Three years. That's all it's been, just three years.
Three years since Vamdemon appeared on this earth and sent an electro-magnetic fog across Tokyo, but also three years since Vamdemon was beaten, three years since we truly believed the digital onslaught was over.
Three years since our old sky, the one that went from blue with white clouds in the day to a dark black at night, was replaced by an upside-down copy of the digital world. Three years since my children showed a depth of courage and heroism that adults have seldom, if ever, matched; three years since I was searching desperately for Takeru, only to find he was not only safe, but had been one of the eight who had saved us all.
Three years since Yamato and Takeru talked me into letting them disappear into that new, upside-down digital sky; three years since they went off with those six other brave children, all of them trying to stop the Dark Masters from inflicting this horror upon our world. Three years since I held back my tears, asked Yamato to protect Takeru, and saw them vanish from my sight. Three years since Shuu made that crack about the sun not coming up tomorrow, and three years since any human had ever so much as caught a glimpse of the sun.
Because despite what Hikari yelled out at the end about how they'd come back, and much as I've tried to think it a promise and to use it for comfort -- that tearful goodbye was the last time any of those kids were ever seen alive.
"Beast king fist!"
A burst of energy in the shape of a lion's head sped out from behind a thick grouping of trees, flying towards a small grouping of wind-guardian digimon, a group consisting of a single Deramon, two Mushmon, two Floramon, and a Kiwimon. The blast struck Deramon from the side, its force knocking the creature over as it let out a yelp in pain.
"Blossomon, he's in this forest, about fifty meters down, shooting from thirty-four degrees to the left. Don't let him escape," the Floramon said calmly, relaying the instructions.
The multi-headed plant digimon nodded. "It's time we show all the digital forest what happens to those who resist Pinnochimon-sama. Polinosis shower!"
"Poison smash!"
"Allergy shower!"
"Little pecker!"
"Royal nuts!"
A gigantic brownish-yellow cloud of poisonous gases flew towards the lion from the front and right, as cutely shaped explosives bombarded him from the left. Leomon turned around, darting into the woods, but he had already given away his position. And in the digital world of the dark masters, where the woods teemed with Pinnochimon's spies, there was a good chance that meant that he had already dug his own grave. The lion digimon put a hand over his nose as he continued to flee, careful not to inhale Blossomon's fumes as the dead branches cracked beneath him, his other hand traveling defensively to his sword.
Not that he'd get close enough to use it. Even if he had gotten used to the forest, even if he could deal with the bizarrely curved trees that had become as familiar as they were disturbing, (although he would never adapt to the cracking sounds heard every time he ran across the deeply-littered ground) this also meant becoming all too cognizant of just how well-organized Pinnochimon's forces were – every direction meant a new ambush, behind yet another tree. And despite his instincts, all the ambushers used ranged attacks; swords were useless.
Ranged attacks, like the recent spew of "filth" that he barely managed to dodge. Sure, it wasn't all that damaging, but being hit by the thrown poop of his enemies had to be among the greatest impingements of his honor imaginable!
Though of course, he hadn't been able to actually fight with honor, at least not since the chosen vanished into the human world – and as time went by under the Dark Masters' tyranny, he had come to value it less and less. Truly, honor was a noble, beautiful thing when fighting a battle one was either capable of winning or could afford to lose without seeing others suffer. But as things were now, when the fact that digimon don't actually bleed was the only thing keeping the streets from running with blood, it didn't matter if he'd have to shoot his beast king fist from the bushes and run away before getting hit: he'd do whatever it took to save them!
Continuing his rush to escape, going over his honor of old with a slightly wistful tone, the beast man digimon sighted a cave in the distance. This cave was hidden by a thick growth of vines – a decent enough hiding spot, if anything was, and he didn't have energy to run much farther. More interestingly, though there were quite a few lines obscured by the plant life, he could still make out the crest of courage carved above the entrance. Courage... Taichi's group failed, in the end. And true, the familiar, ancient sign gave him hope, but what was hope but just another failed trait, perhaps the most failed of them all? Angemon never did evolve like the rest of them... But even with that in mind, even though it'd probably just get blown up in a couple days, the fact that such a sign could survive in this digital world undisturbed by the dark masters still gave the lion a faint, unreasonable hope.
More practically, it was a perfectly good hiding place, and he needed one – but why? Why hadn't the digivice radiation again turned him into Saber Leomon? He was certainly in danger, certainly fighting to save the world; he had evolved before without a partner, even at times when all it meant was the inconvience of a house no longer able to contain him.
That said, for all his asking "why," he simply hadn't, simply, for whatever unfathomable reason, couldn't – so unable to fight, he ducked, crawled, and with none of the courage and nobility he once held, even as his gaze was drawn upward to the sun-burst symbol carved above the opening, the lion digimon crawled into the cave. And as Leomon's eyes caught sight of its interior, he continued to push himself in, still hearing the exploding eggs in the background, each explosion closer then the last. And then, safely inside, he stood up to have a look around.
