Nuances of Light
Chapter 1: Chosen
Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon. It's just a fleeting dream. Or McDonalds, for that matter.
The cave was dark, silent, completely empty of all save three figures, both crouched near the only source of light in the cave, several glittering gemstones. It was impossible to make out more from the faint dull glow they cast in every color of the rainbow: red, pink, blue, navy, black, white. The most one could make out in the silence was that they were not humans, nor anything of the sort.
"Are you certain?"
A voice, male and a rich tenor, filled the silence of the darkness. The light flared in an instant, revealing a four-pointed star over a light blue helmet, wings protruding from his back - and then was gone again, vanished in the darkness of the cave.
"Yes," a female voice replied. This one was high and sweet, motherly and youthful, and all the stereotypes and truths of girlhood - and womanhood - came to mind as she spoke. "It is not perfect, but given the circumstances, it is good enough, I daresay. We have done all we can, and we can at least ensure that these four reach the right hands-"
"And the other two?" the first voice cut in.
The woman sighed, a sound of weariness and deep longing. "That, I cannot answer. The circumstances are unfortunate, but with luck, Cherubimon may be able to ensure that they reach the ones they are destined to."
"And have you?"
The last voice, a low, rumbling murmur, cut through the air of the cave. Unlike the other two, it was less melodic and more of a growl, but just as benevolent and just as old as the others'. "I have done as well I could. The rest is up to them."
"Indeed," the woman acknowledged. "It is as well as can be hoped: the four will work well together, and the fifth, all conditions considered, will perform just as well, perhaps even better, than the others - all conditions considered, of course. Cherubimon, you chose well."
"No more than you," Cherubimon, the low, rumbling voice, replied. His statement was soon followed by a heavy sigh. "I almost hate to ask, Ophanimon, Seraphimon: what are the chances that this will succeed?"
"In its entirety?" Seraphimon, the first voice, asked. "Little."
"But," Ophanimon, the female, cut in firmly, "I shall repeat myself: we have done the best we can. Of these five we can be sure of."
"And the sixth?" Cherubimon asked quietly. His question was met with heavy silence.
Finally, Seraphimon sighed and admitted, "He is not one I would normally choose for such a position, but the rather . . . unique situation we are in now has merited it. I feel faith that he will live up to expectations."
"I hope so, my friend."
"Enough," Ophanimon reproached them. "There is enough dissent in the world around us, we cannot afford our bonds to splinter within our circle. We are agreed?"
"We are agreed," the other two chimed in.
Ophanimon took a deep, wavering breath. "Then by the power of the Seven Great Gods of above, let this power be known to those who deserve it, to those who do not covet it, but rather accept it-"
"These words we speak in all earnestness, that they be held true to greatest form if we value our lives and the lives of our comrades for forever and a day!" all three voices rose on the upbeat and closed with a roaring crash as thunder boomed outside the cavern. Lightning flashed again, once, twice-
As it struck for a third time, the jewels flared with light enough to illuminate every depth of the stone, Ophanimon's and Seraphimon's sky-blue helmets, Cherubimon's tall form looming over them, and the gems, casting a prism of light on the wall, themselves. Then the thunder shook the cave and everything - the three angels, the gems, the small vestiges of light that broke into the darkness - disappeared.
Whether they knew it or not, their lives had just changed forever.
Takuya Kanbara was having a perfectly normal day. His schedule was always the same: wake up, hit the snooze button on the alarm clock, sleep until his mother yelled up the stairs for him, roll out of bed, hit the floor, look at the silenced clock and realize what time it was, participate in a mad dash to the bathroom against older sister Hayley, bang on the door and/or run through daily morning schedule, depending on win or loss, grab backpack and slice of toast, pick on little brother Shinya a little, and then off to school. He'd made it all the way through banging on the door (Hayley had won) without a single sign of weirdness.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Hayley! Let me in, I have to go to school, you don't have school for another hour, Ms. Yamazaki said she was gonna report me if I'm late one more time - HAYLEY!"
