Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Another memorial. ❯ Chapter 8

Those who die in the human world, or who perish in the world of dreams… Those made from dark towers, never to be reborn, or simply those stuck waiting years, even decades, before the village of beginnings takes them back…

 

Far too often, they are forgotten. Life goes on, and in the occasional non-boring week, who takes time out to think of the dead? In a fast-paced, never-ending adventure, new digimon would be met, be remembered, and those like Chuumon - they'd be relegated to the ash-heap of history.

 

But even if their bodies are broken, even if, save Wizarmon's ghost, they influence nothing… Their spirits are hardly vanquished.

 

 

And there they were; the ghosts of the digital world, cut off from the living, yet unable to manipulate dice, playing cards, or a keyboard; the way the powerless alive pass the time would not work for incorporeal spirits.

 

So they talked, and talked some more, looking down on the surface, every now and then trying desperately, but failing in an effort to influence the world below. (Well, maybe not quite failing, at least in Wizarmon's case.)

 

“My destiny… No, must forget, that was so long ago… Iori's kept to his morals, hasn't he?”

 

Gennai, ever able to transfer between life and death, (among other weird abilities of those lacking attributes) sighed at the recolor Ultimate. Yes, Iori did, the problem was that no one else had.

 

“Mimi's okay, right?” Palmon asked, speaking in her usual high-pitched, worried tone.

 

“She's been a bit pacific lately, and she really misses you. But she'll recover,” a butterfly answered, floating past, seeming to have at least a touch of happiness about it. “I wonder if we could set her up with Pipimon; the poor guy waited so long for nothing…”

 

“You're not nothing, Oikawa,” Wizarmon answered, tapping the butterfly with his ethereal staff, or at least trying to; the staff simply slipped through the prismatic, still half-broken man turned insect. “I just hope my message helped Tailmon.”

 

“To have nothing more to hope for in the afterlife or even to worry about…” Oikawa fluttered sadly, seeming to encircle the digital ground. “We're not all so lucky as to die without regrets.”

 

“You did your best too, you made it. But if Tailmon's life was the one that ended…”

 

“Yeah, you don't have to rub it in, wizard,” Leomon answered, still thinking of the empress's recent slaughter. “To try as they were… Damn, if only I hadn't inspired them to go off lacking such in strength!” the slightly-crying lion added; even the bravest warriors could not always maintain composure.

 

“At least you can be proud of what you did…” Black War Greymon answered bitterly. “Even if they die, those who follow your path still make the digital world a better place.” Putting a regretful claw to his own transparent neck, he pondered mentioning that they had not entirely stayed noble in the end, but decided against it; such a thought seemed likely only to make the dead hero sadder.

 

Changing the subject, on the other hand… It could only make things worse, the possibility was there -- but they were all gathered there for something, and there had been these rather important events ever since Chosen Arrival Day.

 

“So, Gennai, how have the kids been doing lately?”

 

The Jedi-looking young man seemed pained at this answer, his face wrinkling with sorrow, seeming more like the elder Gennai of old. “Yeah, it's hard now. Once half the chosen children come out, I'm not convinced that the prejudices will remain.”

 

Black War Greymon, from his place in that weird, digital afterlife, ethereally sweatdropped.

 

“Oh, you meant the recent goings-on with the Tsarina, didn't you? Those fools got lucky the first two times, that's all, we're doomed.”

 

At this point, a butterfly cried.

 

“Tailmon's gone through enough; I can't let her lose Hikari,” Wizarmon spoke, though given his current lack of life, given the trouble he had just to give a simple message, it didn't seem like the sorcerer had much choice in the matter.

 

“Wizarmon, you've done more than I could… Have faith in these children; they've never failed before,” Leomon answered, trying to put a comforting hand on the wizards shoulder, but the muscular, leonine arm went through him; old habits died hard.

 

Sukamon was tempted to let loose a bitter response about the dark masters, but stayed silent; it wasn't like the chosen had any way of knowing how differently time passed.

 

“Are you certain?”

“They've passed every test we've given,” Leomon answered firmly, confidently, seeming completely certain, or maybe just filled with blind, foolish hope.

 

“Yes, but this is different…” Oikawa remarked mournfully, a tone he still managed to take even in the digital world.

 

“Vamdemon was different. The Dark Masters were different. The Kaiser was different. They've faced so many foes—even I sometimes doubted them—but these children are strong.”

 

“I'm not sure… And the digital world, it could b--” the broken, ever-lonely, many-colored butterfly began, and the lion had but one response to that.

 

“I am.”

 

I will never be forgiven.

 

Ken Ichijouji looked down from Stingmon's arms towards the digital world, sadly looking at the restored trees and cities, the healed world: healed with Oikawa's blood, not his. Never his.

 

Was this his rightful penance? It didn't matter.

 

If he had bothered to concern himself with the more entertaining things in life, if he had freed up some time on his schedule between all the soccer, chess, and interviews to watch some anime, he might have thought himself a Kenshin-like figure.

 

As it was, he never even bothered comparing Imperial Dramon to a Gundam, and even when a peace of paper fluttered by a small bit of writing on it, the writing translating roughly in the English tongue to “No climax, no point, no meaning,” all he could think of it as was a message on the futility of existence. Still—scenery, how to phrase his destiny—none of that really mattered.

