A/N: Hey, kits! Welcome back! Thanks so much for your support last chapter. There were so many insightful reviews and it was really helpful discussing things with several of you.
I'm sorry this chapter is so late. I stressed over it trying to make good on my promise to end Act I this chapter. Surprise, surprise - it's not happening! We have to stretch this story into chapter 22. I'm sorry. It's hard, even after all these years, to get a realistic picture of how lengthy a scene will be in a fic compared to the anime. In the anime this would be like, half an episode. I also shot myself in the foot way back in like, chapter thirteen, when I did stuff with Yamato I wasn't planning to do, and now I'm trying to make up what I left out.
But we can finish in chapter 22. Because I was trying so hard to fit everything in this chapter, I've got a good idea of what's left, and so it might even be on the short side. Which will hopefully also mean a much swifter update. I'll shoot for a new record.
And now... enjoy!
Chapter Twenty-One
Ruptures Part I
"And what does anyone know about traitors, or why Judas did what he did?"
- Jean Rhys, Wide Sargasso Sea
Along the digital plane, a storm was brewing. Mobile darkness churned and rumbled, great black thunderheads coiled and wove spewing lightning that danced over the nebulous tide. Someone walked an unseen path, stoking the fire, bare hands and feet exposed to the ash and burnt earth. He paused to wipe his palms on his jeans.
Funneling smoke roiled above, guiding the way to a vast, ink black sea. The red flames had grown weaker still. Humbled to naught but embers. Dying.
Meanwhile things stirred in the maritime world, the underwater king, his cursed disciples.
The exiled devil who sometimes followed the walker with his predatory eyes.
Those who had been consigned here, their conscious mind fractured, disseminated, empty but for the desire to go over the Wall. Back to the world that had expunged their cancer.
Hellish howls rose from the pitch beyond his beaten path. And finally, after all this time, he'd begun to feel anxious himself. To notice the frayed hem of his shirt, the bruises, the discoloration in his nails. To feel weary.
He sat down where he was. A voiceless blockade. His shadow cast the sea in eternal darkness.
But he smiled.
The sun had grown enormous.
08.26.2006
SAT
Children,
Come at once. All of you.
– Gennai
"It says 'all of you.'"
"I am certain we can infer he means 'all of you who can come without getting stuck here forever. Or even dying'."
"I won't die. Besides, if there's a battle ahead, your neck's as much at risk as mine is. And right now we're wasting time."
"Taichi, you are not coming!"
Feet planted wide apart, arms akimbo, Sora stood glaring daggers at Taichi as he stood his ground. In a contest of wills, Taichi thought he had the advantage, but Sora never was one to allow an easy victory. (Countless rounds of Super Smash Bros. in the living room with her had taught him that ages ago. He still couldn't look at Samus without flinching.)
Plus, she wasn't alone. The others had made it clear on which side they stood in this matter, gathering around her in a defensive wall in front of Koushirou, the solitary sentinel of the digital gate.
It was a cute little blockade, Taichi thought with an appraising glance at each face down the line. Sora's and his sister's were the hardest to withstand. The desperate plea behind their frowns might have been his undoing, but then he thought again of what it would be like if he stayed behind – alone at the camp, babysitting their mess kits and sleeping bags, suffocating more each minute that passed without word from his friends. And if they broke contact completely, he had no way to reach them on his own with an outdated digivice.
If the worst should happen, he wanted to be there. Like a sea captain, he would go down with his ship.
"Listen to me. I. Am. Coming. You'll have to tie me down like Gulliver if you want me to stay. Capisce?"
Sora looked moments short of livid. "No, no capisce. If you'd just think about the future for one second – you might never see your family again, Taichi. Never graduate high school, never get married –"
"None of us are gonna do any of those things if we don't fix whatever's making the last of Gennai's whiskers fall out."
And that was that. They could outline worst case scenarios all they wanted, but Taichi couldn't afford to think that far in the future. It tripped him up, it… crowded out the here and now.
Turning away from his speechless friends, he went to the fire pit where the neglected pancake batter was sizzling away. He picked up the spatula and flipped it over. Burnt. Oh well. Agumon would still eat it.
Once it became clear that Taichi had every intention of ignoring them in favor of scowling at the spatula as if it had insulted his mother, the others returned to their own breakfasts. They ate in uncharacteristic silence. It was as if a sullen cloud had settled over the campsite, thrown into stark relief by the perky glint off the lake. Taichi felt Sora's glare boring a hole in his back, but he refused to acknowledge her. Even though he knew that it was childish, that she had a very valid point –
– damn, and so much for his second pancake.
The breakfast of champions, he thought with a slump of his shoulders, and passed the blackened pancake into Agumon's eager and undiscriminating claws.
Hiroaki watched as they got ready to dive into Digiworld. "Guess I'll hold down the fort till you all come back," he said. He was one of the few parents who not only knew about their connection with the other world, but also supported them whenever they needed it.
"Thanks," Taichi replied. "Sorry to dash off and leave you in the lurch."
"You got your stuff, I got mine. Can't say I understand much about yours," he reached over to muss Takeru's hair, "but I don't want to be that parent who panics in a crisis while their kid stays calm."
"Dad." Takeru made an embarrassed noise.
"Takeru's a pretty calm guy," Taichi remarked. "We count on him for that."
Red-eared, Takeru mumbled something self-effacing, but still a smile forced its way out.
"Just make sure he comes home in one piece," Hiroaki added, cuffing his son playfully, and Taichi left them to themselves as he tried to decide what to do about Hiroaki's other son.
Their plan had seemed like a good one on the phone. Digiworld came first, band second. No matter what that may mean. It had sounded so good, until Taichi finally thought about why he'd been hesitant to accept Yamato's answer when he called.
Because it's Jitou Taka-whatever. Because you know how important that gig is to him. Even if he's got cold feet now, he'll regret not snapping up this chance.
Most of all, he thought about why he hadn't let himself think about this up till now.
Because you are going to be the reason he misses out. Again.
But Gennai had said "all of you." So.
He was still staring at his phone helplessly, willing it to somehow make the decision for him, when Koushirou approached. Stick legs and ruddy knees exposed below his shorts, he looked more like a middle school kid on a field trip than a seventeen-year-old.
He stamped his feet in the grass as he paused in front of Taichi. "Did you call Yamato-san?"
"Not yet."
Koushirou was silent a moment, which was just enough time for Taichi's conflicted thoughts to turn even more bitter.
"Gennai hasn't sent any more messages, except the coordinates for our landing," the whiz kid started in. Taichi felt the muscles in his shoulders loosen. This he could do. Talk about the mission, go over the facts, make connections. No unwieldy emotions required. "But there's definitely something strange going on over there. I tried to pull up a topographical map but it's all distorted. Gennai's sending us to his place – it's one of the only unaffected areas on the map."
Taichi frowned. "Where are the others?"
"Um." Koushirou turned his PC around so Taichi could see the screen. The image was warped almost beyond recognition – colors blending together, mountains running through plains like stripes of molasses. Only a few bright spots stood out as normal. "Here, the temple, that's all right. Gennai's safe houses too. Myotismon's old castle. And there's one out in the middle of the ocean, for some reason."
"What the heck does it mean? Digiworld's not literally being digested or something, is it? Are we dealing with another Spiral Mountain?"
Tucking the PC under his arm, Koushirou shook his head. "We won't know until we get there. And we should get there –"
"ASAP, I know."
At least Koushirou wasn't giving him a hard time about his going to Digiworld with them. Taichi grinned and patted his friend's shoulder. "Get your rear in gear then, pal. I was born ready."
"I never doubted it." Koushirou glanced to the side. "Taichi-san…"
"Mm?"
"If you don't want to contact Yamato-san, you know, we can dive in and check things out first. See if we really need him. It can't make much of a difference. We have to go there anyway to pick him up through the Gate."
The grin died a little. "Oh. That's true."
Koushirou shrugged. "It's your call."
They plodded up the slope together, to where the others were gathered at the picnic table. While they walked, Taichi opened his phone and started a text message.
