Digital Shuffle
By Famira Damaris
Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon
Author's Note: An AU starting early in Digimon Tamers and spiraling off into all kinds of bad times. Will be a crossover with other Digimon canons. I've removed the links to the old fanart I did to remove clutter and 2001!fangirlism - if you're interested in seeing them, shoot me a PM :)
Archive: Go right on ahead – but ask me first.
Italics for thoughts and emphasis and sound effects
Bold for implied feelings, mostly for the Juggernaut
"Dialogue" is similar to telepathy
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Digital Shuffle
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(Blue Eyed Encounter)
That infernal machine made Kaminmon nervous.
If he had a choice, he wouldn't be standing so close to the thing, but his Mistress told him to come here and he obeyed without question. He was willing to follow her orders, but it didn't mean he had to like all of them. The Champion's tail swished with concealed agitation, grinding his exposed fangs against one another as he flicked a suspicious look at the silent, hulking shadow of the Juggernaut. From here, it was a towering black dome that dwarfed him.
Kaminmon turned his equine head as one of the monitors lit up. For a moment he watched the seemingly meaningless images flicker across, before looking away. It was unnerving, the way everything around the Juggernaut was constantly turning on and off, sometimes too quickly for him to catch.
The thing just couldn't be trusted. It's not alive. A glare at the Juggernaut. And if it's not alive, it can't be killed. If he couldn't kill it, it meant he couldn't take care of it if the thing ever went against orders (though Kincaid had only laughed at his concern). No doubt the machine knew that – there was an almost smug, self-assured air as the dozens of lesser computers – sitting on stands, shelves, all left behind – flicked on and off. Kaminmon scowled, shifting his weight on his cloven hooves.
"Getting along?"
Kaminmon bowed his head as Kincaid sauntered into view, passing through the aisle of computers screens. He wanted dearly to avert his eyes from the horrible form his Mistress wore so often these days, but he managed to assert some self-control. It was a truly ugly form, in his opinion,worse even than the boy-one he had to take in order to blend in. But I don't have to stay in it as long as she. Her simian tail was gone, her round face narrowed and devoid of the soft coat of mocha fur. Her silver-flecked eyes were much smaller, shaped almost like almonds now. Tiny. Human-beady. Human hair hid her ears, so small and misshapen now
A slight shudder. Humans were always the ugliest creatures.
"I await your wishes, my lady," Kaminmon began; he was careful to keep any signs of revulsion from coloring his voice. Kincaid waved the formalities aside with a gloved hand. "I have done as you asked."
"AWhat'd he say?"
"That it was necessary to think it over."
The Deceiver shook her head, her curls bouncing. "Three days. That's all. If he hasn't made a decision by then, bring him here." She grinned over at the silent form of the Juggernaut. "I'm sure we can handle a lone traitor."
Kaminmon caught the evident pride in her voice, the Champion feeling his shaggy mane bristle with the twinges of jealousy, the feathers on his wings rising like hackles. The Mistress wasn't praising him for his work, not this time. Oh no, it was that machine, that abomination! To make matters worse, the screens were blinking on and off, faster and faster, as if laughing at him. They were definitely mocking him, he decided with a barely concealed scowl. Kincaid didn't appear to notice, pulling off a dark blue glove as she continued.
"The next operative has arrived, but he won't be settled in for a few days. They're sending more Golems over from the Digital World, but it's going to be a while before we'll harvest enough for the breach."
"I would be honored if there is anything I can do to assist you."
Kincaid held out her hand before her – the too-long fingers were distorted by the mirage-like quality of the air. "Perhaps you can." Kaminmon watched with morbid fascination as a lone wire snaked up from the darkness before the Juggernaut's shell and idly tapped against her wrist – Kincaid let it absorb some of the excess energy, the red fading a little bit as the wire sucked it up greedily. "There's an area to the west of us I want you to patrol. On foot, preferably. Along Shinjuku Central Park, probably further north. I've just been informed by the Council several Digimon recruits decided to biomerge prematurely."
Kaminmon nodded, the fur at his sharply accented cheekbones fluttering with the motion. "It will be done, my lady."
"Escort them somewhere safe and make sure no one sees you. I'll see to the punishment for their disobedience. After that, explain to them the situation." Kincaid shooed away the wire, pulling on her glove again and hiding the muted red glow. "I expect those brats to try to intercept them. Make sure they don't interfere."
"I will. They will not get past me," he said. But it was with distaste that he agreed. I'll have to use that boy-body again. It was disgusting and it chafed at him, to have to walk on two legs when he was meant to use four. But on the other hoof, he could toy with those humans again – and there were more, more than just that little girl he came across when he stole the digivice.
Kincaid still talking, musing out-loud. "I'm still rather surprised by the Council's choice for the Shield." Kaminmon kept a respectful silence, clopping after her as she moved down the aisle of glowing screens. "But maybe he brought his forge with him. Eager to prove himself, I bet."