The cavern itself, in spite of the crest carved above the entrance, was boring. The ground, the roof – Leomon wasn't impressed by any of these; it looked the same as any other cave, stalagmites and all. The only thing noticeable about said cave was an object near the back, atop a small mound of dirt. It was a red-and-yellow egg, balanced on its edge, but with two things about it that made this very clearly not some ordinary, hidden digitama. First off, it had a long, metallic spike coming out of the top – second off, there was the little matter of the crest of courage inscribed on its front.
Was it Agumon's? The idea seemed sensible and might've even been the case, except that no digimon had been reborn since the dark masters took power; the new eggs were the color of charcoal and, when not cracked to begin with, simply never hatched. Still, whatever it was – for some bizarre reason, the vaccine-type digimon felt an undeniably strong, almost magical urge to pull it from the ground. So reaching downward, Leomon grasped the digimental and found it too heavy to lift – too heavy to lift? He could regularly lift things twice his size, and this was so small – what the heck was it made of?
This line of thought was quickly distracted, however, as he found himself engulfed in a column of orange light. And then, just as quickly, the light faded, and three small, firefly-like balls of energy flew out from the cave and drifted away.
The Gotsumon stood menacingly before the fallen human, as a crowd of people cautiously backed away, the digimon's pitiful, almost comical shortness not easing even an inch of their fear. "I told you to work harder, didn't I?"
The young woman sighed as she glanced back at the assembly line, then to her wounded, overworked, and still-injured hands. "Yes, but... fulfilling those quotas, it's simply not possible!" she cried, looking for something against which to place her head and hide her sorrow, but instead was forced to allow her unavoidable tears stream down along her face.
"Are you defying Lord Mugen Dramon's quotas? Are you defying me? Humans who don't know their place in this world need to be taught the hard way!" the data-type digimon began, clenching his four-fingered hand. "Rock fist!" The stone punch connected with the woman's leg, as she hobbled around in pain. "Your quota is doubled now for your insolence, and count yourself lucky... tools that stop working should be put down!"
"You're scum," a nearby boy of about fourteen years stated, eyes ablaze with courageous defiance.
"Say that one more time. I dare you."
"Sure," the young man stated, speaking with heroic confidence. "Lording your power over anyone you can get your pathetic fists on, hiding behind the guns of those other heartless monsters as you beat up on anyone weaker than you, killing women and children without a second thought, just 'cause they're human... That's why I said it, and I believe it now: You're scum! Absolute scum. "
The factory workers, as if just commanded to attack, advanced on the Gotsumon, though most glared angrily at the man who had just spoke even as they did. "This shift, and possibly this whole factory, has been infiltrated by a resistance cell," the rock-like digimon said, talking into some sort of communicator as the defiant man punched downward at him, then screamed at his wounded fist in pain. "Igamon, evacuate me. Mega Dramon, you know what to do."
The crowd continued to advance on the lone digimon, cornering the two-foot tyrant and closing in, until a sudden unnatural wind blew by, a flash of red shot down from the roof, and the Gotsumon quickly vanished.
Their chance for revenge beaten, about a third of the humans stood dejectedly in place on the cold metal floors, fearing the consequences of any attempted escape, and preparing themselves to meet their fate. The rest ran towards the exits, hoping to cause as much chaos as possible, in an attempt to make the digimon demolish their own infrastructure in a manhunt of overkill.
But as the approaching missile heralded, it was not meant to be. "Genocide attack!"
As across town, a factory exploded to massive loss of human life, Iori Hida peered at the screen, noticed the flash of yellow light, and stared with wonder at the bizarre electronic device that had just materialized in his hands.
Of course, his first thought was to trash it. Digimon came out of these things, after all. And while his grandfather, amidst those looks of deep sorrow and regret that crossed his face every time the subject came up, had said not to judge by race or species, he hadn't seen a single good digimon in his lifetime. Honestly, when he really thought about it, all that happened since the gate opened was pain; it was quite clear that the apex of human happiness was reached on July 31, 1999.
Sure, Miyako was interested, even excited; she never had feared computers the way most sensible people had... but as far as Iori could tell, she wasn't always on the rational side of things, and seeing as how she was both too inquisitive for her own good and a total computer geek... well, it might prove fatal before too long, but he couldn't call her reaction surprising.
"Let's use this to fight. It must be destiny, for this to come into my hands of all people's – obviously, the kami themselves have chosen me to beat back the digimon and save this world!" Daisuke shouted.
"Uhh... Daisuke-san, this is real life, not shounen manga," Iori responded, sweatdropping. "Destiny doesn't really work that way, if it even exists."
"He does have a point." The other three turned, hearing Ken's voice – Ken's? It didn't make sense for him to be there, he looked down on 'mere mortals,' and he was always too busy drawing up various plans to resist the Dark Masters to waste time with them anyway. Iori had somewhat admired Ken for this, wishing he had the wherewithal to keep fighting, but at the same time...
"Given that these objects are electronic and materialized out of nowhere, they pretty clearly have something to do with the digital world," Ken continued, and Iori remembered why he didn't like him: that contemptuous, arrogant tone he always took whenever the two of them spoke.
Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori glanced around, looking for someone to say it. Something like "it's too dangerous," or "Piemon's absolutely ruthless with his grip on power; he'll execute any human who so much as has the slightest involvement in the digital world," or even "no human/digimon contact has ever ended well for the humans involved."
