Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Another memorial. ❯ Chapter 6 ( Chapter 6 )

That which sparked this new adventure, he who we are to fight… Betrayal, evil, doom, it all has a center…

The air is heavier today, more humid, in both worlds… It’s not like the snowstorm we caught last time, but it poured all night, that’s not normal for this season...

He’s wreaking destruction across the digital world, if he’s not stopped -- So many will die... It seems like a final battle’s approaching... And I’m not ready for this adventure, weak as it’s been, to end quite yet.

This place, this time, this feeling...

I don't want to lose any of it.

I don't want to fade away.

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Reliable, sincere, studious... All very valuable traits.
Had Jou Kido never gone to to the digital world, he'd be proud of this, gaining only happiness from his honor-roll grades, happiness. Not regret. And he certainly wouldn’t look at them and only be reminded of how, only eight months ago, with such a great chance... Forget it.
And he’d probably be happy that he could be counted on, if that were still the case... But when it all came down to it, he couldn't. He might have come around once, found Yamato, found himself, maybe saved both worlds while he was doing it. “But last time... What did I do for them, give Iori a pep-talk, fight in one or two battles, head off to help save Australia?”
And even this time, it seemed like real life was beating him... Those past few days, it had been studying, more studying, enough to get him into Tokyo University, perhaps, but it wasn't like that meant anything.
“You have another way, don't you, Jou?” a high-pitched, questioning voice asked from his backpack.
“Gomamon...” he began, not thinking much of it; hiding was the norm for the digimon of chosen children, at least for the past few years. The little fact that the events last Christmas had permanently shattered the bonds of ignorance that kept the worlds unknowing of each other had at least today slipped his mind, as had the fact that Gomamon was in the digital world, that he had sent the oft-annoying seal back so that he could actually focus on his massive amounts of schoolwork.
“I'll try, but -- I'm not sure, these assignments could take a while.” Jou answered sadly, regretfully, not at all sincere enough even in his desire to save the world for Gomamon to become Ikakkumon anyway.
"Jou, you know what you need?" Gomamon spoke, his voice more like a shouted question than a simple bit of asking.
The eldest of the chosen groaned, prepared for another silly one of his digimon's one-liners, or some freakishly optimistic statement showing a happy attitude towards the world he only wished he could have reason to have...
"An overnight trip to the digital world! We can invite the others, it'll be fun!"
There is a way, sometimes, that an optimistic, happy statement can drive the listener deeper into sadness. This was one of them.
"Yeah... We couldn't even get anyone to stay for the first of August, let alone on a day like this..."
"No way. They have too many responsibilities, there's no time," he answered firmly, a slight pang of regret forming in his heart as sorrowful memories flooded back, even if he had always played the responsible one in the digital world, never even letting himself have fun...
"Fine. It'll be just you and me then, we'll go alone."
Jou looked sadly at his digimon, groaning.
"C'mon, Jou! It'll be really good for you, you need the digital air to clear your head!"
"But it'll only make things worse... All it can really bring is memories of what I've lost, all the things I threw away..."
"If you don't, I'll bite you! I'm stronger than you, you know I can win in a fight."
Sighing, Jou walked over to the computer, the now seemingly ever-open digital gate showing up on his computer screen, reluctant as he was to enter. And then, holding up his digivice, he found himself downloaded, prepared to explore with the white marine mammal digimon, even if he wasn't exactly willing...
Besides, it wasn't like he could ever truly get away from him.
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Earth is a planet that binds us all, it is said, a planet that connects billions. And we are all ultimately human, or something like that, even if your happy times and most precious memories were almost all in another world...
It isn't like it's a fun planet, though. And too often, people are hoisted with too much responsibility, while the uncaring world acts free to devour those who do not measure up to the task.
And at the time, the digital world was still a rumor, a strange paranormal occurance at best, and even with all that knew of their adventures, the chosen children were yet to be revered as heroes... Sure, they had August off, (Like the other students in their district) and that was a grand, grand thing, the sort of thing that could bring them thirty days of happiness. Thirty days, instead of, say, six months, and five of those thirty had already passed. And even in August, there are other things to think about, more responsibilities bound to be hoisted and distracting them even from something this amazing...
Was the reason the digital world was known to send for children simply because teenagers and adults never had time to save it? Old as they were, heroes as they were, would their desires prove meaningless in the face of the upcoming school year or whatever August activities they had joined? The thought was troubling, foreboding, that such a thing could end something so important, or that they could come back from saving both worlds and be punished for their trouble.
But even with all this, they have at least twenty-four days, and maybe there would be another way.
For now, breathing in the heavy invisibility calling itself air, they could only feel that a great battle was at hand... Those that knew them understood, at least; they would manage through the month.
Still... There are some ways an adventure is not supposed to end.
And meaning what it did, coming when it did, with all it represented... There was still a feeling somewhere, perhaps tucked away in Takeru's heart, and tucked even deeper in the hearts of the others, that maybe this adventure just plain wasn’t supposed to end.
“Wasn’t supposed to end...”
“I can’t let it end... Much as I hate the powers of darkness, I can’t let it end.”
“So... Can I save this world?
A new day was dawning for Takeru; it had dawned for the sun and the other chosen children much earlier, yes, but Takeru was tired, very tired. An adventure like this can take a lot out of someone.
“Takeru?” Patamon asked cutely, the innocent digimon still able to detect when something was weighing on his partner’s heart.
“She’ll find out in time... They all will.”
The small mammal digimon (So described as describing him more specifically than “small mammal digimon” would inevitabely lead to massive disagreement) nodded sadly, knowing all too well of the weights and fears in the bearer of hope’s heart... After all, hadn’t he twice left his partner, letting some silly fights over cuteness or Pico Devimon get in the way?