Kaminmon tilted his long snout, absorbing this news. The grotesque Digimon wasn't privy to a lot of information, but he knew there weren't many forges in the Digital World – there weren't very many forests to supply fuel for any more than a few. So if he's the Shield, then it can only be Zudomon.Of course. From the rumors, Zudomon was able to create anything with his forge and his mighty hammer: no doubt he would be working on something to pen the humans in. Zudomon was formidable. Already he was something of a myth as tales of a hermit, working in self-imposed isolation at his legendary forge, spread across the Digital World.
Personally, Kaminmon was surprised the Council (they were shrouded in mystery to him) would entrust such a task to one of the original eight traitors. After all, from what he'd heard, they consorted with humans – he was still trying to figure out how those insignificant creatures managed to entice the former failures to their side – and after the whole thing, they were unstable. All had tried, at some point or another, to delete themselves. In the Digital World, there was no term for that and he hadn't been unable to understand the point until the Mistress told him. They had, she said with a disapproving swish of her tail, tried to commit "suicide". "Suicide" was a purely human thing, she continued. It was unthinkable among common Digimon. There wasn't even a word for such an evil decision. Typical humans. Bugs. Only they would think up something like that.
It was apparently another weakness that rubbed off on the humans' "partners", the Mistress mused to her servant, after coming back from a late night meeting with her lover; but Kaminmon could only think of the data that would've been wasted, if the eight had succeeded. To him, the idea of "suicide" seemed selfish/Such a waste! Even now, he couldn't understand why.
But the Council and the Mistress had bestowed their forgiveness on them, even honored one of them with the position of Shield.
"Currently, he's in Odaiba's waters, so I won't be into contact with him until he's finished." Kincaid shrugged carelessly, her silver eyes not even on her servant now, much to his sullen indignation. "I'll ask Nagamora to brief him – he's closer than we are…" The violet-haired woman blinked, as if suddenly noticing Kaminmon was still here, and snapped her dismissal. "I thought I gave you an order."
Kaminmon hurriedly lowered his head, all the while cursing himself. As his wings flared open and he began to visualize the two gateway points of his Divine Mist, he could have sworn the computers were beeping (chuckling?) scornfully at him.
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"I'm sorry I kept you waiting," Juri said as she crossed the lawn.
"It's okay. I asked you out here. I should be the one apologizing." Jenrya ducked his head sheepishly as she joined him.
Juri sat down on the curb, flattening the material of her skirt. Jenrya wasn't at all sure where he should begin. A humorless mental chuckle. I don't think "Hey, I don't know what's happening, but you've gotta leave now" is going to work very well. His classmate toyed expectantly with the puppet, lying limp across her lap.
"So, uh, Calumon's staying with you?"
Juri looked up from the worn snout of the dog-puppet. She nodded. "Yeah. I mean, he comes and goes, but he usually comes back at the end of the day. So I guess you could say he's with me." Her questioning gaze was on him.
"That's good. Cool." Jenrya cast about for something – anything – to ease into why he was here, but his brain kept drawing a blank. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his shortly cropped blue hair, speaking up. "About that vacation you're going on…I don't mean to be nosy, but what day are you guys leaving?"
"We were going to leave in two weeks, but…" Juri trailed off. The puppet took over. It rose from her lap and turned to look up at him, giving an excited bark at Jenrya. "But Juri's dad said they're going to leave earlier, woof!"
"Why?"
The snout of the puppet scrunched. "Because Juri's dad saw the news this morning. And Juri saw lights last night!"
What was she talking about? What did lights have to do with anything? "Lights?"
"Lights, two of them, like big fireflies! Flying in zig-zag, zag-zig! Woof!" Juri made a face at the puppet. Clearly she didn't quite agree with its choice wording –the two didn't always agree, it seemed. She clapped a hand over the puppet's mouth, taking over. "I saw lights last night. They were moving in the air, like they were flying! My little brother kept saying they were UFOs who were going to suck out our brains and eat our souls. Or something." She gave a low giggle. "I don't know what they were. But my parents are getting weird about everything. So we're leaving sooner than Dad planned. In two days."
Sounds like Ryo was getting all paranoid for nothing, Jenrya thought wryly. "Are you going to take Calumon with you?"
"If he wants to, I guess I could sneak him with us," Juri paused, brushing a strand of hazel hair from her face as she glanced aside at Jenrya. "Is there something wrong?"
Jenrya shifted his position on the wall and shook his head.
"Not really. A… I guess you really can't call him a friend, but he was wondering when you were going to leave. It's really hard to explain." Oh, that's good. Jenrya, frowning slightly, tried again. "I'm not really sure how to explain this – you know how we're fighting those wild Digimon?"
Juri blinked and looked down at her puppet – she was avoiding his gaze, her expression unusually solemn. "Yeah…Takato told me."