"Everyone ready?" Daisuke hollered, as if there were a hundred of them instead of eleven (plus Digimon).
Miyako shoved him out of the way to brandish her D3. "Digiport, open!"
Taichi was still hunched over his phone as the Gate booted up. He bit the inside of his lip, a finger hovering over the keypad.
And hit Send just as they were engulfed in a flash of light.
FROM: Yagami Taichi
TO: Ishida Yamato
MSG: So, that thing we talked about this morning. Moment of truth, bro. Right now it's looking kind of Not Good and we may need Omnimon. Sorry.
Text me back so I know you saw this.
"Cough, cough. The air – cough – poison!"
"Run!" Taichi barked, picking up Miyako, the slowest, and carrying her through the cloud of purplish gas they'd fallen right into. These are the coordinates Gennai sent? That old geezer had a bizarre definition of "safe."
There was no way to know how far the poisonous cloud stretched. The computer might help, but Koushirou was choking as much as the rest of them. The expanse of forest where they'd landed was all but obscured. So Taichi yelled again for everyone to run and, deciding South was as good a direction as any, took off that way. It was a downhill race, dodging trees and ditches. He could hear coughing behind him, which meant at least a few of the others had followed. Good, at least they'd be together when they died in agony.
Acrid fumes crackled in his lungs. Vaguely he registered Agumon on his left, Gabumon on his right, making noises he'd never heard before, as if every movement pained them. Taichi felt a tingle skitter up his legs, like the prick of numbness setting in.
But he still had legs, even if at the moment they felt about as sturdy as pillars of pudding, and as long as he had legs he would run.
Then his foot struck something hard and boulder-like. Iron will or no, gravity would have its way, and he went hurdling over it head-first. Miyako let out an oof as they came crashing down on the other side.
Slowly his hold slackened, letting her limp body fold into the grass. She'd passed out, but after a moment he saw the gentle rise and fall of her chest. His head spun, she was alive, he hadn't taken her to her death, not yet at least, but where the hell were they?
Gripping a ridge in the boulder, he levered himself up, blinking hard. All was grayish-purple. He groped along the side until his fingers tripped over something decidedly un-boulder-like – smooth and polished – a kind of metal casing, like the armor on a motorbike. As he curved along the span of it, a warm, wet gust tickled his palm. Like a… breath.
That's no boulder, Taichi's pain-slowed brain managed to process. What other hints did he have? Armor, and below it, thick, creased, leathery hide… Monochromon. Whatever this poison was, it had taken out a full-grown Monochromon.
"A… gu…"
From somewhere behind the fallen Monochromon came a reedy, distressed whine from his partner: "Taichiiii!"
Suddenly his arms felt too heavy to lift. With darkness rimming his vision, Taichi's legs crumpled beneath him as he slid down the Monochromon's plated back, onto the earth. Shit. He didn't even know who among the others had followed him. He was going to have to round them up again. Perfect. Wonderful. Another wild goose chase through Digiworld. What was he, some kind of sheepdog?
And after that he didn't think anymore.
Everything, everything hurt.
How long he lay there in the grass he didn't know. By the time the paralysis set, he was beyond caring. So when a pair of arms hooked under his legs and shoulders, hoisting him up, he didn't care that he was being carried like a child, pressed close to someone's chest. Despite his burden, the man – or Digimon, whatever – ran at an inhuman pace, and Taichi didn't care about that either.
But as they passed through a brush, he caught a flash of red hair.
Sora.
His savior didn't pause, bounding down the incline.
No, wait. Sora. We have to get her too. She was with me, we have to get her.
Tapping into some reserve he didn't know he had, Taichi banged his fists against the man's chest to get his attention. All that got him was one wrist trapped in the other's hand; they marched on.
No. She was with me. She followed me. I'm not leaving her!
His foot swung up in a wild arch that slammed into the man's temple. Taichi felt him stumble and took the chance to throw himself bodily to the ground, where he got a mouthful of dirt for his troubles, and his legs still refused to work. So he dug his fingers into clumps of earth and dragged his body forward like a sluggish appendage.
But the arms were back before he could slide far enough to figure out where Sora had landed. This time he put up a struggle from the outset, bucking and thrashing to the point that the other couldn't lift him without getting another bruise. Though judging by his persistence, he didn't seem much bothered by the thought of looking like a potato.
Finally Taichi found his voice. "Not –" he panted through a bout of nausea, "– without – them!" And pointed back in the direction they came (he thought so, at least. He'd gotten all turned around, do-si-doing with his very determined rescuer).
The man paused for a beat, as if surprised to hear Taichi's voice. Then he leaned in so they were almost nose-to-nose. Taichi saw that his eyes were an icy blue. "They're fine," he said, in a familiar voice Taichi couldn't quite place. "The paralysis will reach your lungs if we don't get out of here fast, so do yourself a favor and stop fighting me."
"Sora –"
"They're all fine."
"Prove it." Although he was in no position to demand anything. This guy could decide he was too much trouble to save and dump him right here. You are one genuine idiot, Yagami. He let his chin jut out.
The man sighed. Then he straightened in a flurry of long robes and called out to someone. Flat on his back with the sky spiraling above, Taichi felt more than heard the lumbering footsteps of a figure coming to join them. A warty green hand took hold of his collar and lifted him up.
"You might be a little taller now, but you're just as stupid," said the spindly creature, who resembled nothing so much as an underfed Incredible Hulk in dire need of braces.
'Ogremon! What a sight for sore eyes,' Taichi wanted to retort with dripping sarcasm, but between the poison in the air and the putrid odor that followed Ogremon wherever he went, he coughed instead. He settled for squinting in a threatening manner.
The goblin scratched his head. "Uh, bit your tongue or somethin'? Anyway, look here, dumbo. On my shoulders."
There were two pairs of legs dangling over Ogremon's arms like sacks of rice, and a third in the crook of his elbow. From this angle it was hard to tell who the legs belonged to, but after mulling on it Taichi remembered that Sora was the only one wearing jean shorts today. Those black-and-lime sneakers lolling near Ogremon's waist had to be Koushirou's. And the boots hanging over his other arm – Miyako's.
Ogremon let Taichi down and gave the seat of Sora's jeans a pat. "See? I got 'em. So clam up before I box you in the mouth. What? It'd be quieter," he protested when his associate glared at him.
Making a mental vow never to tell Sora she'd been goosed by Ogremon, Taichi squirmed onto his elbows. The man's hand was at his back in an instant, helping him to sit. Grateful though he was to see his friends had been recovered, they were still short a few.
"P-Partners. Agumon – was with us. Also – Gabum-mon."
"Don't worry, Taichi-han! Leave them to us!"
"T-Tentomon?" He craned his neck around. Out of the mist came Tentomon with the unconscious Agumon gripped in his legs.
"Biyomon and Hawkmon took Gabumon in the sky," Tentomon explained.
"Alright," said the blue-eyed man. "Now we're going."
This time Taichi didn't resist as he was again scooped up and carted through the haze, which thinned as they reached the bottom of the hill. The man wove through the woods as if in a pinball machine, kicking off tree trunks for momentum. Eventually Taichi realized he was half-flying, the soles of his soft shoes brushing the ground only every so often.
Darkness softened the edge of his vision. But he had to… it didn't matter. His body couldn't handle any more.
"I have to," he hiccuped, as his chin hit his chest. "I have to –"
"Shh," the man soothed. "You've done what you had to do. I'll protect them now."
Any last words died on his lips as consciousness finally slipped away.
FROM: Ishida Yamato
TO: Yagami Taichi
MSG: Tried your cell. Pick up, brainless. I'm at rehearsal for tonight. CALL me, don't text, I won't hear it. Yutaka's drunk on the balcony belting out "girls just wanna have fun" and I am wondering how difficult it would be to murder someone with a guitar pick.
A hand was shaking her.
"Hikari-chan? You okay?"
She wasn't sure who it belonged to. A boy, that much was certain. Her brother didn't call her "chan." She didn't think the voice was deep enough to be Jou. And it was too energetic for Koushirou or Ken, or even Iori.