He had… a quest. A mission. For the sake of two worlds, Noriko had to be stopped.

 

For those few months he had battled Arachnemon, Black War Greymon, Oikawa, and Belial Vamdemon, he had not once worn a disguise. Between the gaps in his memory, coping with his newfound lack of genius, and desperate struggle against evil, it had never occurred to him.

 

Come to think of it, he had been disguised enough during his reign of evil, so his normal form probably wouldn't have brought about the connection... But still, someone had to have realized, and it seemed like a great bit of luck that no digimon who lost friends and family to the Kaiser, driven to revenge from the pain of loss, ever ran into him.

 

A Sabirdramon flapped its fiery, dark wings, seeming to just now have begun flying near him, as a bit of recognition sunk into its crimson eyes.

 

“Good luck, Kaiser. Save this world.”

 

The black-haired kid smiled weakly, yet sorrowfully, at once determined, happy, regretful, and confused, as his digimon flew off and upward. Its wings spun in a propeller-like motion, buzzing the air beneath, as a blue, wide-bodied dragon flapped furiously and zoomed up on his right.

 

“Ken! What's up?” the V-dramon's rider asked, his voice projecting in that way Daisuke's always could, loudly coming to his ears even amidst the digital gusts of flight.

 

The bearer of kindness thought for a bit, still unsure even how to answer him; there was a certain heaviness about the chosen as of late. “Hmm…” he began, uncharacteristically thinking aloud while trying to explain, but it was better than ignoring his truest friend, even if he had run away from him far too many times. And somehow, sometimes, without even a slap, one comes to pour their heart out in sadness…

 

“Daisuke…” Ken began, speaking seriously, heavily, with a tone he had only used for his thoughts and certain conversations with Wormmon. “These days, lately, with Noriko and all, it's just… I've been thinking about the digital world all the time, and it kinda brings back memories.”

 

“I know,” V-mon's partner answered. “Remember when we joined forces against Ookuwamon?”

 

Ken sighed. Jogress partner or not, leader or not, love interest or not, some things just never got through Daisuke's skull. He did remember that particular battle, yes; did Daisuke remember why they were fighting it? After all, the Ookuwamon, the path that led them to the battle in the first place, it was only so they could stop his old base from exploding. And in the end, all he did was give up the crest he had never deserved.

 

All the other crests… Yeah, it took a while sometimes, but at least they got around to glowing, at least their holders' digimon didn't need to borrow Daisuke's strength just to reach the Perfection stage…

 

“It's… not like that, Daisuke-kun. You were never the Digimon Kaiser.”

 

“Yeah, and I never sealed Demon either. What's your point?” He answered, confused, but somehow, Ken still smiled at his answer, even as he seemed embarrassed for his friend's foolishness. But for the holder of kindness, for all he thought he had come to terms with his past, all those sympathetic words had not the slightest effect.

 

“Regardless of that… Regardless of whatever you say… Those were my hands cracking the whip, my hands throwing the dark rings, and I didn't even have an excuse like the digimon I enslaved.” Ken answered, obvious sorrow overwhelming his voice.

 

“Cheer up; we all make mistakes.”

 

“I don't really think it works like that,” the dragon digimon answered from below Daisuke, reflexively sweat-dropping at the comparison.

 

“Right,” the brown-haired chosen began, finding no useful words, and therefore, quite logically, changing the subject. Besides, noticing one flying around, away from the rest, yet so desperate to atone does sort of bring out curiosity. “What're you up to?”

 

“I've seen enough… Even if she's lost all faith in me, Noriko still has to be stopped.”

 

Daisuke smiled, seeming to have instantly forgotten everything he had remembered about Deathmon or saving Hikari's life, hoping that Imperial Dramon would see life once more, and yes, wanting a nice bit of time with Ken; it would be a nice break from all the nostalgia and losing to Miyako. “You didn't invite me?”

 

“I must go alone.”

“I'll come with you!” Daisuke protested.

 

“No, just Wormmon can go,” Ken answered, but at least he was smirking.

 

“And what good is Wormmon without a jogress partner? Besides -- there's a reason you haven't succeeded by now.” Ken cast a long glance Daisuke's way, as the boy motioned the V-dramon to fly over to the beetle, taking his best friend's hand. “Let's go together.”

 

“Fine…” Ken suddenly remembered something from his network of surveillance, from his days as Kaiser, from outside Andromon's factorial dome. And at that point, his digimon flying nervously by Daisuke's side, the bishounen smiled.

 

 

“Hikari-chan!”

 

“What is it?” the girl answered slowly, lacking exasperation, but still far from having the energy of the glasses-wearing, orange-helmeted one who had just called for her.

 

“We're jogress partners, right?”

 

The other girl nodded, having not the slightest idea where Miyako's current train of thought led, but curious nonetheless. “But the last time we tried -- Tailmon couldn't do anything with Aquilamon.”

 

“That's exactly what I was thinking about,” the purple-haired holder of purity answered slyly, a smirk on her face. “When two hearts beat as one… If our bodies are as one, our hearts and digimon can't help but follow, right?”

 

The holder of light, upon hearing the suggestion, blushed a deep, scandalized crimson. “Miyako-chan!”

 

And at that point, confused as ever, surrounded by her fellow chosen children and the digimon that always stood by their side, Hikari Yagami once more opened her eyes.