"Shut up, Takuya! It's not my fault you can't get up in the mornings, I beat you fair and square so let me take a shower and brush my teeth like normal people do, without their little brothers banging on the door!"
"Hay-ley!" he yelled.
"Wha-at, Takuya?!" she yelled back, mimicking his voice.
"Let me IN!"
Their argument was interrupted by a third voice as their mother shouted up the stairs. "Hayley! Takuya! Keep it down!"
"Ye-eah, keep it down!" Shinya grinned from beside her.
"That's it!"
With a roar, Takuya launched himself away from the door, down the stairs, and at Shinya, who yowled with fear and propelled himself rapidly away. Takuya had the distinct advantage: his legs were longer, he had more stamina from nearly six years of playing soccer, first pick-up soccer at the park, then on the local team, and he was decidedly angry.
But Shinya had the one thing that never failed.
A very angry mother looking out for him.
"Takuya Kanbara!"
With a noise like an angry cat being pried from the piano it was perched on, Sayuri Kanbara pried the two of them apart. Shinya promptly ran off, having done nothing (at least, not to an adult) that would merit his mother's scolding. Takuya was stuck having to listen to simultaneous gloating (from Shinya, nestled safely at the dinner table), laughter (from Hayley, upstairs in the bathroom), and furious, fear-inducing, complete and total rage (from his mother, standing two feet in front of him and bellowing at a volume that would surely have Takuya deaf in four minutes).
When it came his turn to explain why he had felt the need to attack his poor, defenseless brother, Takuya frantically racked his brains for something good - when nothing came up, his mouth opened of his own accord and he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It often worked for him.
Unfortunately, it more often got him in trouble for being a smart aleck, giving back talk, or being rude.
This was one of those times.
"Well, what else am I supposed to do while Hayley's hogging the bathroom?"
His mother's face tightened, and Takuya immediately, instantly, and frighteningly knew he had said the wrong thing.
He was right.
His remark led to him getting yelled at for several more minutes and then getting sent upstairs to either get dressed and clean his room or get dressed and sulk on his bed. Of course, the second choice hadn't exactly been offered to him, but he took it without saying, flopping on his bed and then glaring at the dresser.
You have to do it sometime.
Not now.
Mom will yell at you if you don't come down soon.
Mom will yell at me no matter what I do.
She'll yell harder if you come down in pajamas.
That was a valid point. The mental argument over, he forced himself to his feet and started rifling through the tangle of clothes in his dresser, throwing a random article of clothing on his bed every now and then. T-shirt - khaki pants - his favorite baseball cap - his trademark goggles-
And what was that?
He pulled out a silver band of metal, roughly the circumference of his wrist in length and about three inches wide and half and inch thick. Set in the middle was a bright red gem - a ruby, of some sort?
. . . It didn't matter. It looked cool, anyway, although he couldn't remember ever buying it.
He glanced at the door. His mother would probably yell if she found out he'd put on something he'd never seen before . . .
But it was just a bracelet, anyway, and what harm could a bracelet do?
Shrugging, he clipped it onto his wrist, not noticing the way the clasp melded into the metal and vanished, or the way the gem flashed, once, as he reached for his shirt and pulled it over his head.
Whether he knew it or not, Takuya Kanbara's life had just changed forever.
Caitlin Watanabe was having a perfectly normal day. She woke up promptly at seven, groggily got out of bed and dumped water on her face to wake herself up, then went through all her normal morning rituals, brushing her teeth, grabbing a random pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and her favorite light blue jacket from the closet, and yanked a brush through her dark red hair. She then went through any missing assignments in her backpack, made her bed, tidied up her desk, and neatly placed all the homework on her desk from last night into the folders on her backpack. This whole part of her day normally took about seven minutes.
