Title: Bonds of Blood
Characters: Yamato, Piemon||Romance: N/A
Word Count: 1,019/12,691||Chapters: 1/12
Genre: Drama||Rated: PG
Challenges: Diversity Writing: breeds: I34, drama genre; Presents Under The Tree Challenge; Include The Word, #39, meddle; Character Diversity Boot Camp, #40, someone
Notes: This takes place in a breeds-based universe, though as of yet none of them know their bloodlines exist. Timeline wise, it's some years after BelialVamdemon, but Tri & the epilogue won't happen. Also, this is written for Tomoe Mami.
Summary: Piemon's nature isn't fully understood by anyone. He is not gone, not forever. And one person can bring him back. Whether Yamato wants to or not.

Yamato.

It slithered through his mind, a whisper of words Yamato couldn't shake out of himself. Or perhaps one word: his name, whispered over and over, along with another that made no sense to him.

Anbumon.

Yamato drained a glass of water, staring into his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he did. He didn't like what he saw.

Three nights in a row it was now. Three nights he'd woken from those simple words echoing inside of him.

I know that voice. He didn't want to know it but he did anyway. Six years since he'd heard it outside of his dreams and he still knew it.

He grit his teeth together, set the glass down, and started back to his room. The apartment remained dark and silent save for the sound of his footsteps. His dad wouldn't be back for another three days. He wished Gabumon would be there, but all of their partners were spending the weekend in the Digital World.

He was all alone here.

Yamato stopped to stare out of the window, gritting his teeth even harder. He would go to Gabumon in the morning. There wasn't anything wrong with visiting his partner. Everyone did it on occasion, if their partners were in the Digital World.

Anbumon. My son.

Yamato's hands clenched into fists at those words. "I am not your son."

A laugh, mocking and derisive. You are. You are mine. My blood is in your veins..

Something warm and wet trickled down his palms. Yamato ignored it, staring at the window. He could just see his reflection there, if he strained hard enough. But wasn't there something wrong with it? Something hovering over it?

Something hovering over him?

He jerked around in hopes of seeing whatever it was, only to be met by nothing at all. Shadows and silence alone greeted him, and the mocking echoing of a dead Digimon's laugh.

Yamato forced himself to stalk on to his room, slamming the door hard behind himself. This wasn't anything more or less than the remnants of a bad dream. He absolutely didn't want to think otherwise.

You can lie to yourself all you want. For now. Again that voice, taunting and teasing and too close but never where he could touch it and end it. You are my son and nothing you do can change this.

There weren't enough words in the universe - in any universe - that could mean no for this in Yamato's opinion. He threw himself on his futon and stared balefully at the shadow-shrouded ceiling. Part of him stayed tense, waiting for the voice to start up again.

But as time ticked by, seconds into minutes and minutes into hours, he heard nothing more, and he could feel his shoulders and back starting to relax.

See? Just a dream. Just your imagination. That's all.

His eyes slipped shut.

Gloved fingers, insubstantial as a dream, brushed across his forehead. They didn't cause any disturbance, at least not that could be seen by the naked eye. Nothing more than a few flickers of Yamato's blue eyes behind his eyelids.

Sleep, my son.

Piemon would have given anything he owned - if he'd owned anything now - to have flesh again. He would again, he swore to himself for what he knew had to be the thousandth or more time. It was a simple enouogh procedure, but one that only Ishida Yamato could perform.

And he would, regardless of what he wanted to do or thought he wanted to do. Piemon wasn't going to let his essence drift away. If Vamdemon could filter his soul into a human and survive, then he certainly could do so, if not do better. And what could be better than reviving himself to take successful revenge on the Chosen?

Starting with getting both of his sons underneath his control where they properly belonged.

Yamato twitched, fingers clenching. He walked somewhere: the deepest depths of the forests of the Digital World. Something whispered in the back of his mind, but he couldn't hear it, couldn't be at all certain of what he heard.

There wasn't any sign of Gabumon or any of his friends. Just an endless path ahead of him, covered by the arching, intertwining branches of trees. He couldn't look behind himself. Whenever he tried, his head didn't move. He just kept on walking and staring ahead of himself.

Without warning, the path widened into a clearing, and in the clearing rose a ruin of some kind, moss-covered marble and four fallen columns. Now his feet stopped, though he still couldn't see behind himself.

From the shadows cast by the ruins came a figure, with a jester's smile and a madman's laugh bubbling out of his lips. Yamato shuddered just at the sight, trying to back off. Without Gabumon or his friends, he didn't stand a chance.

Or he tried to shudder. He tried to back off. But his body still wouldn't obey him and Piemon ghosted closer.

"What do you want?" Yamato found himself able to ask. He really wanted to find out this was just another dream. He didn't dare think of what might happen if it wasn't.

Piemon's smile only grew wider. "What I told you before. You are my son. My oldest child. But you're also the one who will bring me back."

Yamato's eyes flashed open, his fingers clenching at the sheets, breath catching in his throat. He remained alone in his room.

Just a dream. Nightmare. Again.

But the sound of that laughter, the touch of those fingers, and the sight of that ruined temple hung clear in his thoughts all that day.

To Be Continued

Notes: And you thought I just played with Daisuke…