No one spoke. No one. Three of the four there were too intrigued to say anything, and Iori was certain Ken would shoot his idea down with a retort with much more intelligent than he could beat – and honestly, he was rethinking his own position as well.
"Okay, so... just what are these things?" Miyako asked, holding up the device to Ken. "And what do they have to do with the digimon?!"
"That is, umm..." Ken began, taken aback – first off, now that he could see it up close, it was quite clearly a digivice, and secondly, Miyako's questioning was surprisingly enthusiastic and loud And besides, he really would've preferred to observe them more; people like that probably vomited at the sight of a digimon trying to act friendly. Still, they were chosen children – maybe Qinglongmon was right this time? He had to wonder... but no, three could not succeed where eight had failed. But even still, they were probably their best chance, if an infinitesimally small one, and it didn't do any good to leave them in the dark.
And thus, the arrogant boy genius opened his mouth. "They're called digivices, they make one's digimon evolve, and they serve as the proof that one was chosen by the holy beasts in an attempt to save the digital world."
The three children paused for a few seconds, as Ken's words took effect.
"Wait, you want us to save digimon?" Iori asked, his voice carrying within it an absolute disgust.
Ken began formulating his response, pondering just how he would convince them – but for the time being, he remained silent, envious of the ease Koromon had as the first digimon a human had ever seen, then cursing the warrior for not being strong enough, not even as War Greymon.
Daisuke's earlier enthusiasm had fast dissipated; saving Earth from the digimon was one thing, but... "And just why would I want to save the digital world? The digimon only brought us pain... let them fight for themselves!" Daisuke shouted, hurling his blue digivice at the paved ground in sudden anger. "Besides, we'll only get killed..."
"I have to say I agree with Daisuke. Why should we save their world, when all they ever do is hurt us?" Miyako asked; for all her geekiness and lack of technophobia, her opinions on the digital world were rational, but she was still very much a person of her darkened time.
The black-haired prodigy continued his thinking, flustered as he searched for a response, but unwilling to give in – and then a flash of memory crossed his mind.
"Iori-san," Ken spoke calmly, "Tell me, where were you on the day Vamdemon was defeated? And thank the gods for Oikawa's research – if he just believed the Hikarigaoka incident was a terrorist attack like the rest of us, we wouldn't stand even a snowball's chance."
"What the heck does that have to do with anything?" Daisuke questioned, wholly confused.
"It was an airplane of some kind. The digital world materialized in the sky, and we went into a tailspin," the short child explained calmly, eyes closed in remembrance.
"The plane went down fast when it came in contact with the digital world, we were sure we'd all crash and die... but just what does that have to do with this?" the brown-haired child answered, speaking calmly.
"Tell me then, Iori-san..." Ken began, his voice taking a compassionate, yet curious tone, "Who saved you?"
"It was..." Iori paused for a moment, thinking of jet liners, working airplanes, and Tokyo Bay, cursing himself for having forgotten something that important for so very long. "It was Garudamon."
Miyako nodded at Iori's comment, realization rushing through her, memories flooding back of her own first experience with the digimon; something about Diablomon, the hopes of the Y2K bug, and a dream of a better, if lower-tech tomorrow.
"Well, if one digimon could fight so courageously, even facing death, then maybe..."
"And Garudamon's data now, the same thing that happened to every digimon with a bit of courage and goodness in its soul!" Daisuke shouted, then paused for a moment, thoughts of Metal Seadramon and his sister's fate running through his head. "I hate the dark masters as much as anyone... but I'm not looking forward to dying just yet, especially not for a world that spawns so little good and so many who only hurt us."
"Daisuke-kun," Iori began sympathetically, "Putting that aside, didn't you learn anything from the first group of chosen children?"
"No," Daisuke reluctantly admitted. "Wait, they were real? Humans really worked with digimon to defeat Vamdemon and then disappeared into the sky? That's gotta be a myth."
"It's not a myth," Ken explained. "And there was one thing they knew, one reason they disappeared – and that was that our worlds are connected, and we need to save one to save the other."
At this, the spiky-haired boy nodded. Damn... he's just too smart to argue with, and he's not the sort to lie about something like this... So to save the Earth, to keep the digimon from hurting us any more...
"Right..." Daisuke answered, glancing around the war-torn city, briefly remembering the old greatness of Tokyo, the greatness of a life where one could build something worthwhile without watching some tyrannical digimon on a power trip tear it down just as easily, when one could just browse the internet without the fear that a Bakemon would come through and steal one's soul – and just as much, remembering how digimon were responsible for it all! But at the same time... "I don't want to help them, not in the slightest. But if it's absolutely necessary to protect ours... we'll save that world, if we have to."
"Okay! Now that we're all in agreement, though we have no idea how to use these..." Miyako began excitedly, glomping onto the black-haired, arrogant genius, "Ken-kun, show us the way!"
"So a few kids get digivices, what's the big deal? It's not like they have any chance whatsoever to threaten our power!" the ruler of the sea asked, his snake-like body twisting around itself as he floated through the air.