Then, for the last fifteen minutes until she had to depart - Shibuya Secondary was close enough for her to walk in eight minutes - she lay on her bed and closed her eyes, envisioning her day, which was what she was doing right now.
It was always the same. Her life was always the same, day by day, hour by hour. She'd walk into class and take the double desk in the far right corner, farthest away from the teacher's desk and far as possible from the door. She'd stow her stuff underneath the desk and sit away from the aisle while the other kids (she was always the first in the room, sometimes even before the teacher) filed in, taking their seats. No one ever sat next to her, although the way she'd scooted her chair as far as possible away from the other seat was a clear invitation. No one really noticed her, actually. To her classmates, to her teachers - sometimes even to her parents - she was invisible.
The rest of her day would pass in the same fashion - she'd move, as if in a daze, from class to class, sitting in her seat in the back of the classroom, eating lunch alone at a table. She'd look half-longingly, half-disgustedly, at the tables of chattering groups of students: disgust for needing others around them to feel safe, longing for them to invite her, to let her be part of a group of friends, an inside joke.
Even though she'd gone to the Shibuya District schools since second grade, she'd never really made any friends: the one person she would have counted as a friend, Luna Artemis, had moved away in fifth grade. They weren't even that close, actually. Luna knew her name, her favorite color, favorite book, family history, and . . . that was about it. Caitlin, in turn, had figured out all of her friend's likes and dislikes, family history, track record among the teachers, hobbies, personality quirks and just about anything else there was to learn about her friend in the first week they'd known each other.
That was what she did: she listened. To everyone else, she might have been invisible, but that was all the better for her. She blended in with the crowd easily. With a little more effort, she could be almost everywhere at once, listening to this girl complain about this piece of homework, listening to this boy mock another with his friends behind the other's back. She had a long memory, too: she could still recall exactly how Anna Kleinman had tried to sabotage Sharon Ross's role as Cindy Rellar in the school play in fifth grade, even remember almost exactly what Anna had said to Tessa Freeman about it. Caitlin also remembered how Theresa Porter had bailed Sharon out of trouble when she, too, had overheard Anna's scheme.
She wished, just a tiny, little bit, that she had someone to bail out of trouble.
She was just building castles in the air, of course. It would never happen - heck, she wasn't even sure if any of her "fellow" students knew her name, knew her as anything more than "that one quiet girl with the red hair and the green eyes".
I never meant to be a loner, she thought bitterly. I just never learned how to make friends.
She glanced at the clock: 7:20. She had about two minutes left before she had to set off toward the little niche of hell known as Shibuya Secondary School, or SSS for the hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobic, enough time to think a little more. The corners of her mouth quirked up as she thought of that: 'thinking' described her perfectly, as did 'quiet,' 'invisible,' 'attentive,' and 'organized'. Okay, maybe the last one was a bit of an understatement.
She smiled. A bit? Massive understatement. I know to the very second when Mother's going to call that I need to get going, about twelve seconds left now-
"Caitlin! You should probably get going now, dear!"
Right on time.
Caitlin yawned and rolled out of bed, automatically straightening the covers, and did a final check-up. She scrutinized her image in the mirror, searching in her light green eyes and pale complexion to the answer that made 99.9 percent of the student population shy away from her instinctively, but, as always, found no answer. Dissatisfied, she reached for her backpack-
And froze as something silver rolled out of it.
A bracelet.
She hadn't put it in there, she was sure of it. She was so organized she was sure she'd never just casually toss something onto her backpack like that, and neither her mother nor her father had been in her room lately. While she was awake, that is.
So that leaves two possibilities. One, I've gone insane and started doing something crazy like sleepwalking or losing my memory, or two, someone put it here.
She examined the bracelet curiously. It was quite pretty, she had to admit, if simple: just a plain band of silver with as hook, wide and thin. A light blue jewel was set in the middle, sparkling iridescently in the sun.
