a/n: erm... hello! Sorry it took me so long to get this out, but it's long enough that I hope the word count makes up for it! We've got one more chapter after this, and that's it. I'm going to try to finish it quickly, because it's just an epilogue which will hopefully clear up any leftover confusion from this chapter. Also, shoutout to melia2 and (guest) Jee jee for your recent reviews, because they really inspired me to get this done. Reviews motivate me so much, and they're really appreciated. ❤️
Warning for implied death/murder/kidnapping of young children, mild cursing, and injured characters. This is also unedited. Proceed with caution.
Ch 12 || Red Skies
[time: unknown; date: unknown]
Tiny glass pieces scatter over the floor like loose flower petals in the wind, and a primal shriek resonates through the air as the Shadow disappears in a puff of black smoke, floating up, up, up. It's gone in moments.
Then somebody else is screaming. Shouting. Shouting for him.
Takeru blinks, finally able to move again. Except someone else does it for him—two strong hands lift him off the floor, away from the mess of broken glass. Relief shoots through him like water as he draws in breath after shuddering breath like he's just realized that breathing is a thing that is possible.
Another arm circles around him.
"—here. You're here. God, Teek, I th-thought—"
Yamato sounds like he's crying. His voice is a broken little thing, quivering and sputtering. Takeru chokes on another gasp that's too similar to a sob, and he's disoriented and dizzy but so very thankful for Yamato's presence. And then it comes to his attention that they're not alone—those attacks had come from their digimon partners, who weren't here ten minutes ago.
He also realizes that it had been Taichi who pulled him away from the glass.
"Wh-what's going on?" he whispers, gaze skittering over the group of hysterical, panting people in the room. He sees the vague outlines of his friends. "H-how...?"
He trails off as he catches a glimpse of Yamato's other hand, the one that's lying limp against the floor. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought that Yamato had broken it. It suddenly seems too dim in here, like all the traces of light have been snuffed from the flat. It's hard to even see the colorful not-rain. Barely registers the fact that his friends are covered in it, too.
It seems like his brother is wounded and Takeru has to remind himself that the Shadow had burned him hours ago. Still, it seems so dark...
"Keru," Yamato repeats, taking his chin in his unscathed hand and forcing him to meet his gaze. "It doesn't matter right now, ok? What matters is that you're here and alive and that thing is gone."
"Um, Yamato?" Daisuke's voice says hesitantly. Meekly. "I, uh, hate to be the one to say this, but it kind of does matter."
"Shush," Yamato hisses sharply. "I'm not in the mood."
Confusion settles deep within Takeru, bleeding through his skin and into muscle and bone. Because ten minutes ago, both he and his brother had been wondering how they were going to get out of here, much less contact any of their friends. The last thing he'd expected was for his friends to come to his rescue.
He can't quite complain, though. Not when death was looking him right in the face barely a minute ago. Another wave of relief splinters through him alongside the confusion, because how his friends got here has to be their way out, right? Right?
The ashen, uncertain expressions etched across his teammates' faces tells him otherwise. He can't see all of them; there's not enough light. He doesn't like that it's suddenly so dark in here.
Takeru swallows with difficulty, slowly looking back at his brother. Murmurs, "I'm ok now, Nii-san. I promise."
"I turned my back for one second," Yamato continues as if he doesn't hear him at all. His voice is haunted. Strained. "One second. And suddenly you were gone."
"I'm sorry," he chokes out, still unable to speak above a whisper.
Yamato's grip only tightens. Like he's let go too many times in the past and he's refusing to make that mistake again. Takeru swallows again anxiously, trying really hard not to think about his burns because Yamato's arm is so close to—
Except... wait.
Takeru blinks and blinks again. His neck, his shoulder... they don't hurt anymore. In fact, his body feels strangely numb. Like someone has sucked the pain right out of his wounds.
Somehow, that leaves him feeling cold. Relief and confusion give way to dread, and his breath hitches in his throat. The mirror is gone now, laying in sharp, dangerous pieces on the wooden floor. Even if he wants to, he can't turn around and look. He doesn't know if the burns are still there.
"Nii-san?" he says, the name falling from his lips like a hushed breath.
Yamato doesn't respond. He's short of hyperventilating, still holding him like he hasn't seen him in years.
"Nii-san," Takeru repeats, this time more urgent. "Is... is it gone?"
It's Patamon who answers him, all wide-eyed bewilderment and crippling concern. "Is what gone, Takeru?"
"The marks," he croaks out. "I... I can't feel them anymore. They don't burn. Tell me if they're gone, please."
There's a pause. Patamon pushes himself into the air, and Gabumon shuffles closer. There are footsteps echoing around them, telling him his friends are walking closer to him. Finally, finally, Yamato pulls away to examine his wounds.
He doesn't like the sound of Yamato's gasp.
"What?" His voice is stitched hastily with hysteria. "Nii-san, what is it?"
He almost flinches when fingers dust over his skin, where his burn is. Or, rather, was. Takeru only feels the pressure. No pain. Like old scar tissue.
"Somebody, please," Takeru pleads eventually, trying not to panic, "tell me what's wrong. And how many people are here? I—I can't see much. I just want to know what's going on."
Somebody clears their throat. Then, hesitantly: "Um, I can't see your skin, Takeru, but it's me, Hikari. Not all of us are in here—Sora and the others are standing guard outside the building, making sure nothing gets in. They're fighting of the Shadows. It's just me, Koushiro, Nii-san, Daisuke, you, and Yamato."
His heart beats faster in his chest. Pounds and pounds until it's rumbling a thunderstorm inside his body, making up for the lack of sound outside these walls. Takeru bites his lip nervously, trying to make out more faces in the small crowd. Still, all he can see are vague outlines of human bodies that he now knows are Koushiro, Daisuke, and Hikari. Taichi and Yamato are closest to him. Takeru catches a glimpse of eyes that glow in the dark—but not the ones that follow his every move. The eyes belong to Tailmon. Their partners must all be in here, then.
"Takeru..." Yamato hedges, his voice strained again. "There's something... that thing... it did something to you."
If possible, Takeru feels even worse. His heart is pounding so loudly it's a wonder Yamato doesn't hear it. He did ask after all. Prompts, as slow as he can, "What... what do you mean?"
"Ok, we need some source of light in here," Taichi says before Yamato can answer. "Patamon and Gabumon's attacks did something. When the mirror broke, all the lights went out."
"It's... it's eerie that they were even on in the first place," Koushiro says contemplatively. "Did you two turn them on when you got here?"
Takeru thinks back, squishing his panic and willing his heart to be still. Come to think of it... the lights hadn't been on at all when they got here. Like there was no electricity at all. But it doesn't make any sense as to why they suddenly can't see now if there were no lights to begin with.
"Forget this," Daisuke grumbles. "I'm checkin' the place for a flashlight."
"You won't find anything," Yamato mutters, just loud enough for him to hear. "Already looked."