"Be careful with that arrogance of yours, Metal Seadramon. Or need I remind you of your performance in the battle with War Greymon?" Piemon answered, both casual and dismissive. "That said, they don't have their digimon yet; it's best we stamp them out before they become even a minor threat."
"Just let me take care of it. Those children will be lucky to have a few cells intact when I'm through with them!" Mugen Dramon said.
"Yeah, and see you level half of Tokyo in the process?" Pinnochimon shot back. "We can't just let you blow it up; it's an excellent base for taking over that world."
"If we don't smash them now, they could easily become dangerous. We must do what is necessary to elimi--" the mechanical digimon spoke, but was soon interrupted.
"Stop this arguing! These pitiful children don't even have their digimon yet... send Monochromon; this is a simple matter,"
the golden, metal serpent, the saurian mech, and the disturbingly childlike puppet all murmured noises of agreement, as Piemon looked out from the mountain that had become the digital world. The clown meticulously unclasped a small, hand-held device from his collar, glanced at it for a bit, and pressed down on a minuscule, gray button.
A dimension away, at the floor-level of a never-entered holding pen disguised as an apartment building, a polychromatic (if dull-shaded), armored reptile saw the door to its metal cage fly open, as the location and faces of Daisuke's group flashed before his eyes. And thus, the Monochromon charged out into the street, knowing all too well the consequences of letting the Dark Masters down.
"Volcano strike!" As Daisuke, Miyako, Iori, and Ken walked along, the air behind them rose in temperature from the heated spray of numerous nearby fireballs.
"I was hoping you'd at least get your digimon before something like this happened..." Ken began, gravely worried. "For now, run for it!" At least the original chosen children met their digimon; if these guys still have living partners, they're almost certainly stuck uselessly in the digital world!
Miyako and Iori obediently sprinted down the long street in response to Ken's advice; they didn't want to get incinerated, after all, the purple-haired girl's cry of, "Here's hoping this creep has stormtrooper aim!" reverberating into the polluted, depressing air.
As for Daisuke, well... it is said that there is a fine line between courage and stupidity. And like Taichi before him, there is quite frequently a lot of debate over just which side of said line he falls. "Screw running! We've spent way too long running away... I say we fight back!" he shouted, turning around to face the Monochromon, his eyes ablaze with determination.
"And just what would you fight with? Can your punch knock down a forty-foot Cockatrimon, can your fist shatter a Saber Leomon's fang?!" Ken began, gripping Daisuke's collar and turning him around as he forcefully glared at the brown-haired boy. "You don't have a weapon on you, and his armor is as hard as steel... unless you can smash steel with your fists, fighting back is just another word for suicide."
Daisuke nodded slowly, disappointedly, but understanding – how close had he just come to throwing his life away?
"Grand fire!"
"Damn, too close...maybe if Qinglongmon chose someone smarter…" Ken pondered, the flames approaching.
"Killed on the day I got my save-the-world mission... at least no one knows the names of those who fail this soon. I guess no matter how hard I fight it, I really am an idiot after all," Daisuke thought, the fireball moving ever closer, almost slowing down as a few precious memories flashed before his eyes.
"Predation spider!" A green, acidic mist spewed from the thirteenth floor of a nearby building, colliding with and dispersing the flames. The Monochromon roared in anger; Daisuke tried to figure out what was going on, but all he accomplished was to lose track of Ken and to hope he managed to dart away...
Before he could deduce a thing, however, a few long bandages wrapped around Daisuke's torso and yanked him away. He screamed out in surprise as the bandage-wielder flung him through the door, then felt a distinct thud, landing face-first on the carpet inside what he could only assume was someone's house.
Daisuke looked up, glancing around, trying to ease his understandable confusion and figure out just what exactly was going on. He noticed a few figures standing in the room – Ken had made it in there, thankfully. The others – the first he noticed was a creepy-looking, pale-faced man in a purple trenchcoat, the sort whose face screamed "child molester" and looked like he ought to be used as a visual aid for "the sort of person eleven-year-old boys should stay away from." He turned his gaze, almost afraid to look into his eyes, and he was curious as to whom the others looked like, and noticed man in a blue outfit that covered almost all his body; the only skin visible was a narrow slit between his eyes, and that skin was an inhuman shade of grey. The last figure in the room was a woman dressed in red, with an odd-looking hat and long, beautiful, silver hair; the only one who didn't creep him out.
"Don't worry. The Monochromon won't find us in here," the pale-faced man spoke, as Daisuke nervously peered out the window and saw the beast looking through – and then, seeming almost as bizarre as the sight of an armored, four-legged saurian monster looking through the window, it just as soon turned away as if there were no one there!
"W-what the heck just happened?" The spiky-haired boy asked, his mouth agape in shock.
"I put up a digital barrier."
"And that would be...?"
"It's a computer program that renders the inhabitants invisible to outside digimon," the man explained, motioning to the small white desktop in the room's corner. Daisuke peered that way, glancing at its ancient, familiar frame, and began to notice the grey artifact's soft, low-pitched hum. If nothing else, Daisuke had to think, this man, whoever he was, had courage; most devices of that nature had been smashed after the attacks by angry mobs looking to strike a blow against the digimon scourge, and since computers were very much digital...