Takeru-kun…?
"Paging Yagami Hikari! Yagami Hikari, come in! I'm gonna go through your dresser and tell everyone about your Tigger-print underwear unless you open your eyes right now!"
"Daisuke-kun," Hikari muttered.
"Yippee, you're awake!" Daisuke crowed. He made a move as if to hug her, then winced and his hand went to his injured ribs instead. "It was a close thing, but don't worry, I won't tell anyone you've got stuffed tigers kissing your butt."
"Whatever I've got in my drawers can't be as humiliating as what you've got in yours," she countered.
She made a tentative attempt to stand, digging her short-clipped nails into the bark of a tree as her legs wobbled. Daisuke rose with her, also on unsteady legs.
"Stop sexually harassing me," he pouted.
"You're the one talking about butts."
They stuck out their tongues amicably. It was a relief not to be alone when she came to. Her memory of the past few minutes (had it only been minutes? How long was she out for?) was muddled. She remembered the call to run, and fixating on the thought that they couldn't get separated, had to stay together. So she'd grabbed the nearest person, who happened to be Daisuke, and lunged through the brush with him, wide-legged like an Olympic hurdler. They'd supported each other best they could as they scrambled to find fresh air, the knobs of their shoulders jostling.
"How did we get here?" she asked.
"We fell in a foxhole," Daisuke said. "Look up."
She did. And gasped. The purplish fog now stretched above them, a ceiling of unnatural clouds. If Daisuke were any taller, his head would be in the thick of the haze.
"Lucky, ain't we?" he laughed. "I mean, we're trapped here, but still. Score one for my lucky rabbit foot."
"Daisuke-kun." Hikari's hands rose to her cheeks. "Where are the Digimon?"
"Dunno." There was a chunk of rock protruding from the earthen wall. He took hold of it, a wrinkle in his brow. "They weren't here when I woke up. I tried shouting, but no one answered."
Panic seized her. "Gatomon! Gatomon! Answer me! Hold on, I'm coming for you!"
"What, no you're not!" Daisuke grabbed her as she made to climb the sheer slope.
"I have to find her!"
"Hikari-chan, think for a sec! What'll you do up there? Hack up a vital internal organ and die? How will that help Gatomon?"
"She's the one who could die!" The tears came too swiftly, encouraged by the stress of the poison on her system. "We can't just wait around doing nothing!"
"Sheesh. You and Taichi-san are definitely related." That quieted her for a moment. "Listen, I want to go back and find Veemon too. But we can't, because that'd be stupid as hell. We'll just have to believe they're okay. Now, let's do what we can do and try to reach the others."
Numbly, she nodded and sat down with him. He was right, of course. Miserable as it made her to admit it. But running off into danger with no plan, no back-up, was an amateur mistake. A fool's errand.
Besides, they'd survived. Surely at least some of the others (she hoped all) made it through as well. And Taichi wouldn't stop looking for them. He'd bring them back together, like he always did. She just had to do her part, which was to stay calm, and let him know where she was.
"You know, it's usually you doing the hot-headed thing, and me trying to cool you down."
A corner of Daisuke's mouth curved upward. "Yeah, noticed that. What's with this switcheroo we're doing? I don't like it."
"I do. You're pretty responsible."
"Now you're freaking me out. Come on, help me. I can't figure out where Sora-san is in my contacts. I had her listed as 'Ginger McGonagall' but I think I spelled it wrong."
"… Daisuke-kun. Oh my God."
"What? It fits."
Elsewhere
Iori felt trapped between a rock and hard place, so to speak. Behind him was the poison cloud, unfurling towards the mountains, winding through the tree branches. His chest was still sore from gagging on toxins. Armadillomon on his back weighed him down, but at least sensation had returned to his legs.
On the other hand, in front of him was a simmering lovers' quarrel. Despite the fact that those involved were not, to his knowledge, lovers. Which almost made him want to dart back into the noxious woods. He might even have tried, if he hadn't been hurtling downstream via fish canoe.
"Gomamon, no offense, but this is not what I'd call smooth sailing!" Mimi was shouting between sputters as river water splashed in her face.
Jou yelled back in her general direction. His glasses were drenched. "Give him a break, he's doing the best he can!"
"I just meant could he slow them down a bit! It's like riding Splash Mountain!"
"Well, sorry! Next time I'll hunt down a swan boat and you can sit on top while I do all the pedaling!"
"Your attitude is not helping!"
Iori sighed. How did he get himself into these things? He should have gone with Takeru. That would have made the most sense, and at least they'd be able to Jogress in a pinch. But no, he'd had to run after Jou, just because his impressive height meant he rose above the masses like Chichen Itza. Iori was pretty sure Takeru had been with them at first, but he disappeared once they reached the river.
Now he was wet, smelled like fish, and doomed to listen to Jou and Mimi screech at each other every time they hit a bend in the river.
"If you'd let me go to the store last night to get the oatmeal, I could have picked up an inflatable raft!"
"Last night we didn't know we'd need one! Don't try to make this my fault!"
"Why do you always have to read into things!"
Yes, Iori sighed, again. He definitely should have taken his chances with the poison.
Another elsewhere
The first thing Sora saw when she awoke was Koushirou's face, off-color and taut in a grimace, very close to her own. He was still out, and as she rolled on her back to glance at her surroundings, Tentomon descended on her from above.
"Sora-han! You're alright?"
Sora blinked a few times. A blanket fell off her shoulders. "Yeah, I think so."
"Thank goodness. I was getting worried because you've all been asleep so long."
"All?" She looked again at Koushirou, then noticed Miyako on his other side, just as dead to the world. The room they were in seemed like a private library, dark and dusty, a stale tinge of mold in the air. It was also incredibly cramped; Sora's body was bent accordion-like against a bookcase, and Miyako's legs were thrown across Koushirou's torso.
Behind her was a rich mahogany desk of the sort the took up an entire wall, and someone was sitting at it, a youngish man in a long beige robe. Sitting up cautiously, Sora turned to Tentomon, but he only shrugged. He was the only Digimon with them, she realized, getting frantic as she recalled just where they'd been when she lost track of Biyomon. The poison – what if she'd –
"Your partner is safe," said the man at the desk.
Sora jumped.
"She and Hawkmon carried Gabumon over the gas," he went on without looking at her, intent on whatever he was doing. "They're on their way here."
"What is this place?" Sora ventured, still wary.
Tentomon answered first. "I've never seen this room before, but it seems we're at Gennai's house."
Gennai's house. The tight ball of anxiety in her chest uncoiled at last. They were safe then. The three of them, anyway.
She looked again at her sleeping friends and reached out to tuck a strand of Miyako's hair behind her ear. As her arm moved, Koushirou began to stir.
"Good morning," she whispered as he mimicked her by rolling on his back.
"Koushirou-han!" Tentomon whizzed into his arms.
Mechanically, Koushirou held up his palm to answer the tap of Tentomon's antennae. Then his bleary gaze fell on the robed figure. "What happened out there, Gennai?" he rasped.
"Gennai?" Sora echoed in surprise. How had she missed it before? Aside from the fact that she'd been expecting a wrinkled old man.
But it was him, in full Ben Kenobi get-up, down to the last freckle an exact copy of his Boris incarnation she'd met in Russia. It unnerved her a bit to see him in this form. He looked so… human.
"I'll explain in a minute. Sora, would you help me?" Gennai pushed back his chair and inched along the desk as best he could in the limited space. Pinched in his hand was a clear vial, no thicker than a finger, partway filled with a sparkling fluid.
Miyako made a garbled noise as Sora tried not to trip over her as she went to Gennai's side. Standing now, Gennai leaned over a large, blanketed bundle slumped below the desk. He tugged off the blanket to reveal a brown face and hair that stuck out every which way.
"Taichi!" With a cry, Sora tried to go to him, but Gennai threw out his arm to stop her.
"He overtaxed himself coming here. Then he prevented me getting him away from the distortion until he made sure you were all taken care of. I'm afraid the damage is more than I can fix. Watch."
