Chapter One ~ "Watching Spirits"
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Digimon, and sadly I doubt I ever will, as the rights never seem to come up on e-bay. I am so poor that I even had to put up the rent for the moths living in my pockets, so there is no point in suing me. Digimon belongs to Toei and Saban, but this fic is mine! (Insert evil laughter here!) If I find anyone plagiarizing this then I will be severely displeased and the thieves will have nobody to blame but themselves when I come after them with an oversized mallet!
To clarify, this fic is set after the finale of Season 02, but disregards the whole '25 years later' thingy - I never really bought that, it seemed like too much of a cop out, sorry Toei. This is basically my version of what happened next, and is sprung straight from the twisted mind of yours truly! I have copied nobody, and if this fic resembles any other then I can assure you that this is completely by accident and I didn't mean to do it, honestly.
Phew! Now that's over and done with, (Drum roll, please!) on with the show!
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"The Darkness Within" By Scribbler
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"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same." - Anonymous
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It was beautiful night over sleeping Tokyo. The sky was lit up by a carpet of stars, like a canvas of burning eyes. Each an insignificant pinprick of light alone, but together they lent their ghostly phosphorescence to a cacophony of brilliance. Truly a breathtaking sight.
The beauty of the moment was lost, however, on one individual. A lone figure stood in the shadows, gazing wistfully at the place he had once called home. Cars passed the alley he stood in, but none stopped or looked at the solitary person alone in the gloom. Every time one thundered past the figure shrank back into the concealment of darkness, maintaining his anonymity to all those who may have seen him.
Not for the first time he wondered what he was doing there. This wasn't his home any more, and hadn't been for a very long time. Silently he stared at the outline of the apartment building against the night sky. It was nothing special, just another construction identical to all the others in Tokyo. He hadn't been into the city for so long, it was odd to think that there were hundreds of people contained within that one structure of metal and glass, and hundreds more in all the others dotted around the great Japanese capital. The figure regarded his former home pensively, wondering which of the rooms contained her...
No! He couldn't think like that! That part of his life was over now, and he could never reclaim it, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd put it behind him, and intended to keep it there.
So why was he here? To that, he had no answer.
He knew it was dangerous, but some inexorable force had drawn him back to this place. The scene of so many happy memories, now tinged with sadness by one event. The cause of his misery.
Another car blew past, oblivious to his presence. Still, the figure drew back into the shadows where he could see, yet not be seen. The car was a gaudy pink, filled with several teenagers on their way to some party or other frivolous engagement. God how he wanted that kind of life again. No more worries, no more cares, no more watching his back at every turn, waiting. Waiting for....
What? The car had stopped. Could they have seen him? The slim figure recoiled, and stepped backwards down the alleyway. Laughing voices filtered from the open car window, converging unwanted in his ears.
"Come on guys. What's the matter?"
"Yeah, I wanna get to Sakuya's party some time this week, you know."
Laughter, overruled by one voice, also tinctured with merriment despite its mock seriousness.
"Keep it down, you guys. Kido's carsick again."
"Again?" A female voice punctured the air, sounding disgusted. "But we've only been driving for fifteen minutes! I've never known anyone get sick as often as he does!"
"Is he gonna barf?" Another voice, girly and mischievous. Her question was greeted with groans and remonstrations from her travelling companions.
"Not in my car he's not! I just had the interior reupholstered!"
"Excuse me, could you quit talking about me like I'm not even here!"
More raucous laughter. The figure in the shadows listened to their banter despite himself. It was good to hear friendly voices again, even if they were not directed at him. He was more used to insults and screams, or intense, brooding silence, his constant companion down his chosen path in life. One of the voices seemed familiar, and he was sure that he had heard it before. Pushing the thought away, the figure hunched his collar further up his neck to keep out the biting chill permeating the night air.
Eventually the garish car pulled away, taking its happy cargo with it. The shadowy figure took this opportunity to disappear into the shadows completely; safe in the knowledge that no one could see him. Silent as always, he made his way down the dark alley, scaling the wire mesh fence at the end and swinging easily over the top to land, cat-like, on the other side. He still surprised himself at how much he had changed over the past year. True, he'd always been strong, but in a different way to the strength he now possessed. His was now the vigour borne of survival in the harsh reality of life. Something those kids in the car could never know about. Although, if the voice was who he thought it was....
No! There he went doing it again. He couldn't let himself remember. It was too dangerous, both for himself and for those around him.
The alley ended abruptly, leading onto a street filled with streetlamps and brilliant shop windows. Reflexively, the figure shied away from the light, looking for another route away from this place. Finding none, he jerked his collar up even further so that it covered most of his face, then ventured warily out onto the sidewalk.
Luckily, it was too late for many people to be out, and most of the shops had closed hours ago. The only people around were drunkards, police officers and the odd couple. The secretive stranger avoided most of them, but was given several curious glances as he breezed past oblivious drunks slumped in doorways, not sure whether they had seen or imagined him.
"Hey, kid. Is that a hat or a haircut?" One slurred, guffawing at his own joke. The figure ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Aw, whassamatter?" A tipsy woman in a short skirt leaned on a lamppost for support nearby. "Widdle baby out past his bedtime? Shame."
The drunken banter followed him as he turned off the main street and into another, under lit alleyway. Now he had seen what he'd come to see, he was leaving. It was the only way. He knew he couldn't stay, but still it tore his heart up inside his chest. He had so many memories of this place. So many recollections of the time before the terror....
A signpost suddenly caught his eye. It pointed down another bright street off to his left, but it was the writing inscribed on it which interested him.
Maybe, just one look. Nothing more. Just a look, then he'd be gone. This time not to return. Giving only partial resistance, the figure turned the way the sign pointed and strode down the street. Something at the back of his mind screamed at him to turn around. To go back the way he had come and forget all about .... but he couldn't. He needed to look. He didn't have to do anything, just look. Otherwise he felt he would crumble inside completely.
Resolutely, but with his id still shrieking, the figure edged down the street, keeping close to the wall as he was accustomed to doing.
Just one look. That was all he asked for. Just one...
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Sora Takenouchi stepped out of the shower, rubbing her auburn hair with a towel. Opening the bathroom window, she watched as the steam filtered from the warm interior into the cold air outside like a silvery mist. She sighed, swiping a hand across the condensation clouding the mirror and looking at her reflection in the wet glass.
