Prologue-Reading.
A figure sitting at a park bench. The dead of the night, and someone sitting in the park, opposite the old bakery. A young man, no older than, say, 23, dealing out purple backed cards. Tarot cards. Having chosen a simple three card spread, he drew his first card, symbolising the past. The Ten of Cups. Lost touch between friends. He knew this feeling only too well. The strange man drew his second card. The present. Memory. Links to the past. He pulled his shaking hand to his forehead, only to find he was sweating. His trembling hand moved towards the deck, the man chose his final card. The future. The Eight of Cups. Searching. Leaving the past behind. The man shuddered, and with one swift movement, he swept the cards into a small leather pouch, and walked off. He stopped in front of the bakery, pulled out his wallet, taking a short glance at the old, battered photograph. Four little kids, about 12. A girl, with sharp violet eyes, a boy, with spiked hair and goggles, another girl with a small hand puppet, and another boy. Him. He couldn't take this. He hurled the picture to the ground. There was a message on the back:
Dear Henry,
Best friends forever.
Love Takato.
The man blinked away a tear, and walked off without turning back. Little did he know, he was being followed. But this thing silently stalking him, he sensed that it wasn't human.
Takato turned around. Rika's alert lavender eyes shone. She didn't deserve to be in this position. It wasn't her fault Jeri tried to kill her. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve it at all.
It was his fault really. A schoolboy crush. Leomon's death pushed her off the edge. When she saw him and Rika together, it drove her insane. He was hers first, and this whole thing could be traced back to him. Jeri was in an asylum, of course. If she broke out, it could mean death for them all. Literally. Jeri. She was the little girl with the tiny brown sock puppet. How the hell could this happen?? A small keyring fell out of his pocket. The same picture. The girl with the sharp violet eyes. The boy with the orange vest, the girl with the puppet, and him. The gogglehead.
Jeri. Tired and Lonely, pumped full of drugs to control her, sat alone in her cell, at the Jail for the Criminally Insane. She was still grieving, and couldn't explain the trauma she had been put through. Nobody had come to see her at all, not since she was admitted...five long years ago. The door creaked. But, this wasn't possible. Who would want to see her? Dare she hope? It couldn't be him. Inside, she still yearned for Takato. He was a special part of her. That b***h Rika, took him from her. Could he be coming? Did he finally forgive her? She was a mess. Her bobbed light brown hair was now long and dark, with horrible light streaks and split ends, tied back in a low ponytail. There was no other word for it. She was just a wreck. The door slowly creaked open, like people to too scared to see her anymore. A thin beam of light slipped through. She looked up, to see a face watching her cautiously. A familiar face. But it wasn't Takato's.
A figure sitting at a park bench. The dead of the night, and someone sitting in the park, opposite the old bakery. A young man, no older than, say, 23, dealing out purple backed cards. Tarot cards. Having chosen a simple three card spread, he drew his first card, symbolising the past. The Ten of Cups. Lost touch between friends. He knew this feeling only too well. The strange man drew his second card. The present. Memory. Links to the past. He pulled his shaking hand to his forehead, only to find he was sweating. His trembling hand moved towards the deck, the man chose his final card. The future. The Eight of Cups. Searching. Leaving the past behind. The man shuddered, and with one swift movement, he swept the cards into a small leather pouch, and walked off. He stopped in front of the bakery, pulled out his wallet, taking a short glance at the old, battered photograph. Four little kids, about 12. A girl, with sharp violet eyes, a boy, with spiked hair and goggles, another girl with a small hand puppet, and another boy. Him. He couldn't take this. He hurled the picture to the ground. There was a message on the back:
Dear Henry,
Best friends forever.
Love Takato.
The man blinked away a tear, and walked off without turning back. Little did he know, he was being followed. But this thing silently stalking him, he sensed that it wasn't human.
Takato turned around. Rika's alert lavender eyes shone. She didn't deserve to be in this position. It wasn't her fault Jeri tried to kill her. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve it at all.
It was his fault really. A schoolboy crush. Leomon's death pushed her off the edge. When she saw him and Rika together, it drove her insane. He was hers first, and this whole thing could be traced back to him. Jeri was in an asylum, of course. If she broke out, it could mean death for them all. Literally. Jeri. She was the little girl with the tiny brown sock puppet. How the hell could this happen?? A small keyring fell out of his pocket. The same picture. The girl with the sharp violet eyes. The boy with the orange vest, the girl with the puppet, and him. The gogglehead.
Jeri. Tired and Lonely, pumped full of drugs to control her, sat alone in her cell, at the Jail for the Criminally Insane. She was still grieving, and couldn't explain the trauma she had been put through. Nobody had come to see her at all, not since she was admitted...five long years ago. The door creaked. But, this wasn't possible. Who would want to see her? Dare she hope? It couldn't be him. Inside, she still yearned for Takato. He was a special part of her. That b***h Rika, took him from her. Could he be coming? Did he finally forgive her? She was a mess. Her bobbed light brown hair was now long and dark, with horrible light streaks and split ends, tied back in a low ponytail. There was no other word for it. She was just a wreck. The door slowly creaked open, like people to too scared to see her anymore. A thin beam of light slipped through. She looked up, to see a face watching her cautiously. A familiar face. But it wasn't Takato's.