He lifted Taichi's lower arm. For a second it lay there, a teenage boy's arm, dirt on the elbow and under the nails. Then, like the power cut from a TV, it shuddered and vanished from the wrist down.
Sora looked at Gennai. The set of his brow was severe. Koushirou had joined them by now with Miyako, groggy and enveloped in her blanket. Both turned to Gennai with identical looks of horror.
"That shouldn't happen in Digiworld," Koushirou remarked with a slow inhale.
"Does this mean he's getting worse?" Sora asked. Which was a ridiculous question. Of course he was getting worse. Just look at him…
"Well, I mean, it really shouldn't happen when he's already in Digiworld," Koushirou went on, the low light flickering in his black eyes. "If he's becoming digital in our world, then in Digiworld he should be fine. At least that's how I've understood all this so far. I may be wrong."
Once again, all eyes turned to Gennai.
"You're not wrong," said their mentor. "But because of his condition, he's more susceptible than the rest of you to the distortion outside."
"What distortion?" Miyako asked. "That gas, you mean?"
"Yes. It is the result of a blending of worlds. Corruption is leaking into the digital world from beyond the Wall."
"What!?"
"How?"
"It was quite an accident." Shifting Taichi so he was face-up, Gennai held the glimmering vial close to his lips. "Sora, would you mind keeping his head straight, and angled so he can swallow? It happened when Hikari thought she 'destroyed' one of the monsters released by the Spore children. Data is very difficult to eradicate. Particles small enough to enter through the unstable Gates reformed on this side to create a warp over most of Digiworld. Those poison vapors are just one of quite a few unpleasant side-effects. I meant for you to land here, but the distortion confused your portal."
While he spoke, Gennai let the contents of the vial drain into Taichi's mouth. A protest welled up the minute Sora saw the mysterious potion touch his tongue, but she stopped herself and looked away, confused. What protest could she possibly make? The only one who had any idea how to help Taichi was Gennai. She was just being overprotective because now she knew she should have fought harder to keep him from diving into Digiworld. Darn his bullheadedness. Why hadn't she stood up to him?
"So the monster wasn't destroyed, only splintered," Koushirou mused aloud. "And those splinters ripped into the already weakened barrier between worlds, creating the leak."
"Why did you tell 'all of us' to come?" Taichi might have agreed to stay behind if it weren't for Gennai's instructions.
"We must repair the wall," said Gennai. "Such as we are able, at least. We can patch it. The Crests and Digivices contain sacred power from the Sovereigns, the only kind that can purify the distortions."
There was a pensive crease between Koushirou's brows, but he didn't question Gennai's words. I'm beginning to agree with Yamato, Sora thought, watching Taichi's throat reflexively swallow. There are altogether too many secrets.
"Then why don't the Sovereigns do something?" she demanded. "I mean it. What do they even do if they're this useless in a crisis? Why do they leave it all up to a bunch of kids from another world?"
Gennai didn't reply. Amazed, Sora whirled on Koushirou instead. "Koushirou-kun. You're the one who explained the Sovereigns to me in the first place. You must know something."
He shook his head. "I don't."
"A theory! Anything."
Taichi coughed through the last mouthful of the liquid as Gennai drew the vial away. He stoppered it and replaced it carefully in its stand on the desk. "The bottom line is, in this, we're on our own. Before we can do anything, we must gather the rest of your friends. Koushirou, I could use you here, directing the search. I have Agumon and Ogremon out looking for them now, and I'd like you two to join them when your partners return, Sora, Miyako."
"Of course," Miyako began, but Sora cut her off.
"I'm staying with Taichi."
"There's nothing more you can do." Gennai shook his head. "He should wake up soon. Then I'm sure he'll insist on joining you himself."
"Do you really need every single one of us out there?" she demanded. "Look, when he wakes up Taichi will tell me I'm an idiot for worrying, and that I should've gone on the search. One hundred per cent, definitely should have gone. I don't care. None of us should ever be totally cut off from each other."
Koushirou and Miyako were staring at her in something like awe, which brought on a crimson flush.
"I will be with him," said Gennai.
"Yes, but –"
Gennai regarded her with an unreadable expression and held her gaze. The warmth in her cheeks began to climb higher. For some reason, she was reminded of the exact moment when Taichi and Yamato found her in the forest, after she'd been hiding and brooding about the Crest of Love. The same heat throttled her then as now, some illogical emotion that was fear mixed with guilt and desperate fumbling not to lose her grip.
"Sora-san," Koushirou ventured after a tentative moment, "Taichi-san will be the safest of all of us here with Gennai instead of out there caught in the distortions."
Much as she willed the words to come, they wouldn't. They were stuck in some corner of her mind, an itch just out of reach. And then she remembered something else:
"We still need to get Yamato."
Prince Hotel, Yokohama
He could hear his cell phone go off for the third time in ten minutes. Yamato stayed where he was, inwardly seething. Komori Akio, ever to be known to Yamato as a Royal Pain in My Side, knew what he was doing, damn him. They should've been done with the meeting by now, but he was dragging it out to keep Yamato from taking any calls.
For his part, Yamato kept his demeanor aloof, twirling a ballpoint pen in his fingers and gazing out the window as if there were something more interesting out there than street signs and parked cars. At least his bandmates looked equally bored. Takashi was picking at the crumbs of their pastry set. Yutaka was slumped over his cup of vodka; Yamato thought he might be sleeping. Only Akira appeared to have taken any kind of notes. Yet Komori kept on talking.
Screw you. Yamato let his eyes flick back to his incorrigible agent. Next time that phone rings, I'm answering it. Jerkface.
"Are there any questions about tonight?" Komori asked.
He was met with dull looks and a snore from Yutaka.
"No," Akira said at last.
"Great. Make a note of the set list. And Yamato."
Halfway out of his chair already, Yamato froze.
"Don't forget about that key change," Komori said, somehow ominously.
"I won't," Yamato replied. Komori watched him for a second longer, then moved to help Takashi wake Yutaka. Yamato immediately dove for his phone.
Three missed calls – two from Koushirou, the last from Sora. That was unexpected. If she wasn't trying to foist the call on someone else, she must be in trouble. He felt bad that their relationship had degenerated to such a point, but there it was.
With no small effort, he tapped Re-dial.
"Yamato! Finally!"
The wave of emotion that hit him at the sound of her voice was unexpected too. She sounded happy. To talk to him. She sounded like she used to in junior high, when they would meet after band practice. Her still dressed for tennis because she knew he thought that outfit was cute. The splash of color in her cheeks as they walked home on the sunlit road.
He bit down on the feeling. Hard.
"What's going on?" Saying her name right now would be Unwise.
"We need you," she said. "Everything's nuts here, we're all separated, and there's something wrong with the Wall of Fire. I know you've got a lot going on, but we really, really need everyone, and I – I just have a bad feeling. I don't know."
There was a hesitancy to her voice that confused him. Like she did know, but was holding back. Why would she be holding back?
"Hang in there," he told her gently (trying not to think about what the plea in her voice did to him). "I'm on my way. Hold on a sec, I'm gonna go somewhere with fewer ears and call you back."
"Okay," she said. He pocketed the phone and took long strides to the door of their suite.
"Wait a minute!" Akira had a hand on his wrist the moment he touched the knob. Yamato stared at him in surprise. "You can't be serious," Akira hissed.
"Serious about what?"
"You're leaving." Akira threw a furtive glance back at Komori. "You asshole. You know what'll happen if you ditch."
"I'm just going out for a smoke," Yamato insisted.
"Like hell you are."
He should keep denying it. He knew he should. There was a box of Marlboros in the same pocket with his cell. But for some reason, he didn't.
"Look," he said instead, "cover for me and I'll be back in time for the gig. I'll do whatever it takes."
"Who was on the phone?" Akira demanded. "Yagami? Or could it be Takenouchi?"
Yamato said nothing.
Akira swore. "I knew it. I knew it. It's always a girl. Always."
