Digital Shuffle
By famirad
Disclaimer: I don't own or claim to own Digimon. This fanfiction is for fun.
Author's Note: Once again, going into edit. I'm also removing my Author's Notes from before because they're embarrassingly filled with 2001 fangirlism. Thank you for reading. Most of the original text will be the same, but I'll be tightening it up as I go. Small edits.
Italics for thoughts and emphasis and sound effects
Bold for implied feelings, mostly for the Juggernaut.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Digital Shuffle
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
(Conversations)
It's quiet tonight.
No sign of any Wild Ones, nothing out of the ordinary and no random outbreaks of troubleshooting. No broken parts, no stalled computers, no whining technicians…nothing.
Peaceful, almost.
Probably why Yamaki was suddenly aware of the fact his ass was absolutely killing him. He leaned back in his chair, setting the his down on the terminal's dark console.
Kei left long ago, leaving Kincaid and Reika manning the high-rise chairs now. Yamaki stifled a yawn, stretching out his cramped legs. His lower back twinged, protesting. Sure, he was dedicated, but he wasn't an insomniac; he was going to need some sleep if he was to be ready for tomorrow's meeting. Yamaki removed his sunglasses, rubbing at his temple in exasperation. It was typical for Nagamora to want a conference at 5 AM. Swear that he does this on purpose. Trying to catch me with my pants down. Another yawn. Why doesn't this surprise me?
Typical of the man, now that he thought of it.
He glanced up. Kincaid was bustling with almost inhuman energy, her fingers flying around the keyboard. Reika, on the other hand, was beginning to show signs of fatigue.
Yamaki pushed himself out of his chair. He wasn't having a good week and he definitely wasn't looking forward to tomorrow. With luck, he wouldn't bungle the meeting or mention anything he deemed classified. I'll do worse if I don't get rid of my own stress, he thought grimly, replacing his sunglasses. So he needed to relax in order to be prepared. With that decided, he called up to the two women in the high-rise chair.
"Reika!"
The tech looked down, pushing up the goggles away from her eyes as she leaned over the terminal. "Sir?"
"Your shift's up," Yamaki said. To all others, these three words meant nothing, just a simple reminder, but Reika nodded. Reika began lowering her seat, unconsciously running her hands through her hair. Yamaki glanced from from Reika to Kincaid. "Kinoko Sekai will be coming down – when she does, I want you to run an errand for me. There're some files I want you to copy onto a flash drive – they're called Firewall-09GX. I expect the flash drive on my desk tomorrow morning."
"Yes sir!"
Yamaki turned to Reika. He had no trouble reading her body language. She would use him the same way he would use her, of course – as a stress reliever, nothing more. "Lovers" would be pushing it, wouldn't it? More like business associates. He watched as Reika approached, her reflective goggles hanging in her fingers. Sure, she was pretty, beautiful even – she was a model as well, wasn't she? – but Yamaki wasn't interested in getting to know her, and he supposed she felt the same way.
Reika fell in step next to him as the two left the deck, heading toward the elevators. The overnight employees passing by made no attempts to ask questions. It was common to see the two leaving at the same time, or in each other's company. If they suspected anything, they wisely kept it to themselves.
Reika made no attempt to converse with her boss during the elevator ride down, although he could feel her dark eyes boring into the back of his head. She was a sharp woman and she already knew enough about him to make him feel mildly uncomfortable. Yamaki briefly wondered why he put up with her, why he put up with the prying questions in the dark, the fact that sometimes he got the impression she was genuinely interested in what he had to say.
Maybe it was because of that. Because she gave as good as he could. He wasn't even sure if he could fire her.
The elevator soon arrived at the lobby. It was then Reika broke the silence:
"Your car?"
"My car. When does your shift start tomorrow?" Yamaki asked, ignoring the stares of a roaming security guard.
"Eight," came the curt reply.
"Fine."
And that was the end of the conversation. No further words were exchanged between them until they reached the parking lot.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Kaminmon made his way across the roof tops, cursing the way the rain made the tiles slippery, cursing the way the damp gravel gave way under him, and generally cursing everything that came to mind about this damn city.