In her opinion, she was not particularly pretty. Her hair kinked out, no matter how much she tried to make it stay in a bob, and her features were slightly sallow. She sighed. Why did she always feel inadequate when Mimi came to town? Rubbing her hair, she opened the door to the bathroom and exchanged the warmth for a cooling breeze. Her mother had the windows open again. Sora hoped she'd remembered to shut the curtains this time. She was not keen to repeat the last time she'd had an evening shower, only to leave the bathroom and find herself illuminated to the entire neighbourhood through an uncovered window.
Thankfully, the curtains were indeed closed. Sora flopped down onto her bed, not caring about dampening the duvet with her wet hair. Mimi was so pretty. Her pink hair and killer fashion sense were cutting edge, and though Sora was her best friend, she always felt incommensurate when the comely girl visited. Not that she did so very often - living in America and all. But when she did grace Japanese shores she caused quite a stir among the natives.
Mimi seemed to have an aura surrounding her, attracting people to her. It was very hard to dislike the sweet, sugary teenager, and she spent most of her visits trailing boys like honey entices bees. Her boyfriend was very understanding about it though. American born Michael seemed almost proud that Mimi received such attention. Perhaps because he knew that she would never betray him that way. She sometimes acted vain, but Mimi knew where her loyalties lay.
Sora turned over, tracing the pattern on her duvet with her index finger. She too had a boyfriend, and knew that she could not hurt him like that either. Not that she ever got the chance to, mind. Rather, she worried about Matt and his legions of drooling fans that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Matt wouldn't betray her, but sometimes she wondered about the hordes of girls that worshipped the ground he walked on and took every word he said for gospel.
A droplet of water trickled down her face, and Sora reached up to brush it off. Sighing again, she levered herself up and walked over to her dresser. She hadn't wanted the thing initially, but her mother had bought it anyway. Mrs. Takenouchi worried about her daughter being too much of a tomboy, and was constantly working to make her more feminine. The dresser in question was pink and white, edged in lacy patterns carved into a wooden frame, and painted gold on the handles. Sora hated it, but had to admit that all the drawers and secret compartments were useful. She opened one of them, retrieved her hairbrush, and perched on the end of her bed to brush her auburn tresses. Once again her unruly hair resolutely flicked outwards, despite Sora's best efforts to tame it into submission. Perhaps it was a permanent reminder of her younger days when she had rarely been seen without her helmet-like headgear. Her lucky blue hat she had called it. Sora glanced up on top of the wardrobe where the cerulean item now resided. She hadn't worn it in months. Not since...
A knock at the door, accompanied by her mother's voice.
"Sora, are you getting ready for bed?"
Sora sighed and adopted the role of dutiful daughter once more.
"Yeah, Mom. I'm just fixing my hair, then I'm going."
"Well don't be too late. You know you have to work at the shop early tomorrow morning."
Sora growled to herself. Stupid flower shop. It wasn't so bad until she had to work there. Yet another of her mother's 'make-Sora-more-feminine' trips. She used to play soccer on a Saturday morning, but now all her time seemed to be taken up watering petunias and stuffing cotton wool in the ends of rose stems. Not that she completely regretted giving up the soccer, but it was for different reasons than her mother thought.
"Sora, honey? You still there?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm just going to bed now."
"Oh, alright. Goodnight dear."
"Goodnight."
Sora slipped on her nightclothes - an oversized shirt that used to belong to her dad. It was old, and slightly frayed at the edges, but comfortable. Sora liked it because it reminded her of him. She hardly got to see him any more; he was so busy working at some university or other. He was becoming quite famous, and though she didn't begrudge him his well-earned glory, she did wish she could see him more often.
Climbing into bed, Sora flipped the switch on the light sitting on her bedside table and settled down, making a warm nest of bedclothes around her. Her eyelids were heavy, but somehow sleep evaded her. The insomnia-stricken teenager stared fruitlessly at the ceiling for over an hour waiting for slumber to overtake her, but it didn't. Eventually she pulled back the covers, opened her bedroom door and tiptoed to the kitchen area of their small apartment. Perhaps a drink of milk would hurry things along a bit.
Standing in the sparse kitchenette with her back to the curtained window, Sora's hazel eyes fell upon a framed photograph hung upon the far wall. It had been taken a year ago, give or take a few days, and despite its prominent location she hardly noticed it any more. Now though, moonlight filtered through a crack in the curtains and reflected off its splendent surface like a pool of liquid fire. Inexplicably drawn to it, Sora finished her milk and crossed the room to lift the picture gently down from its station. Gently blowing the dust off it, she stared at the smiling faces captured for eternity on glass-encased celluloid.
The picture in question had been taken on one of her last visits to the Digital World. After some persuasion, she had managed to convince all her friends and their Digimon partners to pose long enough for her to take a photograph. She was quite proud with the finished product - it having been the first time she ever used a timed digital camera. At least she hadn't blinked. She, like many of the humans in the picture, was wearing her green school uniform. Some of the younger kids wore their own clothes, and needless to say none of the Digimon were clothed in the putrid garments of Odaiba High School, but all the older teenagers wore the same thing, with a few minor personalisations here and there.
In Sora's arms was a small pink bird-like creature with claw tipped wings. She and Sora were looking at each other happily with a gaze that couldn't be mistaken for anything less than true friendship and understanding.
"Biyomon." Sora breathed, enjoying the sound of her Digimon's name on her tongue. She hadn't said it in such a long time, despite all her promises to revisit the Digital World at every opportunity she got. Somehow she and the world of digital monsters had drifted apart, as had been the case with all the other kids.
Matt stood to the left of her, his Digimon partner, Gabumon, at his feet. The wolf-like creature stared up at the teenage boy, adoration shining in his crimson eyes. Next to him were Mimi and Palmon, Palmon's vines twisted up in the girl's star spangled hair. For once in her life, Mimi didn't seem to care about looking a mess, and simply smiled happily at the camera, giving a peace sign with one hand. A grinning blond boy wearing a fishing hat and what appeared to be a large flying hamster on his head knelt in front of the stylish teenager. T.K., Matt's little brother by three years, and Patamon, his Digimon partner. And next to him, with a grin just as wide, sat a girl about the same age wearing pink fingerless gloves and a whistle around her neck. In her lap was curled a small white cat with a long purple and white striped tail, decked with a curious ring at the end. One of the feline Digimon's blue eyes was fixed warily on the camera, as if daring it to come over and stop the grinning girl from stroking her. Kari and Gatomon, both wise beyond their years, but loveable all the same. Sora laughed inwardly at the expression on Gatomon's face, amused, but not wanting to wake her mother.