Daisuke freezes. "Even the cupboards?"
"Empty."
"Well, that's just great."
"I... I can create some fire for a source of light," Agumon says quietly, but helpfully.
"That'd work if we were outside," Taichi says regretfully. "We'd need some way to contain it. If you try to use your flames, you might burn the place down. But good thinking."
He adds the last part probably to ease Agumon's guilt because he looks down in disappointment when Taichi speaks. Takeru glances around again, but he's not sure what he's looking for.
"Wait," he whispers, suddenly caught on Hikari's words from earlier. He's pulled back to them like they're made of string. "You said that the others are... outside? How did you get here? Is everyone ok? Is—"
"Hey, whoa, slow down," Taichi says, a hand coming down to rest on his bicep. "Everyone's fine. We'll explain in just a little bit, we just... we want to make sure that you two are ok, first and foremost."
"I'll be fine once we're out of this hell hole and my brother is one-hundred and ten percent safe," Yamato hisses, giving Taichi an icy look.
Takeru stiffens, nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. Much as he hates to admit it, he isn't sure when that will be. It's been weeks since Takeru truly felt safe. It's been weeks since he felt like he could relax fully. If what Hikari says is true—and he has no reason to doubt her word—then Sora and the rest of their friends are out fighting, but how long can they last? When he was outside walking with his brother, there was a Shadow in almost every window. There were so many buildings full of them. How can they stand a chance against so many? They're totally outnumbered.
"Can you please..." Takeru draws in a short scratch of breath, trying to even out the obvious waver in his voice. "...just tell us what happened? In the digital world, after Nii-san and I... woke up here?"
For a few moments, there's only silence. It makes his heart drop, rolling like loose pebbles down a cliff. Takeru's sure it won't be long before the landslide starts.
Koushiro's the one who finally speaks, his voice cutting through the tension, but even as tells their story, the tension just keeps coming back. He and Yamato learn about Quinglongmon, and how he protected him when they were children. How he couldn't travel into this world and fight because it would cause an imbalance in the digital world.
Daisuke chimes in, too, and Takeru's breath catches when he hears that Daisuke got hurt while trying to snap him out of the spell the Shadow put him under just before he was dragged out of the digital world. Daisuke says it doesn't hurt that much, but Takeru can't see how big or bad the burn really is. Can't tell if he's saying it to make him feel better. Can only imagine that it mirrors the one on Yamato's hand.
Hikari and Taichi speak up, too. Since Taichi is close to him, he can somewhat study his face as he talks. The way he trails off and picks up again makes his heart stutter. There's something missing in this story. Something that Taichi and Hikari want so badly to be skipped over. Something they're not telling him. Like there's something they don't want him to know.
"Stop," he murmurs pleadingly, fingers clenching. "I... there's something wrong, isn't there? You won't tell us why Quinglongmon saved me."
The pause that follows Takeru's words speaks volumes. He hears rather than sees Taichi stiffen. Hears Hikari's breath stutter and catch in her throat. He wishes, wishes, wishes he could see her expression.
Because he's known Hikari long enough to read her. Now he can't, so he doesn't know what to expect. It's gotta be something bad to make them hesitate for this long.
"Remember the prophecy with Devimon, Takeru?" Patamon says eventually, finally, resting a paw on his knee so suddenly that Takeru jerks in surprise. Feels Yamato's grip on him tighten again.
Takeru swallows. Unpleasant memories surface in his mind—ones he's spent years trying to bury. Shimmering pure data fading into the wind. Maniacal laughter. A sad, forlorn smile as Takeru cries, cries, cries, pleading for his partner not to leave him. Pleading for—
Patamon reaches forward, that same paw extending to wipe away the tears spilling over. He sees splotches of wet color on Patamon's fur, blurred by his tears. Something smears on his cheekbone.
"Sorry," he croaks, blinking rapidly. It's stupid how just thinking about it can stir up such unwanted emotions. Especially because Patamon is right in front of him, alive and breathing. "I, um... yeah, I do."
"If we hadn't been there... if you hadn't been there to help me fight him..."
Patamon pauses, and there's this moment of clarity that Takeru can't explain. He knows without having to be told. The memory of his friends' partners lying motionless and weak on the ground.
"They say the smallest will destroy me."
"We weren't there... to kill him," Takeru finishes for him. "So then you guys..."
He doesn't want to say it. Even thinking about it makes him feel sick.
Taichi clears his throat. "Yeah."
Takeru shudders, and even with Yamato holding him, he feels cold. He trembles. Bites his lip. Nausea and fatigue are working together to weaken him, and he wants nothing more than to pass out because at least if he's unconscious, he won't have to deal with this. The realization that Devimon could have murdered all of his friends—none of them older than thirteen—floors him so violently that it takes all of his willpower not to throw up.
Suddenly Daisuke laughs. It's not a real laugh—tinged too deeply by hysteria and exhaustion, and Takeru hears him sagging to the floor. "You know what, Takeru?"
"...what?" Takeru whispers hesitantly.
"All this time, you kept saying, 'I didn't want to trouble anyone' and 'I didn't think this was a big deal'..."
He trails off suddenly, laughing still, but Takeru doesn't understand what's so funny. Seeing his friend act so... unhinged is beyond unsettling.
"...you realize that they wouldn't be here... that we wouldn't be here if not for you? And... and I'm not talking about this freakish Shadow world. I'm talking about here, like... some of us wouldn't be breathing."
Takeru swallows. Swallows again. His throat feels constricted.
"Like..." Daisuke repeats, breathless. "You're a teammate, don't you see? Anything that comes after you, we're gonna fight. You'd fight for us if we were being targeted like this, wouldn't you?"
"Of course I would."
He wants it to come out strong. Wants to say it with conviction, to show how much he means it. But his voice is croaky and hoarse, so even though he answers without hesitation, it sounds cheap.
"I don't want to forget you exist," Hikari murmurs brokenly, staggering toward him. She sinks down in front of him like a withering flower, groping blindly for him in the dimness. Her fingers are trembling as she finds his hands. Her skin is slick from the not-rain, just like his, but it's reassuring to actually feel that she's here with him. "You're my best friend."
"There's no reason why I wouldn't save you, Teek," Yamato says, seemingly haunted by the idea of never seeing Takeru again. "Even if it kills me. I'll protect you. I'm your older brother, damn it."
"You're not gonna be killed," Takeru says instantly, squeezing Hikari's hand as he turns to face his brother. Determination and denial bullets through him, hurrying to squash the panic that threatens to overtake him at the thought. "We're going to... Nii-san, no, I would let them kill you—"
"Then let's show these things who's boss," Taichi says, shifting as if to stand. "I'll fight to remember you, Takeru."
"I agree," Daisuke says, now having collected himself. "Let's go."
"Wait, one more thing," Takeru says hastily, pulling on Hikari's hands and resisting Yamato's hold when he tries to coax him upwards as well. There's something that has yet to be answered.