 

“You okay?” Tailmon spoke, a voice thick with concern for the oft-wounded, far too silent girl.

 

“I'm fine,” she answered, for what that could mean from one who'd sooner fall sick than slow the others down, her mind still trying to remember… A dream? A flashback, towards recent-yet-neglected yuri memories? Or perhaps, just a simple possession, her mind being given incredibly odd visions as the light informed the chosen.

 

For now, while Miyako Inoue was wracked by a mix of concern for her recently-heartbroken friend and envy for what she could make out of her counterpart in Hikari's dreams (along with the hope that comes from such envy, dreams being what they are,) the younger, just-awakened girl felt herself unable not to wonder.

 

Far away, in the depths of the dark ocean, Dagomon, along with the recently-banished Demon, were bored out of their minds. But, tempting a target as Hikari was, it seemed she could not be taken -- so they simply resumed abducting people from random seaside villages and forbidden Rhode Island libraries, still staying apart from the digital world.

 

For now.

 

Hikari continued her thoughts, blushing in Miyako's presence oddly; dreaming of something like that and waking up to the person in question beside you did tend to have such an effect. Not that the dreams reflected her sleep, of course, respect, personality, and camaraderie aside, Tailmon would kill her if she tried anything.

 

But regardless of that, the older chosen children had turned to discussion, Taichi and Yamato were once more at each others throats, or just looking for a sufficiently manly excuse to touch; the loving, friendly looks had not escaped their eyes, though interpretation could, of course, be debated. Jou, on the other hand, was calmly suggesting that they head to the Otamamon kingdom in search of allies. (Peacefully as the suggestion was made, enthusiastically as Gomamon endorsed it, no one actually paid it any mind.)

 

Mimi, Daisuke, Ken -- they simply were not there. Takeru was still around, still listening, but he couldn't avoid the feeling that his presence was the last thing Hikari wanted, not that he could blame her… He was with Sora now, making the occasional quiet comment, but mostly content to just listen to his friends, to spend time with them in the digital world.

 

And Koushirou, as ever, was typing away, Iori watching over his shoulder.

 

“Angewomon, Ookuwamon… Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't you guys need crests to reach the perfect stage?”

 

The computer geek opened his mouth to answer the honorable child, eyes fixated still on his Pineapple screen. “There's precedent for both, albeit somewhat odd ones,” he answered plainly, still typing away in search of something. “You've heard of Skull Greymon… I hated doing this to him, but Ookuwamon basically operates on the same principles, with a bit of hacking thrown in.”

 

“I'm not sure if I could do that to Armadimon…” the plainly dressed boy answered his eyes with a mix of admiration and repulsion for the warrior-chosen.

 

Koushirou lowered his voice, prepared to finish the thought, but this was the absolute last thing he wanted to remind Hikari of. “You're familiar with the Mugen Dramon battle, correct?”

 

Iori nodded, a distinct lack of tears to his face… maybe one just had to have been there. “Yes, but even still, that only brought energy, it didn't invoke new forms.”

 

“The phenomenon of Hikari's light is an odd one. Remember when Hikari went missing in school, and the others were all talking about some dark ocean?”

 

The boy confirmed Koushirou's statement.

 

“She had given up her crest, yet when the black monolith fell, Tailmon actually evolved… It's not that much of a stretch to think her glow can bring such things, especially with light as her crest's power.”

 

“But… if she could glow, does this mean her crest is really gone?” the former holder of curiosity wondered, finding the point quite intriguing himself… “I wonder. Anyway, I've been far more confused with V-dramon as of late, heard anything?”

 

“V-mon and V-dramon are quite similar forms. Given that the very existence of V-mon was legendary - dragons hide their nests well enough—this could be the standard progression.”

 

“Impressive, and quite prodigious a concept,” the vaguely spiky-haired one answered, still unused to hearing Iori come up with such insight, somewhat wishing Ken was around to help. “But it doesn't explain the change…”

 

“XV-mon himself first appeared under circumstances resembling a forced evolution. If, somehow, he never evolved naturally, that would make sense - but it wouldn't explain why this time, why now. Sorry, but that's all I have to go on.”

 

“Daisuke's been fighting with an unnatural evolution this whole time?” Koushirou Izumi filed away this information in his brain, and somehow, he seemed to gain a new respect for the `02 leader. And learning this, the evolution, the past, it all seemed… so much more interesting, so very interesting indeed.

 

 

“You know what a Metal Garurumon is capable of, you saw even the People's Revolutionary Army just stand back and watch the digimon cross… shouldn't we at least try?”

 

The LDP member cast a longing, defeated look towards the Japanese flag on display, wishing certain fringe backbenchers had a better grasp of East Asian politics, then turning to address the Japanese Diet. “I admit, liberating the entire human world with the digimon would be a nice thing, but - we're Japan. There isn't a country in Asia that would let our troops on their soil, even as defense from a far stronger, truly malevolent foe.”

 

“Then use auxiliaries! We provide the gates and basing, but that doesn't mean the digimon would have to liberate humanity under the red sun. Freedom to the oppressed, from China to Arabia, an Asia free of dictators…” He let his thoughts trail off dreamily, clearly idealistic, for all his nationalist campaigning, his dream seemed noble and true.