Next to Kari, laptop open as always, sat Izzy. Red hair unbrushed as usual, it had been a considerable task to pry the computer genius' gaze away from his screen long enough for the photograph to be taken. Even now it was obvious through his intelligent smile that he would much rather be working on solving another technological super-problem then posing for a picture. By his side crouched a rather intimidating looking insectoid Digimon, red and black armour gleaming in the digital sunlight like polished glass. Despite his appearance, Tentomon was actually a very gentle and discerning creature, and wanted nothing more than to drag Izzy back into reality to have some fun. Sora's camera had even caught him in the act, tugging desperately on the boy's arm, which stubbornly refused to be moved from its place on the laptop keyboard.
Towering above the technophile and his Digimon was a lanky boy, obviously older than the rest of the children. He wore an outfit similar to the Odaiba High students, except that it was blue. In one hand was clasped a designer suitcase, bulging with papers and textbooks. In the other sat a small fuzzy Digimon, which looked like a cross between a seal and someone badly in need of a manicure. Gomamon's bright red hair clashed badly with Joe Kido's blazer - a 'fashion no-no' as Mimi would have put it - but neither seemed to care all that much. All Joe and Gomamon had ever needed was each other's company. Sora had been surprised most of all when Joe broke off contact with the Digital World. Despite his constant complaining about his allergies and monsters trying to eat him every five minutes, Joe had genuinely seemed to like that place.
Beside Joe stood a young girl with pink hair and a strange helmet upon her head. She wore glasses, much the same as he did, and there was an informed air of superiority about her. Another birdlike Digimon stood in front of her long, oddly clothed legs. However, unlike Biyomon, this Digimon looked quite ferocious and maybe even a little snobbish. Hawkmon was none of these things though, and his partner, Yolei, though sometimes selfish, was as noble a friend as anyone could ask for. Next to her stood a short, awkward looking boy with a terrible haircut and a scowl upon his face. Cody had been the most reluctant by far to pose for a photograph, and it was only through the persuasive tactics of his Digimon, Armadillomon, that had caused him to be in the picture at all.
Standing slightly aside from them was a thin boy of about T.K.'s age wearing a dull grey suit. He appeared to be trying to hide behind his long bluish hair - unsuccessfully as his partner Digimon, balanced precariously on the boy's shoulder, pulled it aside to reveal a wide eyed innocent face tinged red on his cheeks with shyness. Wormmon and Ken 'formerly-known-as-the-Digimon-Emperor' Ichijoji. Friends till the end, or so it had seemed at the time. Leaning with bravado on the reserved antecedent megalomaniac was a boy with shot spiky hair and a slightly fiendish smile plastered across his face. Davis Motomiya was once again doing what he did best - hamming it up. Sora smiled as she remembered what had happened next. Already top heavy with Wormmon on his shoulder, Ken hadn't been able to support Davis as well, and the broadly smiling boy had tumbled into an ungainly heap on top of his own Digimon, Veemon. Needless to say, the small blue dragon-like monster had been less than pleased at being used as a soft landing for his clumsy partner, and had let him know in not so many words. Sora had been surprised that Veemon knew language like that, but she put it down to the vast amounts of television he and Davis watched. Or had watched, as the case may be.
This group of children had once been the most powerful group of people in the world. They were the Digidestined; youngsters with the ability to share their energy with their Digimon and help them 'digievolve' to a higher level of being. Originally only numbering seven, their ranks had increased over time, welcoming first Kari, then Davis, Yolei, Cody and finally Ken into the folds of friendship and adversity. Just over a year ago, when fighting against an evil Digimon by the name of MaloMyotismon, they had learning of the existence of many other Digidestined children throughout the planet. Hence Mimi met her now-boyfriend Michael, a member of the American Digidestined team. Sora's mouth twitched into a smile at the corners as she recalled the adventures they'd had that year. All the new friends they'd made. All the barriers they'd broken down. For a while it had seemed like the Real World and the Digital World had become one place where both humans and Digimon could grow and play together happily, free from disturbances. Then, gradually over time, people seemed to forget about the magical realm of the Digimon, and the portals became fewer and fewer, the visits less and less frequent, until eventually there was nothing left. No way to access the Digital World, and nobody who really seemed to care to try either. It surprised Sora in a way. There was a time when you couldn't have pried her away from Biyomon with a crowbar, but now she hardly gave her old friend a passing thought.
A plane passed by overhead, causing a low rumbling to permeate the air, and shafts of white light to streak through the curtains. One ray of brightness bounced off the glass of the photograph, and Sora winced as she was momentarily blinded by it. Closing her eyes, she waited for the spots of dancing colour to dissipate before looking again at the precious picture in her hand.
Standing next to her, at the edge of the tableau, was a slim boy wearing an Odaiba uniform. His face had adopted its customary grin, mischievous and slightly rebellious, sparks of mirth clearly visible in his hazel eyes. A huge mop of brown hair capped his head, held out of the way by a blue headband. At one time he had worn the goggles that now adorned Davis' cranium, but the headband did the job just as well. His entire mien spoke of contentment, as if all he needed in the world was right there alongside him. This expression was matched by a tiny orange dinosaur peeking out from behind the teenager's legs, green eyes sparkling with happiness, mouth slightly open with delight. At first glance, Agumon looked like a reject from Jurassic Park, but the brave little Digimon was a true and loyal companion, with a capacity for fun that by far outstripped any of their other digital companions.
A lump caught in Sora's throat as she gazed at the youth standing next to her. Now she remembered why she didn't look at this picture anymore. The boy looked so happy that it made her want to cry. Who could have known what was going to happen? Who could have foreseen the terrible events that awaited them just around the corner? She certainly hadn't.