“You’d do it again if you had to, wouldn’t you, Takeru?” Patamon chirped, flying up onto the bishounen’s golden-haired skullcap. Were he still able, were he willing to let his digimon fall, the blue-eyed boy would have put his head to his knees and cried. Instead, he merely let tears of agreement drop, an agreement which was still tearing at him -- It had been almost a week since those times of boredom, after all, the memory was fading, and he may have feared it was exaggerated as well, that the alternative wasn’t quite as bad...
“But what if they hate me for it?”
But even just having Patamon concern himself for him, even spending time with Sora-chan, with all that was going on between them... Hikari-chan, such a close friend, the one he was sworn to protect. Yamato, his brother he was so distant from, except in the digital world. Taichi, his leader. Jou, Koushirou, Mimi, and the younger kids too, he had great times with all of them...
And even if he was physically growing, if he had been aging... It finally felt like he was released from stasis, like someone finally hit “play” on his life and let him return to all that mattered.
The memories of the digital world... Devimon, Etemon, Vamdemon, Black War Greymon... It meant something to all of them, of course it did.
And if he could recreate that time, push it forward, bring it back... It was worth it.
Even if other generations would judge him harshly, even if those who hadn’t lived through it would never understand. It was worth it.
But right now, Deathmon had to be stopped.
It was then that he came to hear Patamon’s words, words that seemed too demonic for one that would become an angel, too wise to come from one so small and simply cute. “They won’t hate you, Takeru. Be angry, maybe, even find it hard to forgive... But they won’t hate you. After all, they’re chosen children too.”
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A black-winged unicorn, fighting desperately for his miniscule part of the digital world. A detatched group of chosen children, only one of twelve even in the right realm to stop him. And of course, a rampaging ghoul-like creature bringing death to almost all he even has the chance to view, to almost all caught within even his sweeping gaze.
The ultimate battle, good and evil going against each other for two worlds, it was nothing short of a certainty... Even Devimon didn’t take much longer than this to confront the chosen children, and with the rest of their many foes, a battle (If only a preliminary one) had occurred much, much sooner. Unless Palmon’s death was the preliminary battle. And Jou’s unreliable, insincere self, dragged randomly by Gomamon, had found himself in a rather unfortunate place.
A beginning, an end, a desperate encounter. Unimon had a debt of freedom to the child (Or perhaps now teenager, the unicorn digimon wasn’t clear on how humans aged) who had once arrived in this world, after all he had gone through after said arrival to destroy his black gear, to fight Devimon and the others, to save both worlds... And yet here he was, asking that kid to risk his life again, simply because, even with his great wings and outstanding eyesight, even with all that’s said of unicorns, he couldn’t protect even one simple mountain...
The equine digimon shook his head. “To save innocent digimon... How many of us sacrificed our lives? If it’s to save the world, I can afford to lose a little pride, can’t I?”
And besides, all those fights he had been in, they also meant he was strong, perhaps strong enough to stop him. And if Unimon was to save this part of the world...
“Jou!”
The teenager, hearing his name called, looked up from the rock-hard slope he was standing on, unsure of the source of that unfamiliar voice. He had met the unicorn digimon, of course, met him, fought him, even rode him, if that little rodeo born of the black gears counted as riding.
But... Unimon was certainly the silent type, save an attack name here and there; Jou didn’t think he had ever heard the horned digimon’s voice. So looking into the endless blue sky, a sky not unlike those on earth and quite odd for the digital world...
“What?" the blue-haired one shouted, turning in search of that unknown sound. “Unimon?”
The unicorn digimon dipped his head majestically, swooping in on his black wings to land. And then, in a questioning, almost conspiring tone, he spoke. “Have you heard anything about a greyish digimon carrying a yellow eyeball?”
“Yes, I have. He attacked us a few days ago. He was clearly a digimon of immense power, but he left almost right after he came... And most of us made it out alive,” Jou spoke, his voice dry and explainatory, trying to be the responsible-upperclassman sort of person, the sort of person who had enabled the crest of Sincerity (Or was it Faith or Reliability?) to glow. Even if inside, he was holding back tears.
At least he could calmly explain things, right?
Though a reddish visor concealed it, the Unimon’s look after hearing this was one of absolute shock.
“So he’s seen him... And survived. Perhaps the rumors aren’t true, it is quite possible that Deathmon does not indeed kill all he looks at and all witnesses he can find. But still, this simple fact of survival could indeed show that the chosen still have a role to play.”
“Do you have any ability to fight this creature?” the white horse spoke, his voice not bellowing out orbs of green, deadly light, but simple words, words the chosen child he was talking to still found odd coming from him. “As if there’s any hope... Baihumon, please... We need him.”
“Not at the moment. He’s an ultimate-level; quite frankly, it’s hopeless.”
The Unimon dipped his head sadly. “Is there any other way?” he asked desperately, even if he knew all too well the limitations of the chosen children.
Jou couldn’t help but wonder the same thing. “Were we only called to learn something, to learn that we truly are obsolete? But we passed the torch gracefully before, even if it killed us inside, even if I haven’t been sincere since...
“An unbeatable challenge. I can’t help but feel that’s what it is. There was a time I would have shrugged off this kind of thing as too dangerous, if only to mask my own fears, but...”
Jou glared at Gomamon, hoping the white seal digimon would have the answers he lacked, but also as if almost mocking his idea of going back to the digital world being good for him.
“What? Like it didn’t ever seem hopeless last time? You almost drowned to save Takeru; are you just going to turn away on his trait like that?”
“Hasn’t Takeru turned from his trait, too? It’s easy to hope when your digimon are gaining new forms, a bit harder when you just go day after day in an endless, boring life. And even once you return, it’s never that easy to regain hope, that might have been why we weren’t chosen again...”