She glanced at her bare wrist and shrugged, sliding the bracelet onto her wrist. It didn't matter, really - not like anyone would notice it, and she could always ask-slash-thank her parents later. She glanced back over the contents of her backpack, as she always did, making sure that everything was in place and ready.
"Caitlin! Are you coming done?"
Caitlin glanced at the clock and shot upright, realizing how late she was. She didn't notice the jewel flare brightly, casting shadows onto the floor, or the buckle vanish, leaving the bracelet stuck on her wrist.
Whether she knew it or not, Caitlin Watanabe's life had just changed forever.
Aiden Williamson was having a perfectly normal day. At least, normal for the "new kid".
He sighed - that was what he'd been for a grand total of three days, ever since he'd moved to Shibuya. It didn't help that he was American, either, and it barely mattered that he spoke pretty decent Japanese. The very most that could have been said of his situation was that no one openly mocked him. The very least, that no one dared approach him to get to know him better, and maybe - God forbid! - get to become his friend.
Just another disadvantage of being the new kid.
Sighing again, he glanced in the mirror and checked over his appearance: sandy brown hair, looking windswept no matter what he did to tame it, gray thunder-cloud eyes the exact same shade as his mother's, jeans, T-shirt, sneakers, his trademark gloves. Aside from the gloves, he looked like any other kid walking around, sans the friends that would make him truly fit in. He didn't know - maybe it was the gloves that warned him away from the other kids, as if saying, "Watch out! This boy's a freak - he probably has horrible burned and/or deformed hands, or STAPH - it might be contagious!"
He didn't care. He wasn't going to take them off, anyway, even if it meant he'd lose a potential friend or two - they were the only thing he had of his father. Well, that and his hair. His mother's hair was dark and sleek, always straight, always tame, unlike his unruly mop, but that was different - his father couldn't help giving Aiden his hair color and style, it was just genetic.
The gloves were a possession, something Henry Williamson could have easily given to someone else. True, they made writing a pain, but when he wore them . . . it sounded ridiculous, even to him . . . when he wore them, he felt closer to his father, even though he'd never known the man. Oh, he knew the stories, how his father was a brave war hero, how he'd gone to battle in the deserts of Iraq. How he'd fought - how he'd won. How he'd never come back.
Aiden was one year and four months old at the time. He didn't have any memories of the man.
He wished he did.
"Aiden! You'll be late for school!"
The voice of his mother startled him out of his reverie. He glanced at the clock, swore under his breath, and yelled back down, "Coming, Mom!" frantically looking for his backpack and homework at the same time.
He found the homework on his desk, the backpack nestled next to the dresser near his bed. On a day when he wasn't late, he would take a minute to look over the good-bye presents his friends had given him, all tokens of his former life in California: the pendant he and Zack had made out a pebble shaped like the Venus de Milo, the "trouble-taking" glass vase, once belonging to triplets Gwendolyn, Guinevere, and Natalie Grayson, that had been broken no less that twelve times now and glued back together every time, the fake eye he'd used to prank Lee once, a fossilized piece of wood he'd throw hard enough at Julian's summer cabin to land a dent in the newer wood. As it was, it was 7:23 and he had seven minutes to get to school, get in the hallway, not get lost, and make it on time to room 4-A without looking like a bigger loser than he already did. He reached for his backpack-
And jerked it up so quickly it caught the dresser, and the trouble-taking vase on it. The vase teetered precariously for a second while Aiden, frozen to the spot, watched, and then-
Smash.
Thirteenth time and counting.
Aiden groaned and tugged at the backpack in the midst of the glass shards. "Aw, crap - what the heck?"
A loose glass shard snagged his left glove, cutting straight through the thick fabric and ripping open the glove from elbow to thumb. The glove came off of its own accord and lay there in the broken glass, looking forlorn and limp.
"Crap!"
Aiden tugged it out of the mess, carefully so as to not catch another piece of glass and rip it further. The glove was no problem, in itself. He could just get his mother, or maybe his next-door neighbor, Sara, to sew it up this afternoon. No, the problem was what he was going to do for school. He sure as hell wasn't going to take off his other one. And his left wrist felt so . . . bare, exposed, without the glove he'd worn for years during everything except sleep.