"What is it?" Koushiro asks when everyone else remains silent out of confusion. It's been so long since he spoke that Takeru jolts in surprise, having forgotten he was present.
"How... how did you get here?"
"Like we said, Quinglongmon—"
"No, I mean... how did you find us? This... this city—if you can even call it that—is so big and... and it took us hours just to find a building that wasn't preoccupied by those things..." He trails off, unwilling to admit that this one had been occupied. It had been a trap, just like both of them expected, but they'd been so worn out from their trek that they hadn't cared.
"Oh, that's easy," Patamon answers, suddenly perking up. "I could sense you."
Takeru blinks, giving his partner a perplexed look. "What?"
"We've always been able to sense our humans," Agumon says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"It is just harder to focus on it when there are other digimon or humans around," Gabumon adds. "It is like... Yamato is a beacon to me. The more people or digimon there are, the paler it becomes. You two were the only ones here when we first arrived, so it was easy to single you out. Especially because these... creatures..."
"They don't feel anything like humans or other digimon," Tentomon says when Gabumon trails off unexpectedly. "For example, when we are surrounded by dozens of other digimon, there's a constant... buzzing, of sorts. We can't feel what they feel or read their minds, obviously, but it's evident that digimon and humans are creatures with emotions and thoughts."
"...really?" Takeru whispers before Tentomon can continue, almost in awe. If something was wrong with Patamon—like when he'd died and was reborn, for example—Takeru had felt... strange. And he never truly feels whole without him around. But he had no idea that digimon could sense each other and humans, as well as their partners, so deeply.
"Yeah," Tailmon says, her voice quiet. "The Shadows are... a presence. We can feel like they're there. They don't have thoughts. They don't have feelings. They're just... alive. But even though there are so many, they're... muted."
"Your presence was much brighter," Patamon says. And then, suddenly, his expression splinters and falls. "Except now... you feel weird."
That makes Takeru go incredibly still. "What do you mean, weird?"
Before anyone can answer, an odd sensation skitters up Takeru's neck until it touches his jawline. He inhales sharply in shock, eyes popping, shivering. It's cold, so cold that it almost hurts.
"What?" Yamato inquires urgently, aware of the way Takeru's body freezes. "What's wrong?"
"It's the..." He stops, not wanting to say burns because they don't feel like burns anymore. But the sensation was around the area where his burns used to be.
Instead of continuing, however, his fingers slide out from underneath Hikari's clammy hand and come up to brush against his throat, and his eyes widen even further.
"Please tell me it's not what I think it is," Takeru says brokenly, borderline pleading, as he looks imploringly at the person in front of him—Hikari. And then he looks at Patamon. At the rest of his friends. His breath hitches and quickens frantically. "...Hikari? Nii-san?"
It feels like the markings he saw on his reflection before it crawled out of the mirror. And it pulses underneath his touch, underneath his very skin, like a human heart. The nausea comes back full-force, squeezing at his stomach.
"It's... it's really hard to tell," Taichi says eventually, quietly, "because it's so dark in here."
"Let me see," Tailmon says, walking toward them with an eerie ease. Takeru has to remind himself that she's a cat-like digimon, so of course she doesn't have any problems seeing with such little light.
For some reason, her voice reminds him of what Yamato had said earlier—that thing... it did something to you—and as the words resurface in his mind, his dread intensifies. What did it do to him? His neck feels oddly and disturbingly tingly. Numb. And it just keeps getting worse, the more he thinks about it.
Tailmon studies him for an unnervingly long time. Long enough to make Takeru twitch and shift uncomfortably. Her silence isn't doing anything but confirming the suspicion growing bigger, bigger, bigger in his brain.
"My word," Gabumon breathes out finally when Tailmon says nothing.
"What does it mean?" Yamato asks, and none of them have any answers, but he looks at them all anyway, lingering on each outline of their friends' faces, eyes pleading for a response.
"It's..." Takeru's throat closes up at the thought, but he has to finish his sentence. Has to put the possibility out there. "It's turning me, isn't it? The Shadow?"
"It can't be," Yamato argues instantly. "Patamon and Gabumon chased it off in time."
"Maybe..." Koushiro hedges, thoughtful.
Takeru looks at him. So does Yamato. Even Hikari has shifted to meet his eyes because any explanation—even if it's a simple hypothesis—is better than nothing. They're grasping at straws, at this point. Takeru croaks, "What?
"Maybe it... did you feel it touch you? When we walked into the room... all we saw was the Shadow looming over you," Koushiro informs, sounding uncharacteristically uncertain and uneasy. "Maybe it wasn't able to fully change you completely because it was interrupted. But... it could have started the process."
"Damn it, Koushiro, what does it mean?" Yamato repeats demandingly.
"It's like..." Koushiro squirms. "As an example... being injected with some kind of virus. Maybe it made contact with Takeru long enough to spread the 'virus' to Takeru."
"So..." Takeru chews the inside of his cheek, hesitant. Continues in a voice that breaks: "I'm... I'm going to be one of them?"
"No," Yamato says, violently shaking his head. "No, Takeru... I won't let that happen. I won't. I made a promise."
"But Nii-san..." Takeru turns. Looks back at his brother with an anxious, heartbroken expression. The dread coursing through him is like poison. "You heard him. The process has already begun."
"So let's find a way to slow it the hell down," Yamato continues, voice thick with denial and distress. "I refuse to go back on my promise, Teek. I'm not losing you. I won't let you become... become like them."
"What'll happen... when the marks consume you?" Hikari asks fearfully.
Takeru nearly chokes on his own breath. He glances back at her, at Daisuke, at even Taichi. "I..."
He wants to say he doesn't know, but that's not true. Koushiro already somewhat explained it. He'll be turned into a Shadow, and there's nothing he can do. His friends will forget him. Will they even make it out alive if he turns? The idea is beyond unsettling and it makes him shiver.
"Your memories... will be wiped," he says, and it physically pains him to say it. He feels ill as he speaks. "The Shadow... the one I saw in the mirror? It said that it wipes other people's memories to protect their species. So either your memory will be wiped and you'll be freed..."
"Or they'll come after us as well," Daisuke finishes for him.
Takeru's fingers ball up into fists. He knows—he knows with every part in him, now—that his friends aren't going down without a fight. He doesn't want to go down without one, either. But...
But they've been pulled so deeply in this mess, trapped in a Shadow realm which they still don't know all that much about, with no guarantee of escape. Koushiro had explained earlier that Quinglongmon wouldn't be able to create another way out, not without consequences. And there are hundreds—he dares to think even thousands—of Shadows out there.
He doesn't want to think it's hopeless. But despair whispers so lovingly in his ear. Whispers that they're going to die here, that they'll never see the digital world or Earth again, that the Shadows will win. Every awful idea, every dark thought—they pulse through him the same way these dark, vein-like marks convulse and twitch underneath his skin.
