A/N: YES! It's an update. Unbelievable, I know. I would like to apologize many, many times over for the unforgivably long time I was absent, but let's get into the story first. Assuming anyone's still reading. If you are, HELLO! I love you, I'm sorry, please enjoy ASB chapter 11!

Small changes have been made: I'm no longer going to use those annoying asterisks, but I'll continue to put footnotes at the end of each chapter. Also, the whole "Ya. Ta. Log" thing was obnoxious, I can't believe no one complained, from now on people will just say "Taichi's Log" like normal human beings.

Special thanks to all you lovely reviewers who stuck by me in the past, to newcomers giving this fic a shot; to Benign User for catching a discrepancy that I sadly can't fix without some serious rewriting but will be aware of in the future; and to those of you who prompted me to update during my hiatus… I don't deserve you.

BRIEF RECAP: Taichi, panicking over his digitization and against Gennai's rule, went to Digiworld with Daisuke. The others followed to rescue him. Daisuke was attacked by Babamon and Gonmon and separated from Taichi. Taichi was abducted by Vademon. Gennai reunited the Chosen with their partners and they split up in search of Taichi. Daisuke, Ken, Iori and Jou's group was then attacked by Baihumon. Also, remember that a couple chapters back, Taichi had a dream/memory involving Ichijouji Osamu.

Chapter Eleven

Several Deadly Promises

"Fire will be found by
Birds that fly too high
And all his feathers burn
And he'll fall down and die."
- Louis de Bernieres, Birds Without Wings

Yamato's Log
In what we hope is Vademon's tunnel
15:56

It's a strange thing to hope for.

Inside the tunnel, the ground squelched like fat slugs beneath Garurumon's paws, thick with slime. Yamato felt tension ripple through his partner's lithe body, saw the sharp eyes glint like gold as they flickered uneasily about the passage.

At times, the walls widened large enough for shallow pools of murk to collect. At others, Garurumon had to pull his shoulders and hind legs in as much as he could to squeeze through the narrowing tunnel throat. Tired, saddle-sore and coated in grime, Yamato kept his fingers curled around Garurumon's fur and dug his knees into his partner's sides as they navigated the twisting path. He could only be grateful he was still upright on Garurumon's back, and that Garurumon's stamina outlasted his own by leaps and bounds. At least the cavernous walls sheltered them from the spectral wind that had chased them inside. Yamato combed back his disheveled hair and felt something warm and wet splash his face.

"Ugh." With a grimace, he wiped his cheek and rubbed his hand against his jeans.

"What?" growled Garurumon, his friendly concern mismatched with his thundercloud voice. But for Yamato it was, and had always been, a familiar comfort.

"Nothing – something's dripping –"

Garurumon paused, flicking his tail, and lifted his snout to give the air a wary sniff. His eyes lit on something above them, beyond Yamato's range of vision. He rumbled low in his throat, and Yamato nervously adjusted his grip on the sinewy shoulders.

"Ah, they're all along the ceiling," Garurumon said, lowering his voice, "tacked to it like cocoons. They're what's dripping, and they reek."

Yamato squinted, trying to spot what had Garurumon so tense. He could just barely make out the globular lumps shimmering on the ceiling, too smooth to be stalactites, pulsing with liquid. "What are they?" he hissed.

"Viral eggs," Garurumon said. "Don't want those to hatch – we'll go quietly."

Viral eggs. That was a sure enough sign – as if the slime, lack of light, and general creepiness weren't enough of a tip off – that they were heading toward evil.

They went on, the only sounds Garurumon's broad paws slapping against the earth and the eerie shifting noises from above. The cold seeped right through Yamato's jacket. It felt as if they were going uphill, and he wondered how far they'd come. He opened his mouth to ask, but remembered the eggs and closed it abruptly.

Then Garurumon's forelegs slipped into an unseen pool. It was deeper than the others, deep enough that Garurumon couldn't keep Yamato above water without swimming. Yamato hooked his legs over Garurumon's back, trying to keep as dry as possible while his partner paddled them through the pool.