“There will be a battle against Deathmon today. We’ll beat him, Jou!”

“Who decided this?” the holder of sincerity asked, utterly shocked by his partner’s statement.

“I did. If no one else will lead, then it’s Gomamon’s turn!”

Were Jou typing this conversation out on an instant messenger service, instead of speaking it, it would have been quite difficult. Modern keyboards aren’t exactly designed for a Gomamon’s long black claws, after all. If this obstacle were beaten, however, and Jou and Gomamon were talking in such a manner, the human would have almost certainly typed a lone ellipsis.

Instead, he merely shook his head, wishing for Gomamon’s enthusiasm, even if having baseless hope was doomed to end up crushing someone he had so many memories with...

At least the Unimon didn’t look quite as forlorn when flying off.


As the days passed, Iori Hida seemed as withdrawn from the digital world as ever. It wasn’t that he felt running away was right or anything, but his adventure had finished, right? And besides, if only as a jogress, even if he could say Angemon’s more forceful personality took control, even if Marine Devimon would have killed others had he not acted, it still felt like murder.

“So I’m running away because I committed murder? I’m sure even father would have hated me for it... Father, I would have liked him to see the digital world...”

He sighed, remembering his father’s life in the police force, its connection to his own adventure, and how sad Oikawa had been after Hiroki was shot.

“Was there anyone like that for Marine Devimon? Is there a digimon right now that loved him, some undersea beast still in mourning? Did he have a bunch of little Shakomon having to endure the death of their father?”

After this, he would have very much liked to slap himself. Marine Devimon was a demon, a digimon who would have been two-hundred times the murderer he ever was given the chance, if not more. And with people or digimon like that, their deaths are sometimes needed to protect the lives of others, he had always heard that, Hiroki had lived by that principle, hadn’t he?

Oikawa would have died uselessly if the world acted by that principle. (Though it wasn’t like such a death would have been any less tragic.)

Upaamon had once told him something, something when he was at war with Black War Greymon and feeling saddened and hurt by Takeru’s willingness to kill... Something about him having the biggest heart of all.

It was then that he saw his D-terminal beep, something that had not happened for him since that day of memory...

This time... That his heart was bigger, it was a comforting thought... And more digimon would be hurt if he didn’t fight.

Besides, for so long, Iori had managed to battle without killing, why couldn’t he keep up fighting that way?

And besides... He’d be among the chosen once more. So this time, Iori Hida resolved to return.



Four years ago, the crests and the powers contained within were supposed to be given up to purify the digital world. Taichi was to have lost his courage, Yamato his friendship, and each other their own particular trait...

Hikari Yagami was different. It hadn’t been long since the light had sprung from within her, since, on that dark Innsmouth day, Angewomon had flown once again. It hadn’t been long since a column of light engulfed both her and Miyako, giving rise to Sylphimon. And even if it had been long since she glowed florescent and freed the Numemon, none of the others had demonstrated a crest power anything like that.

It was this light in her that seemed to be ready to spring forth, and she felt it, too... The evil which must be stopped, the chance for a final battle, if one only occurring on a hunch, the desire to avenge Palmon and bring peace to the digital world.

She feared Dagomon still, she always would, even if her lovestruck self had sometimes said otherwise to Takeru or Miyako. But light was also the sister of courage. And to stop Deathmon...

“It would be worth it... Was that how I was to finish that thought? But it seems so far, like I’d have to reach across an eternity of darkness, a darkness that keeps pulling me in... He’s scary, creepy. I’ve snooped around my brother’s stuff a bit, I know what those tentacles are normally used for... As if that was all.”

“I’m surrounded by neverending darkness -- Again surrounded. Sure, it wasn’t neverending that time, but that feeling, that fear, drowning in that greyish water, hearing Dagomon’s eldritch call...”

“And even now, just thinking about bringing that light, I want to scream...”

Hikari wanted to shrug, wanted to brush it off. She had faced an ultimate fearlessly, and Dagomon was just a perfect, right? But it was so terrifying, so incredibly terrifying.

But... Miyako. Daisuke. Takeru. Tailmon. Taichi. This time, she’d have five names to call out, five who cared deeply enough that she was sure they’d answer. And as long as she could avoid falling prey to that many-tentacled horror, as long as others cared enough to face Dagomon, if that’d be what it took to rescue her...

Maybe the eternal web of love among the chosen had its good points.

And with that, the bearer of light glowed once more and prepared to do battle with, no, prepared to defeat that ghoulish, horrid digimon. Opening the digital gate, landing on the slope of a mountain, wind pulling her hair behind her, she stepped slowly toward Deathmon.

If she hadn’t given up her light before, while the rest were sent from the chosen children to purify the digital world... Maybe this was letting go of the final crest, maybe this would save the world at last, maybe humans and digimon could live together in peace and happiness.

Maybe... But even if it wasn’t enough, she wasn’t willing to lose.


“So Hikari left to attack Deathmon?” Daisuke inquired worriedly, perhaps a bit angrily. “And you didn’t even try to stop her?”

Takeru shrugged. “What was I supposed to do? It wasn’t until Jou e-mailed me that I even found out she had left, we can’t just let ourselves rush foolishly into combat.”

“Can’t we? A chosen child needs us,” the second goggle-boy shot back in his once often-held hotheaded way, unwilling to even mention the relationship between Takeru and Hikari... He didn’t know what had happened last night, what they had decided, perhaps too new a chosen child to even understand the manyfold ties that would make romance sure to bring sorrow... (Let alone whether it was Hikari, Ken, or someone else completely whom he cared for most.)

The bearer of hope, the one who had fought as a chosen child the longest, the one who had often been de facto leader during the second adventure, could only look down sadly.

“Let’s go.” Takeru glanced at Iori, remembering how he had spoke those same words over four years ago, expecting unexplained courage from the youngest member to drive them to something impressive, something heroic... But it was Miyako’s voice he heard.

“We’re chosen, aren’t we? We’ve all shared something special with her, we’ve lost too many friends before -- this is Hikari, she let Vamdemon take her if she had to, she's always fought harder than any of us -- and would it be wrong if I said half the 2002 group fell in love with her?”

Takeru sighed, as the others, or at least those chosen who had assembled in the now-open computer lab of past days, moved to crowd the portal.

“Do I have your agreement?” the purple-haired girl said, smiling in a creepy, forceful manner.

“To think that Miyako, of all people, has become leader. But even without the goggles, I feel like she really does have the ability to lead. And she’s the only one who still has the energy, so why not?”

After screams that, depending on one’s feelings towards the fangirl variety of Japanese, were either screams of “Yes!” or“Hai!” The holder of love and purity held up her three-usage digivice, and once more said “Digital gate, open!”

But this time, for this perhaps final battle, she would lead in the digital world, too. (Unless Gomamon took her place.)