"Yamato... it's on you, too," Tailmon says urgently. "On your hand."
"What?" Yamato exclaims, bug-eyed. "What?"
Takeru's gaze darts downward to see, his own eyes widening as he sees what he had thought was a dark bruise earlier. He'd brushed it off as the burn because he knows that Yamato had been burned while trying to protect him, but now he's not so sure. It's still difficult to see, but somehow the marks still out, writhing underneath the inside of his brother's palm like panicked insects.
Takeru swallows back the bile that rises in his throat.
"Oh my god," Taichi breathes out. "Check Daisuke. He was burned, too."
"What?" Takeru echoes, whirling around. "How many people were burned?"
"Um... just me and you two," Daisuke answers shakily. "It doesn't feel any different. It still just kinda stings."
"Mine just feels... numb. And cold," Yamato says, voice hushed. "I don't get it. I mean, I saw the Shadow when it came out of the mirror, but it didn't touch me."
"It can't be contagious," Hikari says. "I don't have any marks on me, and neither does Nii-san. We both touched him."
"Do you think..." Takeru hedges, scared and uncertain. "I mean, it was so close that... I could feel its breath on my skin. But I can't... I can't remember if it actually touched me. Maybe it's... the exposure? We've been in this place for... hours..."
He trails off, leaving his sentence hanging and letting his friends absorb it. This is so dreadfully, painfully, disturbingly confusing. Every time they find an answer to one question, some other thing pops up.
"That could be possible," Koushiro says quietly. "So that means... we're under a time limit, now. We have to find a way to exterminate the Shadows and escape before Yamato and Takeru turn, and before Daisuke's put in immediate danger."
Yamato's arm slides underneath Takeru's shoulder blades protectively. Hikari squeezes his other hand, eyes glossy, face ashen.
"So let's go," Taichi says, gesturing for them to stand.
"And do what?" Takeru whispers feebly.
Taichi's eyes shine with a dire, fierce determination, sticking out like a candle flame in the dimness, burning and burning and burning. "We'll kick their asses."
[time: unknown]
They try to hurry out of the apartment building, but it's hard with little to no lights. Like the lights themselves had been an illusion created by the Shadows. If he wasn't so preoccupied with the idea of losing his little brother, Yamato would have thought more deeply about it—even go so far as to voice his concerns—but he can't. Because that's not what's important right now.
By the time Yamato, his brother, and the rest of his friends and digimon make it back outside, it's sprinkling. Yamato had all but forgotten that it was even raining, it's been so quiet.
Even though he should be used to it, the abnormal sky colors and raindrops send a wave of uneasiness through him, sinking deep into his bones, from head to toe. He doesn't like this. He doesn't like this at all.
A blast of fire flares above them. Birdramon. Which means their friends are close, and they're battling.
"Come on," Gabumon says, pulling on Yamato's non-webbed hand. Now that it's brighter, he can fully examine the markings, but he forces himself not to focus on it. "I'll digivolve."
Right. They have to get this over with and fast.
Gabumon's free paw uncurls and he places a metal object in Yamato's marked palm. It glows in response to his touch, and the shadowy veins sticking out underneath his skin twitch so violently that Yamato almost drops his digivice out of surprise. His whole arm jerks and he hisses.
"What?" Takeru's voice is so fearful that it stabs his heart like needles. "Nii-san, what's wrong?"
"N-nothing, it's just..." He looks down at the device in his hand. Grips it tighter and wills himself to ignore the way his marks react. "...I don't think it likes my digivice?"
Takeru follows his gaze, but it isn't long before Hikari reaches into her pocket and hands him his own digivice. Takeru just blinks in delayed acknowledgment.
"The Shadows seem to be extremely vulnerable to our digimon," Koushiro explains quickly. "While we were searching for you, our partners were able to chase them off in seconds."
"That's true," Hikari says, her voice wobbly. "But we couldn't figure out how to kill them. They just ran off and brought more reinforcements."
"That doesn't sound reassuring," Takeru whispers quiveringly. "There are so many."
"Don't you worry, kiddo," Yamato reassures, almost instinct. "We are going to take these things down. I promise you."
Their eyes meet, and suddenly the expression on Takeru's face shifts. Shifts. Even Hikari looks surprised at the change, but it's not a scary change. Takeru looks suddenly so brave that he's rivaling Taichi in this moment, and he gives a single, slow nod.
He doesn't have to ask if Takeru believes him or repeat himself. It's written all over his features. Takeru knows.
"You're right," Takeru says finally, faintly. "I'm tired of running away."
With those words, the battle starts. It's Taichi who runs off first, followed by Daisuke, and himself, and Takeru and Hikari, who stay on either side of Yamato. Koushiro doesn't hesitate to follow.
Light permeates the world and it takes a long time to fade. Their partners are digivolving, ready to take on the Shadows. And they're running still, fueled by a newfound adrenaline. Because Takeru's right. They don't need to run away anymore. No more cowering, searching for safety.
It's time they fight back.
"Oh my goodness," comes an all-too-familiar voice, choked and watery. "Yamato... Takeru... I'm so, so glad you're both safe."
It's Sora. She's enveloping them in a warm embrace before he can speak, squeezing tightly and not seeming to notice their Shadow markings at all. She's covered in not-rain—soaked from head to toe—but then, so is everyone else. Yamato can't bring himself to care.
Takeru squeezes back instantly, melting like ice, which coaxes Yamato to return the hug as well. Out of the two of them, Takeru has always been more physical affectionate.
"That's coming from me, too," Mimi's voice says sternly, and suddenly a second pair of arms are encircling him.
That makes Yamato twitch. Takeru doesn't mind.
"Yeah, we're fine," Yamato says, a tad bit awkwardly. Sora releases him, but still holds onto Takeru, pressing a kiss into his hair like a mother would to her child.
Yamato twitches again. Not because he doesn't trust Sora or Mimi, but... but not even an hour ago, his brother had disappeared without a trace. He wants to be the one holding him. Because last time he let go, he couldn't find him anywhere.
Except Takeru starts to shake, which reminds him of one thing—hours ago, Takeru wasn't sure if he'd see his friends again. And Sora's embrace is undoubtedly warm. Of course he'll melt into it. He needs this. He really, really needs this.
"As much as I'd love for you guys to continue your reunion," Taichi says for him after casting Yamato a knowing look, "we have to hurry. Literally. I don't know if we have the time to explain right now, but Takeru and Yamato's clock is ticking. We have to be so fast."
That makes both girls pull away, looking at Taichi in confusion. But neither of them ask any questions. Sora meets Taichi's eyes and nods in understanding.
"Oh my gosh," Mimi gasps out. "Takeru, what's on... your neck...?"
"Like Nii-san said, we don't have time." Hikari suddenly looks very determined as she steps forward. Her voice is no longer wavering. It's loud and clear now. "We have to find a way to kill these Shadows quickly."