But thankfully Garurumon moved as smoothly as a river otter through the pool, and their swim ended almost as soon as it began. Garurumon trudged onto solid ground, the fur on his belly discolored and beaded with drops of water. He snapped twice at the air so that his jowls rippled, and shook his head a few times before starting off again.

"We left the eggs behind," Yamato noticed.

"You can tell?" His partner sounded amused.

"Well, I can't see much, if that's what you mean. But I could kind of make out shapes before. And I think they were sort of glowing."

"You're right, the eggs don't continue past the pond. It's drier up here, too."

"So we are going uphill," Yamato said.

"The trail didn't feel very steep in the beginning, but it must have led underground and taken us below the mountain. Now we're climbing up within it. The rock feels different beneath my paws."

Yamato wondered it would be like to feel the stones' substance change. Maybe because Koushirou had mentioned it earlier, or maybe because he was now walled in by rock on all sides, he fell into a memory, to the night they spent at the foot of Infinity Mountain.

He saw the cave they slept in, the jagged walls, the hot springs, the mountain peak shooting like a ladder into the clouds. His friends' faces were clear, from the pink burn on Sora's cheeks and shoulders to the grassy smudges staining Taichi's little-boy knob-knees. Jou with his sweater vest rolled up so he could rub his glasses clean with the hem of his shirt. Mimi's overly zealous pink hat. They were dirty, always, all of them. Koushirou crouched low, drawing something in the earth with a stick while Tentomon looked on and asked questions. Takeru, charming when he was a child, charming on the brink of adulthood, held Mimi in his power with some animated story no one else could really follow, and she listened indulgently, one of the rare instances in those days that she would focus entirely on someone else; she was always good with Takeru.

What had he been thinking that day? Aside from grumbling about Taichi, Taichi's recklessness, Taichi's lack of judgment, Taichi's questionable eating habits…

"Then I'll be the guinea pig – if I turn purple, you'll know they're not safe to eat!"

Yamato couldn't help it. He smiled like he hadn't allowed himself to all those years ago.

"What are you thinking about?" Garurumon asked, breaking in.

He realized he'd been silent for a while – nothing Garurumon wasn't used to from him, but in this pitch black, even an extremely large wolf-monster would appreciate a friendly voice.

"Sorry," Yamato replied. "Déjà vu moment. Infinity Mountain."

"Ah. The battle with Devimon?"

"No, actually," Yamato said with some surprise. "The day Taichi and I fought over whether or not we should climb the mountain, and Jou tried to go alone."

Strange that Devimon hadn't even crossed his mind. They could have been on a camping trick for all the evil coloring that memory. The battle itself was still the stuff of nightmares for him and, he was sure, for the others as well, but before that… well, before that they hadn't really understood what they were in for, had they?

"Don't worry about Taichi," Garurumon said. He grunted and fell quiet for a moment as he hoisted them from one protruding ledge to another. "More often than not he gets by on that special, shiny kind of luck of his, but he takes care of himself pretty well."

"Yeah." Yamato nodded. "He's not someone we have to worry about."

"Except when he is," Garurumon added.

Yamato smiled. "Except when he is."

Near Mt. Yahaba
Mid-afternoon

Iori wasn't hurt. A little banged up, maybe – scraped palms, bruised kneecaps, maybe a splinter – but nothing devastating, nothing that wouldn't heal, he'd dealt with worse from some of his more stupid kendo mishaps. As far as Iori was concerned, unless you were dying, bleeding from your eyeballs or at the very least missing a limb, you were hardly injured.

But samurai stoicism was lost on Daisuke, who bent over him with his bushy eyebrows scrunched into a squiggle, making a face at the hasty bandage work on Iori's hands.

"How can even your eyebrows be socially awkward?" Iori griped, feeling put out.

Daisuke and his eyebrows ignored him. "Geez man, look at you, you're like a mummy. We're gonna have to call you Imhotep IV."

