"And so, the sum of pi plus x has to equal…"

"Did you hear what happened last night?"

"You mean with Akira and -"

"Yes! Can you believe it? I never would have -"

Shut up, Kouji mentally begged. In an attempt to stem some of the noise in the classroom, he angled himself slightly differently in his chair.

"Psst, dude, Akira! Is what everyone's saying about you duking it out with some high schooler true? There's no way."

"You bet your ass it's true. Sent him off with his tail between his legs."

"Holy shit. No way."

"Bow before your new king."

"I'm sorry, man, there's no way I'm gonna believe that without some sorta evidence, everyone swears the other kid was huge and you're -"

"Boys, please, quiet down."

Yes, for the love of all things merciful, would everyone be quiet so I can hear myself think, this ONE time, Kouji thought.

"He's looking this way oh god act natural!"

"How's my hair? Do you think he's got any plans for -"

Kouji groaned and thumped his head against his desk.

"Minamoto, is there something you would like to share with the class?" A thousand savage retorts died in his throat, and he just shook his head, as the teacher droned on. He couldn't think about school, not after the events of the morning. He just wanted to process everything that had happened, but the universe seemed to be his enemy. Between sniveling girls and obnoxious jocks in every classroom, just drowning out the teachers wasn't enough.

"Okay, class, please solve this on your own. That means NO partners. I'm talking to you, Hiro." The class collectively groaned, bringing Kouji down from his thoughts. Better try to take my mind off of it, he thought, deciding to focus on the math problem. One of the few perks of being friendless was lots of free time for schoolwork, which meant that school was generally easy for him. He was about halfway through scratching down the problem into his notebook, when a voice seemed to whisper straight into his mind.

Warrior…

The teen froze, and then forced himself to shake it off, crediting the sound to his imagination. He was nervous, that was all, and sleep deprived, which was combining with his earlier dream and the cold case show from that morning to make him think he was hearing the disembodied voice of a boy who he had neither seen nor heard before in his entire life. Yeah, that was all. He took a deep breath, and pressed his pencil back on the paper.

Only to find that it was already full. Scrawled all over, in every direction, were several painfully familiar sentences.

WHERE WERE YOU WHY DIDN'T YOU COME WARRIOR WHY WEREN'T YOU HERE…

The teen's eyes were held wide, unblinking. It wasn't horror that gripped him, inexplicably. He just couldn't move. He was helpless, yet unalarmed, just…still, as a cool, quiet dread crept in from the bones outward. He had looked away from his paper for but an instant, so there was no way anyone could have written that there, even on the off chance that they had managed to slip by him. He was vaguely aware that his body was undergoing the classic fight-or-flight reflex, but that was totally isolated from this. Everything was slowed down to Kouji. The thoughts, as terrifying as they should have been, drifted lazily by like clouds on the horizon just before a hurricane. One of the annoying girls two rows over raised her hand, but he still paid no attention. Colors started to blur together, sounds faded out –

"Minamoto." He nearly jumped out of his skin, then. Suddenly aware, he noticed that the fear reaction had apparently taken a greater hold on him than he had known, and that his teacher was standing next to him, with one hand on the teen's shoulder. "Minamoto, do you need to go down to the nurse's office?" Casting about his gaze, he realized that most of the other students were staring at him. Not surprising, considering that he was shivering, again.

"I-I'm fine, sir," he muttered, blushing and sinking down into his seat. He hated having any number of people staring at him; it always made him feel awkward. Looking down at his quivering hands, he noticed subconsciously that he was even more pale than usual, but the fact scarcely sunk in. The combination of the continued presence of the words scrawled across his paper and his sensei's apparent obliviousness to them outweighed his reason. Forcing himself to look away, however, it sunk in that he had attracted the attention of the entire class by now, who were silent for once. The girls who had raised her hand a moment ago, in particular, was looking very worried; she must have told the teacher that something was wrong.

"Are you? You're shaking like a leaf and the paper has more color than you do," the teacher said softly. It definitely wasn't a real question this time. Kouji mumbled that he would go down, if only to get everyone to leave him alone. The teacher nodded as Kouji gathered up his things, vaguely aware that the girl – oh, what was her name, Chiaki – rushed out of her chair to help him. She offered a hand to help him up, but he refused it. He left his supplies in his bag, slung over his chair (he'd really only put the notebook away to be sure that no one saw the writing, just in case), expecting to be back after getting confirmation that he was fine. About five minutes later, Chiaki had to go and get his shoulder bag. Apparently, he was sick, if the far-from-borderline reading off the nurse's thermometer had anything to say about it. Perfect.

Chiaki came back in, looking rushed. What was with her? She had never shown much interest in him before. Granted, he barely knew her, or anyone in his class for that matter, but he did know she was one of the roughly three students in it who didn't consistently piss him off. She handed him the bag, and he muttered his thanks, barely paying attention. He didn't want to go home. He really did not want to go him. His father would tell him to sleep, and with the dream still looming fresh, sleeping far from headed his to do list.

"Um, hello? Minamoto-kun?" Kouji started, suddenly aware that she'd been talking to him.

"Hn, what?" he mumbled; the world was starting to fade out again.

"Um, I was just wondering…do you, by any chance, have a brother?"

"Wh-wha…n-no, I'm an only child. Why?" Her only reply was too quiet for Kouji to make out, and trailed off at the end, anyhow, as she turned her head away. The nurse walked back in and alerted Kouji that his father had arrived, and Kouji got up, and left, thinking, his mind fogged. Why would someone ask if I have a brother…?

Another rebellion. Oh, joy. Those humans – the three who were left, anyway – just wouldn't give it up and let the world be consumed, no matter what was done to them. And if that wasn't bad enough, somehow, they always managed to work up some spirit in any digimon they could find, and cause trouble for him that he just didn't need. Maybe he should just maim them, since they didn't seem capable of dying –

Oh, yeah, after that worked so well when Gigasmon tried it. Kouichi shuddered at the memory, the fight playing out again to his senses, even as his min rejected it. A dragon's agonized roar resounded, synchronized with a terrified shriek, and worst of the lot, the heavy silence as the latter sound stopped short. Kouichi shook both away, furious with himself. That had been before he'd joined Cherubimon. It meant nothing now.

He needed to focus on the task at hand.