"It's not always a girl for me," sang Yutaka as he sauntered over, Takashi in tow. Both had cups of the vodka now. "So what's up? Yama-chan's bailing to get laid? Can't say I blame him. Yama-chan's friends are cuter than you lot."
"I'm not getting laid!"
"No? Pity. You're the most likely to score out of the four of us. I'd live vicariously through you if you weren't a total prude."
"If he bails, for any reason, Jitou Takamasa is not going to stick around." Akira gave his glasses an irritated push up his nose. "Guy like him doesn't respect wannabes and doesn't have to. Not to mention the gig we're doing tonight. It might not be the main event, but this is how we get in Jitou's good graces for real. If we mess it up, you can bet we're not opening in Saitama."
"You can bet on more than that."
All eyes turned to Komori as he approached, reed-thin, dressed in a blue pin-striped suit like a Prohibition-era gangster. All he needed was a cigar. Yamato felt a hard lump in his throat. Every member of the band towered over their agent, but Komori held their future in the palm of his hand. There was no telling when they'd find another agent if he dropped them. Get him mad enough and he might make sure it would never happen.
"It's a family emergency." Yamato got the sense that his neck was on the chopping block.
Komori seemed unimpressed. "Oh? I suppose your dad fell down the stairs and is lying on an ICU gurney right this second?"
"Something like that," he said through gritted teeth.
"He was talking to his ex-girlfriend," supplied Akira.
It was the sinking feeling of betrayal that did him in. Yamato closed his eyes. All the lies. All the lies just to end up here, in this mess.
Komori only nodded. "I see. Not Taichi-kun?"
"No."
"Aw, I miss Yagami!" Yutaka let out a long whine and let his shaggy head drop on Takashi's shoulder. "He's great. It was so fun when he and Sora-chan came to watch us rehearse. Sora-chan, she's fiiine. You know, I wish they'd get down with me, both of me. I mean both of them. Haha! Hic."
"You're drunk, Yutaka," Takashi murmured.
"Even when I'm sober, I wish they'd get down with me."
"I'll be back." Yamato forced himself to face Komori. Just be honest. Or at least sincere. "I'll be back as soon as I can, I swear."
"I wish I could believe that."
"Dammit, I haven't been that bad!" Great, now he was shouting. This was going so well. "So I miss a gig once in a while! Shit happens!"
"It's not just that and you know it," growled Komori. "I told you to show me leadership. Show me passion for this career. You've done the exact opposite. Your friends are part of it, but you're off even when they're not involved. You gotta be willing to give everything, and I mean everything. Because if you're not invested, your good looks don't matter, or your voice, or your guitar, and I'm wasting my time. This is it. This is your ultimatum. You and I both stay, or we both go. Decide."
Yamato swallowed. He balled his hands into fists to hide their pathetic trembling. This shouldn't be my decision. I'm not a solo artist. But Komori was ready to drop the others rather than scout for another vocalist. He felt like a heel. How had he not understood? How had he not noticed becoming the band's heartbeat? It wasn't a role he'd ever set out for. But once he had people relying on him, he couldn't just turn his back.
Taichi was right. He wasn't prepared for this.
His bandmates were watching him with such expectation. Akira's lips were pinched with rage. Takashi looked bewildered. Yutaka, slobbering alcoholic though he was, peered at Yamato in something like awe of the power he had.
The power of the Fates, to cut short the life of the Teenage Wolves.
"Stop stalling." Komori's voice cracked like thunder in the suite.
The door was right behind him and he wanted to run through it. Run all the way home to Odaiba.
He'd gone so tense that the clatter of the tabletop mirror breaking actually made him jump.
"Oooh." Yutaka was clutching his right hand, covered in blood. "Wow, okay, that hurts, I – oooooooh."
"What the hell?" Akira exclaimed.
"What happened?" asked Takashi.
Going pallid, Yutaka slid to the floor, his injured limb shaking. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Shattered pieces of mirror were strewn all over the floor.
"Someone get a cloth to wrap his hand." Komori took hold of Yutaka's palm and examined it. "That needs stitches. Just our luck. Call the lobby for a taxi, you're going to the hospital. Damn it all." Muttering, Komori got up and went into his bedroom, letting the door slam behind him.
Akira followed Takashi to the phone as Yamato returned with a pair of fluffy lavender towels embroidered with the Prince Hotel emblem. He could hear them arguing over how to make a call to the front desk. Still in shock over the way the situation two minutes ago had been defused, he knelt beside Yutaka and bundled his hand in a towel.
"This is what you get for drinking in the morning," he said, and gave Yutaka's leg a friendly pat.
In spite of the pain, Yutaka grinned. "I know, right? One thing you can always count on a drunk for is chaos. But it's too bad about the gig, eh."
Yamato paused in collecting the slivers of mirror with the second towel. "… What do you mean?"
"Well, I sure can't play with my hand all cut up. And you can't have the show without the lead guitar."
"Yutaka – you –" Yamato gaped at him.
"Not that anyone expected this to happen, but hey, at least it takes some pressure off you, eh?" Leaning into Yamato's shoulder, Yutaka inspected his towel-wrapped fist with amused curiosity. "So if you want to skedaddle, no hard feelings, man. I've gone through worse than this alone at my apartment. Go on," he added in a whisper when Yamato found himself too moved to speak. "Don't say I never did nothing for ya. And give my love to Yagami and Sora-chan. Tell them if they feel like paying me back, a pack of Jack Daniels'll do the trick."
Still another elsewhere
The truth was, Takeru couldn't remember their first week in Digiworld so well. The topsy-turvy island, with its mismatched, hostile landscapes, was a lot for a second grade kid to take in. Now those early days were tethered in his mind in abstract flashes of color and exhilarating emotion.
Even so, there were a few things that stood out starkly in the muddle. Most were linked to stories the older kids liked to bring up at every gathering which, no matter how many times they'd been told, never wore out. Like the story about the hollow tree that camouflaged Taichi and Koushirou during Kuwagamon's rampage. Takeru hadn't been with them at the time, but the idea fascinated him. Though they never hid in one again, all the Digimon seemed to know the trick of running headlong into the nearest trunk à la Platform 9 ³⁄₄ to hide from predators. And it was believable enough in light of Digiworld's general weirdness. Takeru had always wanted to try it.
But now that he finally got the chance, he found he couldn't appreciate it, too busy dry heaving on the floor. Patamon had flopped down next to him like a deflated basketball. Behind them, Ken and Gatomon seemed fine, but Wormmon was in a similar state.
"You all right?" Ken asked after a while.
His tongue felt fuzzy and gross. But he had all his limbs, he had Patamon, whose current impression of a flounder at least meant he was alive. And they were out of those fumes, thank whatever digital gods were out there. "Yeah, I'm all right. You?"
"Same here. Gatomon?"
Whether because she was at the Champion level, or just because she was such a don't-mess-with-me hard-ass even on good days, Gatomon had already gotten over her initial sickness. Her ear twitched at Ken's voice. "Don't worry about me. Just think of a way we can find the others. Hikari shouldn't be out there without me."
Both boys picked up their poor Digimon and scooted closer until they were back to back. "We can't go outside," Takeru remarked. Just the thought of the noxious violet haze made his throat start to close up again.
Ken thumbed his chin. "If we hold our breath, we might be able to fly above the gas. It seemed densest at ground level."
"That's if these two have any digivolving juice left in them." Gatomon shot a skeptical look at Patamon and Wormmon, boneless as a bean bags in their partners' arms.
"Well, we can try after they've had some time to recover. Wish we had some food…"
Takeru hmmed, scratching Patamon's favorite spot in between his ears. For now, they could only settle in and get comfortable.
"How did you and Hikari-san get separated?" Ken asked Gatomon.
She sighed and got up to pace. "We were with Daisuke, and as we were running Veemon yelled that he saw something and darted off in another direction. Just ran off! I'm faster, so I figured I could overtake him in no time. But I couldn't find him. And the smell was so bad that I couldn't sniff out Hikari either. I spotted you, so I followed after."
"Damn," Ken groaned. "I hope Veemon found Daisuke again. Otherwise they're short both partners."
