She doesn’t pull her hand back.
“Tai,” she says carefully, “you don’t get to decide you’re the only one who’s responsible. We’re a team.”
He laughs, humourless. “Funny how that only seems to matter when things go right.”
Silence stretches between them.
Then, quieter: “I don’t want to hurt anyone again.”
Sora feels her throat tighten.
“So you’re going to disappear instead?” she asks softly.
He doesn’t answer.
That’s answer enough.
She exhales, steadying herself. “If you shut down, Tai… that doesn’t protect us. It just leaves us without you.”
He finally looks at her then — really looks — and she sees how exhausted he is.
Not just tired.
Worn down by the idea that he’s dangerous to the people he loves.
“I don’t know how to lead without hurting someone,” he says.
Sora steps in close enough now that he has nowhere to retreat without walking away entirely.
“Then stop trying to lead alone,” she says. “Let us stand with you.”
He swallows hard, jaw trembling.
For the first time, he doesn’t have an answer.
And that terrifies him.
Agumon finds Tai sitting alone again.
It’s early — that thin, grey stretch of time before morning properly arrives. The others are still asleep. The fire is nothing but embers now, barely warm.
Tai’s staring at his Digivice.
Not touching it. Just… looking.
Agumon pads closer, claws soft against the dirt. He sits beside Tai, knees drawn up the same way Tai’s are, mirroring him without thinking.
“Tai?” he asks.
Tai doesn’t answer right away.
Agumon waits. He’s good at that.
“…Did I do something wrong?” Agumon asks eventually.
That hits.
Tai’s breath catches so sharply it almost hurts.
“No,” he says immediately. “No, Agumon. Never.”
Agumon tilts his head. “Then why won’t you look at me?”
Tai closes his eyes.
Because if he does, he’ll see SkullGreymon again.
He’ll see fear where there should’ve been trust.
“I don’t want to make you fight when you don’t want to,” Tai says quietly. “I don’t want to push you.”
Agumon’s brow furrows. “You didn’t push me,” he says, confused. “You sounded scared.”
Tai laughs under his breath. “Yeah. I was.”
Agumon nods, like that explains everything. “That’s okay. I get scared too.”
Tai opens his eyes then.
“You do?”
“Uh-huh,” Agumon says. “But when you’re scared, you usually tell us what to do anyway. This time you didn’t.”
The words aren’t accusatory.
They’re hurt.
“I thought,” Agumon continues slowly, “maybe you don’t want me to listen to you anymore.”
Tai’s chest caves in.
“That’s not—” His voice breaks. He clears his throat. “That’s not true.”
“Then why won’t you lead?” Agumon asks, small and earnest. “I like it when you do. Even when you mess up.”
Tai stares at him.
Agumon smiles — soft, trusting, unwavering.
“You always come back,” Agumon says.
“That’s why I follow you.”
Something inside Tai splinters.
“I don’t know if I can,” Tai whispers.
Agumon leans against his side without hesitation, warm and solid and there.
“Then we’ll wait,” he says. “But don’t leave.”
Tai presses his forehead against Agumon’s head, shoulders shaking once before he stills.
Sora sees this from a distance.
And her heart sinks.
The next attack isn’t dramatic.
That’s the worst part.
It’s fast. Chaotic. A Digimon bursts from the trees — wild, feral, lashing out without pattern. Everyone scrambles.
“T-K, Kari, get back!” Matt shouts.
Agumon moves on instinct.
“Agumon, wait—!” Tai calls, panic flooding his voice too late.
Agumon takes the hit meant for someone else.
It’s not lethal. Not even close.
But he goes down.
“Agumon!” Tai’s already running.
The world narrows to that single point — Agumon on the ground, smoke curling faintly from his scales.
Tai drops to his knees beside him, hands shaking as he reaches out.
“Agumon—hey—hey, talk to me.”
Agumon groans. “Ow…”
Relief slams into Tai so hard it almost knocks him over.
“I’m okay,” Agumon says, trying to sit up. “See?”
Tai grips his shoulders, too tight.
“Don’t—don’t move.”
“I was helping,” Agumon says, confused. “Isn’t that what I’m supposed
to do?”
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
Tai’s hands slip away, fists clenching in the dirt instead.
“This is my fault,” he says hoarsely.
Sora’s there instantly. “Tai—”
“No,” he snaps, louder than he means to. “No, it is. I hesitated. I froze. And he got hurt.”
Agumon looks between them. “Tai… I don’t mind.”
Tai laughs — sharp, broken. “You should!”
Everyone goes quiet.
“I’m supposed to protect you,” Tai says, voice cracking wide open now. “I’m supposed to lead. And every time I doubt myself, someone else pays for it.”
“That’s not true,” Sora says fiercely.
“It is!” Tai stands abruptly, backing away like he can’t stand being near Agumon, near any of them. “I let fear make decisions for me. First I push too hard. Then I don’t push at all. Either way, someone gets hurt.”
His breathing is ragged now, uncontrolled.
“I don’t trust myself,” he admits. “And if I can’t trust myself, how can anyone else?”
Sora steps in front of him, blocking his retreat.
“You don’t get to decide that alone,” she says, voice shaking with emotion. “You don’t get to take yourself away from us because you’re scared.”
“I’m trying to keep you safe!” he shouts.