She still remembered the day she had heard the news. She'd been late getting up because her alarm clock was broken, and had stumbled out of bed mid-morning to find her mother sitting at the dining table, red-eyed and tearful. She hadn't bothered to open the shop because she was too upset. This fact alone had alerted Sora to the seriousness of the situation - her mother loved that flower shop and never closed it. Even when she was sick she could still be found among her beloved plants, carrying on as if nothing was wrong. To have made Mrs. Takenouchi leave it closed had to have been a momentous event. Open-mouthed, Sora had listened as her mother related the events of the previous evening. Kari had been to a friend's sleepover, but got sick when staying over. Her friend's mother had taken her back home again; having been assured that the young girl possessed her own key and could let herself into her apartment without bothering her parents. The then twelve-year-old found them on the carpet along with the family cat. Neighbours testified her scream had been loud enough to wake the dead - a poor choice of words given the circumstances.
The police put it down as a common burglary gone horribly wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Kamiya had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suffered the awful consequences. There was nothing anyone could have done for them. Their bodies were horrifically mutilated, testifying they would have died even if somebody had found them earlier. A trail of blood - later proved to belong to their son - led out of the apartment and away from the building. Typical Tai, always jumping into a situation feet first without contemplating the outcome his actions would cause. The Police Enquiry supposed that the Kamiya's son had walked in on the burglar and chased after him when he tried to flee. Revenge can do funny things to a person's mind, Mrs. Takenouchi had said, a sane person could become reckless and foolhardy when faced with terrible tragedy. The boy was probably injured in a scuffle with the crook, she rationalised, thus accounting for the stains of his blood found around the place.
The corpse was found in an alley a little way from the apartment building. Maimed far beyond recognition, it was hard to tell it had been a person at all. Decapitation, the Enquiry said. Sora hadn't known what it meant, and looked the word up in a dictionary her father had given her on her eighth birthday. Even now she still shuddered at the thought of reading that definition. The idea of her oldest friend dying alone and in such a barbaric way was enough to reduce Sora to her bed for a full three days before she was ready to face the world again. Kari still needed counselling sessions even now, as probably did the person who had found the body in the alley, and it had been over a year since it happened. Deep wounds were hard to heal.
With the death of their leader - death, it was such a final word - the Digidestined had begun to drift apart. It was as if the glue binding them together had dissolved, leaving them as leaves on an autumn breeze, to be blown about by the winds of time and life. Kari became withdrawn and insular, blaming herself for not getting home sooner in order to save her family. Not long after, she moved away to live with her grandmother in the country, leaving their old apartment empty and bare - much like her soul had become. Sora hadn't heard from the younger girl in months. But perhaps this was for the best, so as not to stir up the sea of memories between them. Without Kari around, the new Digidestined had unofficially disbanded and gradually lost contact with the senior members of the team. In turn, the older children had grown away from each other, until only a few personal relationships remained. Having no D3s at their disposal, the teenagers ceased visiting the Digital World altogether, until it seemed nobody went there anymore, not even those in possession of the new Digivices. It was almost as if it had never existed at all.
A solitary tear splashed onto the glass of the photograph in Sora's hand, slightly distorting the image of Izzy's head through its curved surface. She wiped her eyes clumsily with the sleeve of her nightshirt, anxious to erase the sign of her own weakness, despite the fact that nobody was there to see it.
Why had she looked at the picture? It held so many unhappy memories for her. She and Tai had shared a special bond, their friendship having been the oldest and strongest among the Digidestined - both old and new. Even the intense comradeship between Tai and Matt, borne of their shared struggles in the Digital World, had paled in comparison to the ties she'd held with him. Why else would he encourage her relationship with Matt, despite the fact it meant she spent less time with him. Or how he'd listened patiently to her whining when her mother made her give up soccer and start tennis lessons instead. He'd always been there for her, a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most, never failing to lift her spirits when she was at her lowest ebb. God, how she missed him. His laugh, his love of practical jokes, his ability to retrieve himself unscathed from any scrape he happened to have gotten himself into.
Except for one...
Tears prickled the back of Sora's eyeballs like tiny needles, and she hastily blinked them away. If she wasn't careful she would wake her mother, and then there would be no end of trouble. Mrs. Takenouchi had known Tai so long he had become like the son she'd never had. She was quite distraught at the news of his and his family's untimely demise. Mr. And Mrs. Kamiya were good friends of hers, and she had reacted almost as badly as her daughter to the tragic events. It wouldn't do to upset her again now. Not when their lives had resumed some sense of normality once more.
Carefully, Sora replaced the framed photograph on the wall, but not before wiping the dust away with the edge of her shirt. Noiselessly, she began to tiptoe back to the security of her bedroom. The piled carpet felt soft on the soles of her feet, fibres brushing the sensitive skin between her toes and making her shiver. A faint scratching outside the window caused her to pause for a second, but she dismissed it as a cat. It never occurred to her how a feline could get up to the fourth floor and out into their window flowerbox without her seeing, but the milk appeared to be having its desired effect, and her eyelids had suddenly become incredibly heavy. Fuzzily, the tired teenager went back to bed, pulling the covers up under her chin and snuggling down into their reflected warmth once more. She didn't even notice the strange noise outside on the balcony a few minutes later. Sora was too far-gone into the land of slumber to perceive much at that moment in time, but a soft padding and swish of rustling clothes beyond the double glass doors attested a presence there. A watching spirit, as it were, lost to reality but attached to something else. An implacable yearning that simultaneously drew it to and drove it away from that place. Watching, but never belonging. Not any more....
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AUTHOR'S NOTES: So... what did you think? This is my first attempt at fanfiction; so don't be too harsh, please. As you may probably have already guessed, this is going 2 B quite a long fic, but hopefully it will be worth sticking with it 2 the end. I'm trying to write it so that you'll never guess the ending whilst U R reading it, and so far things seem 2 B going according 2 plan. I already have another couple of chapters in the pipeline, but I won't put them up unless people want me too. (Please give me some R&R people! I reeeeally want to put these chapters up, but I won't if U think this one is horrendous. Not that I'm trying to win the sympathy vote, but if U read my Bio then you'll see just what I've been thru 2 get this far with my fic.) Just to dispel NE doubts, "Watching Spirits" is basically pretty much a scene setter; there is more action and intrigue later on, so.... WATCH THIS SPACE!!