 

“You forget - the fact that twelve Japanese citizens saved the digital world means nothing for the Japanese government. Besides, they've dealt with enough war; the last thing we should do is drag them in to start our own…”

 

The backbencher nodded, though given lack the support for his positions, it didn't really matter what he did. “Still… there is potential here.”

 

“Can we at least name one of the chosen ambassador or something?” a random voice boomed, speaking from the great halls of the Diet.

 

“It's unorthodox, and it'd be by far the youngest in Japanese history, whichever one of them we picked. But really, there's no better choice; this kind of goodwill you just have to capitalize on.”

 

Hearing no objections, after a quick, near-unanimous vote on an individual exception to laws governing ambassadors, Taichi Yagami soon found an unusual request in his D-Terminal…

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Evil is everywhere, so don't savor your victory,” a malevolent voice boomed from below, echoing across the net ocean, making Ken's hatred for Noriko grow stronger by the second.

 

“This can't be a coincidence; she had to know of the dark whirlpool… But she already has a Chimeramon; I'm sure she's just trying to mess me up.”

 

“If evil is everywhere, then everywhere we'll stop it!”

 

“You sure about that, Daisuke-kun?”

 

“You put it everywhere,” the leader of the younger chosen answered, smirking, with the sort of face that would lead Taichi and Yamato into furious fistfights -- like those “fights” hadn't been cover for something.

 

Part of Daisuke, at this point, wished for something like the angels with arrows of hope and light, if only for an excuse to hold Ken's hand. Though of course, Wormmon would be filled with jealousy.

 

“Well, there's the base!” Daisuke pointed, off in the distance, to a very familiar-looking object hovering above that same whirlpool. Though this time, he finally had a nice, flying digimon, and the guy he was trying to stop last time flew alongside him. (Unfortunately, Stingmon's wings just had a way of obscuring Ken's cute, fangirl-bringing b-- wait, there was a battle at hand!) “Yoush! It's time we take down the Digimon Tsarina!”

 

With this level of noise, if Noriko was actually interested in blocking their entrance; she would have instantly been able to shoot them down -- but she wasn't just going to kill her predecessor like that -- at least not until she learned his true reasons for turning back. Given enough torture, anyone's bound to stop that crap about the importance of good; even he couldn't lie with things like “So I would like myself” forever.

 

And then…and then she would know. And perhaps, if not the world, she could at least gain some understanding.

 

The thought that Ken spoke truthfully, even if the ex-Kaiser himself was trying to pound it into her, that those were his reasons; it never even crossed the young Tsarina's mind.

 

Then again, who has not searched long and hard for that which does not exist?

 

In the meantime, with none but Stingmon and V-dramon granting them any fighting ability, with no digimental of Miracles in the engine room to save them in such desperate times, Daisuke Motomiya and Ken Ichijouji snuck aboard the Tsarina's base.

 

 

“I'm tellin' ya, Mimi, he doesn't know you exist.”

 

Mimi Tachikawa, having departed on a “diplomatic mission” to “gather support” for the Otamamon kingdom, (Everyone knew she needed the break, with Palmon dead and all… Besides, the unrest was small, and the regents were capable enough - the greatest concern was that she'd abandon them, but one can hardly stop a monarch from doing so,) frowned in response. “Hey!”

 

“Go over and test him, then,” Sora answered, smirking.

 

“Yamato-kun!” Mimi spoke, shouting across the small, digital village to the yellow-haired bishounen, hearing not the slightest word of recognition. “He's just angsty like that; it's not like he'd pay attention to anyone else either…”

 

“You think I don't know that? We were dating last winter, remember?” Purity nodded, sadly yet knowing and happy they could find such feelings, and Love stuck out her tongue. “But during all the time we spent in the digital world together, I can't remember him speaking to you once.”

 

“Remember back when Hikari got trapped in Factorial? We spent that whole day on the phone, he even ran back in when he realized I was still on the line!”

 

“That was a mistranslation! He just left the stove on, hurried to not burn down the apartment; doesn't count.”

 

“Mistranslation?” Mimi answered, trying to make sense of what exactly Sora was saying - she couldn't, as those words just didn't. So instead, turning back to pose against a tree, she spoke. “Well, even if he's busy worrying about Noriko-chan now, and his place in the chosen… I'm sure once he turns around, he can't help but recognize my beauty!”

 

Yamato Ishida, after a few silent seconds, did indeed turn around, casting a glare that seemed to be aimed towards the Japanese-turned New Yorker, but really, only to see what was behind her. “Jureimon… And here, now, a cherry tree in the middle of nowhere… It looks just like him, is this a sign?” he thought, as Mimi couldn't help but notice, even from such distance, that the focus seemed slightly off if it was her he was looking at.

 

“If it's a sign, I can't put much stock in it. Taichi's face in the water - that was a sign too, if only I remembered what it stood for.”

 

Meanwhile, as Yamato returned to angst, as Sora and Mimi watched for his reactions, each trying to win this amusing argument - the pink-haired girl was still posed seductively against a tree. And Miyako, having only now wandered by, catching a bit of the beauty aimed Yamato's way… She simply couldn't resist.

 

“Mimi-oneesama! I'm so happy to see you again!” The orange-helmeted girl yelled, stretching out her arms, glomping before the holder of purity could do a thing to dodge.

 

Though - all in all, having been in dire need of one ever since Palmon's death, she might not have wanted to evade that hug.