When speaking of Deathmon’s actual appearances, after all the horror and suffering his revival had brought... To call them inept wouldn’t exactly be an inaccurate decision. Yeah, he had easily slaughtered... Palmon. And he was wreaking destruction over some abstract portion of the digital world...

But up until now, what did he really mean?

Noriko watched the reaper digimon, thankful the screens in her floating base let her observe without actually going nearby... “He’s proved a valuable pawn. But... When Takeru in his foolish disguise gave me the map, did he only want him to kill everything? That’s just not like him, it’s not like a chosen child at all.”

Admittedly, the said chosen child had been disguised. But still -- intrigue, adventure, having more times like those in the magnificent, if bittersweet, past... That she could understand, even if she had only really lived through the end. But mindless destruction?

There had to be something more to it, there just had to be, it wasn’t like them. And curious as to what it was, as good and evil prepared for another epic showdown, perhaps the final battle... Chimeramon could wait; the Tsarina would be watching.

Perhaps the other digimon, those with no ties to the chosen, maybe they, too, would have been watching -- were they not too fearful to even look upon him.

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< br> And then the gate opened, and upon yet another mountain, four of the chosen children fell. This was not a metaphorical kind of falling or anything, though, this was the sort that happened when the television that acted as the end of the digital gate was placed on a narrow ridge. (Had they themselves not used a desktop with one chair around on the reverse end, they might have had reason to complain...)

“We were always walking uphill...” Takeru remarked distantly, thinking of his past mountainous battles with virus-type nightmare soldiers. Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori all glanced at him, wondering what exactly he was talking about.

“I’m the only one, aren’t I? Hikari’s jumped into some suicidal battle, Jou’s who-knows-where with Gomamon again, the older kids haven’t come yet, not even Taichi..." He stopped at that thought, wondering why Taichi hadn’t, as soon as he had heard, rushed to a computer to rescue his sister.

“We took a while... Maybe he already has...” he thought sadly, all too easily picturing him jumping into the digital world, fighting Deathmon without even thinking of how much weaker his digimon was, and quickly getting slaughtered by the ghoulish, ultimate creature.

But soon, as the battle erupted before him, such thoughts ended.

“Death arrow!” A burst of dark energy, pure darkness shooting like an archer’s weapon towards Hikari’s glowing form. A sharp burst of light, illuminating the girl even more...

It was reminscient of Vamdemon’s blocking techniques, a finger up, a surge of power – yet it didn’t work nearly as well. Hikari wasn’t killed, a fact that may someday prove legendary, but she was far from unscathed. And though she emerged still glowing with light, she had been knocked back sharply and was clutching her chest in pain.

“Weren’t the crests given up?” Iori asked, never having had the chance to see them. “Did you ever glow with hope like that, Takeru-san?”

The bishounen nodded, then shook his head. “They were given up. But Hikari’s never been like the rest of us in terms of power, and when she’s glowing like that, she’s more angel than human...”

In spite of the lack of crests, in spite of the powers of the digicore being sent to enable Imperialdramon to mode change, the light was strong, too strong... And it did emanate from Hikari.

It made no sense to her, at the time. It made no sense in the dark ocean either, but this wasn’t Tailmon’s first time now, so at least she was a bit more used to it... (Of course, the circumstances involving the dark ocean made it so not even such an evolution had been surprising at the time, and doing this again in the digital world did feel odd.)

And then, wings bursting from her back, she began to spin. “Tailmon, shinka! Angewomon!”

There aren’t many ways to describe a cat turning into an angel, but suffice it to say it involved eight wings sprouting, a gradual change in body shape, and an odd outfit going on in standard magical girl manner.

And then, as the air fell silent, as Hikari stepped towards Deathmon, the angelic female digimon flew past her partner and at the smallish ghoul of death, positioning her arms to launch a pink cross towards the data-type. “Saint aim!”

“If Deathmon were a virus type...” Koushirou spoke, clicking furiously at his PIbook, “Angewomon would have a chance.”

“Where did he come from?” Daisuke asked, a bit confused by the nerdish boy’s sudden appearance.

“This is a data-type we’re fighting... She can’t win,” he answered, ignoring the one who, once, long ago, had inherited courage... But it seemed he wasn’t using much of it. Though courage right now, right there, might just have been suicide.

The pink cross collided the impish digimon, then fizzled out, and Deathmon was unaffected. Winding up his arm, he prepared to launch an attack, an attack that had wiped out a forest with ease... And just then, a torpedo shot over the mountainside and hit said arm.

It hadn’t been easy to say how the white walrus digimon had reached his form. When Yamato was as unfriendly as Jou was currently torn and insincere, Gabumon could not evolve, not without a partner’s strength... Yet somehow, with that sheer, almost happy attitude and iron determination, Gomamon had managed to do just that. And now he was ready to fight.

But no amount of readiness or determination can let an adult-level digimon beat an ultimate... Where a green torpedo had sped from so recently, a yellow eye shot back, and only a lucky combination of an Ikkakumon’s large, bulky size and a strong will to live enabled them both to survive the battle.

Turning back to Angewomon, the creature saw a luminescent Hikari standing in front of the eight-winged digimon, her light a shield that seemed capable of defending her digimon partner, and the light was growing, growing above her as if it was an attack being powered up.

And for all the casualties he had brought, for all the power he had shown, after all the digimon who saw him and only died… This girl somehow stood face-to-face with Deathmon, and she still wouldn’t give in. “Death arrow!”

“Hikari-chan!” Daisuke jumped up, ready to emerge from his hiding and charge, wanting to do something, anything, to protect her, even if that just meant taking a deadly attack.

“Daisuke-kun…” Miyako began, looking wistfully at the goggle-head, the one who she had twice thought of as a romantic rival, wishing he’d just realize that Hikari was doing this to protect him, to protect us, wishing he’d have faith in the girl’s strength… Then Miyako remembered that wistfully mourning a fellow chosen child, even tired as she had been, did not suit her at all.

And furthermore, she was their leader now and therefore responsible for making sure none of the chosen children stupidly got themselves killed. As such, it was her duty to grab Daisuke’s leg and make sure he couldn’t climb up the mountainside to block the attack, right?