"I am fine," Iori said again, louder this time. When reason failed, Daisuke sometimes responded to volume. Why the fourth? he wanted to ask, but that would be like pushing the bright red, DO NOT PRESS button on a starship or a Gundam that meant chaos unleashed for at least three episodes straight.

"You are not," insisted his team leader, turning Iori's arms this way and that. "You won't win any beauty pageants with style like this, you know. How did you manage to get so beat up just by hiding? How does anyone not know how to hide?"

It took enormous self-restraint not to roll his eyes. Or to reach out and – pinch Daisuke's nose or something. His inability to think up a less juvenile punishment only irritated him further.

Then Daisuke's palm impacted with his rear.

"Oof!" Iori grunted.

"Happy Birthday," said Daisuke with an inscrutable grin before moving to another corner of the fire-lit cave.

Iori sank to the ground, watching Daisuke give Ken's arm a shake and take DemiVeemon from him. After suffering Baihumon's metallovirus for almost an hour, Paildramon reverted to DemiVeemon and Minomon with just enough energy left to stagger into their partner's arms. They were both out cold now, sleeping, and neither Daisuke nor Ken could guess how they'd feel when they woke up. Which turned Iori's thoughts towards another wounded and unconscious teammate – one whose condition was far more grievous.

Jou was cradling Gomamon in his arms. With the utmost care, he'd cleaned and bandaged his partner from head to flipper, until Gomamon was so swathed in gauzy cloth that only his sleeping face peeked out unimpeded. Afterward, Jou had been too afraid of jostling Gomamon to find a more comfortable position, even though his legs were falling asleep. He hadn't said a word since they'd taken refuge in the cave.

Standing, Iori crossed over to his side. He put a tentative hand on Jou's shoulder. "It's probably a good sign he hasn't de-digivolved to Bukamon," he offered in a whisper. When that brought no response, he changed tactics. "How's your asthma, Jou-san?"

Jou shot him a dirty look. Iori bit back a sigh.

"Want me to hold him for a while, so you can get some rest?"

"Of course not," Jou said in a throaty voice. His eyes were bloodshot, his face paler than normal. Iori couldn't remember ever feeling more helpless. "Baihumon is still here," Jou went on. "There's no way I'm sleeping while we don't know his intentions."

Iori turned his head surreptitiously towards the titan blocking their only exit. The cave itself was more like a gouge in the mountainside and didn't run very deep. Short of digivolving (which Iori was not at all convinced any of their Digimon were capable of doing at the moment), there was no possibility of creating their own way out. They were, in every way, trapped, and at Baihumon's mercy.

Something pressed into his leg. "Okay there?" asked Armadillomon, sounding languid as usual. But Iori could sense the tension in his contracted muscles, the way he held his head so low that he barely avoided scraping his chin on the floor. Iori set his jaw and nodded once, eyes set on Baihumon's back. The Digimon was incredibly large, immense – enormous, even. During the battle, he'd been even larger, and had shrunk in order to fit in the cave and watch them. But he hadn't made a move since they'd surrendered, hadn't hinted at what he wanted from them. He just crouched there, surveying them with his four glinting eyes, giving off a vibe like a rope stretched to the point of snapping.

Iori and Armadillomon sidled over to Daisuke and Ken, hunched around the fire.

"He doesn't look keen on moving," Daisuke observed with a sidelong glance at their warden.

"Keep it down," Ken ordered. "Those ears are probably hyper-sensitive. Better to not say anything at all…"

As if proving Ken's point, Baihumon hefted his body off the floor. His tail lashed behind him like a pendulum. He took great sniffs at the air outside as if obsessed.

Iori felt the ground thrum with some noise that had nothing to do with the storm outside. He, Daisuke and Ken all got to their feet. The Digimon kept close. Iori felt Armadillomon ready himself – as the only Rookie fit for battle, Iori knew his partner would consider the task of protecting them his own. Hopefully he won't overdo it with the heroics, Iori thought with a pang.