Suddenly Halsemon is swooping down towards them. Miyako is mounted on him, soaked like Sora and Mimi, looking terrified. She cried out, "We have no idea how to kill them, though! Every time we attack them, they scatter like dust, but they keep coming back!"
"It's true," comes Digmon's voice. He's holding Iori, only stopping long enough to set him down in a safe zone before leaping back off into battle. Halsemon does the same with Miyako, offering nods in Takeru and Yamato's direction before he was in the sky again.
"They keep respawning, and they bring back up," Iori says, seeming equally scared. "We're outnumbered."
Yamato watches as Garurumon takes off to join his comrades in the battle, followed by Greymon, Angemon, Tailmon, and Kabuterrimon. Yamato walks back over to Takeru, pulling him close without hesitation, and swallows anxiously when streaks of lightning turn the sky different colors. Yellow fuses with red to form orange, stretching over the clouds like a blanket. The ground shakes, but no sound comes, save for the deafening blasts of their digimon. There's fire. Electricity. Glowing beams.
Shadows slink back and forth, bending and shrinking and stretching, trying to avoid getting hit and failing. They're no longer hiding in buildings, silently watching. They're all out trying to defend themselves.
Yamato doesn't know which he prefers. Being watched or being actively hunted, only protected by their partners.
More of their friends are running towards them. The only thing that sets them apart from the shadows is the way they move—arms pumping, legs pushing forward. They're running like normal human beings.
And they're covered in colorful raindrops. The rain slides effortlessly off the shadows, but it clings to his friends. Their clothes. Their skin. Just like Takeru and himself.
"We don't..." Ken is panting. "W-we don't know what to do."
"They seem to just multiply," Jou says, gasping for breath as he rests his hands on his knees.
"Do you know if there's a source?" Koushiro asks, looking around at the breathless group of teens before his gaze lands on Takeru and Yamato. "Like... a leader, maybe. Perhaps if we take out the strongest, we'll have a better advantage. Maybe their leader is what keeps sending out more Shadows."
Takeru goes unnaturally stiff in his arms. Yamato gives him an alarmed look, and dread pulses through him as he sees his brother's shirt flutter like there's something alive underneath it. He takes one look at Takeru's webbed neck and he doesn't have to ask. The marks are spreading down his chest.
Something cold slinks up his wrist. He knows what it is. Can't bring himself to look.
"I..." Takeru starts, brows knitting together. But he seems to have trouble continuing, and that makes Yamato's heart sink.
Quietly, carefully, he prompts, "What, Teek?"
"I know..." He inhales slowly, eyes drifting shut as he brings one hand up to rubble his right temple. "I know who their leader is."
"What?" Taichi asks, eyes popping.
"Who?" Koushiro says curiously.
There's an achingly long pause.
"...me," Takeru answers finally.
Every muscle in Yamato's body freezes. Suddenly he can't move. Shock steals his breath, causing his throat to constrict, and his fingers dig into his shoulder blades. Takeru pays no heed—he shifts, arms moving as he locates Hikari.
And he pulls her into him, squeezing, and the only reason Yamato hears what he says to her is because of the fact that he's so close to him. He murmurs, "Please trust me. We'll come back."
If possible, Hikari's face becomes even paler. Every part of her that isn't covered by not-rain is drained white, and her eyes are huge with fear and uncertainty. She barely has time to ask what he means because abruptly, Takeru's fingers curl around Yamato's unmarked wrist and tug him forward.
Then they're running. Running, running, running. Away from their friends. Away from safety. He's pulling Yamato directly into battle, and Yamato's too stunned to utter a word.
Even as Hikari finally calls out to Takeru.
Even as their friends echo her fearful cries.
Even as the world is illuminated by their partners' attacks.
He propels himself forward like they hadn't spent hours walking before. Like he's not completely drained of energy. Like the exhaustion from earlier isn't trying to return. Takeru drags Yamato into the heat of the fight with such determination that Yamato doesn't know how to make him stop.
"Hey," Takeru calls suddenly. "Look at me! Don't you see me?"
Half of their partners freeze, calling off their attacks just before him and his brother are turned to ashes. Even the Shadows pause, iridescent eyes turning to face them with a childlike sort of fascination.
"Takeru," Yamato whispers, finally finding his voice, which sounds too loud now that the world is entirely silent.
"Trust me," Takeru repeats just as softly.
Yamato quiets. Takeru squeezes his wrist.
Then, in a much firmer tone: "I'm the one you want."
Some of the Shadows tilt their heads, as if in confusion. Yamato inhales through his nose because the sight is so unsettling that his body threatens to shake.
"Yes," one of them finally hisses, almost like a snake. Takeru's grip on his wrist tightens again.
They move like water through a sewage gate, prowling toward them with the grace of a predatory cougar. One says, "We're hungry."
"Yes. Hungry."
"No food... for so long..."
"Hungry."
"Leader."
"Leader."
Yamato's heart thrashes against his chest. His eyes dart back and forth between the Shadows. They're getting closer to them, growing quicker and quicker by the second. It makes him want to drag his brother back to safety. Makes him wonder what the hell is running through Takeru's head.
"So I've been told," Takeru continues, working his jaw. "You need me to survive."
Most of them stutter to a halt at his words, as though they're not sure what to expect. Takeru's eyes are searching, searching, searching. Like he's looking for something in particular. Yamato's breath hitches when he sees the markings crawl up his chin. Sees them writhe and twitch.
"Yes, I remember you telling me something similar," a voice, clear as a cloudless sky, says suddenly. "Though it's insulting that you put yourself on such a high pedestal."
"Oh?" Takeru challenges, narrowing his eyes. "I think it's the other way around, actually. You've preyed upon, murdered, and stole innocent young children from their families."
"Even we need to feed," the unfamiliar voice continues. "As a human that considers food a basic necessity, I thought you would understand that."
Something flutters in the distance. Shimmers like lake water. Yamato zeroes in on it immediately, his older brother instinct screaming for him to get Takeru away from that voice. Then.
Then a Shadow drops, bulging eyes glowing, rushing toward him and his brother with inhuman speed.
Yamato jolts, but Takeru holds him in place. Side-eyes him. His lips twitch with the threat of a smirk.
"I have a feeling you're not going to reconsider my offer," says the Shadow, body shuddering like the light of a candle.
"What offer?" Takeru says, blinking in mock confusion. "Because, as I recall... you weren't really offering me anything. You weren't giving me a choice in anything."
"But you know that it would be so much easier to you let us turn you." The Shadow takes another step forward, so close that Yamato can see the wisps of its breath.
The sky illuminates with lightning again. The orange fades back into red.
"It would be... much less painful than... this," the Shadow says, gesturing toward the markings snaking up Takeru's face. "It wouldn't be as slow. You wouldn't feel a thing."
There's a pause. Takeru's eyes flash and his jaw twitches.
"I think I have a better idea," Takeru states. Yamato can see his brother's reflection in its mirror-like eyes, and it's something that doesn't sit well with him.