Takato…I'm sure she's wondering where he is…
"There are more coming, I think. So I was thinking maybe it would be better for you to stay out of Tokyo for a while." Jenrya scratched the back of his head.
Juri absently nodded as the boy on the wallclumsily tried to explain himself. She didn't say anything, but she was a little glad they were leaving early – she hadn't mentioned that those lights, dazzling and haunting, had sent a chill through her. In the past, she'd always used her puppet to make light of anything, even those serious, but now she couldn't. It just didn't seem right. Jenrya and Takato, and even Ruki, they're all fighting, with their partners. What am I doing? She couldn't help feeling ashamed at her relief earlier, that she could leave. I'm doing nothing. I want to be strong like them, but…
She only smiled pleasantly as Jenrya finished the awkward explanation.
"I understand." Juri got to her feet, gathering the dog-puppet in her arms like it was crafted of egg shells. With a slight nod of her head, she turned and left, crossing the green expanse of the lawn. "Don't worry about us, we'll be okay!"
Jenrya watched his classmate leave, his mouth in a thin line. It was hard to tell what was on Juri's mind sometimes – she was (is, he reminded himself) like Takato in that aspect. At first glance, they were both happy, kind. Satisfied. But Jenrya, on the rare occasion, caught that unfamiliar expression on Takato's face when they'd been alone, when his friend hadn't thought he was looking. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He hadn't said anything, hadn't ever thought to bring it up. Jenrya let out the breath he'd been holding.
"Why, may I ask, were you so concerned about her well-being?"
Jenrya almost pitched off the wall in his surprise.
Half-hidden in the trees behind him, Renamon gazed down at the human, concealed behind the height of a particularly tall maple and the shadows it cast. She made no move to come forward, instead she remained where she was, a patch of tall sunlight captured in a graceful portrait of curves.
"I really don't know," Jenrya said. "But I figured it couldn't hurt to talk to her."
"So then this wasn't your idea."
"Nope."
Renamon reached up and leaned one arm, rippling with muscles under her flaxen coat of fur, against the tree trunk. "Whose idea was it?"
"Ryo Akiyama's," Jenrya sighed. The Tamer glanced up at the sky: a perfectly blue ceiling arced overhead, so blue and still it surprised him. Almost as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something that he couldn't see. "I don't know why. But what else is new?"
Renamon ignored the bitterness staining the human's voice. She hadn't been lurking in this area to bother with banal chit-chat and she wasn't one to beat around the bush, so she felt no particular wish to inquire how he was feeling or why. Good. He's feeling the pressure of responsibility. From her understanding, Jenrya had been suddenly thrust in the "leader" position – it would be a good way for him to grow up, she shrugged mentally. Renamon got down to business.
"We can't keep doing this, this way of 'winging' it." Her bush of a tail, glinting gold in the patch of light through the trees, swayed idly as she spoke. Although she didn't say anything, she was tense, uneasy. "Ruki says we need to come up with a plan – I agree with her. We've been wasting our time."
Jenrya's gray eyes narrowed. Were they implying that - ? But Renamon didn't say anything else, except:
"We'll be expecting you at Central Park's entrance. Perhaps Terriermon would like to come," Renamon appeared to fade backward as she spoke, her long snout lowering. "Don't make us wait."
And then she was gone.
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The problem with people was they tended to be very stupid about things. The sloppiness, the laziness and the procrastination Yamaki saw in the reports...
Incompetent idiots, he scowled, shaking his head as he frowned down at the papers. Reika told him he was far too critical of other people and that he expected too much, made impossible demands. He wouldn't know if his standards were set too high, because as far as he was concerned, it didn't matter, as long as the crews under him would do their damned jobs.
Leaving the reports on his desk, Yamaki got to his feet. His main office was private, thankfully, with a spectacular view of Shinjuku. Standing before the wide window Yamaki could see it was a clear day. Winter must be coming, he mused absently. Reached into his pocket, he silently lit a cigarette from Yayoi's lighter. It was surprising sometimes to think of how much time passed. Another year down.
A thin tendril of smoke drifted up from the cigarette, wound its way past the dark lens of his shades. Yamaki watched the people – like little ants – bustle down below, the line of cars and buses so distant they looked like toys from here.
Four years, huh? Yamaki supposed he hardened himself against the whole thing after a while, for there were times when he could only feel a cold fur, instead of the sadness he knew was more natural. But he hadn't forgotten. Behind the sunglasses, his eyes narrowed. The sun would be setting in a few hours. Days were shorter now.
And so was time. Frowning, Yamaki turned back to his desk, intending to stub out the cigarette and return to the Yuggoth deck. He hesitated, his eyes dropping to his open laptop.
Blinking away was a new email message.
The cigarette forgotten, Yamaki leaned over his desk to check out the screen. Despite his surprise, someone really was sending him an e-mail. This address was only used if it was something pressing, something important needed his immediate, personal attention, which brought up the questions on the tip of his tongue. Was this some sort of prank? Had someone broken through all the security?