"Geez, that Veemon. What in the world gets into his thick skull? Probably went chasing his own shadow…"
"You sound mad," observed Patamon, cracking open an eye.
"I'm ticked off."
"Well, stop pacing, you look like that stray we saw once who'd had a rotten fish."
Gatomon halted and looked at him. Then she padded over and licked his forehead with her rough pink tongue. "Sorry."
A grin tipped Takeru's mouth. "I'm sure Hikari-chan is as worried about you," he said. "Just keep a cool head. We've been in tighter binds than this."
"Such as?" Ken asked dully.
"Being toyed with by MaloMyotismon trumps sitting in a tree and worrying."
Ken leaned forward and folded his upper torso over his knees. He pillowed his head in his arms, staring at nothing. Wormmon was now cocooned in the hem of his shirt. "That was the worst. But the circumstances have less to do with it for me. This helpless feeling, I mean. How are we supposed to combat it?"
"By biding our time until something changes," Takeru said.
"Tell that to the Spore children."
I would, if they didn't run away every time we try to talk to them. But he kept the thought to himself, one because it would hardly do Ken any good now, and two because he still had that guilt thing. Ken probably does too, he mused, peeking at the hunched form of his companion.
"Hey," he began. "If the Spores are still active, what does that mean for you?"
Fiddling with the long hair spilling over his eyes, Ken gave a shrug. "I don't feel any different now than before."
"Not more anxious or anything?"
"The Spores don't make you have negative emotions, they feed off the ones that are already there. They can't sprout if there's no energy source. That's why Oikawa sought out kids who were having a tough time to begin with."
Takeru nodded, though he wondered just how dense Ken imagined him to be, if he didn't expect Takeru to find the flaw in that logic. "But everyone feels negative now and then. For someone without a Spore, maybe it's no big deal, just a bump on the road. But for someone who does…"
Ken didn't respond right away, chewing the inside of his lip. "For someone who does, it could sink them lower," he admitted reluctantly.
"Yeah." Takeru nodded. "But you're doing okay?"
"With friends like Daisuke, who treats every day like Mardi Gras, how could I not be?"
He let it drop because he could sense Ken cutting off from him. And Ken was wont to withdraw further when pressed. Better to let him come around on his own terms. There was one thing he did want Ken to know, however.
"You're not the only one who cares about the Spore kids," he said. "Just an FYI. I mean, I think we all care what happens with them. But specifically. Specifically, me. Seiki-kun, Noriko-chan – I want to do more than talk them down from the ledge. I want to do right by them."
He thought Ken would shrug that off too. Patamon's ears fluttered at his partner's tone. Curled up by his legs, Gatomon's body language said she was listening, but she kept her thoughts to herself.
Ken took that in and nodded slowly. "I guess you and I would empathize with them the most. We know better than anyone what it's like to lose your partner."
It felt like an hour had passed, though Takeru glanced at the time and saw it had only been fifteen minutes. They shot off emails to the rest of the Chosen which came back with error messages. It was the vapors, of course, interfering with connectivity.
After a while Takeru felt his legs getting numb, so he stood and walked along the tree's girth. He was considering poking his head out to check if the gas had miraculously cleared up when the earth below his foot gave way, and he found himself straddling a deep narrow hole.
"Whoa," he breathed as he tottered.
Peering over the rim into the dark below, Gatomon twitched her whiskers. "There are stairs."
Ken had jumped up to steady Takeru. "To where?"
"I'll check," Patamon said, already on the move. The rest gathered around the entrance. Squatting with Wormmon still in his arms, Ken shot Takeru a significant look. Takeru dipped his head in agreement. No way this could be coincidence.
"Looks like a passage through a cave," his partner called back to them.
"It's a trap," said Wormmon.
"On the other hand, we're just as trapped here." They couldn't reach the others, and they couldn't leave the tree. Friend or enemy, someone wanted them to come underground. To Takeru, the decision was a no-brainer. Sometimes you had to go all in. "I say we risk it."
"I think all of you first generation Chosen are a little too blasé about this daredevil stuff," muttered Ken. But he started after Takeru as he gingerly climbed the pitted stone steps half-buried in the ground. Gatomon came threading between their legs kicking up a trickle of loose pebbles and dust, and soon they were left with only the glow of their D3s to see by, the tunnel to their hideout but a pinprick in the dark.
. . .
He was on fire. Not the room, not his clothes – him, his own self. He was ablaze, a firestorm, the molten core of a volcano. But it was the fire-that-didn't-burn. The heat scorched his body like a caress.
He opened his mouth and flames leapt to dance on his tongue.
He opened his eyes and saw white.
Someone was with him. Monitoring as he burned, a pile of ash and rubble at his feet. He barely knew his own name, and yet the other's came to him in a flash –
Osamu.
The other regarded him as if he were a mere effigy. He shook his head.
What's that supposed to mean? You're obviously him. You have his face.
A face is just an image.
Still the fire licked at his skin. As he stretched out his arms, his palms blossomed with shiny pink blisters that instantly blackened into charcoal and flaked away, hot motes lifting into the smoldering, tar-like air. In horror, he watched himself crumbling. The fire-that-didn't-burn had reached its zenith.
You said I wouldn't die. He stared at the other, betrayed and in pain.
You won't, came the answer. But you're early. You're not strong enough. We will wait.
Where is here?
Where you're needed the most, said the one with Osamu's face.
And then the inferno swept through him.
He was fading in and out right before her eyes.
"Taichi! Wake up!" Sora shook Taichi shoulders, even tried slapping his face. She had no reason to think a return to consciousness would snap him out of it, but she had to do something. "God, he's burning up. Someone help!"
But there was no one around to hear. Koushirou had gone with Miyako to join the search, leaving Sora charged with his PC and gauging their progress. He'd given her an overview of the rudiments, though she knew he didn't agree that she needed to stay behind. And would you still hold that view now, whiz kid? she thought as she raced to lay a fresh cold compress on Taichi's forehead. That much, at least, she could do. She couldn't make a jot of sense out of this sight of a human, three-dimensional, living body acting like a a computer on the fritz. It didn't seem real.
Gennai, of course, was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he'd have stayed if Sora weren't there, but in any case, she hadn't seen him since they'd all separated. The flying Digimon – Biyomon included – and Gabumon and Agumon had joined Ogremon's cadre to round up the others. Gennai made sure everyone was equipped with a protective cloak that could ward off the effects of the distortion before sending them out. The sense of responsibility the Digimon felt hit Sora hard.
It was all the fault of the lump at the foot of the desk, who thankfully seemed to be calming down. With a scowl, Sora kicked Taichi in the side. The stubborn ass grunted and rolled a little to the right. "Such a load of help you are," she muttered.
He was still warm to the touch, drenched with perspiration. But as she dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, he uncurled a little and blinked up at her.
"Hi."
"Hi, sleepyhead," Sora smiled with forced composure, when really all she wanted was to throw her arms around his neck. Or maybe give him another kick. "Any idea who I am?"
"My guardian angel?"
"Try again."
"A futuristic robot sent to massage my feet and feed me grapes off the vine."
With a huff, she tossed the handkerchief aside. "I suppose if you can make jokes, you're well enough."
He managed a woozy smirk. "Why d'you have me smothered in a million blankets?" Layers of cloth slid in a heap as he sat up. "No wonder I feel so hot."
"Your temperature was fine earlier." She bit her lip. "You kept winking in and out. Guess it took a while for Gennai's medicine to work."
"Gennai's medicine?"
Sora plucked the empty vial off the desk and showed him. "I have no idea what was in here, but he made you drink it and you seemed more stable after."
He took the vial from her, stooped and peered at it with an odd, disconcerted look. "Have you seen this before?" she asked.
"No, but –"
The door rattled open. A slender shadow fell along the walls, arms folded and hip cocked.
"Taichi, you're not dead yet? If I'd known I wouldn't have rushed."
"Yamato!" they crowed in unison, racing over to him. Taichi pulled him in for a quick chest bump. Sora saw Yamato's eyes flicker to her briefly, somewhat timid. But she'd decided she was done being awkward around him. Right now they needed clear heads and cooperation, not petty bickering. All this silliness had no point. They were friends, full stop, end scene.