It looks simultaneously frustrated and amused. "Is that so?"
"How about..." Takeru starts, pretending to think for a moment, "...you leave me and my friends alone?"
The Shadow tsked. "And if I refuse?"
Takeru's expression darkens like a storm cloud in a way Yamato's never seen before. "Then... we might have to use force."
Yamato isn't sure why the Shadow reacts the way it does. Like there's something he's missing out on. Whatever the case, he doesn't like it. Especially when the Shadow shrieks, "Arrogant boy!"
Yamato's unprepared when it lunges. But Takeru's hold on him doesn't loosen in the slightest. Not even he hears voices screaming. Not even when the world around them becomes distorted with dark splotches, colors muting and fading.
It stays that way for an indefinite amount of time—he can still feel his brother's fingers curled around his skin, and they're drifting, drifting, drifting. Splashes of color mix dangerously with shadow, and for a sweet, small, blissful moment, Yamato feels absolutely nothing. Wonders, distantly, if he is dead.
Then sensation comes slamming back into him like a bullet, and he's sitting upright, wondering why he's on the ground and how he got there. Doesn't feel Takeru's hand on him anymore.
Panic ripples through him and his eyes pop open, desperately searching for his brother. He's in a field. He sees a red sky, with no foreboding shadows. No color-stained clothes. Sees trees looming all around him, and his heart sinks when he realizes how disturbingly familiar this place is.
It's the field from his dream. The field where he saw a younger version of his brother, arms curled around his neck, inexplicably cold and heavy.
"Takeru?" he calls, looking around frantically. Yes, this is so very familiar. The only thing that's different is the color of the overcast, bleeding into everything around him. He can't even find the sun. "Takeru, where are you?"
Goosebumps pebble over his skin and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he continues to look around. This is just like before, when he'd gone to see if it was still raining, and when he turned to tell Takeru that it was, he was gone.
He doesn't know what to do when Takeru disappears. Everything in him screams for Yamato to find him, to make sure he's alright. What kind of a brother is he, losing sight of Takeru so often?
An aching coldness spiders up his forearm, past his elbow. A glance downward makes his stomach twist and churn, and his brain demands, Find Takeru. We're running out of time.
Because Takeru's turning faster than him. The markings are spreading twice as fast. If he doesn't find him soon, he'll lose him forever.
"Takeru," he shouts again, looking around wildly. Ignores the sense of déjà vu that floods through him. "Takeru, I—"
"Oh, goodie, more friends," a voice chirps excitedly, so young and innocent that it makes Yamato freeze in place. "We're looking for him, too. Want to join us?"
Yamato looks around. Everything is tinted a sickly shade of red.
Tiny fingers pull on his thumb and his whole body jerks. There's a little girl who wasn't here just moments ago, and she's wearing a fluttering yellow sundress that looks strangely orange in this lighting, with her dark hair pinned back, eyes soft and gleeful.
"What—what the hell?" he says, stumbling backwards without hesitation. "Who are you? Where is my brother?"
"My name's Hibiki," she answers happily, reaching for his fingers again. "Enomoto Hibiki."
"And I'm Kawasaki Ichirou," another voice chimes in, his tone similar to that of the little girl's. Another pair of hands tug at his wrist, which makes Yamato's heart drop. "Don't worry, Yamato! We'll help you find Takeru!"
Yamato becomes motionless like a statue as his name rolls off the boy's tongue with ease. The only person who should have known it is Takeru, who is nowhere to be found. And this boy... he's way taller—maybe by at least half a foot—than the one who has introduced herself as Hibiki, with touseled light-brown hair and piercing green eyes that stand out in this world that is bathed in red. His attire is far more casual than the girl's: khaki shorts, a striped t-shirt. He's not even wearing shoes.
Except... wait a second.
"Hibiki was talking to me."
Another wave of harsh familiarity hits him, and suddenly he's standing in a bathroom, studying a smaller Takeru, who's standing on the step stool in front of the sink, even with the extra help, he has to use his tip-toes to reach the faucet. There's a girl behind him—one who looks strikingly similar to Hibiki, with the same yellow sundress and soft, soft eyes.
There's something missing. Like he's remembering wrong. It feels... it feels wrong, like he's putting together a puzzle that's missing a lot of pieces. Isn't there more to this picture?
There were so many shadows. And thunder. Thunder, and lightning, and the deafening torrent of rain.
How does he know that?
Before he can dwell too long on it, the scene shifts. Clenches and pulses and morphs, and the bathroom literally falls. Yamato's staring, wide-eyed, as it descends into darkness, and then the floor comes back. This time, he's in the middle of a secluded hallway, and Takeru's by a buzzing public drinking fountain, eyes trained on a confused, floating little boy.
"Ichi...rou... where's your mama and daddy?"
Yamato's heart stutters in his chest like an old car engine. He feels breathless and lightheaded, horror crawling through every inch of his body. This scene feels more recent, despite the age difference between the Takeru he knows and the Takeru he's looking at. It's from one of his nightmares.
But... was it really only a nightmare? There's something deep in his brain that whispers it wasn't. Whispers, Don't you remember?
Whispers, Don't you see?
Whispers, The thunderstorm was too loud.
Whispers, Takeru... gone...
Whispers, They took him from you.
Yamato's knees buckle, and then he's kneeling on the field again. The hallway is gone. Takeru is gone. But Hibiki and Ichirou remain, looking at him with concern that he knows, somewhere deep inside, is false.
"Yamato?" Hibiki whispers, almost fearfully.
"Are you ok?" Ichirou asks, tugging on his hand. "Let's go find Takeru, Yamato!"
"It was..." Yamato swallows. "It was you."
Ichirou blinks, and his expression quickly becomes afraid as Yamato's icy eyes meet his. "What do you mean, Yamato?"
"You... you were... the one who took him away..." he says slowly, with a frown. "And Koushiro said Quinglongmon... had to fight you to get him back." Then his gaze shifts over to Hibiki, who looks just as frightened as Ichirou. "And you... you're the one who started it all... with the thunderstorm..."
Another few blinks. Yamato only continues to stare, his eyes growing colder and colder as he studies them. How dare they look so innocent when they were the ones trying to separate him from his little brother? From the person who means the most to him?
"You monsters," he spits, reeling back.
And suddenly, the innocent confusion and fear is gone. This time, when Ichirou blinks, his expression is wiped clean of emotion. "So... you remember us."
"That's really odd," Hibiki murmurs faintly, robotically. "No one remembers us. Not even our families."
"No wonder your brother is so fond of you." Ichirou pauses, staring down at the cold, dark webbing slowly inching up his shoulder. "You remember him."
"Leave him out of this," Yamato hisses vehemently, glaring hard at the two Shadow children with every ounce of anger in him. "Don't bring him up again."