It could be some sort of hoax, even a virus. But his curiosity rose as he stared at the small icon at the left hand side of the screen. If it was a virus, he was confident he could deal with it himself. He'd made it his business to be on top of that kind of self-protection. Absently stubbing out the still-burning cigarette in the ashtray, Yamaki clicked on the mail icon.
A window popped up with a text document in what looked to be English. It didn't help he wasn't at all familiar with the language and he could only make out a few characters (no, "letters", he had to remind himself) that he thought he recognized. It was only a few paragraphs long, but it might as well have been a collection of scribbles. Normally he'd throw it away, but one word caught his eye, after he'd put the scratchy "letters" together with some difficulty.
Digimon.
That got his attention.
Standing almost hesitantly at the door, Reika paused. Usually she only ventured into the upper levels if Yamaki desired her presence (and not necessarily for work, depending on his mood), and she was unsure if she should be interrupting him now. Her hand hovered over the door as her eyes stared coolly at the gleaming wood. The model's lips pursed. True, the man might be her boss, but he didn't rule over her night and day, contrary to whatever he might think. If she had an issue to bring up, she could damn well do so without permission.
Reika gave a brief knock as she pushed open the door, holding a file against her chest as the tall woman let herself in. Unsurprisingly Yamaki was busy with something, staring at something on his laptop. Reika cleared her throat, her boss glancing up at the sound.
"What is it?"
Reika readily met the eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. Standing tall, she held out the folder. "These are the new reports for the Yuggoth deck. They finished all repairs on Yuggoth." She continued without stopping as Yamaki made his way around the desk, moving in that familiar, brisk stride she knew too well. "The tech teams are working on the lower levels."
The folder was taken – there, there was the familiar twist of his finely boned hand, moving just like she predicated, with that same, fluid gesture. It never changed, the personality that subconsciously colored those movements. Reika's face was expressionless as her boss hardly spared a glance at the folder.
Yamaki's voice was droll. "News like this doesn't warrant a trip upstairs."
Reika refused to back down, even though he was using his spare-me-the-idiocy tone again. And you can spare me the crap, Yamaki, Reika thought with a touch of irritation. I'm not like the others, no matter how much you try to pretend I am. "I didn't come up here to play messenger," she replied. "But I thought you'd like to know while I'm up here."
Her boss seated himself behind his desk as she was talking, tossing the folder near the laptop and leaning back into his chair. Reika wasn't surprised he hadn't bothered to offer a seat: Yamaki wasn't anymore surprised to see his employee sit down without asking. A tie, once again. For a while, there was nothing to say, as one looked across the wooden expanse of the desk at the other. Sunlight slipped into the room through the blinds, cutting across the room.
Reika broke the silence first. "I was going to bring it up – earlier, preferably in private. This isn't work related, so I decided I might as well get it over as soon as possible."
To his credit, Yamaki's only reaction was the slightest change in his posture; he leaned back a little in his seat, but that was all. The cigarette sent up a thin wisp of smoke; Reika noted somewhere, in the back of her mind, that he seemed to be smoking a lot more often these days. His silence was gesture for her to finish up whatever she wanted to say.
"I want to know how long you want this to go on." Reika said evenly. "Because I'm starting to think maybe it's been going on too long."
Yamaki's face was impassive behind the shades. Typical of him. Yamaki Mitsuo, after all, was blind to everything that didn't have to do with Hypnos and "vanquishing" the digital menace, she thought to herself sourly. In the years she knew him, never once had he asked anything personal about her, shown any interest in her except for the things that needed to be taken care of after hours. Nor had he acknowledged her when they happened to come across each other on the streets. The man simply doesn't care -
"And what makes you think that?"
Reika blinked: she'd expected him to wave her away, indicating fine, things were finished between them. That they were done and over. That they could go their separate ways. She quickly regained her composure. "I've been thinking about it – us – for a while. I didn't apply for a job here just to have sex."
Across the desk, Yamaki made a sound that could almost be mistaken for a chuckle.
"True."
"But I'm not at your beck and call for these sorts of things. That's not my job."
"Go on."
Reika pursed her lips. Before, Yamaki hadn't displayed any concern about what she thought. But now he was looking calmly at her.
"I'm not here for these sorts of relationships. I'm here to work, to do my job." Reika shrugged. "I can understand you needing me for a few months to look for someone else. But if it's something long-term…" Another shrug. The purple-haired model said nothing more. There was simply nothing to say: Yamaki knew that she would continue to honor the terms of their "agreement" if he wanted it to continue.
"…Is that all?" Yamaki mused. Taking the cigarette from his lips, he continued. "So, basically, you want something different. And it would only be expected of me to be businesslike about this and close it, is what you're saying."
"Something along those lines."
