Where the Lost Ones Go


By,

Aestivate

Disclaimer: Digimon Adventure/Tamers are property of Toei animation, don't own, never did, only using characters/plots. Line from an e.e. cummings poem is also used in this; that's not mine either, also Edna St. Vincent Millay line too.

Author's Note: I have this uncanny inability to finish fics, but I actually have like, an outline that plans for ~ 8 chapters ahead, and a comprehensive story guide to where exactly where I want to take this fic. It might take a while, but I'm pretty sure I'll finish this (eventually). Originally, this fic was going to be highly Ryou/Ruki centric, but certain Adventure characters are going to have their own story arcs and whatnot, although not the importance of Ryou's. Yes, there's going to be a lot of emo Ryou, especially early on, but that's expected because the poor boy has had such a difficult past and what not. Naturally, his past is going to haunt him, but the past of the undefeated Adventure enemies are going to shadow the gang as well. Since this fic will be so obviously centered around certain Adventure characters, the primary pairings are probably going to be as follows: Ryuki (OBVIOUSLY) and Takari. Maybe some Kenyako, Wallsuke, or Kensuke (depending on my mood when I write future chapters), with Koumi, Sorato/Taiora mentioned in passing. But there are simply too many story elements I want to add and too many characters that I can't really put too much focus on pairings unless it's the central pairing or two characters that are going to be pretty pivotal to the plot. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, which serves the primary purpose of being one of a few set-up chapters (clearly) before the ball really gets rolling. There are also some light Japanese phrases to be used in context, but nothing is too difficult to understand, and harder phrases I will translate!And unfortunately, some things might have to be retconned. Don't worry, they're easy to figure out. And depending on the direction this fic goes, characters from series other than 01/02/03 may appear for short arcs or whatever.

Chapter One: The Day of Preparation


She was always strong, no matter what. Exhaustively strong is the phrase that I always use to describe her. Gender lines, psychological lines, and digital lines never meant a thing to her. She is made up of lines and curves, beginning with the cool, piercing amethyst gaze, and ending with that distant, enigmatic beauty.

So I hear you sent a message, I text. I want to see her that mask of indifference fall into her innocent insecurity; she was never good at not betraying her emotions. Could it be because of our chance encounter?

Almost instantly, the reply: It had nothing to do with you. I had some important things to say to Renamon, and this is the only way I can do it, for now.

I can see the faint hue on her cheeks, the shy, nervous smile, her head bowed as a strand of her sienna colored hair falls into her face; I see her, a light in the clouds in the starless Kyushu sky. Good for you, Ruki.

There's something about his personality that makes my blood boil, the refreshing Sawayaka Kousen. Everything about him is careless. He could care less about how he looks but his russet-colored hair is always spiked perfectly, the godforsaken devilish smile always pearly white. He is carelessly arrogant, carelessly tall, carelessly lean, carelessly good looking. Carelessly energetic, too. He drinks the praise from girls my age, even guys my age, always the Digimon poster boy. The king; and I can't help but scowl. I've since rescinded my title. He's no longer the awkward rival that stripped me of a victory. Back then, it wasn't just a game to him though, I could see that. I don't think it ever was.

I don't understand why he continues to play that game, but it makes sense because he's always the same person; he never changes. It's hard enough for humans to change; that hardest for Ryou to. I watch him sometimes, under Takato and Jian's insistence, and the familiar glint of battle always lights his cobalt eyes the minute the battle begins. Sometimes I can't tell who is worse; him or his partner, Cyberdramon.

Renamon stands in the shadows behind me as I watch him take down yet another opponent, and again he reacts in the most familiar way possible. He really never does change, but I'm no longer interested, not that I'd had any in the first place. Another victory; another familiarity.

I look fondly up at my partner, my best friend, the only one who understands me; hopefully she won't catch me staring. She is tall and sleek and beautiful; the full moon reflects silver in her fur. She is the perfect example of balance. What's shadowed is hidden, what is held in the light gleams. A perfect mixture of light and dark.

It had only been a short while since Jian and his father and the rest of the Wild Bunch could return her to me, the message I'd sent her served as a road back home. I turn back to the screen where Ryou is being interviewed, and I struggle to admit it but I do anyway: He opened the way to that road for me, after I'd been too stubborn to open it myself.