The Council was right. Humans really did live in ultra-Hives!
He had only been here for a few days and already he hated it. The way the lights sparkled, dazzling the eye, the way the breeze whipped its way between the skyscrapers, the way the streets in the day were crowded with those miserable fleshlings, those humans. The more he saw of them, the more he thought they had it coming. The Real World really did have sawrms of the creatures, just like the Council email blasts said they did.
The Digimon who he was supposed to hunt out didn't associate with any humans, according to his Mistress. Kaminmon had a general idea where his target could be found, but it was still a long way to go. More than half way across the city, in fact. He estimated it would probably be a few hours before he'd even be close, and then he'd have the personal enjoyment of trying to find a Digimon who probably didn't want to be found.
He would be patient. Even if he thought he'd go cross-eyed with anger at this forsaken place.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The Juggernaut was pleased with something.
Takato could feel the satisfaction, almost imagined it was a tangible thing he could touch. Weird. After all, hadn't the computer told him it was incapable of feelings? Then again, that was days ago, and from what he gathered, the Juggernaut was reading him like a book and learning. So maybe it was possible.
Still, he had to wonder what it was that pleased the Juggernaut. Was it something good…well, good for the both of them? The Tamer couldn't really say. His words were swallowed up in the black space, no echo bouncing back and he couldn't really go anywhere because everything looked exactly the same.
Takato closed his eyes, still seeing those colored lines shifting in his vision, and let his hands hang at his side. The irritating buzzing bothering him ever since he'd been kidnapped grew fainter and he found it easier to think. When he did, the thoughts were painful – plans to escape, worry about his family, homesickness, concern about his friends, confusion – and to make matters even more pleasant, he was starting to feel the first pangs of loneliness. He didn't like the feeling of being completely by himself, with no one around him.
It was hours since he talked at all.
Would his friends even try to find him? Juri probably wouldn't, and neither would Kenta – no, Kenta would rather send someone else to take care of his work. What about Hirokazu? A burst of cynical laughter. Too busy trying to buy a card deck good enough to beat Ruki, probably. Besides, he was too wrapped up in hanging around with Kenta anyway. Typical of them to ignore Takato and exclude him. Ruki probably wouldn't even notice he was gone, so no surprise there. Guilmon was probably getting hungry, but then again, he was always hungry, so what else was new?
And Jenrya? A moment of hesitation. Jenrya probably would notice Takato was missing, maybe even go out and look for him for who knew how long. The young Tamer felt the teeth of shame nip at him.
Wonder how long he's going to look before he decides it's useless?
Takato knew his friend didn't kid himself about anything, and he wouldn't do something if it was obvious it was pointless. Smart guy like that. So what would that be? A few days? A week, at most? His loyalty starting to fade and he wondered why he'd thought Jenrya could be excluded from the others in the first place. It's all their fault for doing nothing. Takato realized in smoldering anger. And if Jenrya had been looking, obviously he hadn't been looking hard enough! The anger drained away, leaving Takato feeling ashamed.
...Why am I thinking like this? This isn't me!
It's just my temper. Anyone would be testy being in this position.
In the passing hours, his temper swung wildly, going from feeling betrayed to feeling like he was going to burst into tears. He personally couldn't think of a solid reason for this, other than that it probably had something to do with the Juggernaut.
You appear to be holding up very well.
Takato didn't open his eyes – there was nothing to see – and at first he didn't answer, though he wondered why the Juggernaut was talking to him again. Five hours hadn't passed. At least, he was pretty sure that much time hadn't elapsed.
It hasn't. The Juggernaut answered. Your sense of the passage of time is accurate.
Then how come you're speaking to me again?
Another part of me monitors your current mental output. I am merely…what do you call it? When one interacts with another on a purely personal basis, with output exchanged between one another…?
Starting a conversation? Takato's eyes opened wide at this, surprised. This was new.
Yes. Starting a conversation. Currently, I an unable to take an avatar in this plane – I will soon, to make communication less difficult between us – but I will answer your questions now, as best to my ability.