Scribbler ; . D
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Digimon, and sadly I doubt I ever will, as the rights never seem to come up on e-bay. I am so poor that I even had to put up the rent for the moths living in my pockets, so there is no point in suing me. Digimon belongs to Toei and Saban, but this fic is mine! (Insert evil laughter here!) If I find anyone plagiarizing this then I will be severely displeased and the thieves will have nobody to blame but themselves when I come after them with an oversized mallet!
To clarify, this fic is set after the finale of Season 02, but disregards the whole '25 years later' thingy - I never really bought that, it seemed like too much of a cop out, sorry Toei. This is basically my version of what happened next, and is sprung straight from the twisted mind of yours truly! I have copied nobody, and if this fic resembles any other then I can assure you that this is completely by accident and I didn't mean to do it, honestly.
Phew! Now that's over and done with, (Drum roll, please!) on with the show!
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"The Darkness Within" By Scribbler
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"Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And we are never, ever the same." - Anonymous
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It was beautiful night over sleeping Tokyo. The sky was lit up by a carpet of stars, like a canvas of burning eyes. Each an insignificant pinprick of light alone, but together they lent their ghostly phosphorescence to a cacophony of brilliance. Truly a breathtaking sight.
The beauty of the moment was lost, however, on one individual. A lone figure stood in the shadows, gazing wistfully at the place he had once called home. Cars passed the alley he stood in, but none stopped or looked at the solitary person alone in the gloom. Every time one thundered past the figure shrank back into the concealment of darkness, maintaining his anonymity to all those who may have seen him.
Not for the first time he wondered what he was doing there. This wasn't his home any more, and hadn't been for a very long time. Silently he stared at the outline of the apartment building against the night sky. It was nothing special, just another construction identical to all the others in Tokyo. He hadn't been into the city for so long, it was odd to think that there were hundreds of people contained within that one structure of metal and glass, and hundreds more in all the others dotted around the great Japanese capital. The figure regarded his former home pensively, wondering which of the rooms contained her...
No! He couldn't think like that! That part of his life was over now, and he could never reclaim it, no matter how much he wanted to. He'd put it behind him, and intended to keep it there.
So why was he here? To that, he had no answer.
He knew it was dangerous, but some inexorable force had drawn him back to this place. The scene of so many happy memories, now tinged with sadness by one event. The cause of his misery.
Another car blew past, oblivious to his presence. Still, the figure drew back into the shadows where he could see, yet not be seen. The car was a gaudy pink, filled with several teenagers on their way to some party or other frivolous engagement. God how he wanted that kind of life again. No more worries, no more cares, no more watching his back at every turn, waiting. Waiting for....
What? The car had stopped. Could they have seen him? The slim figure recoiled, and stepped backwards down the alleyway. Laughing voices filtered from the open car window, converging unwanted in his ears.
"Come on guys. What's the matter?"
"Yeah, I wanna get to Sakuya's party some time this week, you know."
Laughter, overruled by one voice, also tinctured with merriment despite its mock seriousness.
"Keep it down, you guys. Kido's carsick again."
"Again?" A female voice punctured the air, sounding disgusted. "But we've only been driving for fifteen minutes! I've never known anyone get sick as often as he does!"
"Is he gonna barf?" Another voice, girly and mischievous. Her question was greeted with groans and remonstrations from her travelling companions.
"Not in my car he's not! I just had the interior reupholstered!"
"Excuse me, could you quit talking about me like I'm not even here!"
More raucous laughter. The figure in the shadows listened to their banter despite himself. It was good to hear friendly voices again, even if they were not directed at him. He was more used to insults and screams, or intense, brooding silence, his constant companion down his chosen path in life. One of the voices seemed familiar, and he was sure that he had heard it before. Pushing the thought away, the figure hunched his collar further up his neck to keep out the biting chill permeating the night air.
Eventually the garish car pulled away, taking its happy cargo with it. The shadowy figure took this opportunity to disappear into the shadows completely; safe in the knowledge that no one could see him. Silent as always, he made his way down the dark alley, scaling the wire mesh fence at the end and swinging easily over the top to land, cat-like, on the other side. He still surprised himself at how much he had changed over the past year. True, he'd always been strong, but in a different way to the strength he now possessed. His was now the vigour borne of survival in the harsh reality of life. Something those kids in the car could never know about. Although, if the voice was who he thought it was....
No! There he went doing it again. He couldn't let himself remember. It was too dangerous, both for himself and for those around him.
The alley ended abruptly, leading onto a street filled with streetlamps and brilliant shop windows. Reflexively, the figure shied away from the light, looking for another route away from this place. Finding none, he jerked his collar up even further so that it covered most of his face, then ventured warily out onto the sidewalk.
Luckily, it was too late for many people to be out, and most of the shops had closed hours ago. The only people around were drunkards, police officers and the odd couple. The secretive stranger avoided most of them, but was given several curious glances as he breezed past oblivious drunks slumped in doorways, not sure whether they had seen or imagined him.
"Hey, kid. Is that a hat or a haircut?" One slurred, guffawing at his own joke. The figure ignored him, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Aw, whassamatter?" A tipsy woman in a short skirt leaned on a lamppost for support nearby. "Widdle baby out past his bedtime? Shame."
The drunken banter followed him as he turned off the main street and into another, under lit alleyway. Now he had seen what he'd come to see, he was leaving. It was the only way. He knew he couldn't stay, but still it tore his heart up inside his chest. He had so many memories of this place. So many recollections of the time before the terror....
A signpost suddenly caught his eye. It pointed down another bright street off to his left, but it was the writing inscribed on it which interested him.
Maybe, just one look. Nothing more. Just a look, then he'd be gone. This time not to return. Giving only partial resistance, the figure turned the way the sign pointed and strode down the street. Something at the back of his mind screamed at him to turn around. To go back the way he had come and forget all about .... but he couldn't. He needed to look. He didn't have to do anything, just look. Otherwise he felt he would crumble inside completely.
Resolutely, but with his id still shrieking, the figure edged down the street, keeping close to the wall as he was accustomed to doing.
Just one look. That was all he asked for. Just one...
___________________
Sora Takenouchi stepped out of the shower, rubbing her auburn hair with a towel. Opening the bathroom window, she watched as the steam filtered from the warm interior into the cold air outside like a silvery mist. She sighed, swiping a hand across the condensation clouding the mirror and looking at her reflection in the wet glass.