 

“Miyako-chan!” Mimi yelled back, her reaction a mix of a hello-yell and simple post-hug shock, and then lowering her voice to a near-whisper, uncertain if she wanted her words heard, she continued. “I'm happy too; it's been so long, but at the same time…”

 

“Mimi-chan, I love you, but you have to realize that this was the absolute last thing Palmon wanted. She may be dead, but her desire was for your life, so the least you could do would be to live for her.”

 

The currently pink-haired girl listened to Miyako's words, seeming touched by her newer purity, as her lips curled slowly upward into something vaguely resembling a smile. “Yeah… Come to think of it, you're right. From this day forth, I, Tachikawa Mimi,” she began, posing dramatically on the nearest decent-sized rock she could find, as a certain thought came into her head. “Wait - you love me, Miyako-chan?”

 

The purple-haired girl blushed heavily, at last taken aback. “Well, I, umm…”

 

At this point, Mimi Tachikawa remembered something, something regarding Miyako's head, a hug, and running from a couple of Gokimon - “And isn't she a little too tall for her head to normally end up pressed against my chest?”

 

 

They had made it aboard easily enough. Paildramon was powerful, after all, so once they flew in beneath the proverbial radar and took out the weakling guards, the endless metal halls of the empress's base were theirs for the walking, if not the taking.

 

And of course, dressed in a feminine version of Ken's old outfit, one with purple replacing the blue in its odd color-scheme, one with a more flowing, regal cape, one with glasses slightly less geeky and a smoother hairstyle - but mostly the same, Noriko learned of their presence, and moved quickly to intercept.

 

And as such, in a big, machine-filled room, the two chosen faced the young girl, Daisuke and Ken determined to dissuade... and prepared, if not wholly willing, to face the inevitable and slay her.

 

“Trying to convince me again? It didn't work the first time, you didn't even have the guts to try the next… Did you finally come up with a reason why I shouldn't do this?”

 

“No,” Ken admitted sadly, as a Kaiser-esque smirk came upon his own lips. “Well, actually one. If you free the innocent digimon and stop your evil reign, you have my promises that Paildramon won't kill you.”

 

“You'd set your digimon partner on some innocent little girl? Do you really think you'll be able to hide from punishment in the human world after doing something like that? And stop what, exactly?”

 

“Yeah, but this is the digital world, they'll never find the body,” Daisuke pointed out, as Noriko sighed in boredom.

 

“Stop enslaving innocent digimon,” Ken began with a fury in his voice he had once reserved for Arachnemon. “And stop using the power of the dark seed to conquer the digital world!”

 

Noriko smirked. “Stop fighting Deathmon? Stop building an army capable of saving you fools?”

 

Tempting as the thought was to give the order, to have Paildramon annihilate the Tsarina in a single hail of bullets - bad enough it was to lose a debate to the ultimate evil, but attacking for such reasons is the mark of a maddened, desperate villain, not a heroic chosen child. “You don't have to slap black rings on them and take away their bodies!” Ken shouted back angrily, his rage in sharp contrast to the calm of his apparent successor.

 

“I don't, you say? And how many of these `free' digimon have lifted a finger to defend their world?”

 

Ken pondered. There was the Leomon corps, of course, and he was sure there were others… but at the same time, from what he had still remembered of his own past, free digimon seldom posed any real threat to his reign. “Yes, but…“ he began, his words swiftly interrupted.

 

“At least I'm not too afraid of my past. If dark rings are what it takes to save the digital world…” Noriko was lying through her teeth now, and as her lips moved with those words, it was as though she could taste the falsehood. At the same time, though - it was a believable lie, and if she really wanted to make it truth, to fulfill the destiny the digital world gave her in her darkest moments… well, it was possible, to say the least. “Some of us actually want to save the digital world from your silly memories.”

 

“What the hell?” Daisuke's voice, understanding the implication, found her statements far too absurd to be believed.

 

“Sora's wish, Takeru's memories, all of you, with your absurd nostalgia… It's not me who's the threat to the digital world!” she shouted, thick with anger -- a wholly false anger, of course, but it didn't show in her tone. Her voice lowering, she continued, with one calm question. “Who do you think revived Deathmon, anyway?”

 

“Who revived… Deathmon?” Ken asked, his face set aback in a mix of confusion, disbelief, and simple horror.

 

“If you guys even bothered to look up your foes, you'd realize he was sealed away centuries ago. I can't understand how people so incompetent ever received Seiryu's blessing,” the young girl insulted, then stopped; criticizing Ken would not do her any good now, anyway. “And the holy beasts were the only ones who could even get to where he was sent away.”

 

“So Deathmon's a fake, your majesty,” Daisuke answered, mocking, as the younger girl put a finger up in the general direction of the brave, hotheaded, oft-foolish boy's lips.

 

“I haven't finished. That is the real Deathmon, but to release him… it would take something like a prayer, but even then, it'd have to be from the heart of someone to which the harmonious ones themselves were indebted.”

 

“Like the chosen children? Are you saying one of us…”

 

“That's exactly what I'm saying. I saw it - couldn't decipher it, but I saw Takeru looking at a strange map, and the routes seemed to correspond exactly with Deathmon's location.” She answered, leaving out a few choice bits of information; for instance, who actually did the deed of revival.