His family had one once, too. It had been purchased in 1995, the same year of the terrorist attack on Hikarigaoka bridge, back when electronics were the future and that fact brought everyone happiness – had those fools only known! And this man, even if he apparently managed to rescue him from a rampaging Monochromon, seemed to have much more guts than brains.
"Yeah, but... what if a digimon comes through and attacks you! Are you mad?!" he shouted, eyes ablaze with determination, if not defiance, not to lose any more lives.
"You're new to this, aren't you?" Daisuke weakly nodded, annoyed by the dismissive contempt of the trenchcoated man, but willing to hear him out; whoever he was, there was something to be said for anyone who had stayed alive for this long, and managed to do it with a computer untouched by neither the raging mobs of Tokyo nor the savage purge of the Dark Masters against anything that could be used to oppose them. "Anyway – either I've been very lucky, or the program shields the computer entirely from the digital world, so there's nothing to worry about."
It made sense. He wasn't exactly the intellectual type, admittedly – far from it, some had argued. But Daisuke, for all his faults, could easily see Oikawa's logic; it wasn't much of a stretch to say that if it blocks digimon, it can block them from all sides, even in other dimensions. "That's... pretty neat. Where did you get such an awesome program?"
"Gennai sent it to me."
"Do we have time to explain this stuff? Miyako and Iori are still running," Ken asked, the obsessive, middle-aged man having lost track of time.
"Right... damn, this does not bode well. Mummymon, Arachnemon, retrieve them – these kids are all we've got."
"Mummy...mon? Arachne...mon?" Daisuke asked, backing into the corner of the room, as far away from the two that the black-haired man had faced as he could get, wishing the room was bigger as he slumped over in fear in the corner, only a few feet from digimon!
Ken gestured to the room's tall, brown closet, holding up a black device identical save in color to the one that Daisuke had so recently obtained, ignoring the other boy's fear. "Wormmon, join them."
"No, don't bother. Arachnemon and Mummymon can shapeshift, and they've both reached the perfection level... if things get bad, Stingmon's only an adult and lacks any effective means of escape."
The boy genius nodded reluctantly as the digimon couple obediently dashed out the door.
"Daisuke-san," the pale-faced man spoke, his voice pained and saddened. "Mummymon was the one that saved you, and Arachnemon's attack distracted Monochromon long enough for him to do so. You have no need to fear them."
"I'll try not to... so, umm, who's this 'Gennai'?"
"I can't say I really know him myself; he limits his appearances these days to holograms and e-mails. Apparently, he's a native of the digital world, who played some sort of mentor role to the first group of chosen children..."
"So he's a failure?" Daisuke asked, getting the feeling that every question of his he had answered would only give him two more.
"Don't be too dismissive – those kids failed, but so did everyone else who tried. Besides, his program's the only reason we have any hope of survival here," the man answered sadly, glancing out through the window at the disturbingly clean and sparkling road, the top of his gaze barely noticing the upside-down, digital sky as he tried to catch a glimpse of Arachnemon, or Mummymon, or the two children they needed to save – perfect-level or not, for both personal reasons and the fact that they were the two strongest digimon they had, yet not nearly as powerful as needed, he was worried. "By the way... I never introduced myself, did I?"
"Nope."
"Sorry about that... call me Oikawa."
Daisuke shook his head, then held up his blue D-3 and spoke. "It doesn't matter what your name is! Just teach me how to use this thing to fight!"
"Right, of course... but tell me, are you aware that the other children also possessed these devices, yet it did nothing to avert their ultimate failure?"
"I know all too well..."
"Of course you would; it's common knowledge by now... but keeping that in mind, while you were given that device for a reason, and while you wouldn't have it if the one who sent them didn't believe you can succeed, from a sheer power standpoint, you don't stand a chance."
"Get to the point!" Daisuke shouted, somewhat frustrated; he had waited too long! He had to win there... too many were suffering.
Oikawa reached into one of his trench coat's deep pockets, then removed his thick hand from it, his fingers wrapped around a tiny, black sphere. "This object possesses within it what may very well be the strength to defeat them."
The young boy hesitated, shuddering as he slowly reached his own hand for it, then paused, looking nervously at the item. For one thing, it was black, and not the ordinary black one might expect to see on a color wheel, but a darker, far more radiant shade that seemed to almost glow with darkness. And darkness, well... be it the sunlight diminishing from the new digital sky, the age-old association with Pure Evil, or the simple fact that the four digimon that had tyrants more brutal than he could imagine called themselves the dark masters, he couldn't find all that much enthusiasm for injecting himself with pure darkness.
"Take it, Daisuke-san. I wasn't always a genius and a soccer star," Ken began, turning to the nervous boy with a gentle, kindly smile. "It took the seed to change me, too."
"Seed?"
"They're called 'dark seeds.'"
"Dark... as in evil?" Daisuke asked, slowly inching away, his face contorted in a squirm the other boy found adorable.