Takato glanced around the black space. He'd had about a million things to ask, hundreds, thousands of questions that had been swirling about in his mind. But now his brain decided to go blank on him. Helpful. The young Tamer looked about, trying to find something that might jog his memory back into wakefulness.
There is no pressure. Take as much time as you require.
Time. Well, there was a question, though it was probably a stupid one. Hey, how old are you?
How old am I? There was an imitation of a thoughtful pause. Specify.
Huh? It's pretty straightforward.
Incorrect. Do you refer to the day construction on me began or when my awareness program was initiated?
Takato blinked. Uh…when was your…um…program started?
Approximately thirteen years.
Well, what about your construction?
Five months, three days, fourteen hours and fifty-two minutes.
Now how was that possible? Takato knew he was only a kid, but anyone could see the problems with this – there was no way you could be five months and thirteen years old at the same time! Apparently, the Juggernaut sensed his bewilderment, speaking up before there were any more questions:
Perhaps this requires further explanation. Work on me first started approximately five months ago, by the humans here, led by my creator. The first piece of me that was completed were my data banks. Therefore my construction age is not exactly accurate, because the oldest file I possess dates back to the very minute my banks were activated. However, my awareness program is linked to yours, and therefore I have a "memory" that can go back thirteen years ago, though mine can recall the moment of living birth, unlike yours. So, in a way, I am both as old as you, yet I am also younger.
Do you understand now?
Takato thought he did. So, "physically", the Juggernaut was younger, but "mentally" (or digitally, or whatever), it was as old as him because of that link between them. Okay, I can understand that. Put like that it wasn't so complicated, but of course the Juggernaut had to go rambling off, as usual -
- I am merely supplying additional information to support my answer. The machine interjected, almost in mild protest.
Yeah, well, you keep doing that, and you start confusing people. Takato answered.
Noted. Filed away for reference, companion system.
Do you have any other questions?
Takato knew he did, but now that he was actually talking to the Juggernaut, they all flooded back and he wasn't sure which one he should ask. It was starting to get a little easier to accept the computer as a sentient being, and even less difficult to forget he wasn't really having a conversation. The Juggernaut seemed to be genuinely interested in answering his questions. It was a change from the background check things, which were either boring or painful. The Tamer made a motion to snap his fingers, remembering something. He'd been wondering earlier what it had been that'd been making the Juggernaut feel so pleased.
Or whatever it felt in place of emotions.
Two questions. To answer the second one: I now can simulate a very limited range of emotions, because our systems are further interlocking. But while you have no control over yours, I do. I can pick at will the appropriate emotion for the occasion. I was merely…practicing then.
Why?
Because it was a situation where I knew I should feel pleased.
Did these conversations have to be difficult? What I meant was, what was it that made you feel that way?
I received a gift.
Takato felt his eyebrows shoot up. Somehow, that was the last thing the young boy had been thinking. A gift?
A gift. The Juggernaut agreed. From my creator. A suitable reason to be pleased, I think. Though I believe it technically belongs to you…
What?
Your Digivice.
Takato glanced around wildly, almost expecting to see his D-Arc.
It is not here, companion system. You forget where you are. Your "D-Arc" is safe. In fact, it is sitting in your physical lap, so there is nothing to concern yourself with. The Juggernaut reassured him. You will feel it when I finish the background checks.
The Juggernaut fell silent, awaiting his next question. Takato mulled this new development over. So he had his D-Arc with him. The young Tamer wasn't completely sure how much power the device had in it, but maybe he could use it to escape? Or maybe sic Growlmon on the Juggernaut so he could get out?
It would be impossible to "sic" Growlmon on me, companion system. Just as it would be impossible to "sic" him on yourself. You will find your D-Arc will not respond to only your command. The Juggernaut commented mildly. It will only recognize you if our signals are joined.
What did you do to it? Takato demanded.
I have done nothing. I merely touched it: your D-Arc did the rest. Now, do you have anything else to ask?