 

“What the--” While Ken could at least calmly ponder for a bit, Paildramon seemed as enraged as Daisuke was at this statement, this utter slander against one of his truest friends. “Desper--”

 

“Penmon, shinka! Rukamon!” The colors stayed the same, mostly, just a slightly-lightened blue - but that was the greatest similarity between the forms. The beak became a bottlenose-mouth, no great difference, but the tail became flippers, and flippers turned to fins, and the body turned from the flat, awkwardly-waddling penguin into a lithe, floating dolphin, increasing to adult-level side. “If you so much as scrape Noriko's skin, I'll neither spare nor forgive you!”

 

“Penmon - you… evolved?” Noriko began, hardly able to contain her shock, though doing a bit better for her marvel. Yeah, it was impressive -- and those lines held a certain coolness that would bring sparkly eyes to a normal girl her age. But the Digimon Tsarina, brutal conqueror that she was, was not exactly the sort to go fangirling over anyone; least of all what was still a weak adult-level, though her courage was unmatched by all save Taichi.

 

Even Paildramon had held out on the actual attack; if a digimon would evolve for this girl, could she really be that bad? Still, she was the Tsarina, a brutal tyrant; her digimon, too, could've been corrupted… not all partners could be as heroic as Wormmon, right?

 

“I wanted to for you, Ken, even when you were evil,” the dragon-insect hybrid spoke, reading his partner's mind, though the voice was wholly Stingmon's.

 

“Yeah, but she's letting her,” Ken responded. “She has to have someone fast; it's not like we trapped her; she has to have some stronger digimon to fight with her, but she goes to her partner…"

 

Rukamon, for her part, absentmindedly pondered the oddness of the “battle”; having not even had the opportunity after her first evolution to lay so much as a fin into the one who endangered her partner. Then again, if Noriko was safe this way…

 

“I don't care if she's `misguided' or thinks there's some greater good involved; look at all the villages she enslaved!” Daisuke shouted, throwing down his goggles and charging straight at the dolphin digimon, as Paildramon lost the unity of spirit that let him exist in the first place; and Daisuke himself soon felt a hard tug on his flame-jacket as Ken motioned for discussion to continue.

 

“It's obvious what must be done… you might not agree to it yet, but even a numbskull like that should come around in the end,” Noriko spoke, pointing to Daisuke as the word “numbskull” escaped her lips.

 

“For the time being, Noriko, I'm willing to help you defeat Deathmon --” Ken began firmly, admitting, though it certainly felt as though his thought was incomplete, “but I will not lift a finger against Takeru-kun.”

 

“So be it.” The girl smiled at this, it was all she needed for now… he'd be sure to come around by the time Deathmon was beaten.

 

 

Medic of the chosen children, oldest, most responsible - Jou Kido sat in the Pyocomon-filled village of birds, and save Gomamon's frequent jokes…At present, he was bored out of his mind. The drama, the love triangles, the betrayals, he supposed it was fun, but he was completely failing to keep his friends from tearing each other apart.

 

“You call that a hand?” Okay, he didn't show it… he supposed he probably should, now. But Gomamon was the only reason he hadn't died of boredom entirely.

 

Well, that, and maybe the allergies. Oh, the allergies… yeah, it was the digital world, but couldn't the Floramon just mate normally, instead of throwing pollen in the air and up his nose? He supposed this sneezing violated every single one of Koushirou's theories, but --

 

Koushirou… As the name touched his lips, his former thoughts were erased. Koushirou - the one that, when all his friends were paired off, he was jokingly set up with. (He still remembered his cry of “I love Koushirou's theories,” being truncated and saved by Mimi; it had only been a few years, after all.) A nice kid, a bit nerdy, yes, but his information had still saved them countless times.

 

And now… well, he was the only one not otherwise occupied. The circle of friends, it was more closely-knit now, sure; a circle of eleven can get closer than one of twelve. It truly did feel that way; Mimi-kun with Miyako, the deep friendship, the trips to America, she had all of those. Koushirou, Taichi, Yamato, they might have well been chosen children themselves - it might have been painful to stay in the human world so often, but they were helping, somehow. And Sora-kun, she seemed desperate, lonely, broken; and it was Takeru she had lately been clinging to.

 

But as he was now… He was the old-guard fan, always talking of the days when fansubs on low-quality VHS were all they had, while not bothering to open his eyes and catch the greatness around him… or perhaps the swordsman who trained for years, only to find that, while he was strong, the world was so different he didn't know which cause was deserving of his defensive blade. Or just the world-traveler came back to Earth, while finding nothing there… on second thought, that was cliché, but it wasn't really a metaphor.

 

Then again, if he was all of those things, Gomamon was the guy showing him tributes to otaku culture, or the loyal retainer giving him info of the outside world, or the one descending with some sort of alternate-universe device to let him take back such a foolish return.

 

And if he stayed forever like this, he still knew the seal would be by his side.

 

At this point, Gomamon, done with his fish-harem summoning, told the one about the three Ogremon and the bar. And on this one hearing, Jou opened his ears, and actually laughed in response.

 

 

At the other side of the village, near a narrow, oddly-abandoned river, her firebird digimon off flying reconnaissance, the tomboy of love sadly tossed a stone across the water; her oft-torn mind and heart both filled with thoughts of the younger, golden-haired chosen.