I, who have died, am alive again today…

Now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened…

December 31, 2000. The air is frigid and stings my lungs when I take in deep breaths. My hotel in Ueno comes into view; hopefully I can get there quickly without the paparazzi on my tail. I walk quickly, turning up my collar to shield it from cold. I haven't done a single interview, and the girl I faced after an exhaustively long game looked too taciturn to do many interviews, either. The press would be restless. I almost felt bad; she was only like, 8 years old, but she wasn't the least bit gentle in our match. I had no idea who she was until today, but she surely gave me a run for my money. I'd heard that this girl might have the potential to match me in title, under the title of "queen." But it's a game. A battle, with opponents. Enemies. But a game nonetheless.

December 31, 1999 was when it all began. Certainly a lot has happened within the course of a year; the new millennium cursing my fate. Four months-ish in this new world, now.

The world I belong to now isn't much different from the world I left. The language is the same, the culture, most of its history, which makes sense. Divergences in histories hadn't begun until 60 some-odd years ago anyway. Time is a complicated thing. Space is a complicated thing. The universes are even more complicated concepts to grasp. I do not try and understand.

Fighting is not. Complicated, I mean. I'd forgotten that. No need to continue fighting. Night falls fast. Today is in the past.

I thought I'd forgotten everything, but once this reality Realized for lack of a better word, I remembered. I thought I'd left all of that behind me, but some part of me got lost in the process.

There is a fog that grows in thickness that numbs the cold as I keep my stride, and for some reason all the streetlights have gone out all at once. The busy street has grown quiet. All I can hear is my own breath. My shadow extends, from a relatively tall 12-year old to a giant whose height expands into millennia; into infinity.

The fog grows thicker for an instant and then vanishes, as Cyberdramon takes me with him, and I am born again. What's lost is now found.

December 31, 2005. The last day of the finals. The final moments of competition. The air in the tournament stadium was stale with anticipation and apprehension, and still as the audience waited in silent, bated breath. A platform of some sort sat suspended in midair on a thin metal support beam, with two competitors sitting opposite each other on a rectangular table.

The room had gone undergone a complete transformation from the start of the tourney until now; from an amicable competitive environment stemmed these final, crucial moments.

A battle fit for champions is what this competition was to be called. The crowd surrounded the spectacle in the circular dome. However, even with the geometry of the stadium, the crowed seemed to span endlessly, in all directions. Every pair of eyes was locked, every fist was clenched with whitening knuckles, and every agonizing sweat dropped dripped within these last few moments.

One of the competitors, the one who was obviously much younger, had dark hair and nervous eyes. He was thin and pale and had a sort of pinched look in his face. All of his clothes were rather large on him. His bangs were matted to his forehead with sweat, and it was necessary for him to push his glasses up to his face as they slid down his nose every few seconds. This was probably due to the fact that he bowed his head and lifted his head, darting from his opponent's otherwise relaxed expression, the game board, the score, and his cards. The other competitor wore a lazy expression, dressed in tan denim and an orange turtleneck, definitely appropriate for the bitter winter outside, but not for the atmosphere of such heated competition. Despite this, he looked luxuriously relaxed.

Everyone wanted to see the ou, Akiyama Ryou-sama, fall. The king even after many long years, one of the heroes in the D-Reaper and Parasimon crises, the only Tamer of a kanzentai Digimon, the illustrious Cyberdramon, the first and only defeater of Makino Ruki. He'd retired a while ago; at 17 there was no reason for him to continue humiliating opponents so much younger than he. Despite that, even with a disappearance, he enjoyed long years of being the very best, since he was about 12 or 13, appearing out of nowhere. Akiyama Ryou, the champion of champions.

Surprisingly enough, he agreed to enter one final tournament, after the request (begging) of the National Digimon Card Game Tournament Committee. The Tournament of the Gods, it was dubbed, comprising of only the world-elite, of the world's champion card came players. The audience was compromised of the world's entire Digimon otaku population.