He rubbed it, looking around absentmindedly while he thought frantically. The other glove was too important to him to take it off - that wasn't the issue. I wonder when Mom put that sun catcher up? No, the issue was what to do with the other one - just as surely as he wasn't going to take his right glove off, he wasn't going to leave his left wrist bare. It's pretty, anyway. He'd grown too used to the soft fabric, worn down over the years, to even consider leaving either wrist bare for a moment. She set it up just right, too - from there, it'll catch the sunlight all the time, as long as the sun is up. He was fairly certain the kids at school would consider him even more of a freak if he wore one wrist gloved at the other bare, but it wasn't them he was concerned about. Like that; the light goes everywhere at once, all over the walls and floor, and in the middle of that glass, there's light everywhere - hey, what's that?
Aiden bent down and plucked a silver bracelet from the glass, dusting off the glass fragments that clung to it as he inspected it. It was just a simple band, fairly wide and thin, and there was a clasp on the back, a navy jewel in a setting at the front - obviously a simple bracelet, one no one would look twice at.
Unless, of course, yesterday you'd worn black gloves - more like gauntlets, really - that went up to your elbow.
He shrugged - it would cover his wrist, anyway, and it was just until he could get the glove fixed. So what, he'd look strange? He always did. Besides, he thought wryly, it wasn't like he had any friends to be scared away.
He slipped it on and buckled the clasp, reaching for his backpack. The school was fairly close - he could get there on time. He didn't look twice at the bracelet, didn't see the clasp blend smoothly into the metal and the gem flare slightly with dark blue light.
Whether he knew it or not, Aiden Williamson's life had just changed forever.
Zoe Orimoto was having a perfectly normal day. She was currently sitting in the passenger seat of her mother's car, looking out through the window and over the passing scenery as they sped through various driveways and roads on their way to Shibuya Secondary School. She felt her mind wander as the gentle rocking motion of the car grated on her consciousness - she'd woken up early, and hadn't been able to get back to sleep, with her father's singing and coffee in the air and the water rumbling through the pipes as her mother showered. Gwen, her little sister, was lucky - her elementary school opened at the same time as most of the high schools, so she didn't have to arrive at the ungodly hour of the morning called 7:30, if one wanted to make it to their lockers and classes before the late bell rang at 7:45.
Her parents had been worried when she'd woken up at 6:30 - then again, they'd been worried about her since she'd moved to Japan from Italy six months ago. They'd been constantly asking if she felt all right, if she wanted to talk about something - and no matter how many times she'd said no, they kept asking.
Zoe sighed, and with a twinge of annoyance noticed as her mother glanced back at her. She turned away, glad the lavender fox-eared skullcap she wore covered her face wonderfully, while not restricting her line of sight - honestly, couldn't they understand? No, she didn't want to talk about anything, yes, she felt just fine, no, she was not having "boy troubles" - now would they stop asking?
But they have reason to feel worried, a traitorous little voice that sounded suspiciously like Gwen whispered in her ear. After all, you spend every afternoon at home when in Italy you were out six days out of seven a week with your friends, with Marinda and Sarah and Katherine, After all, you were always begging to go to sleepovers in Italy while here in Japan you spend your night playing dolls with Gwen - seven-year-old Gwen! After all, in Italy you had friends-
Shut. Up, she growled back.
Too late - the damage was already done. She had to admit it, she didn't have friends in Japan. She hadn't had friends for six months. The Voice was right - she'd gone from being the most popular girl in Rome to the least in Tokyo. She scowled, hoping her mother wouldn't see - why, why did her dad have to get that stupid transfer?
With horror, she realized that her eyes were suddenly hot and stinging, and she quickly closed them to prevent the tears from spilling out. She didn't miss Italy that much - did she?