In her opinion, she was not particularly pretty. Her hair kinked out, no matter how much she tried to make it stay in a bob, and her features were slightly sallow. She sighed. Why did she always feel inadequate when Mimi came to town? Rubbing her hair, she opened the door to the bathroom and exchanged the warmth for a cooling breeze. Her mother had the windows open again. Sora hoped she'd remembered to shut the curtains this time. She was not keen to repeat the last time she'd had an evening shower, only to leave the bathroom and find herself illuminated to the entire neighbourhood through an uncovered window.
Thankfully, the curtains were indeed closed. Sora flopped down onto her bed, not caring about dampening the duvet with her wet hair. Mimi was so pretty. Her pink hair and killer fashion sense were cutting edge, and though Sora was her best friend, she always felt incommensurate when the comely girl visited. Not that she did so very often - living in America and all. But when she did grace Japanese shores she caused quite a stir among the natives.
Mimi seemed to have an aura surrounding her, attracting people to her. It was very hard to dislike the sweet, sugary teenager, and she spent most of her visits trailing boys like honey entices bees. Her boyfriend was very understanding about it though. American born Michael seemed almost proud that Mimi received such attention. Perhaps because he knew that she would never betray him that way. She sometimes acted vain, but Mimi knew where her loyalties lay.
Sora turned over, tracing the pattern on her duvet with her index finger. She too had a boyfriend, and knew that she could not hurt him like that either. Not that she ever got the chance to, mind. Rather, she worried about Matt and his legions of drooling fans that seemed to follow him wherever he went. Matt wouldn't betray her, but sometimes she wondered about the hordes of girls that worshipped the ground he walked on and took every word he said for gospel.
A droplet of water trickled down her face, and Sora reached up to brush it off. Sighing again, she levered herself up and walked over to her dresser. She hadn't wanted the thing initially, but her mother had bought it anyway. Mrs. Takenouchi worried about her daughter being too much of a tomboy, and was constantly working to make her more feminine. The dresser in question was pink and white, edged in lacy patterns carved into a wooden frame, and painted gold on the handles. Sora hated it, but had to admit that all the drawers and secret compartments were useful. She opened one of them, retrieved her hairbrush, and perched on the end of her bed to brush her auburn tresses. Once again her unruly hair resolutely flicked outwards, despite Sora's best efforts to tame it into submission. Perhaps it was a permanent reminder of her younger days when she had rarely been seen without her helmet-like headgear. Her lucky blue hat she had called it. Sora glanced up on top of the wardrobe where the cerulean item now resided. She hadn't worn it in months. Not since...
A knock at the door, accompanied by her mother's voice.
"Sora, are you getting ready for bed?"
Sora sighed and adopted the role of dutiful daughter once more.
"Yeah, Mom. I'm just fixing my hair, then I'm going."
"Well don't be too late. You know you have to work at the shop early tomorrow morning."
Sora growled to herself. Stupid flower shop. It wasn't so bad until she had to work there. Yet another of her mother's 'make-Sora-more-feminine' trips. She used to play soccer on a Saturday morning, but now all her time seemed to be taken up watering petunias and stuffing cotton wool in the ends of rose stems. Not that she completely regretted giving up the soccer, but it was for different reasons than her mother thought.
"Sora, honey? You still there?"
"Yeah, Mom. I'm just going to bed now."
"Oh, alright. Goodnight dear."
"Goodnight."
Sora slipped on her nightclothes - an oversized shirt that used to belong to her dad. It was old, and slightly frayed at the edges, but comfortable. Sora liked it because it reminded her of him. She hardly got to see him any more; he was so busy working at some university or other. He was becoming quite famous, and though she didn't begrudge him his well-earned glory, she did wish she could see him more often.
Climbing into bed, Sora flipped the switch on the light sitting on her bedside table and settled down, making a warm nest of bedclothes around her. Her eyelids were heavy, but somehow sleep evaded her. The insomnia-stricken teenager stared fruitlessly at the ceiling for over an hour waiting for slumber to overtake her, but it didn't. Eventually she pulled back the covers, opened her bedroom door and tiptoed to the kitchen area of their small apartment. Perhaps a drink of milk would hurry things along a bit.
Standing in the sparse kitchenette with her back to the curtained window, Sora's hazel eyes fell upon a framed photograph hung upon the far wall. It had been taken a year ago, give or take a few days, and despite its prominent location she hardly noticed it any more. Now though, moonlight filtered through a crack in the curtains and reflected off its splendent surface like a pool of liquid fire. Inexplicably drawn to it, Sora finished her milk and crossed the room to lift the picture gently down from its station. Gently blowing the dust off it, she stared at the smiling faces captured for eternity on glass-encased celluloid.
The picture in question had been taken on one of her last visits to the Digital World. After some persuasion, she had managed to convince all her friends and their Digimon partners to pose long enough for her to take a photograph. She was quite proud with the finished product - it having been the first time she ever used a timed digital camera. At least she hadn't blinked. She, like many of the humans in the picture, was wearing her green school uniform. Some of the younger kids wore their own clothes, and needless to say none of the Digimon were clothed in the putrid garments of Odaiba High School, but all the older teenagers wore the same thing, with a few minor personalisations here and there.
In Sora's arms was a small pink bird-like creature with claw tipped wings. She and Sora were looking at each other happily with a gaze that couldn't be mistaken for anything less than true friendship and understanding.
"Biyomon." Sora breathed, enjoying the sound of her Digimon's name on her tongue. She hadn't said it in such a long time, despite all her promises to revisit the Digital World at every opportunity she got. Somehow she and the world of digital monsters had drifted apart, as had been the case with all the other kids.
Matt stood to the left of her, his Digimon partner, Gabumon, at his feet. The wolf-like creature stared up at the teenage boy, adoration shining in his crimson eyes. Next to him were Mimi and Palmon, Palmon's vines twisted up in the girl's star spangled hair. For once in her life, Mimi didn't seem to care about looking a mess, and simply smiled happily at the camera, giving a peace sign with one hand. A grinning blond boy wearing a fishing hat and what appeared to be a large flying hamster on his head knelt in front of the stylish teenager. T.K., Matt's little brother by three years, and Patamon, his Digimon partner. And next to him, with a grin just as wide, sat a girl about the same age wearing pink fingerless gloves and a whistle around her neck. In her lap was curled a small white cat with a long purple and white striped tail, decked with a curious ring at the end. One of the feline Digimon's blue eyes was fixed warily on the camera, as if daring it to come over and stop the grinning girl from stroking her. Kari and Gatomon, both wise beyond their years, but loveable all the same. Sora laughed inwardly at the expression on Gatomon's face, amused, but not wanting to wake her mother.