And within the walls of this stadium, Ryou had bested most of his competition despite being out of practice, until this final moment. A curious expression graced his features fleetingly as he folded his cards together in his hand. He put his cards face down on the little cubicle, greeting his young, fresh-faced opponent with a wide, white grin. "Congratulations," he said warmly. "This was my loss." His expression betrayed the complete opposite of what it should have; there was a sparkle to his blue eyes. Shock on his opponent's face, and then the sound of not breathing: The sound of a room with thousands of people completely shocked out of air.

"I… I don't believe it!" said the announcer in shock. Realizing the silence, he regained as much composure as he could. Clearing his throat and adjusting his microphone, he said to the stunned audience, "13 year old Matsumoto Takeuchi from Chiba has defeated 17 year old Akiyama Ryou of Kyushu in the Digimon Tournament of Gods!"

Ryou took a deep breath, rising from the chair and going to shake his still paralyzed opponent. "Congratulations," he said again. "That was an impressive battle. I've never faced an opponent quite like you. Enjoy your new title, Matsumoto-kun!" He caught himself, shaking his head and the hand of Takeuchi briskly. "I'm sorry, Matsumoto-ou!" Ryou patted the poor kid on the back. There. The baton has been passed. I've done all that I need to do to prepare.


The light seeks its shadow.

That darkness only grows ever larger, searching for what casts it.

You will return to the world of your birth, the world you abandoned, the one you thought you saved. It is funny that you, the random element, the one with the power to traverse dimensions, the one with power that I – we – cannot even comprehend, believed you could escape this power. But it defines you. And you have to live by that.

I will make that certain.

Earlier that day, Ryou had the same nightmare again. The same beckoning call, the one that had haunted him for as long as he could remember, the one that was only the most vivid the night before.

Ryou woke up with a start, his body jerking as he did so. The first thing he did was glance at the clock. 6:00 a.m. Right, he had the championship final to compete in today, but that wasn't for a couple of hours. He was shirtless, as he usually was when he slept, but his body was covered with cold sweat. His sheets were damp as well. "Gross," he muttered, kicking away his sheets. He turned restlessly, trying to look for a dry spot on his bed. Realizing he could find none, he quickly gave up, his mind still reeling. He tried to lie still and go back to sleep, but the winter cold had seeped into the bedroom and he could no longer sleep without a shirt on nor could he without dry sheets. Sure, he could blame the cold on his trembling.

He hated nightmares. He hated that helpless feeling of knowing that you're dreaming, and the inability to wake yourself up, inevitably succumbing to witnessing tragedy, over and over again. He sat up in his bed, beginning the long waking process and maybe getting a shirt. He gingerly stepped over the futon where Monodramon was still sleeping, towards the bathroom.

Electrical impulses from his brain to the rest of his body stopped him from beginning a normal, daily routine. He looked around his room, which was mostly bare. Nothing on the desk except for a single, sealed white envelope. A single bed and a single futon, in which a purple dinosaur-like creature slept. A solitary backpack sitting in the corner, a change of clothes on top. No computer in its regular position, closed upon his desk. Which could only mean…

"Another year has passed. New Year's is tomorrow," he whispered to himself. He could skip his morning shower; there was still so much he had to do to prepare. He bent towards Monodramon and urged the little Digimon awake. "Monodramon, wake up."

Groggily, Monodramon rubbed his eyes gingerly, wary of the claws that studded his finger tips, and of the vestigial wings connected to his arms. "Ryou? What time is it?" Then: "Oh. Today."

"Exactly," said Ryou. "That means it's time to get up. The flight for Tokyo leaves in like, three hours." He took the change of clothes that he'd unconsciously lay out for himself the night before, and pulled on the pants and the turtleneck, finally relieved of cold. At last he completed his outfit with his signature red scarf.

"Good luck today, Ryou," said Monodramon, sitting up in the futon.

"You know I'm not in it to win," he said, hopping on one foot and jamming his other foot into a sock. Finally losing his balance, Ryou tripped and fell, sitting up instantly and sighing. "Quite the contrary, actually…" He shut his eyes, leaning his head against the wall.

"The same dream?"

"Wouldn't call it a dream. More like… a calling."

