Takeru hated the darkness. Hated it with all his soul ever since he had been a little boy, watching his friends be destroyed by this giant black shadow that only came out of scary summer stories or from under the bed.
That day, he didn't know what happened. He barely remembered it because he was only eight, damn it, but he could still see the brightly shining eyes that shone blue like the sky and white that was like the clouds that never streaked overhead anymore, and then just as quickly, shit hit the fan and it felt like half of him had died.
He still didn't remember why they, a motley band of human kids, weren't really dead then or now, but he wasn't complaining.
"You should be more careful when you go outside." That was Sora, always ever-fussing over his injuries. He'd grown since those days, but he supposed that they'd always keep the same mentalities they'd had at the time, to an extent. He was forever the "kid" of the group. Some days it irritated him, some days the title settled around him like an old skin. It was who he was, where he belonged.
He gave a slight nod, acknowledging the advice but not promising that he'd take it. After all, half the time he didn't know what'd come over him when he'd find the monsters before him gone, data floating away in the wind.
He supposed it should have disturbed him more. Death, that is. But these creatures weren't him, weren't him, and they'd taken him away from him and they should suffer all the more for it.
When his brother had once asked him about his outside excursions, he'd replied with a "Because I hope that one day, we can live in peace without having to worry about being stabbed in our sleep." He didn't very much understand the frown that was on Yamato's face, nor the glance he'd shared with Taichi over his head, but he'd spoken the truth.
They, the outsiders, the monsters, were the danger.
They, his family, were the only thing keeping each other alive and safe. Even if his family included a computer nerd who insisted on learning everything possible about this godforsaken world that seemed intent on killing them, a wannabe medical student whose hands shook so much he was more likely to create more injuries than fix old ones, and a diva who didn't care about anything except herself.
But then, it was the nerd who kept them alive through his network of illegally-obtained information, who had scouted out the weaknesses of the enemy. The pseudo-doctor who had pulled through in dire times to wrap up a limb before they charged back into battle. The drama queen who managed the day-to-day affairs and made life bearable.
And then there were his brothers, who stood at the top of everything, who protected them with all their strength.
And he loved them all for it.
So if he could help by pre-empting any attack that came their way by killing anything that stepped within walking distance, if that was the only way he could help, then so be it. No one approved of his actions, but he didn't want approval.
He wasn't losing anyone ever again.