Takato made a face as if he'd tasted something bitter. So he could forget about the D-Arc; leaving him exactly where he'd started. I might as well forget about it, Takato realized wearily. He put the news of his D-Arc to the back of his mind, deciding to focus on asking questions. He groped about for something to ask and blurted the first thing that came to mind. You said you could appear here as an avatar…where is here? Is this also in my head?
No. Only the background checks are taken from your memory. Your subconscious self I have transferred momentarily. This is a small section of the digital plane.
The digital plane?
The area between the Digital World and the Real World. Only computers with my caliber can make much use of this plane, although some Digimon are able to make the transition through this area, answered the Juggernaut. If it will make it any easier to explain, think of the Digital World and the Real World as two large masses of land, separated by a chasm. This chasm is vast and has no measurable depth. The only way to cross between the Digital and the Real is to go over the chasm through tears in both their realities – bridges, if you need visualization, although that is a crude way of describing it.
Oh…I thought this was the Digital World.
It is not. No Digimon can survive long here, and so they travel as quickly as they can from one side to the other. Not much is known of the space between the Digital and Real Worlds, and even I am limited in my abilities here, as my programming has little relevant information regarding this space. However, my work can be completed quickly here, and you seem to have no difficulty in this plane.
What about what you said earlier, about appearing here as an avatar?
Currently, I possess the ability to choose a form for myself based on your memories. However, in the bonding between companion systems, I have not reached the point where I can create an image to use here. That in itself will take several more hours. For that, I will need to borrow fragments of your memory in order to do so.
Takato decided he had a reason to be suspicious. Was this going to mess up his memory or anything?
No. I will merely copy from you what I need. And after that, I will need to locate the source I will take my image from, in order to accurately imitate the mannerisms. I have enough influence that I can use the city's network freely for surveillance.
Oh.
There was an awkward silence. Takato fidgeted. He couldn't think of anything else to ask. Not anything worthwhile, at any rate. After a long pause, the Juggernaut spoke up again:
Perhaps I should ask you some questions.
Takato started to give his agreement, when he realized something that almost made him do a double take. Wait a minute, but wouldn't you already know the answers? He almost forgotten the machine could read his thoughts.
Yes, I would already know what your answer but you could pretend I do not. The Juggernaut replied. This is a conversation, after all. You may assume I know little about you. Think of it like a game of Make-Believe, if it helps you.
…Okay…Takato dubiously agreed.
I shall start, then. A pause, almost if the Juggernaut was thinking. You are an only child, correct?
Uh huh.
What do your parents do for a living?
They work in a bakery.
What is it like, to have parents?
Takato shrugged. Did he hear an almost wistful tone in that question? It was hard to tell – after all, he was dealing with a machine here. It's okay, I guess. Mom's a good cook, and Dad's funny. They always tuck me in at night, and make me study all the time and tell me what to do…
Do they "love" you?
I guess so.
How old are they? They must be in their mid-thirties.
Takato nodded.
They will not live long.
Takato fought to bite his tongue. He'd spent enough time in the Juggernaut's strange company that he was starting to get used to the tactless remarks it made. He was sure what it said had a point – Takato didn't think it could be menacing – and it probably didn't speak just to showboat its abilities. After all, didn't it say that it couldn't lie? Still, he had to remember they were talking about his parents here! What do you mean?
Exactly what I said. If they are in their thirties, then I would estimate they would live only forty more years. That is not very long.
It's long to me! He countered.
If you had contact with the outside world, yes; it would be long. But you forget you are in my presence, and therefore time has little effect on you or I. The Juggernaut replied. You will not age when you are with me. After we are linked completely, you will easily outlive your friends and family.
What makes you think I'll be here long enough to see that happen, assuming you're telling the truth? Takato didn't think he would automatically accept the Juggernaut because it might have a few tricks up its sleeve. Not that it had any sleeves. But he started to think something he did (or thought) was prompting the probing questions, considering how the Juggernaut acted so objectively.
Think what you will. Perhaps you will think differently in a few days concerning my capacities. The Juggernaut said. Your friends know you from only what their eyes can tell them. I know everything regarding you, how you think and what you desire. In almost every aspect we are different, and I am obviously the superior in capabilities. Yet, you chose to put your trust in them, inferior as they are. It is their perspective you still limit yourself to, not mine. Not yet.