No. She didn't.
"Zoe, honey? Are you okay?"
Okay, maybe she did.
"Yeah, fine," Zoe replied, relieved to hear that her voice was steady. She looked away, mentally going through the possible ways her day could play out, so different from the unpredictable pattern of Italy. One: she was left alone for all of it. Least likely situation.
Two: she was bothered, acted arrogant almost involuntarily, and then was left alone the rest of the day. Also unlikely, though more likely than number one.
Three: Amaya and her cronies would seek her out and torment her, someone like Shizu would try to protect her, she'd snap at her, and lose the friend she never had.
Considering it's happened before, most likely situation.
Perfect. Just what she needed to make her day any more awful.
To take her mind off Amaya, she glanced down fondly at the piles of junk in the Corvette. It was a family vehicle - it had been in the family for years. Items taken into the car and never take out, old toys from children's meals at the local fast food place when they were in a hurry, first hers and then Gwen's, dropped trinkets that were lost and forgotten about; looking through the sundries was like looking through her past.
She idly picked up a pair of sunglasses and noted, with amusement, that the left lens was cracked and pitted, while one of the legs was bent at an odd angle. Nothing left in the car stayed whole for long - her father had a chronic habit of forgetting to put up the reflector, and so anything left in the car for more than an hour usually ended up either melting, malfunctioning, or cracking from the heat.
But that was in Italy, always hot and sunny. This is Japan-
NO! Stop thinking about it! She went back to rummaging in the mounds of stuff, trying to block out the taunting jeers of the Voice.
A gleam of silver caught her eye and she automatically reached down for it, coming back with a silver bracelet that would probably just exactly fit her. She examined it, noting that sunlight bounced everywhere off the pink jewel set in the middle. It was fairly simple, just a band of silver about the length of her finger, with a simple clasp on the back that she could do up with one hand. Probably one of Gwen's toys from the McDonald's next to the supermarket.
Still . . . it was pretty, and it wasn't like Gwen would either mind or miss it - it had ended up in one of the many junk heaps in the car for a reason, after all. Shrugging, she quickly fastened the clasp and looked out the window again, barely holding in a groan when she realized the familiar building of Shibuya Secondary was almost right next to her.
Her mother reached over and gave her a one-armed hug, all the while slowing down until they finally came to a graceful stop outside the gates. "Have a good day, sweetie, okay?"
"Yeah," she said noncommitally, already half-wishing to be out of the car and away from her mother's recently stifling attitude. She grasped the strap of her backpack in the back seat and pulled out, opening the door on the way. Then she waved to her mother, who returned it heartily before speeding off, Zoe staring forlornly after her. In the wake of her automatic actions, effectively stranding her in the one place that she'd want to be less than almost anywhere else, that she did every day, she'd completely forgotten about the bracelet.
Whether she knew it or not, Zoe Orimoto's life had just changed forever.
Kousei Minamoto was having a perfectly normal day. Satomi had already left for her work at the furniture store, graciously offering to take Kouji to school that day to let him relax a little at home before he left for work. He was fairly certain that disaster would come of it - his twelve-year-old son and his second wife never really were able to be in the same space for any amount of time without disaster - but he hoped that it would be fairly minor today.
Yeah, right. When it came to Kouji, nothing was ever "fairly minor".
He sighed and put down the newspaper he'd been trying to read, fully succumbing to the thoughts of his family, past and present. Kouji had always been a difficult child, more so than his brother - that was why, when he and Tomoko had split up, he'd offered to take Kouji while she took his twin brother. All in all, raising Kouji had been fairly easy: he was a good student, reasonably talented at kendo, rather quiet, and didn't ask many questions. Kousei could deal with that.
Until Kouji turned seven, of course.
Then he'd asked the one question Kousei was sure he couldn't answer.
"Dad, what happened to Mom?"