"But..." Hibiki tilts her head, looking so guiltless and small that it's almost offensive. "We did so much for you, do you see? You don't like thunderstorms... so we muted it for you. You couldn't see the colors... so we let you see them. Why aren't you happy, Yamato? What else do we have to do?"
"Let me and my brother go, for starters," Yamato says, his frown deepening. "And don't you ever, ever come back!"
"Oh..." Ichirou actually sounds disappointed. "But then we'll starve. We're just little kids, Yamato, why would you want us to starve?"
"Don't play that game with me." Yamato stands with all the strength he has, but continues to stumble backward until he falls again, desperate to get away from them. Takeru. He has to find Takeru. "You're not kids. You're monsters."
"You think I am a monster, Onii-chan?"
Yamato freezes again, and it's as though he's completely paralyzed as Takeru's voice flutters over to him like a butterfly. It's soft, and it's hurt, and Yamato knows it can't be right because he sounds way too damn young, but when his head snaps up, all rationality fades, washed away as if by water.
Because there, not affected by the red sky at all, is his little brother, eyes so blue they seem to glow. His hair is like a golden halo, face awash with tears, small hands shaking at his sides. There are no white jeweled eyes. No shadow markings. He looks... strangely ethereal, standing there.
Red flag, a tiny part of his brain murmurs, but is hushed when Takeru takes a hesitant step toward him.
"Is it true, Onii-chan?" he asks, so brokenly that his heart cracks a little. Repeats, "Am I monster to you?"
Yes, he thinks in spite of himself. You're not him.
"No," he says out loud, that other voice squashed once again as he shakes his head. "No... you're not... a monster..."
Takeru trembles and trembles, more tears spilling over, dripping off his chin, and some primal, instinctual part of him craves to wipe those tears away. It's his job as an older brother to eliminate whatever thing that makes him upset, and it's hard when Yamato's the one to make him cry.
"But you said it," Takeru continues, a sob accompanying his words. "You called me and my friends monsters."
"Takeru, I..."
"Why, Onii-chan?"
"I—I didn't..."
"I love you so much, Onii-chan."
"I..." Yamato swallows back the raw dryness in his throat. "Teek, I'm sorry..."
"I just want to be with you," Takeru says, now wailing as he buries his face in his hands. His shoulders shake and shake and shake. "Why would you call me such mean things?"
Yamato's hand twitches, aching to move, to wrap him up, to rock him back and forth, back and forth. The sound of Takeru crying pierces through his heart so deeply that it leaves a scar. It hurts so damn much to hear him cry, to hear him sound so vulnerable and upset.
The sky above him darkens, the red around him becoming deeper. Yamato doesn't care.
Something cold crawls across the expanse of his chest. Yamato doesn't care.
The only thing he can focus on is Takeru's loud, heart-wrenching sobs, stretching over the field, echoing. Yamato swallows, pushing himself forward with all the strength he has in him.
"No... Takeru..." His voice is soothing, and he shakes his head repeatedly. "Don't cry, little buddy..."
His heart pounds with the strain of moving. Why is it suddenly so hard to reach him? It's like something is holding him back. He forces himself forward anyway, fingers outstretched. Just a few... more...
"How dare you."
It's Takeru's voice, and yet it's not. He sounds older, and he sounds livid. There's an odd hint of something inhuman, something mechanical, and that's what breaks Yamato free the spell.
He jolts, gaze snapping upward, and his insides curl in on themselves at what he sees.
The marks have extended up past his face, cupping his cheek like a crooked handprint. His hands are covered in black webs, twirling around his fingers like tightly-fitted rings that won't come off. One of his eyes is growing solid, shimmering like a crystal in sunlight.
"How dare you trick my brother," he goes on, his words seething rage and disbelief. "How dare you use my voice to do it. How dare you take my body to do it."
He races forward, but it isn't long before he's stumbling, fumbling, like he can't quite gain control of his legs. Yamato shoots up, but Takeru isn't done talking.
"It belongs to me. It's the only thing in this life that will ever belong solely to me. You have no right to take it away. And these kids..." He's quaking. "How dare you take away their innocence, their life, for your own selfish gain. They're just children, can't you see? They're defenseless and vulnerable. You stripped them of their family... of everything they've ever known... and you don't even care."
His hands come slamming down on the toddler version of Takeru—of the Shadow Takeru—and they clench around its shoulders, digging into his shirt. His expression is radiating with aggression and hatred.
"You are a monster."
Then he's snarling, and he looks so full of rage and so unlike his little brother that it's haunting. Haunting enough to leave Yamato paralyzed again, unable to do anything but watch.
"Kids will believe anything you tell them," he continues, voice suddenly dangerously calm. Robotic. An icy feeling spreads over his other shoulder, and he watches as Takeru's other cheek becomes affected, too. "They're so trusting. You show them beautiful colors, and they're fascinated. You tell them you want to be friends, and they'll agree. Any illusion you create, they'll love. You lure them in with this false sense of security, with false promises... and then they're trapped."
A lone tear wells up on Takeru's normal eye, but the other is frozen over. When the tear falls, the markings convulse and pulse in aggregation. Takeru winces.
"They must be... so lonely," he murmurs, much softer now. Like he's run out of steam. "Nobody remembers that they exist. They don't have a family to go back to, because you made their families forget. I can't imagine how much that hurts. And even if..."
His fingers clench again, holding the Shadow in place. It hasn't moved—just stares bug-eyed at him, frozen with fear, as though there's nothing it can do to break free of Takeru's hold.
"Even if we kill you," Takeru says faintly, "...will their families remember them? Will their memories be returned? There are so many Shadows. You've got to be so old to create such a big army, to feed so much. Maybe some of these kids' families are dead."
The small body of Shadow Takeru wavers. Folds in on itself like a blanket. Darkens. Darkens.
And suddenly, Takeru looks straight at Yamato.
"Nii-san," he says solemnly. "Do you trust me?"
Yamato studies his eye. His cheeks. His neck. Murmurs, "Of course I do, Teek."
He reaches for Yamato's arm, and when he makes physical contact, it burns so badly that it makes Yamato nauseous. But he doesn't pull away. Can't even try. Takeru tells him, "I've got to take this one back with us. It's the strongest..."
"What will you do with it?" Yamato asks. "Takeru, you—"
"Just... just trust me, Nii-san. Please. I can feel it. I've only got minutes."
"Ok." He's nodding, quivering from the pain of Takeru's hold. "O...ok."
Then the world around them crumbles. Splinters and cracks and shatters like a mirror, and they're all falling. Falling. Falling. Takeru still doesn't let go, and it burns, burns, burns. Bone-deep. Like Takeru's touch is enough to separate his hand from Yamato's body.
Distantly, he hears a shout. A muted cry of frustration. He peels his eyes open, unaware of when they drifted shut, and gasps when he sees that the Shadow Takeru is literally fusing into Takeru's body. Like he's absorbing it.
They're on the ground now. And it's pouring.