"I'll think about it. There are some other things I need to see to," behind the sunglasses, he glanced at his laptop. "But we can discuss this – in depth – somewhere less formal."
The conference was over. Reika got up and left without another word, her stride unhurried as she left Yamaki in alone in the office. Reaching up and removing his sunglasses, he glanced down at the laptop. The screen was still glowing, the message was still where he left it open. It wouldn't be difficult to get the thing translated. But, staring down at the laptop, Yamaki didn't do anything. For a moment, it didn't really matter as much as before.
For some reason, he kept thinking back to Reika and not his work.
So she wants to make some changes. Fine, that was understandable – everyone had the potential to be bored. It was foolish of him not to foresee this little complication. He knew Reika relatively well, but now, thinking about it, not that well. Come to think of it, he didn't really know her beyond the physical things and whatever was in her profile. It wasn't that there was no way of knowing; he'd simply seen no reason to go any deeper.
Yet another thing that he was going to have to plan.
As if it wasn't hard enough keeping his eye on the monsters threatening his world, it looked like now he could look forward to something he wasn't at all prepared for: personal matters.
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Kincaid stretched, flinging her arms over her head with abandon. There was an audible pop and for a brief second she was certain her limbs were close to dislocating. It was funny at times just how fragile humans were. It was actually sort of exhilarating. Exciting to think that she was actually vulnerable. Of course, Nagamora didn't seem to share her optimism. No, the Founder was still paranoid about the whole thing – if he was to be wounded, he would prefer it to be from honorable battle, not something foolish because he simply wasn't being careful. "It," he told her before leaving for the Real World years ago, "isn't something to look forward to. I don't like this feeling of helplessness."
Oh well. At least I'm having fun.
Kincaid knelt down next to the open panel before her. Holding one hand up to keep her hair from getting into her eyes, she peered into the mess of cables. All had been mysteriously disconnected, ejected from their sockets – once again, the Juggernaut was looking after its own interests. It would keep rejecting the wiring for the breakers no matter how many times the humans tried to reconnect them. It wanted full access to the building it resided under.
She rocked back, her butt plopping softly against the tiles. It wasn't a good idea to try contacting Nagamora. The Founder was more than busy while her job wasn't that difficult and it would get even easier once the Shield was ready. Hell, I might as well resign at that point. No point in trying to conceal something when it didn't matter anymore. In a few days, she would have a lot of free time on her hands.
Kincaid blew a hearty sigh through her bangs. Sucks that Nagamora gets all the fun…
"Something wrong?"
Kincaid glanced up as Reika joined her, the taller tech seated herself in a nearby swiveling chair, her nails tapping idly on the armrest. Something bothered the human. They were so hard to read sometimes, what with their unpredictable behavior and all. But Kincaid didn't see any reason why she should go out of her way to understand them.
Kincaid gave a wave of dismissal, flapping her hand lazily.
"Nah. Bored. You?"
"Somewhat."
Right now Kincaid was in no mood for pretending to be friendly with a human. After all, there were a lot of things that she should be thinking about, such as formulating plans for the future. Trying to figure out an efficient way to get more Golems into the Real World. That sort of thing. Real work.
Reika glanced at Kincaid, frowning to herself. She had never been able to actually voice it, but there was something off about Kincaid Donovan. A vibe. Or something. Her hair was too bright, a shade of purple that wasn't natural even if it was dyed. Her eyes were too luminous, too catty, imbedded with flat shards of crystalline silver. The way she moved was strange, too, like sometimes she didn't know what to do with her arms and legs. A lot of small things, really.
Probably not enough to go running to Yamaki about.
Speaking of her boss, she had no idea what to make of her meeting with him.A place less formal, huh? Any more informal and it's in danger of becoming a date. The very idea was ridiculous. Yamaki Mitsuo simply didn't run things like that. There was probably some other ulterior motive. That, or maybe Yamaki was so paranoid he thought the walls of his office were bugged now. Maybe that was it. Although Yamaki's work was unknown to the public, he was bound to have made some enemies with that attitude of his.
But I can't be used against him.If that had been the case, Yamaki would never risk the nightly visits. She supposed she'd never understand the man completely. Sometimes she wondered why she even tried in the first place.
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"So she's leaving then?" Ryo mused thoughtfully, in the middle of shrugging out of his heavy coat. "Awesome."
Trying not to shiver in the biting breeze, Jenrya hugged himself tightly for warmth and nodded. Awesome was one way of putting it.
Ryo was waiting for him again when Jenrya came across him, leaning nonchalantly against the trunk of a withering tree and watching him approach. It was unnerving how Ryo seemed to have a knack for appearing out of nowhere like that; it was impossible to find the new student before, no matter how hard he looked around Shinjuku. But he was always there whenever Jenrya had something to say, something to report. Ryo would be waiting then. But only then.