Kousei had frozen - hadn't known what to say, hadn't know what to do. And in the meantime, Kouji was just standing there, looking up to him questioningly, waiting for an answer. So Kousei had blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
"Kouji, your mother's dead."
That was the single greatest mistake of his life.
Well, actually, he wasn't quite sure what he would term as "the single greatest mistake" of his life, but that was definitely up there in the top two - the other one was not telling Kouji about his brother. He and Tomoko had agreed on it, but still . . . there just felt something wrong about not telling a child about his own sibling, much less his own twin brother.
Once he'd blurted it out, he knew he'd made a mistake. Kouji had become obsessed with the memory of his mother, changing from being passively rebellious to actively rebellious. When he'd fallen in love again and remarried, he knew Kouji had never forgiven him. He never expected him to.
What he hadn't expected was the way Kouji treated Satomi, as if she were the one responsible for the "death." At least he never openly tormented her, but the oblique actions and comments were more than enough.
Sighing, he took a sip from the cup of coffee Satomi had set out for him and picked up the newspaper again, trying futilely to distract himself. Satomi - Satomi was wonderful. She was determined, sweet, kind, and feminine, never giving up in anything and everything. The only thing that could really depress her was - well, Kouji.
Yes, the car ride was definitely going to end in disaster.
Ding-dong.
Kousei put down his newspaper again, rather annoyed this time, and made his way through the door. He straightened his tie, just in case it was one of his business associates, and glanced out the window. Then he perplexedly opened the door to a young boy, about Kouji's age - he couldn't exactly see his features because of the dark blue baseball cap covering his face, but there was just something familiar about him.
"Can I help you?" were the first words out of his mouth, more an automatic response than anything else. Besides, it bought him time while he tried to figure out where he'd seen him before.
"Y-yes . . . I think so. You're Kousei Minamoto, right?"
"I am." It couldn't have been one of Kouji's classmates. His house was already far enough from Shibuya Secondary that they had to leave fifteen minutes early if they didn't want Kouji to be late. This boy was probably going to be late, anyway, unless he went to Whitten Middle, and that was on the other side of Shibuya.
Kousei frowned - he'd never seen this boy before, but there was something naggingly familiar about his voice. "Do you need something?"
"I . . . um . . . "
"Yes?"
The boy looked up, and with a start Kousei recognized the face - it was the one he saw every day on his son. But Kouji was at school . . . so this meant . . .
No, it can't be . . .
"I - I'm Kouichi Kimura . . . and you're my dad."
The words blasted through his skull. They were spoken so quietly he had to almost strain to hear them, but it didn't matter - the turmoil the words caused in his mind were akin to if he had shouted them. Questions rolled around: What's happened to Tomoko? How am I going to tell Kouji? How am I going to explain this to Satomi? Who, what, when, where, why?
Thousands of questions exploded all at once and then fizzled out just as fast, leaving only one question left: What - why - how did this happen?!
He took in everything: his eldest son's expression, the way the world was spinning around him, the feel of the wood of the doorframe as he clutched it for support. No matter what, he would never forget this, whether he wanted to or not.
Whether he knew it or not, Kouichi Kimura's and Koji Minamoto's lives had just changed forever.
Light - light everywhere.
All in all, it was a stark contrast to where the three angels had been earlier that night, and much more comfortable, too. Two of them stood over a viewing pool, looking down onto the world below, watching the humans carry on their lives, unaware of the threat that had already claimed one of them. It was regrettable that they had to let her suffer, but necessary. Everything was in place - the stage was set. Now they were just waiting for the curtains to come up and the actors to begin.
"There," Seraphimon observed with satisfaction. "Everything worked out."
Cherubimon shook his head and sighed warningly, "Not quite yet, my friend. There is still much room for mistake. We must not get lax now; not when all worlds need us now, more than ever."
Seraphimon sighed as well and nodded. "You are sure it was wise to entrust such a responsibility to five - four - six children?"
"We could choose no one better."