And so, in that slapstick way one would expect coming back from the digital world, awkward positioning and all, Daisuke, Miyako, Koushirou, Iori, and Takeru collapsed into a heap on a mountainous trench passing for floor. (Interestingly, the positioning of Miyako’s hands was such that it would eventually prove one of the major hints for a relationship between Inoue Miyako and Takaishi Takeru, or “Takeyako” as it is commonly known.)

“What was that for, Miyako?”

The purple-haired girl, once she managed to get a good view from the pile of entangled chosen children, did not respond, her eyes fixated on the glowing bearer of light she still loved…

“Hikari-chan went to protect us, didn’t she?” Miyako’s glance turned to Takeru, perhaps that girl’s closest friend for four years, and the once-hopeful boy nodded in response.

“So are we just going to let her die?” Daisuke asked, his tone filled with aggravation. “After all she’s done, with all she means to us are we just going to stand by with front-row seats to Hikari’s death?!”

“No,” the typically hyperactive shot back sharply, returning to her oddly commanding form. “When the time is right… We are chosen; a battle like this will have a role for us.”

Had Daisuke or Taichi still been leading, Miyako would have responded to her own comment with something like “But this waiting is super-boring!”

Instead, if only for a bit, if only until her intervention was needed… Miyako Inoue was actually calm. And this alone was enough to impress the others into following her lead.


Traditionally, when dealing with events involving chosen children and evil digimon, the wars start in the digital world, but in time develop a second front on Earth.

And this did seem like the final battle... So it was only fitting for Noriko to send a few black-ringed digimon rampaging down the streets of Tokyo.

And as often happens after catching a Tyranomon’s tail in your stomach and losing a few ribs, while watching Greymon and Garurumon fight on, Taichi and Yamato had found themselves deep in conversation.

“She’s my sister, damn it! Can’t the army take down a few dinosaurs and overgrown plants?” Taichi shouted, grabbing Yamato’s collar despite the blonde’s overwhelming lack of responsibility regarding Japan’s military policy.

“The others are going, she’ll be fine,” he remarked back dispassionately, watching as Garurumon bit off a couple evil rings.

“Yeah, it’s time we pass the torch.”

“We can’t run away, I’ve tried -- we’re still needed,” Yamato spoke, pointing to the massive carnage on the streets of Odaiba.

“Daisuke would do a much better job anyway…”

“Wait, now you’re the angsty one?”

“You already had your cave of darkness, let me have a chance!”

The bearer of friendship smirked. “Just let me hold your hand, in case you fall in too far.”

“I can’t believe I fell for that,” Taichi responded, smiling at the memories as Greymon let loose a fireball on the various armies. “You think they can jogress at this level?”

“They won’t form Omegamon. But,” Yamato began, grinning mischievously, “If two hearts beat as one… If it’s needed to save both worlds, right?”

Taichi nodded. “Yeah, like you’ll be repulsed enough.”

“And you will be?”

Taichi Yagami had to admit, especially after what had happened the past two days, that his best friend did have a point… But as Greymon and Garurumon continued to spit fire, it didn’t seem like they’d need a jogress, and a surprising phoenix’s “Meteor Wing” made the battle end, as a girl in an old blue helmet descended to the ground.

“Have you heard how the others are doing?” a feminine voice spoke.

Taichi and Yamato glanced at each other, thinking of what Sora had meant to each of them, good friend, fellow chosen, and either love interest or romantic rival, sometimes both within the space of days. The holder of courage glanced at her silently, awkwardly, their first encounter after an e-mail break up…

So it came to the holder of friendship to answer her question. “Koushirou gated in recently, he hasn’t said anything since. Communications could be jammed; I think it’s safe to say the battle’s still going,” he said, running a hand absentmindedly yet attractively through his golden-brown hair.

“I see… So, let’s get going, right?”

Taichi and Yamato nodded, and began their search for a computer, perhaps useless as leaders or diminished in power, but… It wasn’t like last time, the younger kids weren’t supposed to be the only ones with a role to play.

After all, this was their adventure, too.


“Death arrow!” A black, piercing, murderous arrow speeding toward Hikari’s glowing form…

“Heaven’s arrow!” An arrow of light, with so much sheer brilliance one would avert their eyes, aiming at the yellow-eyed ghoul, or perhaps just the other arrow that Deathmon had created.

“I won’t let you kill any more innocent digimon!” Hikari’s words, or at least the words of the confident, glowing light that seemed to have possessed her, were shouted as she formed balls of light in her soft, young hands and hurled them towards the aptly named digimon of death.

Black hitting white, attacks of good and evil colliding, the light and darkness swirling against one another… Exploding in opposition, chunks of the mountain falling into the near-endless sky below, and the chosen watched, hoping their Light would survive. And within the chaos of the explosion... “Now!”

Miyako’s yell, a pointed, gloved finger, and with that the fury of the chosen children once more descended on the one who threatened the happiness of all digimon.

“Even though this adventure is all our fault, maybe all mine… Even though while we fight, I’m still more afraid of winning than losing, because winning could make it end. Damn it, my crest should glow for the dreamed-of peace of both worlds, not the hope of a new and more powerful enemy!”

“She’s done enough for us… It’s time we protect Hikari-chan!”

“Armadimon, shinka! Ankylomon!” It was just armor he had really gained, lots of armor, but still armor… But maybe he too could become armor, with that shell, armor that could protect others.

“Patamon, shinka! Angemon!” The brown rodent sprouted four extra wings and changed drastically in shape, then flew over, hoping to fight by Angewomon’s side.

“Tentomon, shinka! Kabuterimon!” Koushirou clutched his digivice, as his digimon evolved, then glanced to his computer and shook his head. Not with this many allies around.

“V-mon, shinka! V-dramon!” Daisuke blinked, then blinked again. What the heck was this dragon, and why hadn’t his digimon become XV-mon like normal? Still, it looked really cool, and if it could save Hikari, if Miyako hadn’t held out too long and there was still Hikari to save, V-mon could afford to change its adult form.

