7.

He couldn't move.

He didn't have Wormmon and he couldn't move.

And he was hostage to the guy he was supposed to be looking for. Great.

He hoped that they saw him.

Sanada Arata looked him over from where he was settled on a rickety chair. Half-eaten food was strewn across the small room. His other arm, inhuman and sick grey and black, seemed to slither in place. The fingers curled without seeming prompted. It held a fist despite the way Arata's expression in particular looked at ease.

"You gonna talk now that you're on solid ground?" he asked, drawling low. "Or what?"

"I..." Ken stared at him. "You kidnapped me."

"I found you have a habit of disappearin' anyhow." Arata shrugged his human shoulder, all smiles still. "Eleven years old, twice in under a year. Cause o' Digimon I heard." Whatever Ken's face looked like, Arata laughed at it. "Aw, I got it right, dinnit I?"

"Your friends are worried about you," Ken blurted. "They asked me to look into you?"

That took the smile off of his face. It slid off like a magnet. "Hah!" The word was shouted and it may have shook the walls. "Idiots! Like they need to get involved. They even dragged the grand ol' Ichijouji Ken into it. The genius."

The last word, the last sneer, made Ken shift.

"Yeah," Arata said, voice no longer a snarl. "Yeah you're just like me. But I'll be makin' it right."

A low anger pulsed in Ken's stomach. "You don't know me."

Arata only laughed.