Baihumon roared. The sound plugged their ears, and for a few moments after they couldn't hear a thing. Eventually it died away, and Baihumon had placed himself at the mouth of the cave.

"I want Gennai to come here himself, not send another pathetic servant!"

Iori and Ken shared a glance. There was… almost a whine in Baihumon's voice. As if, for all his power and might, there was someone out there always telling him no.

Whoever had arrived at their campout was hidden from sight by Baihumon's bulk.

"Gennai is old, and long travel tires him these days. You will have to make do with me," came the newcomer's voice. Jou, who had crept over with Gomamon swaddled in his arms, looked up in sudden recognition.

"It's Centarumon," he whispered to Iori and the others.

"Furthermore," Centarumon went on, "you were explicitly ordered not to harm these children. Behavior like yours would disincline anyone to come near you."

"You are late!" Baihumon roared.

"It could not be helped."

"He should have taken me to his territory, rather than pick an arbitrary spot and then send out his lackey like a coward," Baihumon said.

"I think Gennai has made his reasons for keeping his location a secret very clear to you," Centarumon replied smoothly.

Baihumon snarled. "I will not be disrespected! Send Gennai to me, or I will find him and kill him myself."

"My lord, I am sure I do not need to point out to you how counterproductive such a course of action would be, considering your goals," Centarumon replied impassively. "I'm rather put out coming here myself. I have duties – duties the Sovereigns assigned me, you'll recall."

Baihumon flared his nostrils and seemed to be searching for a reply, then gave a huff and began to pace around the cave. Centarumon took the opportunity to trot in, and leveled his single eye on the group of Chosen at the firepit.

"Hello, Jou," he said in greeting. "Children. I am relieved to find you safe."

"Call this safe?" Daisuke grumbled.

"Are any of you hurt?" Centarumon observed the sleeping DemiVeemon and Minomon, and Gomamon's grievous injuries. "I see you're the only Digimon up for a fight," he muttered to Armadillomon.

Armadillomon planted his forelegs more firmly in the earth. "I'm ready any time, Centarumon, just say the word," he said, with far more conviction than Iori was used to hearing from his easy-going partner.

"Don't count us out either. DemiVeemon may need time to recuperate, but I've got two titanium fists that can lay 'em flat and I won't hold back." Daisuke shook both fists in demonstration. Ken gave him a warning nudge with his elbow.

"Centarumon," Jou cut in, desperate. "Ikkakumon's horn was smashed in the battle. Smashed to the hilt. And Gomamon's been like this ever since." He was struggling to keep his voice steady. "Will it grow back? Can you do anything for him?"

"Centarumon!" Baihumon barked sharply from across the cave. "I refrained from killing Gennai's pets according to our deal. Either you make good on what he owes me now, or I kill all of you in the most painful way possible."

"Calm yourself, Baihumon, there's no need to be dramatic," Centarumon said.

"Uh, should you be antagonizing him like that?" Daisuke whispered. "I mean, he really could do it."

"I thought you were going to lay him flat with your titanium fists," Ken teased, earning a glare from Daisuke.

Bending over at the waist, Centarumon surveyed Gomamon from head to tail. He reached out and brushed back Gomamon's downy mane. Finally he sighed and told Jou, "I cannot do anything for him myself, but Gennai's sanctuary is a place of healing. He will recover provided we return to Gennai in a timely manner."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jou strode past Centarumon, and Iori started. It was rare enough that Jou voluntarily took the lead, even moreso that he did so rashly –

"Jou-san, wait." Ken darted after him. "We can't just leave. There's a super-powerful Digimon prone to violent rage with his eye on us, and even assuming he would let us go, we'd be leaving the others in a vulnerable position."

"We'll message them to be on their guard."

"What about Taichi-san?" Daisuke broke in. "You know, the reason we're in this mess in the first place?"

"Nothing is more important right now than Gomamon," Jou shot back, wet-eyed.