Together they were strong.
Leaning on the doorframe behind Yamato, Gennai observed them with a wan smile.
"Gennai!" Taichi exclaimed upon seeing him. "Hey, look at you, all young and buff!"
"The wonders of modern technology," drawled their mentor.
"Yeah. Uh, sorry about knocking you around earlier. I'd have pulled a few of those punches if I knew you were, you know, you."
"A few, eh? Well, let's get everyone in the loop, then we can talk options."
He recounted what had transpired since Sora awoke in that very room. Since she was the only one up-to-date, Sora returned to her post at Koushirou's PC. But her mind kept wandering back to Taichi, and the vial still clutched at his side. And she saw right away when Yamato noticed; his whole posture tensed, zeroed in on the object in Taichi's fist. When he looked up there was a savageness to his expression that she couldn't comprehend. But Taichi didn't react, only listened attentively to Gennai, who for his part looked more haggard and drawn than Sora had ever seen him. Perhaps maintaining his young form took its toll.
"What I'd like to do is send you to join the search, Yamato," Gennai was saying. "Gabumon is already there. You as well, Sora. I am sure Koushirou can barely keep panic at bay being apart from his computer so long."
"What about me?" said Taichi.
"I need you here."
Yamato's stance shifted. "Why?" he inquired with badly concealed suspicion.
At Yamato's words both Taichi and Gennai glanced from him to each other, and commenced a silent conversation. Now Sora was the one out of the loop. It's almost as if they're cohorts of some kind, and Yamato's the rebel upstart, she thought with a growing sense of unease. Trust was written all over Taichi's face. Yamato's showed anything but.
"Taichi and I will try to supplement the Wall until you and your friends return and we can fix it," Gennai explained. A hand stretched out and hovered a moment before alighting on the doorframe.
"How can Taichi be any help?"
"Why would he lie about that?" Taichi demanded.
Yamato whirled on him with all the ferocity of a wolf. "I didn't say he's lying. I'm asking how you can help. You're taking him to that room where the Wall is, aren't you." This last was directed at Gennai, as if Taichi had never butted in.
Gennai only hesitated a second. "Yes." And he clapped Taichi's shoulder as if to guide him away.
This was apparently the wrong move. "Do you think I'm stupid?" Yamato shouted. "I know you're hiding something. I've known it for a long time. Ask him, Taichi. Stop acting like you're still a kid and ask him."
"Come off it," scoffed Taichi, though he was beginning to look uncertain.
"What could you possibly think I'm hiding?" Gennai asked, unfazed.
"Yeah, what are you so afraid of, Yamato?" Touching his shoulder, Sora tried to convey with a look both her confusion and her worry. He glanced her way and took a deep, steadying breath.
"Sora." She blinked at Gennai's call. "You know how to reach the search party?"
She nodded. "If our digivices don't respond to their signal, we can follow the map on the PC."
"Do that, then. Yamato, I don't know what I've done to shake your trust, but we'll have to address it later. The longer they're out there, the more they're exposed to corruption. I'll entertain your accusations – after our job here is done. Is that acceptable?"
Yamato clenched his fists. Lifting his hood, Gennai swept down the hall, gesturing for Taichi to follow. As Taichi turned, Yamato's hand shot out and grabbed his arm.
"Don't do anything stupid, Taichi," he hissed a notch above a whisper. "Whatever's behind the Wall, it's not good."
"That's why we have to fix it."
"Just ask him about that," Yamato pressed on, jabbing a finger at the empty vial. "And remember he's the one who told you to get used to the idea of digitizing."
Gennai had paused paces away in a pool of shadow.
Taichi and Yamato shared a long look. Then Sora slipped between them and took their hands, squeezed. After a moment's hesitance, she felt a pulse in each palm as they squeezed back.
"Be careful," said Taichi.
"You too," Sora replied.
Taichi jogged after Gennai, and Yamato and Sora went in the opposite direction, towards the outside. Sora let him fume for a while – Yamato always needed space when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. But after they'd found their gear and packed up Koushirou's PC, she was ready for answers.
"So, what was that all about?"
The vicinity of Gennai's house was still pure. Yamato took a deep breath of clean air before throwing on his protective cloak. "It's not important. Just, it was a big ordeal for me to come here, and to find him acting like everything's normal –"
"Then what do you think isn't normal? Because whatever went on between you three back there is a complete mystery to me. You might have been speaking Klingon. And since when do we not trust Gennai?"
"Since he started keeping secrets."
Sora made a face. That Gennai had secrets was news to no one. There was more he wasn't telling her. "What bothers you about that vial?"
A muscle jerked in his jaw. "Do you know why Taichi had it in the first place?"
"Gennai had medicine in it for him."
"Medi –" He stopped in his tracks, stunned.
"Yeah, the corruption made him worse."
"That wasn't medicine in there."
She stared. "How do you know?"
"Because I've seen it before. Last time we were here, Gabumon and I went for a walk in the middle of the night. We found that room. And the vial. It looked just like the other one."
"The other one?"
"The one Vademon made while he had Taichi trapped. I don't know what it's in it, but you saw it too, Sora, when that Babamon stole it and came to gloat."
Sora pressed the base of her palm to her forehead. Her feet carried her forward heedless of where they stepped. "But Gennai wouldn't do anything to… hurt any of us."
Yamato only scowled. "Well, let's see, since all this started he's been incredibly unhelpful with what's happening to Taichi –"
"He's tried, but things here have been crazy, he couldn't even let us dive in at first."
"He gave Baihumon the Omega Sword –"
"In exchange for a Digi-core, which he needed to stabilize the Wall –"
"– without even asking us first – and look how that worked out, the Wall's anything but stable –"
"Because of the Spore kids, not Gennai!"
"Bottom line, he's got more secrets than he does hair, and now you're telling me whatever was in that vial, he made Taichi swallow?"
"It was medicine," Sora protested again, because this was ridiculous – wasn't it? "Yamato, you can't really think Gennai's… I don't know… conspiring against us. He's always there for us. Every time we're at a loss, or need a break, whatever, he's there. No one protects Digiworld more than him. Come on, you have to admit that."
But all he said was, "I don't know anymore," and shook his head.
As they entered the the murk, the shimmering sanctuary of Gennai's home swallowed up by the water behind them, Sora started to chew her lip, an old habit she usually had a better handle on these days. But it had been a long time since she'd seen Yamato this uneasy. One close friend was beside her and full of trepidation; another was elsewhere, ostensibly safer than they were, but… what if?
Not that she thought Yamato was right. (She wasn't even sure what he'd be right about. All he had to go on were some loose ends, and as far as she knew no one had even tried to talk to Gennai about any of this before the altercation in the hall.) Gennai was their guide and mentor. Wasn't it possible that the contents of the vial were both a "blueprint" and medicine? Perhaps some things didn't add up, but all that meant was they needed to sit down and have an actual discussion, figure out what needed clearing up and where they were getting disconnected. Bad communication was a far cry from… (she didn't want to jinx them by summoning the word deception.)
"Are we getting close to the others?" Yamato asked. The forest pressed close, and though their cloaks shielded them from any harmful effects, the malodorous vapors still made them want to gag.
"Should be." Sora took out the PC and drew up the map. "The clouds are making it hard to navigate. Hey, look, I'm picking up someone on my digivice."
"So am I." Yamato scanned the woods and then pointed. "That way."
"Mine's over this way."
Both paused.
"Split up? Or pick one signal and check it together?"
"… Split up," Yamato answered after a beat. "If they're having trouble breathing, we can't lose the time. Looks like they're not too far apart anyway. We should be able to shout to each other. Let's meet back here in fifteen."
"Okay," Sora agreed, albeit reluctantly. But she really didn't want to play janken with people's lives. She shouldered her pack and went to say a proper farewell, but found he'd already disappeared into the brush. That stabbed at her a little, the sense of space expanding to overtake his vacated spot. Loneliness was such a wide emotion.