"Not really. It's just a source of power – if our enemies use it, we might as well try to catch up. What, do you think it'll corrupt your mind and turn you evil?" Ken stated, smirking as the brown-haired boy quivered with trepidation, yet continued out of duty. Daisuke's hand lunged once again for it as Oikawa stood disturbingly in place (not actually acting in a particularly disturbing manner, but there was something about the mix of height, face, and trench coat that just creeped Daisuke out) and then, once again, he instinctively recoiled. But on this recoil, he also had a slight flash of determination.
"I..." Daisuke began, staring at the circular, black object that for some reason was called a seed... did it grow? Once implanted, would its darkness blossom with him, driving him to greater and greater evil in his soul? It might've just been prejudice, admittedly, but the powers of darkness just didn't sit well with him. He couldn't bring himself to do it, didn't have the courage – no, he was not a coward when it came to fighting digimon! But this seed, for whatever it gave... maybe he just read too much manga, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he might as well surrender to evil.
So, he wouldn't let Oikawa use it on him. "Thanks for the 'help,' but I'll beat them my own way."
"Will you? Even if courage alone could do it, there's a difference between courage and suicide," Ken answered contemptuously, wondering what the heck the harmonious ones were thinking; hadn't they failed with the general 'hot-headed idiot' character type before?
"Tell me, Daisuke-san... are you familiar with the story of Skull Greymon?" Oikawa said, and the young boy shook his head. "Right after he obtained the crest of courage, Taichi became as convinced as you were of his power..."
"What happened?" Daisuke asked.
"Convinced he had plot immunity and all the power needed, he ignored the advice of his friends and leapt in front of an enemy digimon to make the crest glow. It didn't."
"Was that how... y'know..."
"No. He got lucky and survived, forcing Greymon to reach the perfection level," the old, pale-faced man stated, sighing with grave sadness.
"Then what's the problem?" the young boy asked, his knowledge of the digital world still vague; he barely even knew the legends, and the whole 'humans and digimon working together' thing alone had been too much for him to grasp. And now, to think he would follow in their footsteps... it was just too weird.
"I said he reached the perfection level, not that he became Metal Greymon. Digimon, depending on how they live and the circumstances of their evolution, can evolve in numerous ways. In this particular case, he became a giant skeletal beast with a missile on his back called Skull Greymon, and the chosen children were lucky to survive the battle. And you're the same as Taichi was; you may very well have the desire to fight evil when it's just throwing your life away with the confidence that you can't lose, but there's a difference between suicide and courage! Do you have the guts to save the digital world, but not enough to accept this one seed?!" Oikawa shouted.
"Sounds like a nice anecdote, but it doesn't really apply here. With all due respect, neither the original chosen children nor any of the digital resistance have ever turned to darkness! Besides, all things considered, Ken already has the seed and we can rely on his brains, so there's no point risking any additional members." Daisuke responded, his combination of hot-headed courage and reasonable, tactical analysis making him seem almost like a leader.
"If these things are evil, we're already gone. Given my ability, I'm more than a match for the three of you, to say nothing of the power of the dark masters," the boy genius spoke, shaking his head in disgust.
"With all that studying and stuff, have you ever read shounen jump? The bad guys always turn on each other, so you aren't gonna side with them over a useful idiot you can use to seize power. And this isn't just manga; history's no different, the bad guys never have any unity."
Ken pondered for a moment, wondering how to answer. "Right," he admitted, thinking of various power struggles through the ages, then wondering why the Dark Masters themselves had not fallen prey to infighting. Though perhaps... perhaps if, instead of striking them down in unison, they had each used the chosen children in their own bids for power, content to see the chosen children exhaust themselves killing the others before laying the finishing blow.
It probably wouldn't have changed much; one tyrant or four, it didn't much matter. But if this one-at-a-time fight had occurred, and had the chosen gradually pulled it together, eventually with the hypothetical 'Omegamon' or 'Holy Angemon' evolving at just the right moment to defeat an over-confident, ever-purging Piemon, the world could have been spared... it was nice to dream.
"Except that we aren't the bad guys. And to avoid such an obviously useful enhancement out of some misguided belief in your own strength or plot immunity, or even because you're more afraid of a little black ball than Mugen Dramon's cannon, is little different than suicide."
"That's not it! This isn't cowardice... and it's not suicide, either," Daisuke shouted, and then paused, his tone of voice regaining its calm. "I'm refusing because, especially when the good and evil are so clear-cut in the digital world, I'm sure that this can't help me at all... Don't get me wrong, I hate the Dark Masters as much as anyone, but I'll do what it takes here, and I'm not planning to go out in a blaze of glory." His words picked up their loudness again, his determination growing, "But courage, if nothing else, means never surrendering to the darkness!"
At this refusal, Oikawa's eyes turned red, his body glowed with an unholy power, and his voice changed completely, to one darker, more sinister, and disturbingly familiar – Iori recognized the voice instantly, but Daisuke remembered it only from his nightmares. "You refuse? Very well, you had your chance! But I will not allow the chosen children to fall away from my hands!"
As if guided by an unearthly presence within him, the pale-faced man reached his arm out at Daisuke to implant the seed, but the young boy slapped it to the side. "No! I... I can't let myself fall to darkness like this, especially not before taking a single step to save the world!" Oikawa let out a horrific scream, and then returned to his normal self, tears streaming down his face. "I'm not evil, really... but I know there's nothing I can say or do to convince you. I don't know what just happened there... but if your courage is as strong as you claim, your digimon awaits, so enter the digital world."