"From the other me?" said Monodramon, pressing his hand against his chest. "It might be. That's why you've done all this and more to prepare, isn't it? The other world – the other me – wants you back there."

"There is no other you," said Ryou quickly. "There's just one Monodramon." We made sure of that…

Monodramon looked over at the solitary desk in the dark room. The white envelope stood out in lonely contrast. "I guess you couldn't tell him."

"Yeah, well. Ever since he took me in, he knew that. It was only a matter of time," said Ryou. His voice had dropped to a whisper. "Otou-san knew this was coming. If only I were more of a man, I'd be able to face him better. I just wish…" He trailed off, pulling out his blue D-Arc from his pocket and peering into the blank screen.

"I know," said Monodramon. "What about Guilmon and the others?"

"I can't," was Ryou's simple reply. He sauntered to Monodramon and petted the horn on his partner's head. He corrected himself, "Something tells me I shouldn't."

"Isn't that a little sad though?" whispered Monodramon sadly.

"I guess. But that's just fate."

We'd learned a long time ago that what was predetermined could be changed. Katou Juri could probably tell you that the best of anyone. I already have Monodramon, and I'm not alone. I'd hoped so badly that when I chose this world I would never have to return there. An irreversible action. The point of no return.

It is on this day that I remember the faces. The sacrifices. The battles.

The betrayals…

Even after all this time, the memories are still so vivid.


"Now to next order of business," said Ryou. His gut wrenched. Not much left. He knew that today was the day he would cease to exist in yet another world he called home, and so there was business to be attended to. So he carried a list, so he wouldn't forget, but mostly so he couldn't lose his resolve. Having a plan of action, things to do, seemed to make enduring easier, even though it wasn't. If he could get through all of this he could maybe feel less guilty. Even though it technically wasn't his fault. It would be his fault, however, if he once again disappeared without a trace and not a thing to prepare for it. But there was also the inevitability of his leaving.

Ryou faltered as soon as he read the uncrossed out "talk to otou-san" line, which in its stead had "wrote him a letter" written next to it in Ryou's messy, loopy hiragana. Speaking of guilt…

He imagined his "father" in this world, but could only a picture a forlorn face looking lost and worried. Ryou squeezed his eyes shut, crumpling the little piece of paper in his hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered to himself, over and over. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you've done so much for me and yet… I can't even…" He ripped the piece of paper into shreds, and wished to god he had a lighter and could make the pieces burn. What he could do was scatter them, which he did. They were picked up by a cold wind blowing in from the north, and swirled up and dispersed in all directions. All I know is fighting.

"No need for hesitation, Ryou," said Cyberdramon.

Cyberdramon was out of sight, but Ryou could still hear him. "After all, we'll be fighting a strong enemy."

Right, a new enemy, Ryou thought bitterly. Really now. "Anyway, Cyberdramon, I think we're pretty much finished. I wanted to eat some Guilmon bread before we left…" Ryou made a gesture towards the flying bits of paper around them. "That was the last thing on the list," he said. But going to eat that Guilmon bread would entail seeing someone I don't want to leave.

A crackled sound shook Ryou out of his thoughts. "An upsetting loss to Akiyama-san at the Digimon Tournament of Gods!"

Ryou gave a sad smile reflecting on whether or not that was the best course of action and caught himself when he overheard something. A television, coming from the electronics store. He pricked his ears at the term "Digimon." He casually wandered towards the store, tightening his red scarf around his face and jamming his pockets into his coat. It was beyond closing time, but the lights in the store were still on and if he loitered outside the view of the shopkeeper, it wouldn't look overtly suspicious.

"There is talk that Akiyama-san doted on his opponent, and even conceded his title as soon as he conceded defeat! Still impressive for Akiyama-san to have made it this far, especially now that there are world-renowned champions that had scores much than he, and also for someone who has been in retirement for so long. What say you, the Digimon expert, Hiroyuki-san?"