"Ta...Takeru..." Yamato's voice is too weak and wobbly. Choked. Strained. He feels like he's going to vomit. "Takeru, s-stop—"
"Ange...mon..."
Takeru's voice isn't his. It's loud, because the storm is still soundless, but Takeru doesn't even look around to see where their partners are or if they're even here. The markings are crawling over his unaffected eye, ready to consume it.
"Ang...emon..."
"Angemon," Yamato calls, as loud as he can, looking around wildly for his brother's partner. He sees that they're surrounded by his friends, by their digimon, trapped in a circle.
Yamato hears a collective groaning sound, but he can't determine the source. The sky is purple now.
"I'm right here," Angemon answers, walking towards them with only a moment of hesitance.
Takeru looks up, searching. Searching. Angemon's right in front of him, kneeling, but it's like he can't see him.
"...ki...ll... m...me..."
He releases Yamato's wrist as he speaks, slow, each syllable dragged out, like a malfunctioning machine or a scratched CD. It only takes one second for Yamato to stitch them together, and when the words register, his heart squeezes.
"N-no..." Yamato struggles to shake his head, denial pulsing through him. His whole body aches with how cold he feels. "Takeru, w-we c-c-can't—"
"Tr..." Takeru's body shifts. "Tru...st... me... plea—"
"Holy Shot!"
A blast of light illuminates the entire world, drowning out the shadows, drowning out the colors. Even drowning out the outlines of his friends' bodies. And warmth seeps into him, piercing through the vein-like shadows on Yamato's arms. Through the ice building inside him. Suddenly he feels so light, like he's floating. Like even gravity is a myth.
The groaning dulls. Dulls. Then it's nonexistent, and the warmth is wrapping around his wrist. Weaving into his wounds, healing the skin, purging everything that is unholy from his body.
Purging this realm of every illusion, of every Shadow, until there's not a drop of its existence left.
The light fades so slowly that Yamato doesn't even realize it's gone completely until somebody shakes his shoulder. He hums, but no full, coherent words will come out.
The person shakes him harder. Something wet presses against his shirt. Voices filter through the air, fragmented and muffled.
"—mato. YAMATO!"
Yamato's eyes snap open, and even though the voice doesn't belong to Takeru, he's the first person that Yamato thinks to look for. His gaze skitters around without aim, body heaving upwards before he knows what he's doing.
"Takeru," he blurts out, the name coming out sluggishly. "Bro... little bro, where are you?"
"Right here."
The world tilts and sways indefinitely. He's not sure when it finally decides that it's going to stand still, but when it does, he sees that Garurumon is curled around him protectively. Angemon is leaning against Garurumon, too, with an all-too-familiar blond boy cradled in his lap.
"Keru," Yamato says, voice breaking. His body jerks again, arms twitching, but he's too weak to move. "Oh my god... is he ok? Please tell me he's ok."
"Easy. Easy," Garurumon soothes, and it takes a few moments to realize that it had been Garurumon nudging him with his nose. "He's fine, Yamato. Angemon's attack stopped the transformation just in time."
Yamato literally sags with relief, leaning heavily into Garurumon. He's panting from the exertion of sitting up, heart thundering in his chest, and any other day he would have been embarrassed by it, but now all he can feel is sweet, blissful relief.
"...nnn..."
"Oh my gosh, are they awake?"
"They're waking up. Hey, Elecmon, they're waking up!"
"Thank goodness... I was worried..."
"...reckless pair of brothers, honestly..."
"...can you believe what he did...?"
More voices. They blend together like ribbons, words merging, and he can't tell anyone apart. Can't even tell the difference between feminine and masculine.
One voice, however, sticks out loud and clear, and it makes him forget how utterly exhausted he feels at the moment.
"...Nii-san...?"
"H-hey," he croaks, reaching tremulously for his brother's hand. His brother's hand, which is no longer covered in this awful, awful shadow markings.
Takeru hums, just like he does, and doesn't open his eyes. "M'glad... that it... that it worked..."
Yamato stills. Around him, he can hear another chorus of remarks—an even split of indignant and concerned—and he squeezes his brother's fingers, heart pounding faster.
"What... what do you mean?" he says, more urgently before. "Takeru... are you... are you telling me that you weren't one-hundred percent sure it would work?"
Gradually, finally, Takeru cracks his eyes open, giving Yamato a cheeky smile that's watered down with fatigue. "I just... had a feeling... and it wouldn't leave..." He shifts in Angemon's arms very slowly, looking content and warm and like he never wants to move. "...had to act on it, Nii-san..."
Yamato laughs. He laughs and laughs until his voice breaks, until his smile falters, and then tears are seeping through, rolling down his cheeks as he staggers forward, allowing Angemon to pull him closer to Takeru, and he sobs in Takeru's hair.
Doesn't care that he's surrounded by his friends.
Doesn't care if the whole world is watching.
"...don't..." Takeru's voice is cracking, too. Fracturing like ice under too much weight. "D-don't... cry, Nii-san... m'fine."
He can't stop. Because Takeru's words from earlier, telling him that he only had minutes before he was completely turned... the image of Takeru's eyes turning into mirror-like pearls... it'll haunt him for weeks to come, and he has to soak up this moment, knowing that this nightmare is over.
"We did it," Takeru slurs, eyes half-lidded. "No more Shadows, Nii-san..."
"That's right," he says thickly, not even bothering to wipe away his tears. "You... you did it, Teek. No more Shadows."
Softly, quietly, Angemon asks, "How do you feel, Takeru?"
"Mm." Takeru's head turns weakly. "...safe."
"Safe?" Angemon echoes as if he has to be sure.
"Mmm-hmm." He sighs, chest shuddering, and leans into Yamato's neck like it's the most natural thing he's ever done. "Headache's... gone."
"Yeah?" Garurumon says.
"And... I'm hungry," Takeru finishes. "Very hungry."
"Well," another voice says suddenly. It's only vaguely familiar. "I can fix that. I'll go catch some fish for you two, alright? Stay put."
"I'll come, too," another voice offers. That one sounds like Mimi.
"Me too."
Daisuke.
"And me."
Miyako.
Yamato wants to say that there's no way he's going to move. Not with Takeru right here, alive and breathing. Of course he's going to stay put. He doesn't care how many people go fishing. He doesn't even care about eating right now.
Except Takeru does, so he doesn't fight them at all. Doesn't even watch them as half of his friends disappear.
Someone sinks down next to Yamato. A hand touches his arm, fingers feather-soft, voice like silk.
"You both scared us so much," Sora says faintly. "And if you do it again, I'm gonna kick your ass."
It's the first time he's ever heard Sora curse. Evidently, Takeru thinks the same thing, because suddenly he's giggling tiredly like it's the funniest thing he's heard in a long time.
"Uh oh," he says, without moving. "...she's mad, Nii-san."
Takeru continues to laugh, and it isn't long before Sora and Yamato join him.
Because Takeru's laughter is infectious in the best possible way, and it's the most beautiful sound.