Today Ryo was less subdued than before, the smirk hovering, as if daring the world to throw its best at him and to get it the hell over with. But things weren't that simple, and Jenrya noticed the dark spots under Ryo's eyes. Despite whatever impression Ryo tried to give, he wasn't as unconcerned as he appeared to be. There was little doubt in Jenrya's mind that Ryo hadn't slept much. I guess it makes sense when you don't know when or where you're gonna get attacked. But was that just it? Or was it something else? Ryo was pretty close-mouthed about himself.
"But I'm not sure that's going to matter if nothing's done," Ryo interjected through his thoughts.
Jenrya glanced down at Ryo. The older boy was leaning back, his arms resting along the back of the wooden bench and watching a dog bounding after its owner across the pond. The smug expression was still there. But so were the dark bags.
"I think you should come with us to meet Ruki, Ryo. She's also a Tamer. We're going to see if there's anything we can do."
"Yeah, right."
Jenrya ignored his cynical remark.
"It's safer, anyway. I mean, if what you say is true about your D-Arc, you don't have any other protection. Renamon and Terriermon will be there, so it's a lot safer than staying at home or something."
"..Sometimes I wonder why I even care any more," Ryo muttered under his breath. His voice rose as he turned his head to look at Jenrya standing next to the bench. "I'll come." He shrugged, a dry smile on his face. "Might as well get it over with before those bastards finish what they started."
Jenrya was startled at this. His mood changed like mercury and it almost sounded like Ryo was resigned to a premature death. As if…as if he had been expecting it for a while, as if he was laughing darkly at the whole thing. Did he know that if he came to me they – whoever they are – would come after him? Jenrya had been wondering that for a while. From what little he knew of Ryo, the older kid simply didn't take risks that weren't necessary. And he already knew he was a potential target, from the sounds of it. Jenrya glanced aside at him. Ryo was looking away again as leaves rasped and fluttered from the tree above, his profile grim.
A sudden thought. Maybe he isn't here only to help us. It could be something else.
What are you waiting for?
"You'll be safer with us," Jenrya said quietly. "Terriermon and I can handle whatever those things were."
"I'm sure you two can."
"Then what's with the attitude?" Jenrya was surprised to find himself snapping in annoyance.
Ryo waved the outburst away. He wasn't impressed. "Just thinking you're wasting your time protecting me." All too true. Jenrya was being far too optimistic about the whole thing. Decidedly pessimistic, Ryo considered himself to be the exact opposite: a realist. By seeing all the things that could go wrong meant he was better prepared than if he turned a blind eye to it all. "Anyway, I agreed to doing what I can. Where should I be meeting you?"
Jenrya was taken aback at this sudden change.
"I guess two hours from now. Here. I'll take you to the meeting place."
"Fine."
Ryo didn't watch Jenrya leave. Sitting back against the back of the bench, he closed his eyes. The dry whispers of leaves against each other, drifting down in spirals, in a gentle snow of orange, brown and reds. Even through his closed lids he could see a muted glow from the fall daylight. This would probably be the last time he would be able to sit and enjoy the most simple of things; he doubted he would have another chance. Hard to do that when you were either dead or running for your life. Again. Ryo opened his eyes, his mouth tightening into a line.
It wasn't exactly something he looked forward to.
He leaned his head back, tilting until he could watch the endless expanse of sky above. A pure blue greeted him through the branches overhead. The Digital World's sky had been so different – there had been something just artificial about it, fake. As if it was trying to be something it simply wasn't. Ever since he'd stumbled back into the Real World, into Japan again, he'd become so much aware of how alive everything was here. Not like the Digital World. Dangerous as that place was, it was still run, in the end, by zeros and ones.
Still, it was embarrassing to think he was gonna get killed by a bunch of lousy numbers. Totally stupid.
Ryo's expression didn't change to follow his thoughts; he'd become so accustomed to the laid-back mask, to the easy-going smirk. His face was composed as his thoughts took an all-too familiar turn. He's probably going to be appearing soon. There wasn't a doubt mind they'd run into each other. Just a fact of life. Probably still thinks I need to be "defeated". Or whatever. It was only a matter of time. I'd rather deal with him than with whatever the hell those things were earlier.
He'd be damned if he wasn't the one laughing when he (eventually) got killed. A bitter smile. Times really changed. I never thought this stuff a few years ago. Never thought I was gonna die. But the choice he'd been presented then changed everything. Making his way along the path winding along the man-made pond, Ryo wondered just whatever possessed him to go to the Digital World that day, so long ago. A glance up at the sky.
The memory of wandering, bleeding and dazed, was still burned into him. He'd wandered, somehow, back to Tokyo, back to where it started for him. And maybe where it's going to end. Maybe I wasn't ever meant for this.