Daisuke's brow creased and his mouth opened to retort, but Ken quickly raised a hand to stop him.

"I know you're worried," he said evenly. "I'm also concerned about the after-effects of the metallovirus that defeated Paildramon. But, look, Centarumon said Gennai doesn't want Baihumon to know where he is. If we escape now, there's nothing to stop him following us, and we'd lead him right to Gennai." The tight muscles in Jou's jaw began to slacken as Ken's logic sank in. Ken leaned over Jou's shoulder. "We will get Gomamon to Gennai no matter what. But first we have to shake Baihumon off our trail."

Reluctantly, Jou nodded. Ken brought his arm around Jou as his shoulders drooped, and led him back towards the fire.

"We need a plan," Iori said in a low voice.

"I have one," Centarumon replied, "but you must trust me. It will go against your instincts to do as I say, but my orders come straight from Gennai. For now, we must humor the beast. Baihumon," Centarumon called out, swiveling his head towards the rumbling monster. "You have been patient. I will now lead you to that which you seek."

Baihumon leveled a sharp eye on the group of Chosen. "I want them to come."

"How fortunate, those were my thoughts exactly. Children, follow me, please." To the Chosen's astonishment, Centarumon turned and clambered out of the cave.

"I thought we were gonna fight," Daisuke whispered, sounding more puzzled than disappointed.

"We are in no condition to fight," Ken sighed. He put his hands on Daisuke's shoulders and gave him a push. "You're the leader, so lead the way out."

Daisuke now fixed his shock on Ken, and looked to Iori for help. Iori, fully approving of Ken's methods, stared back at him stoically.

"One of us has got to move, or Baihumon will change his mind about honoring his part of whatever deal he has with Gennai," Ken said.

"In other words, he'll eat us," Iori put in.

That snapped Daisuke back into the moment, and he grumped off toward the exit of the cave. Baihumon's eyes, shining like searchlights, watched them as they filed out. After a minute, he stalked silently after them.

The rain had stopped and the wind had mostly died down. The sky was still a wall of gray. Iori placed himself a few paces behind Jou, whose undivided attention was on his partner. He meant to shield Jou in case Baihumon had any sudden desire to finish what he'd started. Armadillomon followed close on his heels.

They could feel Baihumon's hot breath on their backs all the way down the mountainside.

Vademon's Tunnel
17:00

"Yamato. Wake up."

Yamato stirred at the sound of Garurumon's voice. At some point he'd slumped forward on his partner's back, body aching all over, falling into the soft warmth of the wolf's long fur. It was a testament to Garurumon's strength that he'd managed to keep Yamato upright while he dozed. Tenderness swept over him, and he blushed in spite of himself, grateful for the dark.

He was always safe with Garurumon.

"How long was I asleep for?"

"I'm not sure, but not long," Garurumon rumbled. "We're at a dead end."

"What?" Yamato blinked away the last traces of sleepiness and sat up straight. "That can't be. That would mean we went down the wrong tunnel!"

"Hold on. I found something odd. I don't know if you can see it. There are carvings on that far rock."

"I'll check it out." Yamato swung his stiff legs off Garurumon's back and climbed down. He zipped up his jacket, feeling the piercing cold doubly now that he no longer had Garurumon's body heat as a barrier. Knotting his hand in a tuft of fur, he let his partner lead him several paces, until they met a jagged wall of rock.

"They look like Digicode," Garurumon said.

Yamato pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He held it close to the rock, using the backlight to illuminate the carvings. Dim, but effective. He took some photos and forwarded them to Koushirou.

"So, what do you think?" Garurumon asked.

Yamato ran his fingers over the cold stone. "Honestly, I don't think I could tell one form of Digicode from another. But it definitely reminds me of what we saw at that factory way back when. And at Primary Village. You know, I've never really understood what these are. Koushirou's tried to explain, but – they're some kind of writing system, right?"