So? What, you're getting jealous or something? The young Tamer asked. Didn't think you were the type.
Jealous? Hardly. It is merely puzzling to me. The Juggernaut answered with the ghost of imitated affection. As it is puzzling how one can "love" another. According to how humans think of such a concept, I find it bewildering. Inconsistent. A pause. But that is not an important matter. What is…it trailed off.
Takato jumped slightly as he felt something light touch his shoulder, almost experimentally. The boy whirled around, still floating in the black space and glancing wildly. Nothing, nothing except the same digital lines he was getting to know so well. No one behind him, which meant…
My power here is already rapidly growing by being with you. Do you see now? It's beginning.
Another feathery touch, a whisper against his wrist. Takato kept his mouth shut, although the ghostly contact felt awfully familiar. If he closed his eyes (which he did), he could almost imagine his mom standing behind his back and looking over his shoulder. A nearly inaudible sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back. Drifted a little. He'd been stubbornly keeping his thoughts away from what the Juggernaut had told him, had asked him earlier, and had revealed to him in the past few days in its background checks while he had tried to hide behind skeptical and superficial questions. Yet he knew he couldn't shy away forever and it was impossible to bar his mind from what was said, which made more and more sense, more than he certainly wanted to admit…
A game? He supposed it could be a game. Make Believe? He was still a kid, he still played games…and it would be so easy to pretend, to make believe that things were otherwise…
A giant game. That is all it is. All it ever was…
…Since everything began seven years ago.
A faint breath ruffled his brown hair, the motion still clumsy for lack of practice. Almost like his dad this time, tousling his hai; his dad hadn't done that in years. If he didn't know better, Takato could almost believe the clock was getting pushed back, like he was once more a little kid. That he didn't have loads of homework or that pile of responsibilities that just grew as he got older, that his parents always had time for him.
Time is beyond our reach. I can imitate what your memory can recall. With practice, I will be indistinguishable from the real thing. A superior replacement. The Juggernaut feigned a murmuring, comforting tone. It is pointless to concern yourself with such things.
What about his friends and family? They were worried about him; they had to be.
And how long will they search for you? Weeks? Months? Another experimentally touch grazed his nose and tweaked at him; he wrinkled it in response. Not forever. It is reasonable to assume at some point they will give up hope, Takato. And then what will you do? Will it matter if you are eventually forgotten?
Takato reluctantly shook his head. It wouldn't matter. He had heard all those stories about kids disappearing – after a while, the posters inquiring about the missing kids vanished from the subway walls, and the students at school eventually stopped talking about it and moved on to other, more recent and "interesting" things. Is that how it would be with me? Am I going to end up just like that, old news?
It was starting to get difficult to figure out time here. Had he been here for hours? A few days? After a while, it just sort of blended together into a jumbled, garbled mess. It was easier not to think about it.
Yes. Time is not your concern. Do not think of your family and friends – they do not truly know you. I would think it should benefit you to forget them.
He didn't think he could, even if he had wanted to. Jenrya, always there, reliant and thinking with a clear head. Guilmon, his absolutely bestest best friend, sometimes clueless, but still the one he could go to when he needed some cheering up. His mom and dad, always there to help him with homework and make him those special bread rolls that tasted so good, his mom coming in every night to tuck him in. Ruki, always making some snide remark, yet managing to help out if he needed it. How could he forget them, wipe them from his memory?
They all have judged you. No one came. What does that say?
The Juggernaut didn't wait for an answer.
It does not matter. They are not here but I am. And in the end, all that will be left will be you and I. Ghostly fingers gently pushed Takato away, leaving the boy to float slowly forward. Perhaps you should think this over for a while before we engage in another one of these "conversations".
You're leaving? Takato asked. Of course, he knew the Juggernaut wasn't really leaving, but it would be silent and unresponsive to him, which pretty much amounted to the same thing. He would be alone. And back where he started until the computer returned to him.
I must finish my work now, which is going to require most of my attention.