Next to Kari, laptop open as always, sat Izzy. Red hair unbrushed as usual, it had been a considerable task to pry the computer genius' gaze away from his screen long enough for the photograph to be taken. Even now it was obvious through his intelligent smile that he would much rather be working on solving another technological super-problem then posing for a picture. By his side crouched a rather intimidating looking insectoid Digimon, red and black armour gleaming in the digital sunlight like polished glass. Despite his appearance, Tentomon was actually a very gentle and discerning creature, and wanted nothing more than to drag Izzy back into reality to have some fun. Sora's camera had even caught him in the act, tugging desperately on the boy's arm, which stubbornly refused to be moved from its place on the laptop keyboard.
Towering above the technophile and his Digimon was a lanky boy, obviously older than the rest of the children. He wore an outfit similar to the Odaiba High students, except that it was blue. In one hand was clasped a designer suitcase, bulging with papers and textbooks. In the other sat a small fuzzy Digimon, which looked like a cross between a seal and someone badly in need of a manicure. Gomamon's bright red hair clashed badly with Joe Kido's blazer - a 'fashion no-no' as Mimi would have put it - but neither seemed to care all that much. All Joe and Gomamon had ever needed was each other's company. Sora had been surprised most of all when Joe broke off contact with the Digital World. Despite his constant complaining about his allergies and monsters trying to eat him every five minutes, Joe had genuinely seemed to like that place.
Beside Joe stood a young girl with pink hair and a strange helmet upon her head. She wore glasses, much the same as he did, and there was an informed air of superiority about her. Another birdlike Digimon stood in front of her long, oddly clothed legs. However, unlike Biyomon, this Digimon looked quite ferocious and maybe even a little snobbish. Hawkmon was none of these things though, and his partner, Yolei, though sometimes selfish, was as noble a friend as anyone could ask for. Next to her stood a short, awkward looking boy with a terrible haircut and a scowl upon his face. Cody had been the most reluctant by far to pose for a photograph, and it was only through the persuasive tactics of his Digimon, Armadillomon, that had caused him to be in the picture at all.
Standing slightly aside from them was a thin boy of about T.K.'s age wearing a dull grey suit. He appeared to be trying to hide behind his long bluish hair - unsuccessfully as his partner Digimon, balanced precariously on the boy's shoulder, pulled it aside to reveal a wide eyed innocent face tinged red on his cheeks with shyness. Wormmon and Ken 'formerly-known-as-the-Digimon-Emperor' Ichijoji. Friends till the end, or so it had seemed at the time. Leaning with bravado on the reserved antecedent megalomaniac was a boy with shot spiky hair and a slightly fiendish smile plastered across his face. Davis Motomiya was once again doing what he did best - hamming it up. Sora smiled as she remembered what had happened next. Already top heavy with Wormmon on his shoulder, Ken hadn't been able to support Davis as well, and the broadly smiling boy had tumbled into an ungainly heap on top of his own Digimon, Veemon. Needless to say, the small blue dragon-like monster had been less than pleased at being used as a soft landing for his clumsy partner, and had let him know in not so many words. Sora had been surprised that Veemon knew language like that, but she put it down to the vast amounts of television he and Davis watched. Or had watched, as the case may be.
This group of children had once been the most powerful group of people in the world. They were the Digidestined; youngsters with the ability to share their energy with their Digimon and help them 'digievolve' to a higher level of being. Originally only numbering seven, their ranks had increased over time, welcoming first Kari, then Davis, Yolei, Cody and finally Ken into the folds of friendship and adversity. Just over a year ago, when fighting against an evil Digimon by the name of MaloMyotismon, they had learning of the existence of many other Digidestined children throughout the planet. Hence Mimi met her now-boyfriend Michael, a member of the American Digidestined team. Sora's mouth twitched into a smile at the corners as she recalled the adventures they'd had that year. All the new friends they'd made. All the barriers they'd broken down. For a while it had seemed like the Real World and the Digital World had become one place where both humans and Digimon could grow and play together happily, free from disturbances. Then, gradually over time, people seemed to forget about the magical realm of the Digimon, and the portals became fewer and fewer, the visits less and less frequent, until eventually there was nothing left. No way to access the Digital World, and nobody who really seemed to care to try either. It surprised Sora in a way. There was a time when you couldn't have pried her away from Biyomon with a crowbar, but now she hardly gave her old friend a passing thought.
A plane passed by overhead, causing a low rumbling to permeate the air, and shafts of white light to streak through the curtains. One ray of brightness bounced off the glass of the photograph, and Sora winced as she was momentarily blinded by it. Closing her eyes, she waited for the spots of dancing colour to dissipate before looking again at the precious picture in her hand.
Standing next to her, at the edge of the tableau, was a slim boy wearing an Odaiba uniform. His face had adopted its customary grin, mischievous and slightly rebellious, sparks of mirth clearly visible in his hazel eyes. A huge mop of brown hair capped his head, held out of the way by a blue headband. At one time he had worn the goggles that now adorned Davis' cranium, but the headband did the job just as well. His entire mien spoke of contentment, as if all he needed in the world was right there alongside him. This expression was matched by a tiny orange dinosaur peeking out from behind the teenager's legs, green eyes sparkling with happiness, mouth slightly open with delight. At first glance, Agumon looked like a reject from Jurassic Park, but the brave little Digimon was a true and loyal companion, with a capacity for fun that by far outstripped any of their other digital companions.
A lump caught in Sora's throat as she gazed at the youth standing next to her. Now she remembered why she didn't look at this picture anymore. The boy looked so happy that it made her want to cry. Who could have known what was going to happen? Who could have foreseen the terrible events that awaited them just around the corner? She certainly hadn't.