Garurumon drew in his shoulders and cocked his head in a lupine version of a shrug. "It's the first sign of anything other than rock and viral eggs that we've come across," he said, and sat down at Yamato's side.

Yamato removed his Digivice from his belt loop and stared at the empty screen forlornly. "I wish more of those creepy signs would show up to at least give us a hint at what to do next."

"I'm a little concerned that you want to see more of those signs. One of them told me, quite explicitly, that I am 'the North end of a South-bound Donkeymon."

"But if my clock's right, we've been down here almost two hours now. Even if this is the right place, Taichi could've been moved, could've been hurt…" He gave the cell phone a frustrated squeeze.

Garurumon nudged the back of his legs with his snout. "We're doing the best that we can with what we've got, which is all we've ever done. It's worked out before." Tilting his head, he took a deep whiff of the chilly air. "How about we retrace our steps? There may be an adjoining tunnel that I missed."

Yamato paused. That seemed the sensible thing to do, but he found it hard to believe that Garurumon, with his powerful senses, and on such an important mission, would have passed by another tunnel. He was being a pessimist, but he couldn't help it. But it was their only plan.

Then he glanced at his partner curled up against him, his torso lifting and falling with each breath. Though it was cold, Garurumon's head was slick with sweat. He looked exhausted, but he never complained. He still wanted to continue the search.

Yamato turned away, a lump rising to his throat. "You know what, I think we should wait here for a while and see if Koushirou can make anything out of that code. If our hunch was right, and Taichi's down here, then leaving may be as dangerous as staying." Before Garurumon could reply, Yamato plunked down next to him. Leaning into the crook of his partner's foreleg, Yamato put his Digivice in one hand and his cell phone in the other.

Garurumon watched him, his silence like a test. "If you're sure," he said finally.

"I'm sure." He wasn't. But they had next to nothing to go on now. And as much as Yamato wanted Taichi safe, he had others to take care of as well. That, he was sure, Taichi would understand.

Awareness returned to Taichi in fragments.

First he noticed his breathing. A slow, long intake of air, and a shuddering exhale, drawn out as if too fragile to rush. He latched on to the easy rise and fall of his chest as the one piece of reality that wasn't lost in muddled confusion. He counted them, and waited. The murk in his head cleared up steadily, but he couldn't tell how much time had passed between when he first came to and when his arms and legs began to tingle with feeling.

His whole body felt weighted. There was a scent in the air that had been lingering on the edge of his mind ever since he could last remember. It was faint but sweet, and reminded Taichi vaguely of the cloying smell of sandalwood he was familiar with from burning incense at the local shrines. It led him to think, for a moment, that that was where he was, lolling on a bench while his parents left their New Year's offering, or said a prayer, or cleansed their hands. The anxiety that had crept up on him started to dissipate. It was tempting to let himself drift off back to sleep.

But the smell was toointense for sandalwood, he realized with a sudden flash of clarity, the smoke too thick for an incense pot. A bright heat pressed against his eyelids. He tried to open them and felt gripped by irrational fear. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know what he had been doing.

Finally he managed to pry his eyes open, only to flinch away from the guttering brightness. He coughed through a cloud of smoke and rolled on his side. His stuck out a hand and met rock.

Oh God, Taichi thought, pushing himself onto his knees. Fire.

Flames leapt all around him. His shadow twisted on the far wall, contorted into a misshapen, tortured silhouette, like a marionette at the mercy of a sadistic puppeteer. Taichi searched blankly for an exit – but an exit to where?

He forced himself to calm down. Where he was wasn't important. How to escape – or to stop the flames – was all that mattered. Focus. Look for a way out.

But the smoke was like a solid mass above him. It was all he could do not to choke as he tried to stand. His bare feet were the worst, grilling like a pair of steaks on charcoal.