Both angels turned around, their faces lit up with smiles, as Ophanimon stepped into the room. She smiled in return, tired but joyful, and added, "I have faith in them. Though it will not seem like it at first, the five of them will succeed, I believe."
"We are not all-knowing," Seraphimon reminded her, although he, too, looked hopeful. "We are not God. We can only manipulate to the best of our ability and see how this turns out."
"I have faith in them," she repeated firmly. "They are four now, five soon, six later - they will succeed, no matter what."
Cherubimon nodded briefly and returned to watching the world below as his partners continued to bicker good-naturedly. Below, the humans were living their lives as they always did, unaware of whatever dangers lurked around the corner, unaware that soon chaos would break out among them. They didn't know.
He did. They did.
And it was their duty to protect the ignorant, the weak of heart. But they could do nothing. Instead, they had entrusted that burden to those they hoped could best carry it - Ophanimon had chosen two, Seraphimon had chosen two, and he had chosen two as well. They were only four now, but would become six soon. Hopefully, six would be enough.
He continued to watch the humans - peculiar creatures, really. All caught up in their own worries, never noticing others, never realizing the big picture. That was why he had chosen the two of them. They had stood out - they were different from the humans. But the humans themselves were different and similar as it was possible to be within a species - all worried about different things, but worried about something nonetheless. All thinking different things, but thinking something nonetheless.
He resisted the urge to break something - or laugh hysterically, he wasn't sure which.
Whether they knew it or not, their lives had just changed forever.
Takuya raced in the bathroom as Hayley exited, knowing that he was probably going to get kicked out of class 4-A - again! - by Ms. Yamazaki because of his lateness, forgetting all about his bracelet in the rush.
Caitlin slid her things under her desk and slipped into her normal seat in room 4-A where no one would notice her or pay any attention to her at all, sighing and rubbing the bracelet she'd found on her backpack, as if making a wish . . . or a plea for help.
Aiden fished out a map from his backpack, his bracelet clinking against the metal rings of his notebook, and ran a finger down it, looking for classroom 4-A and hoping fervently that today would be better than yesterday, his first day during tenure as the "New Kid".
Zoe took a deep breath outside the gates of the hellhole they called school, where she could finally be alone - just not alone in the way she wanted to be - and walked inside to classroom 4-A, rubbing her new bracelet absently.
Kousei stared at the boy standing in front of him; his face was mostly covered in shadows from the baseball cap he wore, but there was no doubt about it - that was Kouichi . . . that was his son.
The world turned slowly on its axis, and just as slowly, reshaped itself from what it could have been - would have been - into what it would now be. No one felt it. No one thought that this day would be different from any other.
Whether they knew it or not, their lives had just changed forever.
Author's Note: Well, I think that's a pretty good prologue. No, it's not supposed to make too much sense, but all five of the "new" digidestined have been introduced in this chapter. Cyber-cookie goes to whoever can tell me who has which spirit, and whether Ophanimon, Cherubimon, or Seraphimon gave it to him/her. Yes, only four digidestined have really been introduced, but remember what one of the Angels said: "Four now, five soon, six later." Remember, this is an AU: Cherubimon is good in the beginning, Takuya has an older sister named Hayley, JP and Tommy will most probably not appear, Digimon have infiltrated the real world and most battles will take place in the real world, Power Rangers-style. Blame the Harry Potter-Power Rangers crossovers, eh?
Anyway, yes, this is going to be a lot like Power Rangers, specifically Power Rangers Dino Thunder. Much will be explained in the second chapter, including why Kouichi is there, what significance the bracelets have, and maybe - just maybe - we'll get to see Kousei trying to explain to Kouji why Kouichi's there. Fun, eh? Please remember to review, even if you're flaming to say, "Update Digital Legends, not this stupid story!" or saying "I didn't understand one word of that". If all else fails, just give a one-word answer like "good" "bad" "ok" or "update" and I'll be happy. I might even update faster!
-helenw713