"My... digimon?" Daisuke began, shuddering. His digimon? Did he mean in the sense of 'his cat' – taking a beast like the ones responsible for his family's deaths into his home, feeding it, pretending to love it? Or, even worse... did he mean it in the sense of 'his master?'
"I've explained too little, far too little... The main function and power of a digivice is to induce evolution in one's digimon partner."
"E...volution?"
"There's too much stuff for me to explain here," the man stated, his excitement at new chosen children soon turning into dismay as he prepared to send the first one to the digital world, sighing at just how much common knowledge he had to repeat; he could go on for days explaining every detail as the dark masters continued their slaughter, and even fannish excitement, after enough times, gives way to the boredom of repeated explanation. "But don't worry, it didn't take any special knowledge to defeat Devimon or Vamdemon; you'll be fine."
At this point in their conversation, Arachnemon and Mummymon rushed through the door, their faces both unscarred by any actual battle, but still possessing an exhausted look of defeat, panting with every word they spoke. "Monochromon brought allies; he's chased them into the parking garage, and given our speed... we don't have a chance of saving them."
"Oikawa-san," Daisuke began nervously, still frightened to talk to the man who so recently had seemed possessed by a demon, but he didn't have time to waste on fears, "how the heck do I use this to save them!?"
The pale-faced man nodded, finally pausing his discussion of the digital world; they didn't have the time. "Hold your digivice up to the computer and, if Gennai's theories hold, you should be able to enter the digital world."
Daisuke gulped as he stood before the old computer, nervously reaching for his digivice. "A world full of digimon... how long can I even survive? If my digimon doesn't kill me, one of the others will..."
The boy quivered as he stood at the computer screen, fighting back the visions of his end, remembering all too well that the last eight humans who entered that world had never returned. But then his thoughts turned to the dystopic present, and his memories turned to those of his family, to how the Dark Masters treated every human under their rule, massacring and torturing at random for fun – and how Miyako and Iori, his two closest friends, were moments away from being killed like so many others. Were they to die, he'd have no one else.
Putting that aside, they were the only two others who had even a chance to save the world. And it was no use letting his digivice gather dust; he had to do something to make sure Monochromon and whichever monsters he brought along didn't rip them limb from limb! And thus, with a second wind of bravery, he lifted his digivice to the computer, and shouted words he had never heard before, but just felt right:
"Digital gate, open!"
Motomiya Daisuke glanced around what he could only assume was the digital world, still slightly disoriented from his download. There was much about it he had not been expecting; he had looked at the sky, which should have given him a clue provided he turned it right-side-up, but he wasn't seeing any vast expanses or rips in the world's fabric, or even a sky.
As he blinked once or twice, getting up and adjusting his eyes, it became fairly clear to them that, while the digital world may have been a far larger place, the part he had landed in was a small cave with two items in it. One, a small, portable television set in the off position, the other, a large red and orange egg with a color scheme suggesting fire, engraved with an archaic symbol vaguely resembling the sun, but highly stylized and with a target at its center.
The newly chosen child, however, noticed none of this, his eyes drawn instead to its radiant glow and large, metal spike coming out of it. But while some people may have panicked, thought it radioactive, contaminated, or possessed, Daisuke had played more than enough video games in his day to realize that he was supposed to lift it.
And lift it he did, and as he stood up with the egg in hand, the radiance glowed an even brighter orange, and a small, blue digimon jumped out of it, and a small computer vaguely resembling a Nintendo DS (though much grayer, and the top screen became a blank flap – and of course, given the time period, Daisuke had no idea what one was) materialized in his hand, apparently created by a light just shot from his blue digivice.
"V-mon: A friendly ancient dragon digimon that brings good luck. Child-level, vaccine type," the small computer read as Daisuke turned his eyes to the newly born digimon before him, the human boy barely containing his fright as he slowly inched away to the back wall of the cave. As he backed away, at the bottom of his field of vision, he noticed that his lower legs were almost bare, and he could've sworn he wasn't wearing shorts; for that matter, regarding a recent glimpse his arm, he could've sworn his jacket was black.
"Yahoo! You lifted the digimental! Wait... what's your name, and why are you so afraid of me?"
"C-call me Daisuke," he answered, stuttering in fear, and then coming to his senses as held his blue digivice forward. "How do I use this thing to make you evolve? I need your help..."
"Just say 'digimental up.' But I'm warning you, it won't work without a courageous heart," V-mon stated, his demeanor matching Daisuke's in seriousness.
Daisuke smiled nervously at the part about a 'courageous heart,' and then fought back his worries; these days, how many humans even had the guts to enter the digital world? "Yoush! Digimental up!"
"V-mon, armor evolve... Fladramon!"
At this point in time, in the exact spot where he had lifted the egg a few moments before, Daisuke noticed a pair of small, round, well-worn goggles with smashed blue lenses and a black strap in back. He had no idea what they were, or how a human-world artifact like that ended up in the digital world.