She still remembered the day she had heard the news. She'd been late getting up because her alarm clock was broken, and had stumbled out of bed mid-morning to find her mother sitting at the dining table, red-eyed and tearful. She hadn't bothered to open the shop because she was too upset. This fact alone had alerted Sora to the seriousness of the situation - her mother loved that flower shop and never closed it. Even when she was sick she could still be found among her beloved plants, carrying on as if nothing was wrong. To have made Mrs. Takenouchi leave it closed had to have been a momentous event. Open-mouthed, Sora had listened as her mother related the events of the previous evening. Kari had been to a friend's sleepover, but got sick when staying over. Her friend's mother had taken her back home again; having been assured that the young girl possessed her own key and could let herself into her apartment without bothering her parents. The then twelve-year-old found them on the carpet along with the family cat. Neighbours testified her scream had been loud enough to wake the dead - a poor choice of words given the circumstances.
The police put it down as a common burglary gone horribly wrong. Mr. and Mrs. Kamiya had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suffered the awful consequences. There was nothing anyone could have done for them. Their bodies were horrifically mutilated, testifying they would have died even if somebody had found them earlier. A trail of blood - later proved to belong to their son - led out of the apartment and away from the building. Typical Tai, always jumping into a situation feet first without contemplating the outcome his actions would cause. The Police Enquiry supposed that the Kamiya's son had walked in on the burglar and chased after him when he tried to flee. Revenge can do funny things to a person's mind, Mrs. Takenouchi had said, a sane person could become reckless and foolhardy when faced with terrible tragedy. The boy was probably injured in a scuffle with the crook, she rationalised, thus accounting for the stains of his blood found around the place.
The corpse was found in an alley a little way from the apartment building. Maimed far beyond recognition, it was hard to tell it had been a person at all. Decapitation, the Enquiry said. Sora hadn't known what it meant, and looked the word up in a dictionary her father had given her on her eighth birthday. Even now she still shuddered at the thought of reading that definition. The idea of her oldest friend dying alone and in such a barbaric way was enough to reduce Sora to her bed for a full three days before she was ready to face the world again. Kari still needed counselling sessions even now, as probably did the person who had found the body in the alley, and it had been over a year since it happened. Deep wounds were hard to heal.
With the death of their leader - death, it was such a final word - the Digidestined had begun to drift apart. It was as if the glue binding them together had dissolved, leaving them as leaves on an autumn breeze, to be blown about by the winds of time and life. Kari became withdrawn and insular, blaming herself for not getting home sooner in order to save her family. Not long after, she moved away to live with her grandmother in the country, leaving their old apartment empty and bare - much like her soul had become. Sora hadn't heard from the younger girl in months. But perhaps this was for the best, so as not to stir up the sea of memories between them. Without Kari around, the new Digidestined had unofficially disbanded and gradually lost contact with the senior members of the team. In turn, the older children had grown away from each other, until only a few personal relationships remained. Having no D3s at their disposal, the teenagers ceased visiting the Digital World altogether, until it seemed nobody went there anymore, not even those in possession of the new Digivices. It was almost as if it had never existed at all.
A solitary tear splashed onto the glass of the photograph in Sora's hand, slightly distorting the image of Izzy's head through its curved surface. She wiped her eyes clumsily with the sleeve of her nightshirt, anxious to erase the sign of her own weakness, despite the fact that nobody was there to see it.
Why had she looked at the picture? It held so many unhappy memories for her. She and Tai had shared a special bond, their friendship having been the oldest and strongest among the Digidestined - both old and new. Even the intense comradeship between Tai and Matt, borne of their shared struggles in the Digital World, had paled in comparison to the ties she'd held with him. Why else would he encourage her relationship with Matt, despite the fact it meant she spent less time with him. Or how he'd listened patiently to her whining when her mother made her give up soccer and start tennis lessons instead. He'd always been there for her, a shoulder to cry on when she needed it most, never failing to lift her spirits when she was at her lowest ebb. God, how she missed him. His laugh, his love of practical jokes, his ability to retrieve himself unscathed from any scrape he happened to have gotten himself into.
Except for one...
Tears prickled the back of Sora's eyeballs like tiny needles, and she hastily blinked them away. If she wasn't careful she would wake her mother, and then there would be no end of trouble. Mrs. Takenouchi had known Tai so long he had become like the son she'd never had. She was quite distraught at the news of his and his family's untimely demise. Mr. And Mrs. Kamiya were good friends of hers, and she had reacted almost as badly as her daughter to the tragic events. It wouldn't do to upset her again now. Not when their lives had resumed some sense of normality once more.
Carefully, Sora replaced the framed photograph on the wall, but not before wiping the dust away with the edge of her shirt. Noiselessly, she began to tiptoe back to the security of her bedroom. The piled carpet felt soft on the soles of her feet, fibres brushing the sensitive skin between her toes and making her shiver. A faint scratching outside the window caused her to pause for a second, but she dismissed it as a cat. It never occurred to her how a feline could get up to the fourth floor and out into their window flowerbox without her seeing, but the milk appeared to be having its desired effect, and her eyelids had suddenly become incredibly heavy. Fuzzily, the tired teenager went back to bed, pulling the covers up under her chin and snuggling down into their reflected warmth once more. She didn't even notice the strange noise outside on the balcony a few minutes later. Sora was too far-gone into the land of slumber to perceive much at that moment in time, but a soft padding and swish of rustling clothes beyond the double glass doors attested a presence there. A watching spirit, as it were, lost to reality but attached to something else. An implacable yearning that simultaneously drew it to and drove it away from that place. Watching, but never belonging. Not any more....
___________________
AUTHOR'S NOTES: So... what did you think? This is my first attempt at fanfiction; so don't be too harsh, please. As you may probably have already guessed, this is going 2 B quite a long fic, but hopefully it will be worth sticking with it 2 the end. I'm trying to write it so that you'll never guess the ending whilst U R reading it, and so far things seem 2 B going according 2 plan. I already have another couple of chapters in the pipeline, but I won't put them up unless people want me too. (Please give me some R&R people! I reeeeally want to put these chapters up, but I won't if U think this one is horrendous. Not that I'm trying to win the sympathy vote, but if U read my Bio then you'll see just what I've been thru 2 get this far with my fic.) Just to dispel NE doubts, "Watching Spirits" is basically pretty much a scene setter; there is more action and intrigue later on, so.... WATCH THIS SPACE!!
Scribbler ; . D