“Hawkmon, shinka! Aquilamon!” And finally, the small, chivalrous bird became great horned eagle, and the new leader jumped on, flying into the explosion, prepared to protect Hikari, even to save her… Was there desire for some sort of “reward” there? No, they were comrades, all comrades, comrades and friends, none had ever given such a thing…

So maybe it was just one-sided love. Either way, flying into the swirling light and darkness, there was one thing she could pledge, one thing she could be certain of…

She was going to protect Hikari-chan.

And with that, into the darkness, into the light, and arriving in a crater with a dark, yet crackling and almost prismatic sky, they arrived, arrived to a wounded, yet still-alive, Hikari and an out-of-shape Deathmon that hadn’t had even a decent warm-up battle in millennia. (Speaking of millennia, Ryo was… Elsewhere. Probably in a different dimension. Irrelevant to this story, nonetheless, at least for the near future…)

Angewomon, for all the strength she had used, was now an unconscious Nyaramon lying beside the girl’s hand on the curved ground that had once been a mountaintop… Hikari was fighting desperately, shields of light, an attack here and there, but she was clearly losing.

“Run!” Hikari barked, yes, barked at Miyako and the others, showing an uncharacteristic intensity in her voice, but the purple-haired teen shook her head.

“No. He must be stopped, we need to save you…” she spoke, looking down at the still-glowing girl, her light now more a soft glow than brilliant radiance, but it was beautiful just the same… Then, turning towards her allies, looking down at the eagle on which she flew, but she was the leader, she couldn’t flee, and V-dramon might be strong, so Daisuke couldn’t… “Koushirou, get Hikari-chan out of here!”

“I tried, he’s too strong… Don’t they get it? He can’t be stopped…” And with that thought, between fading light, promised safety, and inability to argue, Hikari levitated slightly, turned into her normal, brown-haired, pink-clad self, and then closed her eyes and slumped down on the crater’s walls, while Kabuterimon buzzed by and grabbed her and Nyaramon, the raging battle and inspirational leader making him forget the possible necessity of Ookuwamon… Though of course, once Hikari was safely distant, he could always return to a weakened foe.

The remaining digimon flew in formation toward the one who had wounded Hikari so much, hoping that somehow, their attacks would be enough, or at least the fury of the battle could get their digimon into strong enough forms to win…

There would be no cry of “Rosetta stone!” as Tailmon was far, far too wounded to even be Tailmon, let alone armor evolve. And sadly, Ken still stood in the human world, still wishing to forget, so neither would any shout of “Spiking finish!”

Koushirou had fled to get Hikari to safety and Jou and Ikkakumon had already endured Deathmon’s exploding eye, with survival, but not much else.

There had been a time when Mimi led a force of Otamamon and Gekomon to help out in an ultimate showdown between good and evil, but that time had long since passed, and Mimi was moderately safe in the east, (Owing to Noriko’s inability to conquer her and unwillingness to let Deathmon so far into her empire) and had seen far too many die already… She would help the Gekomon and Otamamon, the princess now a queen, but she would not lead her subjects into a useless, deadly war.

Noriko herself was tempted to intervene, but not while so many of her enemies still stood, and she still wasn’t sure about how to launch the coup de grace without afterwards being again plunged into boredom… At least the chosen, if they somehow won, would still have her to fight, so she continued to wait. The thought of sparing the chosen and taking out Deathmon did not occur to her, and she did not yet have the strength.

Taichi, Sora, and Yamato were on their way, but until they arrived… Only four were left standing, only four mere adult-level digimon could still attack… But with Miyako at the helm…

They would still attack.



“V-breath arrow!”

“Megaton press!”

“Heaven’s knuckle!”

“Blast laser!”

Yet another arrow, this one blue and with a v-shaped point, and yet another beam of light, wider and with a tint of orange… The two-ton weight of Ankylomon, coming from the sky, and a sequence of overlapping red rings of paralysis… The four attacks rushed towards their wounded enemy, and somehow, it did feel like these attacks would be enough to finally save both worlds…

They probably wouldn’t have done any damage even if they had hit. Deathmon wasn’t particularly fast, but to his credit, he was small and winged. And “not particularly fast” for an ultimate was still enough to easily dodge the attacks of four mere adult-levels, so the demon lord digimon flew effortlessly through the charging blasts and easily away from the falling ankylosaur.

“It’s not working!” Daisuke shouted, as the holder of purity (among other things) raced through her brain in hopes of finding a quick, alternate plan of attack, as if there was any…

“Exploding eye!”

They were all doomed, death was certain… This was the end, but not the sort of end they had hoped for, evil wasn’t supposed to triumph over good and cleanse the digital world of life, even if Hikari could survive in exile and quite a few of the first team were still not there yet… Defeat here, losing four (Probably five, if Deathmon cleaned up the battlefield) chosen children after light itself had been exhausted in combat, it would be a deadly blow…

Perhaps it was fortunate that just then, three more flew with their digimon through the swirling, crackling, multi-colored barrier of light and darkness. Or perhaps it would only make evil’s victory complete.


Four years ago, when good fought evil for the sake of both worlds, Gennai was inspecting a firewall with Kentarumon. Eight months ago, as the final battle approached, Gennai had cloned himself and worked with the chosen children to stop a hideous rampage of wild digimon causing destruction across the human world.

But now… Maybe it was the divine influence when the battle had started, maybe, as he worked for the harmonious ones, he would be enemy, not ally… Still, it didn’t seem right for him to be completely behind the scenes. Still, what was he to do, teleport in and make conversation? If he couldn’t go in Vamdemon’s castle, surely this place of swirling darkness would keep him out. Even if he could make it in, what was he to do, shoot holograms at people? Randomly appear at the end and ask for help on his distant continent? They were already fighting Deathmon; worse, Qinglongmon had expressly forbidden him from giving any digi-cores.

Had he withdrawn the power from Agumon as well? It didn’t take much to withdraw the brains from Taichi, but the fact that using War Greymon hadn’t even occurred to him made it so Gennai was unlikely to ever know… They would lose, the digimon would be doomed, their leader was never competent enough.

Still, he would watch.


“Guys, as soon as you hit the ground, make sure you evolve.”