The new voice, undoubtedly Hiroyuki's, was saying, "While it may be true that it is a wonder that two Japanese people made the finals, I don't believe Akiyama-kun was at his top game this time around. There were a series of blunders he made at the endgame that made me seriously doubt his devotion to the game. It was almost as if his mind were somewhere else. There was a lack of focus that Akiyama-kun really showcased tonight. Perhaps if his opponent had been the ever elusive Makino Ruki-san, who was invited to participate but did not, the situation might be different than what it is now…"

The color on Akiyama Ryou's face completely drained from his face. That name… He pulled his Digivice from his pocket and read the digital time, 11:23 P.M. Why did her name, of all people, have to be mentioned? The girl he loved to tease, loved to rib. The person he had the uncanny feeling he'd miss the most, for some strange, inexplicable reason. Why was the world continuing to strike blows at his resolve? Just to make things harder? Nothing should be too hard for the great, Legendary Tamer, Akiyama Ryou. He managed a weak, bitter croak, something too feeble to be called a laugh.

Ryou peered again into his Digivice, which marked his location with a flashing dot and the location of someone else who was undoubtedly a comrade. He looked at it warily, unconsciously knowing who this dot signified. He was in that area of Shinjuku, after all.

He shouldn't. It would be too hard, requiring far much more strength than he could afford to muster or wanted to invest. And yet, robotically, automatically, beyond his control, his legs started to move in the direction of the flashing dot.

On a quiet street in West Shinjuku, all the houses save for one had retired in preparation for the incoming year. Houses were swept from head to toe. Doors were shut, windows blocked, and paper on sliding doors had been changed long ago in order to block out the unusually bitterly cold winter and for the sake of superstition.

All of the houses on the street were particularly modern and none stood out except for the largest one, architecturally styled in likeness to the Edo period. On the concrete fence separating this house from the rest of the street was a silver sign, emblazoned with two artfully written kanji: 牧野. Makino.

13 year old Ruki and her partner Renamon had no idea they were the only ones awake on their entire street. She sat with her sienna-colored head bowed over her night desk, flipping through brochures. The only light in the room was the feeble lamp, which cast long shadows in her vast bedroom. Ruki had her long, wavy hair tied back, and she wore a red cotton nightgown. The yellow fox, Renamon, stood against the wall among these shadows, her arms crossed and her icy blue eyes glinting despite the absence of light. She looked intimidating, with the androgynous, always stoic expression.

"Maybe this secondary school would be best…" mused Ruki, flipping open a brightly colored brochure. It was a private school, quite like the one she was attending now, but closer to Jian and Takato. The private school she went to now was an all girls' school like she had attended in the past, but during her first year as a middle school student she hated it. "What do you think, Renamon?"

"Whatever you like," said Renamon coolly. "It's late, and you should really be getting to sleep."

"It's only like…. 11:30," protested Ruki. "And besides, I'm not done looking through these brochures. If I find a school I like that's near Takato, Jian, and Juri, then I can transfer there after spring break. If you're tired, Renamon, you should get some rest."

"It's not that but…" Renamon stopped abruptly, unfolding her arms, and lifting her head.

"What is it?"

"Someone seems to be at the door," said the fox.

"Who would be coming at this late hour?" demanded Ruki. "Renamon, go check."There was a slight shift in the air molecules in Ruki's bedroom, and Renamon had disappeared. An instant later, she reappeared.

"You'll get a kick out of this one," said Renamon, slightly bemused.

"What's that supposed to mean? Just tell me who it is!"

The doorbell rang. Ruki scowled and sat up abruptly, throwing on a sweater. "What an idiot! Mom and obaa-chan are sleeping! Who in the right mind would come here when it's this late anyway?" Irrationally angry, she stormed out of the house to the gate, trying her best to ignore the cold that was making her pimple in goosebumps. Renamon waited and watched silently from the roof. Whoever it was, they were going to get a piece of her mind for maybe waking her mother and grandmother up (models do not take kindly to getting waken up in the middle of the night), and for making her come outside in the freezing cold to get him or her to shut up. All this she thought and was about to say through gritted teeth.

Until, of course, she saw the person through the fence that was waiting. Someone with a killer smile. Really shiny teeth. In other words, the most refreshingly bright of personalities. "R..Ryou? What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Hey, Ruki."

To be continued...

Author's Note: Hopefully the changes in point of views/time frames weren't confusing! I tried to make them pretty clear...