That was a thought. There were the new "Tamers" (he supposed he could've been categorized as one, once upon a time) after all. Their Digimon were reasonably strong, and, observing them, they weren't showing any signs of going feral on their partners. He would've recognized the indicators. Ryo would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous they got off better than he did. Fishing into his pocket, Ryo pulled out his D-Arc and ran his fingers over the smooth midnight-blue casing. Most of the functions wouldn't work without a partner. He didn't understand why he didn't throw it away. It was just another reminder of the Digital World, he told himself with distaste as he got up to walk.
Why keep the thing? By all rights, it should be easy to chuck it into the nearest trash can and get rid of the thing, and, consequently, the memories it carried.
But…it still meant something to him, even now. Maybe one day he could toss it. But not now.
Maybe not ever.
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"I'm going out!" Ruki announced.
Ruki's grandmother came shuffling up behind her in her old slippers as her granddaughter started lacing up her shoes. Ruki was well aware of the older woman's stare, but kept her eyes forward. Finishing her first sneaker, she went to work on the next, eyes on the ground. Something was on her Seiko's mind and she had no urge to find out just what it was. She began pulling her shoulder-length hair into a tight ponytail.
Getting to her feet, Ruki straightened her windbreaker and zipped up. Even as she did this, her grandmother's eyes were on her.
Seiko sighed, her worn face still settled in a perturbed expression. "When are you coming back?" She looked outside. "It's too cold to be going out."
"I'm okay. I'm bringing my jacket, see?"
"You could catch a cold. It's too cold."
Ruki shrugged. Getting sick was really the least of her worries, looking at the big picture and everything. "I'll be fine, Grandmother. I'm not going to be out long. I'll be back soon."
Ruki gave a quick wave as she trotted down the dark path, making her way from the lit house toward the gates. They were shut, and she had to struggle to pry it open just enough so she could slip through. Ever since that news report from the other day, her grandmother had become almost paranoid, locking the windows, doors and gates whenever they were alone. Seiko was worried about the mysterious death – Ruki could tell just by watching her grandmother. It bothered Seiko, the idea a person – in perfectly good health – could drop down dead.
The wind from earlier picked up as the Tamer wheeled her bicycle out onto the narrow street. Pausing at an intersection, she rode right, following the sidewalk. It would take at least a while before she reached the meeting place. Her violet eyes, focused ahead of her handlebars, narrowed. Would Takato dare to make an appearance? After last time? I'd like to see him try.She wouldn't have any qualms about kicking the living snot out of him. Of course Jenrya would intervene before she got very far. Pacifist.
As for the new guy, Ruki had yet to meet this Ryo kid, so she couldn't pass any judgment. Something about his name seemed familiar...
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Jenrya found Ryo waiting where he'd promised he would, hands shoved in the pockets of his black overcoat. The taller boy looked up at the sound of Jenrya's footsteps.
"Let's go."
Dry leaves and debris skittered across their feet as they set off toward the park. Jenrya planned to lead the way, but it looked like it wouldn't be necessary. Almost as if in a daze, Ryo picked his way down the emptying streets, face uncharacteristically pale. Terriermon and his Tamer exchanged looks. There was something on the older boy's mind. Jenrya was dying to know what it was. Maybe it would answer the questions he still had. But he kept his mouth shut. Now wasn't the time.
This whole mess is what I should be thinking about. He wasn't a leader, he had never made himself out to be one. Frankly, he hated the responsibility. We gotta think up something. I have to figure out a way to keep Ryo protected from those things. And we have to find Guilmon.
No. He was going about this all wrong. Jenrya had to be calm, efficient about this. Get organized instead of flailing about blindly for a solution.
Problem One: Ryo Akiyama.
What he did know: Ryo had a D-Arc, but no apparent Digimon. The D-Arc's presence indicated was a Tamer, just like Takato, Ruki and Jenrya, some time earlier. Ryo had also been in the Digital World. Apparently he knew something or had done something to draw the attackers. Besides the D-Arc, Ryo had little to no protection. The attacks would come again. The attacks were intended to either kill or maim; probably kill.
What he didn't know: what Ryo did in the Digital World. How long he was there. What happened there. Who is/was his Digimon and where is s/he now. Just how far Ryo's knowledge went.
Solution: None so far. It wasn't a good idea for Terriermon to trail Ryo (he couldn't digivolve unless Jenrya was there). And Ryo himself struck Jenrya as somewhat unstable (the random mood-shifts), chances were he might decide he didn't want to be "stalked" all the time by either Jenrya or Terriermon, even if it was for his own safety. Ryo had to be protected, but just how, he wasn't sure.
Problem Two: Takato Matsuda.
What he did know: Takato hadn't run away in the middle of the night over a week ago. Takato didn't have his cards or his goggles. He did have his D-Arc and assaulted Ruki to get it. He somehow knew she had it. Takato could be assumed to be hostile (much as Jenrya disagreed with this idea). Takato was still alive and had been prepared for a battle when he had disappeared. There was the chance there was someone/something acting as some kinda fake.