There was nothing else for it but to head off herself.
I hate it when we split up. I hate it when we split up.
Within a corrupted forest
Trudging through the undergrowth proved a hassle, as even with the cloak the haze made it hard to see. Yamato switched from scanning his digivice to the eerily silent, poisoned forest, and wished whoever was out there would just make themselves known. If they were friend, great, that's why he was here. If foe, also great. A fight would be just the thing right now. Electricity prickled under his skin.
It was hard to focus with so many things on his mind. What the hell he was going to do about the band (because Yutaka may have bought him some time, but Komori wouldn't forget how he'd almost quit). And Yutaka. Why did that guy have to go to such extremes – cutting up his own hand! (And why had he done it? Of course they were friends as well as bandmates, but this felt like some mundane parody of Damon and Pythias.) Then there was being separated from Gabumon. Being so close to Sora.
Most of all, Taichi. Whom he was tired of being angry with. He should be angry. Taichi had dropped the ball on confronting Gennai, and no matter what the others thought, that vial was not "medicine." If they'd seen the one in Vademon's cave like he had, they'd be worried too.
Dammit, Taichi. Will you ever learn to listen?
An enormous tree stood in front of him, its girth as wide as a small car. Climbing over the thick, serpentine roots, Yamato rounded the trunk and entered a glade where the air had remained clear. Cautiously, he removed the cloak: it smelled pure as well.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and called out. "Hey, anyone there?"
There was a noise like a fwump and the snapping of twigs. The boughs rustled as something quite round and covered in hair broke into the clearing, gibbering in a loud, scratchy voice to their pink chimp-like companion.
"Babamon," Yamato said in surprise.
"Aha!" exclaimed Babamon, lifting a finger at him. "You came! I knew you'd come if I lured you with that device!"
Yamato dug out his digivice. Sure enough, he was standing exactly on the signal that had drawn him out here. Irritation flooded in.
"I'm here on a rescue mission, not to play your games."
"Games, go-yon! Games!" chirruped Gonmon. "All is a game! Yahtzee!"
"Maybe to you," Yamato shot back, already clambering back over the tree.
"Not so fast! Not so fast! After all, I came here specifically for your sake!" The finger wagged, and Yamato's body gave a jerk and staggered backward as if yanked by an invisible force. Furious, he whipped around to yell, but in a flash Gonmon had leapt to his shoulders and slapped his mask on Yamato's face. It smelled horrible, like a dead whale. A dead whale stuffed with the rotten apples his father had let sit in his office until they liquidated.
When the mask was removed, he found himself disoriented. There was no sky above him, no trace of the haze. He was lying on a tatami floor, the panels trimmed in green. The room was quiet, bare walls, sliding doors, and on a little end table: a rotary phone.
It was the picture of a Japanese apartment, or how they'd looked in the eighties. The phone was obviously older. On the floor was a low table with a bowl of oranges set in front of a boxy TV set. Through the window he could see a girl's white school blouse flapping on the clothesline.
Yamato sat up, heart pounding.
Gonmon had taken his mask. He rocked on his heels, staring at Yamato in a way that reminded him of Igor from Young Frankenstein. A door slid open to admit Babamon, rubbing her hands and cackling.
"Well, well, well, now you have no choice but to listen." She swang her arms around the room. "This setting is much more amenable to humans than those stinky woods, yes?"
"Take me back now," Yamato growled. That was it. He was done. Today sucked and he wanted a refund.
"But you won't listen to me there," Babamon countered with a pout. She even stamped the floor with her staff. "You could run away. I have important things to tell you."
"Fine. You've got me." He crossed his legs and glared at her. "I can't run away, so talk." He could spend the time she was running her mouth searching for an escape route. As long as he could keep Gonmon and that mask away from him…
"I overheard you with the other ugly, the one with the garish hair," Babamon said with a sneer of distaste.
Yamato rolled his eyes. "Sora."
"Ugly! If I were cursed with a persimmon for a head, I'd die," said she whose head resembled nothing so much as a shriveled radish. "So you've finally caught on about that old rat Gennai, eh!"
That drew his attention from a nearby wicker basket (which he was sure he couldn't fit in anyway, and he probably shouldn't bank on having Solid Snake-like stealth.)
"Ahh, yes, I know about Gennai." Wrinkled lips curled upward. "Gennai and I go way back. Before you uglies came to this world. I know all of his secrets."
"I doubt that," Yamato said dryly.
"Anyway, I know more than you do," she snapped. "Stupid pup."
"And you brought me here because you're going to make me your confidant? What's the catch?"
"No catch! No catch!" The staff stamped again. "Because I hate him. He's the reason I exist and I hate him."
This last she about screeched, and Gonmon curled into a ball and rolled away with a shrill "hee hee hee!" Yamato wondered what on earth was wrong with him for even thinking it might be worth hearing Babamon out. She doesn't know anything. She's too comical to be real.
"For example –" Babamon leapt over to a bookshelf and pushed aside a blurry picture frame, "– I know all about this!"
And she lifted a delicate vial of a pearlescent liquid reverently, letting it catch the light. It was identical to the one in Gennai's lab in every way, only this one was full to the brim, and somehow more alive, vibrant and bubbling.
Yamato slowly got to his feet, eyes on the vial.
"He took this from your friend and I took it from him," Babamon said smugly.
"Vademon, you mean?" If he kept her talking, maybe she wouldn't notice when he snatched it out of her clutches and planted the sole of his shoe on her nose.
Babamon gave a dark chuckle. "No! Vademon? Vademon? Why would he! All he cares about is collecting curiosity! Eh-heh! He loves it so much, he's collected his own!"
Vademon had said he'd been "commissioned," Yamato recalled with a sinking feeling.
"Do you still not get it, ugly!" Babamon cried in exasperation. "Are you that vapid? Is your golden head a mere adornment? It was Gennai that had Vademon take this data. He's been after it for years!"
"You're crazy," Yamato said hoarsely, though inside he was reeling. Trading the Omega Sword had made him suspicious, but even he hadn't imagined Gennai was involved in Taichi's abduction. And then there was the source to consider: this creature had clearly lost her marbles.
"Hmph! Truth be told, I haven't been myself for a long time." Babamon brought the vial to her nose, squinting hard. "Some might call me mad, I suppose! But I refuse to be taken in! I still remember! I've seen the new sun!"
Now she was babbling nonsense. What truth? What new sun?
"You want to know what this is," she went on as she waddled toward the window. "It's just what he needs for his new sun. But you can't strike a match to save a star! I tell him, but he doesn't listen. He never listens. He tried to write the future, you know! You can't call yourself clairvoyant if you're the one pulling the strings, I tell him. He says, everyone's a critic! Do you know what he wrote? 'The child who hides plays seeks to find, and when within the light is found' – ha! Clever! He who seeks is found by that which he seeks, la-di-da! I'll tell you! You don't want to find him, ugly!"
But that wasn't babble. That was the poem. What was it Takeru said the other day, while Yamato tried his hardest to ignore its existence?
"The word 'toll' – that means this is a death knell."
Chapter Notes:
1.] It may interest you to know that, in Fizz's headcanon world, while Samus was Sora's character of choice in Super Smash Bros., Taichi always picked Donkey Kong or Kirby. (Koushirou, when he played, used Yoshi.)
2.] janken: "Rock, paper, scissors" in Japanese is "jan, ken, pon!"
3] Damon and Pythias: Greek myth. In brief, Damon takes the heat for Pythias, who is sentenced to death, and buys him some time.
4.] Solid Snake: Reference to the cardboard box in Metal Gear.
On a scale from 1 to 10, how much do you hate me for leaving you with more questions than answers? Haha... sorry we didn't even touch on Ken stuff. I tried, but had to delete it due to length and irrelevancy to the rest of the chapter. Writing is like that, eh! If it helps any, the Chosen haven't got a clue what's going on either. Do you think Yamato's on the right track, or Taichi? I know who's right, nah nah nah! ;P
By the way, the Review button is now 10% more likely to issue donuts if you leave a review...