Still, he picked them up and stuffed them in his pocket. Somehow, for some weird reason, it seemed like the right thing to do.
"Fladramon, my friends are in danger in the human world. Please... I don't know why you'd want to fight for our sake, why you'd battle another digimon for a couple pitiful humans..." he began, Fladramon's red mask of courage fully hiding his sorrow at his new partner's thoughts. "But please, please help them!"
"We don't hate humans, and most of us don't like the Dark Masters any more than you do," the bipedal lizard stated, grabbing Daisuke and leaping through the television, then down the street. "For now, just point the way."
"I don't know why, but I think I can trust him... and if not, everything is lost."
It was his first real battle, and it seemed like it could very well be his last. A few moments before, after carrying him across the rooftops at tremendous speed, Fladramon had set him down near the entrance, asking him if he was willing to provide a diversion. And with what seemed in retrospect seemed to be more bravado than brains, Daisuke had accepted.
"You've gotta have two tons of armor there, can't you pick on anyone tougher than a girl and a little kid?!" he taunted, shouting into the poorly-lit, ever-echoing garage – well, more just a 'building,' these days. Sure, it was dark, and there were plenty of empty parking spaces, at least, and even a few broken cars from when the floor above it collapsed; plenty of hiding spaces for two children trying desperately to survive. But in a world where the infrastructure had been so thoroughly wrecked, where the Dark Masters didn't bother with roads because they mostly helped humans and digimon were used to traveling on their own power, no building, regardless of original purpose, could truly be called a garage.
But far more annoyingly to Daisuke, it was dark. This fact didn't mean much to a Monochromon, and like the dinosaurs whose digital information created them, they found their prey through smell and hearing; vision was a minor sense; they could pinpoint Daisuke easily from the location of his voice. The young boy, on the other hand, had a much greater need of eyesight; all he had to go on were the bursts of light coming in from the outside and his digimon's flame, but he still couldn't see nearly well enough to accomplish tasks like "throw rock to enrage Monochromon, get him to charge the wrong way," "dodge him once he charges said wrong way," or "size up or locate any of his enemies save the big, lumbering one" with any degree of certainty.
Motomiya Daisuke, however, did not depend on certainty. The newly-chosen holder of courage picked up a small, heavy something lying on the floor (He assumed either a rock or a detached chunk of pavement), ran up in the direction of the data-type, hurled it through the stagnant air, and promptly began to run in a different direction.
Monochromon are not generally thought of as particularly bright or levelheaded digimon, especially not in a fight – and thus, this one charged for the boy. Monochromon are also not, owing to their large size and heavy armor, particularly good at turning quickly – and thus, when a terrified Daisuke zoomed to the side as Fladramon rescued the others, it stumbled and slowed down a good deal, doing all it could to avoid falling over, succeeding at the cost of a couple more seconds of distance. These facts, however unfortunate, are more than made up for by the fact that, given enough darkness, humans are not particularly good at seeing whether or not they're about to run into a wall.
The Monochromon charged, as Daisuke fled, his fear pushing his run into a desperate dash for survival, albeit one without the tactical skill which could actually let him survive longer. He didn't take into account the Clockmon slowing him down from the side with a selective pause of time, for that matter. Nor did he consider the Airdramon shooting a strong gust of wind his way, leaving him helplessly screaming in the air, an easy victim of another volcano strike, or simply left to be blown through the air until he hit his head on some metal roofing and died.
But Fladramon was as fast as he was loyal. From behind him, the young boy heard a cry of "Fire rocket!" and then saw a protective flame surround him, and Daisuke hovered within the fire, watching as best he could through the darkness, anxious to see the battle's conclusion.
The flames smashed into the steel frame of the Monochromon, and the beast was knocked back by the force of the blow all the way across the garage. The dinosaur smashed against the wall, still pushed back, and then his digimon shouted "Knuckle Fire!", charged his claw with more flames, and fired them into what, in the darkness, he could only assume was some sort of column supporting the roof – as just after that missed "knuckle fire" the roof fell, and the servant of Mugen Dramon let out a blood-curdling scream, then vanished into a stream of information.
The courage-armored digimon calmly, quickly leaped back up to his partner, then down to the ground a few meters in front, scooping up the two other chosen children and speeding awkwardly away as he carried them against his small frame. Miyako complained about the spikes, Iori stoically endured, but with a strong feeling he'd be feverish soon after – and then, about thirty seconds later, the three of them found them returned to the sanctuary of Oikawa's home, the apparent headquarters of the anti-Dark Master resistance.
The purple-haired girl was still curious, badgering Daisuke with questions about the digital world until she began to hear his snore, and then, reasoning that she wouldn't get to go to the digital world tonight anyway, let herself drift off as well. Iori, on the other hand, pondered late into the night, engaging Ken and Oikawa with constant questions; for now, they were only too happy to explain – and then he too fell asleep, only able to fight his increasingly heavy eyelids for so long.
Truly, tomorrow would be... different. For one thing, even if Takeru's corpse lay unburied in the digital world, the world could once again know what it meant to hope; about three years after a dreadful August, the other legend of the chosen children had finally begun.