Taichi was still adjusting his eyes, still feeling like a failure, but there was just something about flying on Birdramon into combat through a sphere of light and darkness that had a way of making him forget all his angst… He was courage, not friendship, right? The goggle boy, not the angsty bishounen? Either way, he felt a strong urge to lead, and they would follow.
When his eyes adjusted, he’d notice worriedly that Koushirou and Hikari were gone. But Deathmon wouldn’t wait, and it was hard to see when the background was ever shifting, the sky was crackling with sparks of green, and the digimon were fighting so hard… Sora had probably been using the eyes of love.

“Eyes aimed at me, at Yamato, at Mimi?”

A winged shadow moving across the ground, a red streak in the sky… Birdramon, right? Taichi rubbed his eyes. Okay, it was Birdramon. And something was flying at her, something small, yellow. An attack?

No, not at her. It shifted slightly, so slightly, but it wouldn’t have shifted to avoid its target… There was someone behind her; he was sure, probably someone she cared deeply for… The tomboy bent her legs, hands clutching the phoenix’s own fiery, feathered leg, almost as if…

Well, she was love.

Looking closer at Sora’s legs… No, not like that. He was trying to figure out what his ally was going to do next; he was “not at all” admiring the legs of the athletic, reasonably attractive (if flat) child of love. Wait, what was that she was holding, and why were blue straps swinging down from her hand? Well, her legs were reasonably far apart, and she was stepping forward, as much as she could without falling off... And better her helmet be lost than her life, right?

Taichi Yagami didn’t see much of the helmet as it was thrown, and his reaction wasn’t the sort of awe that she would sacrifice something as important as her ski helmet… It might have been up there with his own goggles and Yamato’s harmonica, once, but Yamato had traded the harmonica in for the guitar and Taichi’s old, oddly-worn goggles now belonged to Daisuke.

Besides, he was relieved enough that his good friend wasn’t going to throw her life away.

The helmet flew through the air quickly, but it was still a helmet, and gravity’s impact would take affect. The attack's targets (Or “Most of the 02 chosen,” as they are commonly known) watched the blue hollowed-out orb in reverent importance, flying through the air, dipping under the eyeball that might mean death for them, death for the digital creatures that had spent so long fighting by their side…

And then… It only grazed it, really, a slight impact, probably wouldn’t have altered the bomb’s path whatsoever. Had Deathmon calculated better, if his eyes weren’t so prone to exploding, it wouldn’t have made any difference.

Instead, a devastating blast was unleashed harmlessly in midair, somehow not destroying anything but Sora’s once-defining helmet. But even that helmet’s sacrifice, when they really thought of it, was just buying a little time, stalling for allies who weren’t going to come.


It is said that hope can illuminate any darkness, that it is what enables good to triumph over evil… And in the battles with Devimon and Piemon, well, it sure seemed that way. And even if all others weren’t yet defeated, it was still clear that they didn’t have a chance… It was times like this when the crest of hope is meant to glow and Patamon is meant to get a new form that would save them all.

Seraphimon? That would be fitting… A miracle in darkest times, a heavily armored angel flapping his golden wings, maybe channelling his strength into a ball of blue light, a massive explosion, victory and celebration. If good were meant to triumph over evil in this final battle… Well, something like that would be how it won, right?

Angemon was still standing, still firing off another “Heaven’s Knuckle!”, his golden-orange hair flying behind him, his wings spread, prepared to dodge, his muscles straining from the continued pressure of such attacks. Takeru was watching him, hatred of the darkness with him as ever, feeling the sort of anger he felt from Black War Greymon… If only for a small bit of a battle, he didn’t care if it ended, as long as his digimon wouldn’t sacrifice himself again…

Of course, Takeru himself was probably the only reason Angemon wasn’t a bundle of feathers right now, attacking with one big blast of light.

But it wasn’t long before death would challenge even hope, as the others watched helplessly, the same way as before… Was Deathmon going to just end the same way as Devimon? Was the adventure that once had shown such promise not only inferior, but repetitive?

None would ask this question, if only because what had led up to it was so, so, different, if only because Takeru was too worried about Angemon’s survival to be concerned with something else, even something that had made him what he was, something that had almost awoken him at last and made him truly live again.

“I can’t let this happen! Angemon, don’t get yourself get killed!”

The angel digimon turned towards Takeru, preparing to nod, give a solemn promise to live, even if this precluded him from winning… A cry of “Death arrow!” a black projectile into his beautiful, feathered white wing, and the angel slumped down, glowed white, and devolved to an unconscious Tokomon.


There had been a time, a time just one week previous, when, even if a few Otamamon resorted to their old habits and referred to her as otherwise, Mimi Tachikawa did not at all picture herself a digital ruler. Princess fantasies were one thing, but the princess fantasies were all about having a kingdom’s treasury to spend on luxuries and meeting prince charming, not watching the queen die, ascending the throne, and trying to hold a nation together while protecting it from intruders.

In short, she was not at all a prepared ruler. But luckily, there had been a civics course at the end of last year, and there had been a moderately recent unit on the diplomatic blundering leading up to the First World War, so she did have some idea on how such a thing worked.

Some, not much. And this was in the digital world, at that, protocols would be completely different, not even showing the passing similarity modern foreign relations did to those of early twentieth-century Europe...

It had been an easier job than she had expected. She had little knowledge, but it was easy to see what was broken, and the loyalty of the frog digimon to their queen had prevented any riots during the rebuilding process, even if all she actually did was devote resources to the effort (Just barely, effectively “Unless what you’re doing is to feed us, rebuild!” and shout words of encouragement, probably bungling the restoration in the end.)

So internal affairs had been easy, or at least they would be as long as the Gekomon and Otamamon viewed themselves as subjects only and viewed her not as an incompetent ruler but as a hero…

Foreign relations, though, there she heard the rumblings of severe dissent. The Tsarina had been conquering left and right, the Gekomon and Otamamon were crying out for revenge, digimon from neighboring areas; those that had found freedom at least, were storming in, and she was probably the only one around who didn’t have bloodlust in her eyes.