“And you think shutting us out does that?” she fires back.
Silence crashes down between them.
Tai’s shoulders slump.
“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired of being brave.”
Sora’s anger drains instantly.
She reaches for him — and this time, he doesn’t flinch.
He collapses into her.
Not dramatically. Not loudly.
Just folds forward, forehead pressing into her shoulder as everything he’s been holding in finally gives way.
“I don’t know how to do this without hurting someone,” he says, muffled. “I don’t know how to lead without fear.”
Sora wraps her arms around him,
holding him upright.
“Then stop trying to be fearless,” she murmurs. “Be honest. Be human. Let us help.”
He grips her jacket like it’s the only solid thing left in the world.
Agumon watches, eyes soft.
“That’s my Tai,” he says quietly.
And for the first time since SkullGreymon, Tai doesn’t pull away from the people who love him.
They don’t move camp right away.
No one suggests it.
Sora stays with Tai, arms still around him, letting him breathe through it without rushing him to stand up or apologise or explain himself. His breathing evens out slowly, the sharp edges wearing down into something exhausted and raw.
“I didn’t mean to yell,” Tai murmurs eventually.
“I know,” Sora says immediately.
That alone nearly undoes him again.
Agumon shifts closer, careful this time, like he’s afraid of startling Tai. He sits on Tai’s other side, warm and solid, tail curling around his leg.
“I’m really okay,” Agumon says softly. “It didn’t hurt that much.”
Tai squeezes his eyes shut. “I hate that you had to say that.”
Agumon hums thoughtfully. “But I like that you care.”
Tai lets out a weak, breathy laugh. “You make this really hard.”
Agumon grins. “I’m good at that.”
Sora feels Tai finally relax against her, not collapsing this time — just leaning. Choosing to stay upright, but not alone.
The others keep their distance, deliberately. Izzy pretends to be busy with his laptop. Matt stands lookout. No one intrudes.
This is between them.
“I thought,” Tai says quietly, “that if I doubted myself, everything would fall apart.”
Sora shifts so she can look at him properly. “And instead?”
“…You’re all still here,” he admits.
She nods. “We were never following you because you’re perfect, Tai.”
He looks down. “Then why?”
“Because you care,” she says.
“Because when things go wrong, you don’t pretend they didn’t. Because you listen — even when you mess up.”
He swallows. “I didn’t listen before.”
“No,” she agrees gently. “But you are now.”
That matters.
Agumon places a clawed hand over Tai’s knuckles. “You didn’t leave,” he says. “That’s important.”
Tai presses his forehead to Agumon’s again, eyes burning. “I’m sorry.”
Agumon smiles, easy and forgiving. “I know.”
It doesn’t fix everything.
It doesn’t magically erase SkullGreymon, or the fear, or the doubt.
But something shifts anyway.
Later, when they do move camp, Tai doesn’t take point automatically.
He hesitates — then looks back.
“Matt?” he asks. “You wanna lead us through the trees?”
Matt blinks, surprised. Then nods. “Yeah. Sure.”
Izzy glances at Tai, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Sora walks beside Tai, close enough that their shoulders brush. He doesn’t pull away.
“Thank you,” Tai says quietly.
She bumps him lightly with her elbow. “Anytime.”
He breathes out, steadier now.
For the first time since SkullGreymon,
Tai isn’t trying to outrun his fear.
He’s letting it walk beside him — and trusting the people around him to keep pace.
Time passes differently after SkullGreymon.
No one marks it in days or nights — just in moments where things don’t fall apart the way they once did.
By the time the fear finally loosens its grip on Tai’s chest, the seasons have already shifted. The forest looks different now. Calmer. Or maybe it’s just him.
They’re sitting near a river when it happens — not a fight, not a crisis. Just quiet.
Agumon skips stones with Biyomon nearby, laughing every time one of them sinks immediately. Kari and T.K are a little way off, talking in hushed voices.
Izzy types. Matt watches the treeline.
And Tai sits beside Sora.
He doesn’t scan for danger anymore. Doesn’t hover over everyone’s positions in his head.
He’s just… here.
Sora notices the change first.
“You’re not clenching your jaw,” she says lightly.
Tai blinks. “Huh?”
She reaches out and taps his cheek. “You do this when you’re worried.”
He rolls his shoulders, surprised to find her right. “Guess I forgot.”
She smiles — not teasing, not relieved.
Just proud.
He watches Agumon laugh, bright and unburdened, and feels something settle inside him at last.
“I still get scared,” Tai admits quietly.
Sora nods. “I know.”
“But I don’t feel like I have to hide it
anymore.”
She turns toward him fully now. “Good.”
He looks at her then — really looks — at the way she’s stayed, steady and unyielding, even when he tried to push her away.
“I don’t think I could’ve done this without you,” he says.
She doesn’t deflect it.
She just reaches for his hand and laces their fingers together.
“You didn’t,” she replies.
The river keeps moving. The world keeps going.
They don’t talk about SkullGreymon anymore — not because it doesn’t matter, but because it no longer owns them.
Tai leads differently now.
He asks. He listens. He trusts.
And when he doubts himself — which still happens — Sora is there, grounding him with a glance, a touch, a quiet certainty that he doesn’t have to be fearless to be brave.
He just has to stay.
And this time?
He does.