"Bad day," he rasped, eyes stinging. "Would rather be sitting for exams. Unprepared. Without a calculator." He pressed his forehead to the ground and sucked in the clearest air. "Okay. So, there's a fire. I don't know where I am and there's a fire. This could, potentially, be hell. I don't think I was that bad a kid but, hey, we're our own worst judges, right? So, worst case scenario: I'm in hell. What's the best case – best case scenario? A grill-a-thon gone horribly wrong. Where I'm the one being grilled. And the last thing I'll ever see is the flab under Guy Fieri's beard."

That set him off laughing, though it wasn't long before the smoke got the better of him again and he started wheezing instead.

"Okay, talking – talking is not a good idea."

He spotted what he'd taken for an oddly-shaped rock rising out of the highest flames. But rocks tended not to move around, and this one did. Squinting hard, he scrabbled against the rock and reassessed it. It was definitely a humanoid figure. And it was walking through the fire.

"Daisuke?" he called, noticing a gleam on the figure's head – light reflecting off a pair of goggles? He remembered with a jolt leaving with Daisuke for Digiworld. "Daisuke, is that you?"

The figure paused. Taichi crawled forward, keeping low to the ground. He'd thought that between the smoke and the heat, his mind was fooling him, but it really looked as if Daisuke (or whoever) were walking in the flames, and not burning. He could just make out a thin profile with wild hair. His face was shadowed except for the reflection of the flames in his unblinking eyes.

"Daisuke!" Taichi covered his mouth and forced himself to stand. "Come over here!" He stretched out his hand.

As he waved an arm at the smoky air, his companion began to morph. Maybe it was another trick of the light. Or maybe he'd finally snapped. All the same, the flame-burnished figure took on a new shape – hair sticking out at all angles, sharp eyes behind thick lenses, a sardonic smile. Familiar.

Ken's smile.

Osamu's smile.

Taichi hesitated only a second. He needed the upper hand. "You're dead."

"You're early." The figure – Osamu – but it couldn't be – took a step towards him. Taichi in turn stepped back.

"Early for what? I never made any appointment…" Taichi trailed off and a puzzled crease appeared in his brow. He'd said something similar not long ago – hadn't he?

"You're really too early, all things considered. We should let you go. Shouldn't we? But it's never a bad idea to collect your resources ahead of schedule. But should we?"

Disconcerted, Taichi gave the room a quick scan. "Who are you talking to?"

Zombie Osamu (because what else could he possibly be?) fell silent for a moment. Then his chin gave a sharp jerk. "We shouldn't veer from the plan. Let nature run its course. Nothing is natural about this world. Nothing is natural."

The zombie appeared to be talking to himself. It was downright creepy, the way he referred to himself as "we." That enigmatic grin had slipped from his face. While he debated with his other self, he stood rooted to the ground, face devoid of expression.

Incredulous, Taichi listened to his babbling, but none of it made sense. Suddenly he realized the smoke wasn't irritating him anymore. He looked at his feet and immediately jumped back; not only was he somehow standing in the fire, but flames were climbing up his legs, without leaving a single burn.

Panic seemed imminent.

"Hey! Zombie! Where the hell am I – what's going on!?"

The zombie only shook his head and kept arguing with himself. "We could kill him now. No, it's too early. Too early, I mean it. We could kill him."

Once again, Taichi spun around, looking for someone else, the mysterious mind-reader Zombie Osamu was talking to. "Okay, you know what? Not cool! You're blabbering like a maniac – ignoring me – ignoring me while you plot to kill me!" he shouted. "At least ask me what I think about all this!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. Of course, when would you like me to kill you?"

Taichi froze mid-rant. Zombie Osamu looked different, now that he was addressing Taichi. His smile was back, but something about it was gentler, more genuine. It was still Osamu's face, but not the mocking smirk Taichi remembered from their first and only meeting so many years ago. But it was still familiar, and it frustrated Taichi that he couldn't place it. He knew he should know it. The name teetered on the tip of his tongue.

The zombie quirked an eyebrow. "So, what will it be? Shall I kill you now, or later?"

"Why are you giving me a choice?" Taichi asked between scratchy breaths.