What he didn't know: Why Takato disappeared. Where he had gone to then. What he planned to do with his D-Arc. How he knew Greymon was coming (according to Ruki's words). Where he was now. What had happened when Guilmon disappeared. Just what Ryo wanted to talk to him about. Who, if anyone, was parading about in Takato's likeness.
Solution: Again, nothing. There was no way of finding Takato – Shinjuku's area was too large to cover. And with Guilmon missing, they wouldn't have even a chance of picking up an old scent, a hint. The only choice was to wait, hope he reappeared again.
Problem Three: Unspecified Threat
What he did know: Something was going to happen. Something big, according to what Ryo hinted at. Something that could be end-of-Tokyo-big. Probably more wild Digimon would start appearing, in greater numbers, each more powerful than the next. The Tamers, as they were now, were most likely going to be too weak to deal with it. Something would have to change. People would die. Pretty much a given according to Ryo.
What he didn't know: What exactly was going to happen. Just how soon. Would it be world-wide? How was Ryo planning to attempt to avert this (assuming he'd come to do so)? Was that option still available?
Solution: Try to find more about it from Ryo. That...was about it.
Put like that, they were off to a stupidly depressing start.
Jenrya stared at Ryo's back. At least he was on their side - that he did know. Riding on his shoulder, Terriermon was quiet. He's probably thinking. Jenrya could only imagine what about.
It was weird to think he actually had a bond with the Digimon. Jenrya never thought their relationship anything special – well, besides the obvious – but it sounded like whatever linking him and Terriermon was something different than "just" the normal ties of being pals. Was it fate? He chose Terriermon, when he'd first used him in the game. And Terriermon, in a different sense, chose him. Simple as that. Similar things had happened between Renamon and Ruki, Guilmon and Takato.
But not with Ryo. If there'd been a bond, it was gone or...something.
Jenrya quickened his pace, silently overtaking Ryo. Terriermon said nothing, his dark eyes scanning the area. The three crossed an empty boulevard: Jenrya, anticipating the still-shattered street-lamps, had brought a flash-light, and flicked it on. Parts of Shinjuku were already recovered from the power surge, but enough was still in the dark that he came prepared anyway.
Jenrya, now in the lead, slowed his step as they neared Central Park, a slight frown on his face. Something wasn't right. It was really a vague feeling, nothing that screamed of danger. Just…something off. Ryo slowed as well, his face darkening. So the older boy noticed it too. Terriermon tugged lightly on a clump of blue hair.
"I think there was a digital field here recently."
Jenrya nodded. Maybe Ruki was already here; if so, she might've already taken care of it and this was only the residue. Or maybe not. Coming strolling in through the front suddenly didn't seem very smart. Best to come in from the side. Jenrya motioned for Ryo to follow him along the wall. The three moved quickly now. There was a side entrance around here. Passing under a lone street-lamp, he flicked his flashlight off. They were close enough and there was no point in broadcasting their presence any further.
Ryo spoke up, neutral. "Just a suggestion, but once we meet this Ruki, I think it'd be a good idea to find somewhere else to have a group huddle."
Jenrya glanced back at him. In the darkness, he couldn't see the other's face very well, only an outline.
Who knew what might else be appearing around the area? Keeping that word of advice mentally filed, Jenrya continued forward, one hand on the wall. They were approaching a corner of the wall, just around it should be the side gate. The lights over there had been replaced, making it easier for him to see. He went more confidentially now, his gray eyes adjusting. On his head, Terriermon shifted his weight, claws wound lightly in his blue hair to keep his balance. Behind him, Ryo was moving silently.
Terriermon lifted his head, his snout working. The uneasy feeling returned: there was something else out there. It was close, but he couldn't tell what it was, not with the fresh remnants of the digital field wrecking havoc on his senses. Jenrya himself was too distracted to notice, his thoughts only on the meeting ahead. He rounded the corner blindly.
And came face to face with Takato Matsuda.
Wide gray eyes met equally startled blue ones. Terriermon gasped, his claws tugging sharply at Jenrya's hair as he spotted the other Tamer and the hulking forms beyond the boy's shoulders. Behind them, Ryo started to reach instinctively for his D-Arc, his black gaze going right past Takato and locking onto the three Digimon beyond the cone of light. This wasn't good. They were severely outnumbered.
Jenrya stared, at a complete loss of words. Takato?
The other boy quickly regained his composure, face darkening with hostility. Behind him, the three Ogremon rumbled threateningly, clubs scraping against the ground, unsure of how to react, Takato glanced at the little group before him. Jenrya took a step forward, half-pleading. Just what in the world was going on? For a brief moment, their eyes met again.
A haughty smile. One that held no recognition at all. Only disdainful arrogance.
Takato suddenly burst into motion, lunging at Jenrya far faster than he would've believed possible for his friend, much less any human being. He was too shocked to move.
"Jenrya!"
To be continued…
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Edit: Pared down the author babble.