 

She thought back through her memories, to Piemon, to giant handkerchiefs of death, to one terrified, ill-planned attempt at escape. And yes, to Takeru, or at least his younger self, to that truly saddened look on his face as she desperately got him to run and protect Hikari-chan, though she herself would be left behind.

 

“He wanted to stay with me; he wished to fight by my side…”

 

Sora continued her sorrowful recollections, something in her thoughts about missed chances, destined love, and how she was too old for the kid anyway. “Yeah, so I fall for his brother,” another part of her brain retorted - yes, Yamato's appearance aside, she hadn't really expected the kid to grow up bishounen.

 

But still, for all that had changed… she couldn't at all say she liked all of it. Thinking of his former bluntness, how he had no difficulty saying something such as “I like you” with utter sincerity, when those words were most needed - sure, he was younger then. But even so recently as last year, with his unabashedly showing concern for Hikari or utter hatred at the Kaiser and the powers of darkness, without the slightest thought towards suppressing…

 

Okay, given his family history, it might've just been his bearing witness to what the exact opposite had done to Yamato. But even still, this current, angst-ball Takeru, revealing treason with unspoken words; it didn't seem right, didn't feel right, not at all.

 

A nice romance building at the flower shop, from a misguided effort to bring flowers to Hikari, when it was Sora he really loved… okay, that was a dream; it always would be. Of course, they needed to find a gate to even get back to any flower shops - in the digital world, her occupation was a little something called “saving the world.” And yes, the digital world itself was a good enough backdrop; love could bloom here, even if she hadn't yet seen such a blossoming - she was sure something was going on.

 

No, that really wasn't the problem… it was Takeru, as he was, torn, sorrowful, treacherous; she still wanted him, yes, but he just wasn't --

 

“Sora?” a familiar voice called, ending the auburn-haired girl's sorrowful daydreams instantly, as she turned in the direction of that call.

 

“I'm here,” she answered soundly, yet lacking in emotion, unsure just how to respond… “Is this how love begins? But I was always more open, more natural with Birdramon - and I have to say I liked that way more.”

 

“Good,” Takeru answered plainly, his feet tired with exhaustion from this desperate, random search… well, maybe not entirely random. There was the digital world to think about, and somewhere, locked deeply in the back of his mind, one other relevant thought: “I want to be with her…”

 

A silence passed between the two for a few moments, neither knowing particularly why they had met there, yet both wanting this encounter nonetheless. Sora's heart quickly filled with as much worry as ever, worry only doubled by her feelings - she was so overly concerned when her only connection to love was the crest bearing its name, but this was all the worse, tempered only slightly by its having nothing to do with the fate of the world.

 

“You seem really sad or something, you okay?” the bishounen asked, golden hair swaying beautifully from below his odd, white hat. Awaiting her answer, mind heavy with a sort of caring concern, he walked over to the girl, sitting himself down softly next to her, his legs inches from the slow-moving river-flow.

 

“Takeru-kun… I…” Sora paused, speaking with none of her trademark boldness, seeming less a tomboy than someone out of a shoujo manga. Continuing her sorrowful, stammering answer, she noticed Takeru pulling closer to her - a comforting sensation, but changing nothing of her wish: that adventure she still enjoyed.

 

After all, this wouldn't exactly be happening in the human world. “You gave up so much for this world, didn't you?”

 

He shrugged. “Just Patamon, and only for a bit - but thank the holy beasts he came back,” he answered jokingly, hoping it would somehow bring that long-forgotten smile.

 

It didn't. And quickly, desperately, yet with a touch of his own feelings driving him, he found himself pulling her closer, his arm wrapped around her back.

 

“Sora, I like you…” He had said it once, long ago, as a young boy, back when “like” could hardly be thought to mean his current feelings. And - okay, he still did, all the more, even if he never said as such, the words threatened to burst out any moment, but… to say it now, now that love was blooming, occurring, melting and breaking hearts in some twisted dodecagon; that was a different matter entirely. Even though that phrase just might be what it would take, he just continued to sit, arm gently around her, hoping it could bring the slightest bit of relief.

 

Sora blushed at this sudden, odd closeness, his soft hand against her back, resting gently on her green shirt… Sure, she had hugged before, but victory glomps weren't exactly like this, and it wasn't the angsty “I'll miss you” sort or anything either… Close, affectionate, overt, awkward - it was enough to make her blush deeply, though she still wouldn't resist this comfort.

 

“Could you please stay with me?” A simple request—she needed the company; no one wanted to suffer alone; it was best to be with a caring soul…

 

To her slight surprise, and towards her greater contentment, hope itself seemed to smile on her.

 

 

The chosen mostly relaxing, the ominous clouds of darkness being glanced at, acknowledged, and then ignored, their guard truly let down, minds occupied with more light-hearted things… Enjoyable though this stay in the digital village was, it would be the perfect time to dissolve the illusion, fly through the angel portrait and kill them all.

 

Thankfully, unlike a certain out-of-place, illusory hotel, this particular village was not a trap. And their enemies - Noriko was attacking Deathmon, an alliance of convenience and necessity established with the chosen children. Deathmon himself had not been heard from since the battle; Takeru was comforting Sora, if he even counted as truly evil - and even if he was, he wouldn't hurt the chosen. And Vamdemon, for his part, was dead, dead, actually, truly dead. Yes, the dark cloud hung over them still, the feeling of approaching doom had not dissipated, but its source was unknown; who would possibly attack?