"You asked for one," the creature said, with a positively condescending smile in his eyes. "And it's only fair, since one way or another, I am going to kill you."

"And after you kill me…" He took up his best poker face, imagining he was staring down Piedmon, determined not to let the monster's attention drift from him to Koushirou and Hikari, who'd be vulnerable as soon as their hiding place was discovered. "After you kill me, then what?"

"Then Chaos will end."

Taichi looked sidelong at a wall. "O… kay… I pick later."

"Is that your final answer?" the zombie asked.

"Sure. Seems like the option most people would go for. And anyway I wouldn't want chaos to end too early. Some people like chaos. Especially drunk, topless bar fly types."

"And you're one of those people who like chaos."

"Thanks, I like to think I'm pretty special." Taichi casually slipped his hands in his pockets. "Later'll be fine."

"Suit yourself."

"But I have another question."

"You've always had many."

"After you kill me, what'll happen to me?" Taichi asked, amused by his own morbid curiosity. He wanted to know if Zombie Osamu meant to kill him in the literal sense, with bloody entrails and gore and empty eye sockets, or if he was referring to the gradual digitization which was creeping up on him even now.

Zombie Osamu hesitated. Did the question disturb him? Or did he just not want to answer?

He'd noticed something peculiar while bantering with the zombie. An arch door along the far wall, built of thick metal. Going by every RPG ever, it was, quite likely, a way out. He made a furtive move towards it, marveling as he maneuvered through fire that didn't burn.

The zombie finally finished puzzling out his answer. "You won't die," he said.

"Good to know," Taichi said, edging along. "As if I don't have enough riddles to deal with already."

Then, in a flash, and without a closing remark, the creature melted into a waxy puddle on the earth. Taichi froze for an instant, astounded. Until he was shoved back to the present by a searing pain in his feet. His mysterious immunity had left him. Fire was once against his enemy.

"Ow. Ow, ow ow…" He hopped in place.

He coughed. He panted.

He wanted to leap into a pool. Of ice cream. A pool of super cold (chocolate-with-a-cherry) ice cream.

Then he remembered The Door.

It loomed mere feet away, looking shiny and metallic and very, very solid. And it was his only hope.

With a hand over his mouth, he dropped to all fours and crawled through the blaze.

Chapter Notes:

1.] Donkeymon: I beg your forgiveness. This is a horrible pun. I'm famous for them. Ask my friends. And suffer with them.

So, kits – thanks again SO VERY MUCH for your kind reviews, encouragement, tipped hats etc. during the course of the year. I never, ever meant to disappear for so long, especially without warning you. That's a good way to lose readers, which is not what I want. I was having a bunch of personal issues during the summer, and then junior year at college blindsides me – I bit off more than I could easily chew (it was more like obscene gnawing and frothing at the mouth). So, I fell into a rut and was feeling pretty low about it. But, in the end, I triumphed, and this chapter is proof.

I promise that throughout the year, I was constantly thinking about you guys and this fic. In February I was convinced I'd have this chapter finished. Obviously I overestimated myself. It's not an excuse. But, really, y'all, I got such a jolt out of checking hits and visitors for this fic. I don't know who exactly was reading random chapters, but it lifted me spirits every time story traffic told me you were. I have a lot of insecurities about this fic. There are so many parts that really need a rewrite. But your hits and reviews make me feel stupid for having those insecurities. The story needs work, sure, but I'm so happy to know people like it enough to reread.

The good thing about the hiatus was that I worked out a ton of plot kinks. Part of the issue this time was this chapter was just a monster to write. I couldn't decide how to get from point A to point B. I think I've smoothed it out now. Next chapter, all the action promised in this chapter will erupt. I hope you'll like it.

I have no intention of dropping this fic. Thanks again, any old readers who happen to return, and any new readers. I hope this chapter makes up at least a little for the year-long break. If not, let me know, I will bake you kasutera cake! (I'm good at it.)

Love, Fizz