At the same time… Their village could ill-afford to make war on the Tsarina; all that could happen would be that more digimon would die, and it wasn’t like they had a chance of victory. So unpopular as it was, even though she had to actually look through the royal library because she feared asking an advisor would lead to an advisor deceiving her and undermining her pacifist intentions, she eventually learned and sent out the digital symbol of peace. Negotiations with the Tsarina were not forthcoming, it wasn’t like she could just send envoys to a floating base in the middle of nowhere, so she hoped this alone would be enough to proclaim neutrality and a wish not to fight… And hope that the Tsarina would accept the said wish.

Which led into the second part of her royal plan: Fortifications… Walls would be needed. Enough material of a sort that Chimeramon couldn’t actually penetrate through said walls with a single attack. Cannons would need to be upgraded massively, and digimon would have to be trained how to fire said cannons.

Well, they weren’t hard cannons to operate… It was more “how to fire said cannons and score a hit” that she was looking for. And she herself had no idea how to aim or move a cannon, or what sort of fort to build, or what to build it with… So she was looking. Looking, building a few weak walls and bunkers, making sure the castle would become a bit closer to “sanctuary-fortress that protects us all even against the strongest foes” than to “something that caves in and crushes us to death when we’re attacked.”

It wasn’t easy. She had spent so much on defense that the reconstruction was going even more solely, digimon (mostly exiles) were calling for “convincing” their princess to “retire” and treating her with luxury while going to battle to liberate neighboring areas…

The bearer of purity sighed. Not that she’d back away if there were nowhere to flee, but she’d really rather not fight… And some of them knew that, the more royalist ones knew all to well that their princess’s heart could not afford to lose anymore digimon, especially after Palmon…

But some of them didn’t. And so she began work on a nice, stirring, regal proclamation, and hoped that she could avoid war… Even while the other seven she had adventured with were involved in a tremendous, perhaps final battle.

If they lost, and if she was lucky and a sufficiently good diplomat, this kingdom, ruled once by a shogun and now by a chosen child turned princess, this pacifistic kingdom of Otamamon and Gekomon would be the lone light in the digital world.

Even with Angemon gone, Takeru’s partner now a white blob of cuteness cradled in hope’s gentle arms… Even with hope beaten and light fading, there were those who would continue to fight…

If this could really still be called a “fight.” Their foe was battling lazily now, but lazily might just have meant effortlessly, flying up to claw the Birdramon, which fell as a puny, black plant called “Nyokimon.” Still, he continued, wrapping up whomever would still fight, yet strangely enough, for a battle that would be final, not killing… Then again, maybe he was the sort of villain who just wanted to wrap everything save Palmon up in one nice, big explosion, and then take over the rest of the world.

Neither idea was pleasant… The whole “This is an immense setback, our digimon will come to protect us” thing might have been more pleasant, but it flew right in the face of logic and was therefore shot down by logic’s proverbial eye-beams. But still they fought on, those of them that could still fight…

“Mega flame!”

“Tail hammer!”

And then, one flying back, one who didn’t stand a chance, but one who was certainly much, much stronger… “Hikari is safe, guys! Ookuwamon, attack!”

“Destructive impulse!”

Deathmon actually bothered dodging the third attack, before launching a “Black death cloud!” at those who remained… Kuwagamon hadn’t been this threatening.

As the black cloud approached, as the clock toward death began to tick… “So, this was the final battle. It just wasn’t what we were hoping for.

“Even you will want to collapse once you hear what happened, but the digimon will need you… Be strong, Hikari-chan.”

What happened next… Even the air didn’t feel right for this to happen, though it did gain a sudden stillness, but there were far too many not ready to end it quite yet… And for whatever reason, even if her own Penmon was still neglected, even if what she was about to do had more basis in alliances of convenience and her own emotional questions than any actual love for the digital world…

A floating base approached, a bizarre, furred, eight-limbed, four-winged digimon flew down, more jerking in motions than graceful, for beautiful as the wings of Angemon and Airdramon can be, said wings were not big enough to make such a bizarre chimera anything resembling beautiful in the motions of its flight.

And as the black death cloud approached… “Heat viper!” A wide cone of green light, melting the air around it, even shocking and wounding the already-hurt digimon he was supposed to be saving… (Though perhaps this was saving them, even if it hurt them a bit further)

And then the green heat connected, and the cloud was hit, impaled on a green light with remnants dispersed to the swirling chaos that surrounded this crater-like battlefield… And for once, for only one instant, it seemed that Noriko truly was a chosen child.


Deathmon flapped his wings angrily, taking his now regenerated left eye, as the chimera, ignoring the many-wounded digimon, turned its furred body towards the undead-looking nightmare soldier.

Perhaps it would continue.

“Exploding eye!” A yellow eyeball, using its own sight to chase after the monstrous perfect, rushing quickly through a small distance… The one-headed, insect-faced chimera, moving with the strength of Garurumon’s legs, smacking the bomb away with his almost-metal, Monochromon tail... And then Deathmon, taking his eye back, wondering how he, such a powerful perfect, could lose…

Well, Light had weakened him.

With that, like a coward, like a weak villain in some children’s series, unable to fight the forces of good arrayed against him… Sealed within a firewall, one of the worst, most destructive nightmare soldiers even a world as pained as the digital had ever faced… And yet he would lose to some unholy, mix-and-match monstrosity, a perfect-level monstrosity?

No. Running was better, flying even better still… “I’m tired,” he remarked, though knowing Deathmon’s reputation for silence, those who heard it would later agree they had hallucinated that statement. And then, spreading his black, impish wings, he flew through the light and darkness, through the crater that seemed to be fading as he left, Hikari already gone…

In the digital world, there is supposed to be a balance of light and darkness. When the balance leans too far towards the darkness, chosen children are called for.

Well, supposed to be… Even if the sky was still pink, even if the chosen could return safely to their worlds… This was, well, different.

Maybe better. Like this adventure could ever match up to the old.

“So this wasn’t the final battle after all…” Miyako said tiredly, as those who had known her had their heads explode in confusion. But yes, Miyako was tired.

This was really different. But the chosen were thankful, and if things had changed, the first six parts of any of their adventures had never been much… Worthy, no. But it would be fun, yes, it would be fun… And even with all that had gone on, they would sleep happily.

And so the legend of the chosen children continued…