 

Though this time - a nice rest was part of the adventure; they were together again, stuck in the digital world… it wasn't the crushing, boring sadness of the human world; they found this preferable, angst and all. They should've been able to relax right now, right? It's not like anything bad was happening, right?

 

At this point in time, a thousand innocent Agumon, the descendents of a Koromon village on Server, found themselves tragically in total disagreement with that statement.

 

Deathmon himself, darkest of tyrants, may indeed have been resting… but evil digimon have a strong tendency to have minions. And genocidal as the dark masters were, violent as the reprisals had been, some followers had still made it into hiding.

 

With the world in danger-filled chaos, they had regained a strange, inexplicable share of power; a power stolen from them when the crests were broken and evil purged from the world. It was true that Piemon had but one dead minion, and Pinnochimon was never exactly well-liked… But that didn't mean Mega Dramon and Giga Dramon wouldn't bring death from the sky, and it didn't do the slightest thing to dissuade the amphibious Hangyomon from joining in the massacre, either.

 

“Genocide Attack!” A missile shot from the sky, as an Agumon watched in sheer terror, noticing its approach, scenes of the upcoming explosion clear in his mind. He watched it descend, fear-frozen, not like his baby flames would do anything to stop it in the first place.

 

He never saw it land. Before he could, he heard a cry of “Strike Fishing!” and a harpoon flew straight through his skull. Blood spewed out of the Agumon, flying about the village, but quickly disintegrating into data with the rest of him.

 

The slaughter was on! Two more Hangyomon jumped out, tossing their spears as best they could, well enough to skewer about three of the peaceful dinosaurs a throw - and they made a lot of throws. An orange dragon joined the grey one - digimon of such skill that, if they truly were shooting at someone, Tentomon once stated that it was very unlikely they'd still be talking about it. And they were shooting at the Agumon, attacking with such force that every possible hiding place was annihilated with the digimon. And if that wasn't enough, their attacks had such speed that those running away died too, the ground exploding from under their feet.

 

Deramon, the treacherous guide to Pinnochimon's mansion, watched it all. And the sight before her eyes, it filled with an uncommon emotion she supposed was anger, a horror that anyone, even Mugen Dramon's warriors, would commit such a massacre.

 

Sure, the Agumon couldn't do anything - not unless they all evolved at once, and the sky filled with Greymon-fire, and even then it would be hard. Sure, they were helpless. She for one wasn't, and she couldn't let this happen to them.

 

She pondered contacting the chosen, wished she had a digivice signal, that somehow they'd find out… no, there was simply no way to contact them.

 

In a far-off village, Mimi noticed an odd, serpentine form in the distant sky, and heard a faint, explosive noise. She rubbed her eyes, figured she had been driven to slight hallucination by her past horrors of war, and tried to put it out of her mind. Had she done otherwise, perhaps… it was something to argue, even they might not have been strong enough.

 

Noriko noticed a similar flash on her telescreen, her base having adequate surveillance of absolutely enormous chunks of the digital world. She quickly switched the view, so as to ensure Daisuke and Ken never learned, and moved onward. Deathmon had to die, the world had to be saved; nothing else mattered.

 

In the end, Deramon fought alone.

 

“Royal crusher!” The white bird-plant turned around, shooting a white, explosive egg from the bush on its back. The dragons ignored that, as they had the fireballs… but when the egg-bomb hit Mega Dramon's face, he still screamed out in uncharacteristic pain.

 

Watching the massacre, friends murdered, ground exploding as her brother tried to run - an Agumon, by the name of Agura, took advantage of the opportunity, sneaking away, running desperately to the chosen, trying desperately to ignore the explosions behind her and the screams of everyone she knew.

 

“A child-level… there's absolutely no reason it should hurt you! Shrug it off and get back to fighting!” Giga Dramon yelled, as the orange dragon continued to cry out in pain - as Agura, horrified as ever, continued to run away, trying desperately to at least save herself.

 

The Mega Dramon nodded, trying to fight, shooting as ever, but with horrid aim… but anywhere he shot, Agumon still died. “Forget what it looks like - Deramon is no child-level.”

 

The three Hangyomon threw their harpoons once more, as Giga Dramon let down another bomb from the sky. It was clear there was a threat, and they couldn't afford to keep massacring innocents until Deramon died, not deliberately, anyway. And so they kept shooting, as that one desperate female Agumon disappeared out of sight, watching the blue-and-green pixels flying over the horizon, hearing the final scream of the lone defender, mixed in with the screams of so many more innocents.

Once all was said and done, and she could put the fight behind her, Agura had but one thing to say to the horrified Taichi… and to Taichi's Agumon companion, to that reptile that just looked so much like one of the massacred hundreds.

 

“Not a nightmare soldier among them, but I'm sure what was shown before me was truly evil's face.”

 

As Noriko, Daisuke, and Ken reached the entrance of Deathmon's cave… once more failing, Yagami Taichi punched the ground in absolute, self-hating sorrow.

 

 

Author's notes: It was NOT supposed to end up this Sokeru-ish, or this blatant for anything, for that matter… I'll try to do better with the pairing-ambiguity!

 

And my apologies for the wait. Hope it was worth it. Please review!