…When…Takato felt badly he was asking this - like he was giving into some sort of compromise - but he continued anyway. When…when will you be done?
In an hour. You should be informed there is going to be another background check after that.
Takato digested this. He was starting to get used to the checks and the prospect of one wasn't as terrible as he originally thought not too long ago. Better that then the loneliness. An hour absolutely seemed like a lifetime to him in the digital plane. Takato didn't know just what he was going to do to occupy himself until then. Apparently he didn't need to eat or drink, which was a minor curiosity, but not something he was dying know the reason for. Besides that, there altogether wasn't that much to do.
And if he had to stare at those digital lines for even ten more minutes, Takato swore he was going to go crazy.
Or something, if he wasn't already crazy for actually looking forward to another conversation with the Juggernaut.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
His eyes started to hurt again.
Yamaki couldn't tell why. The phantom pains were returning (the last time he felt them ache like this had been around two years ago) and now they bugged the hell out of him. It's been four years. Yamaki growled . Even the doctors said he should have fully recovered by now. They had been puzzled about his condition, but what could he tell them? They wouldn't believe him anyway.
His mouth tightened imperceptibly. He was not going to start thinking of that incident again.
Not that nightmare…
If he couldn't erase it from his mind's memory, then he could chose to simply not think about it. Though that was easier said than done some days.
The throbbing became more insistent and stinging, enough Yamaki had to pull one hand from the wheel to push his sunglasses up in order to rub at his eyes.
"Something wrong?"
Yamaki flicked a glance at his passenger. Reika fixed him with a cool stare. He looked away, fixing his gaze on the dark road ahead. "No. Just something caught in my eye." His tone made it clear it wasn't a subject to be pursued.
Reika shrugged. She clearly didn't buy his excuse. He knew he wouldn't have bought it if they'd switched places. The car made its way down empty streets, passing under the pale cones of light spilling from out the street lights. Next to him, Reika sat in the passenger's seat, her long violet hair pulled back in a loose ponytail as she stared out the window at the passing houses and apartments.
They were only a few blocks from his apartment complex when Reika spoke up, still gazing into her reflection in the window.
"We're keeping this quick, right?"
Yamaki nodded, "No foreplay. Not tonight."
"Fine by me. I'm not in the mood for it."
"Neither am I," He eyed the red light as the car idled at the intersection. "I'll give you the keys to my apartment. You know what floor it is."
"What about you?"
"There's something I need to check up on." Yamaki said coolly. "It'll only take fifteen minutes."
Reika asked no more questions as the car swung left, turning onto a side street. Yamaki drove on, lost in thought. Is it still standing? It had been nearly three years since he last saw the building, after all, and he knew the people who lived there had long since moved away, at least two years earlier. His memories of the place were etched deeply into his memory, how it had been before they moved away.
And who was to blame for that?
The apartment complex came into sight, the towering building reaching up into the midnight sky. For the most part, its windows were dark, though he could see one or two were lit. It was pretty late and most of the tenants had already gone to sleep. Yamaki pulled up to the sidewalk. Reika unbuckled herself and, opening the door, the young woman slid gracefully out of the car. Yamaki waited until she disappeared into the building before starting up the car again and easing out of the parking lot.
The house he was going to visit was only a ten minute drive away, which was why he continued to pay rent at this particular apartment in the first place. He supposed he could've bought the house when it had been abandoned, but it would probably hurt too much to wake and eat and sleep there. Better he just stay away, unless it was for brief visits like this one. Yamaki reached up and removed his sunglasses.
It was only another reminder of his past failures.
He remembered driving down this very same street, years ago. Of course, back then it hadn't had so many houses nestled against each other. And the road had been a lot more crowded then: he saw very few cars parked next to the sidewalks now.
Yamaki eased off the gas. The trees whispered overhead in the midnight's gentle breeze as he finally pulled to a stop. For a moment, he remained seated where he was, lifting his head to regard the house he stopped in front of. It hasn't changed. Looks just as dead as it did the last time I was here.
Strangely enough, the house hadn't been purchased like he suspected. A five-foot wall surrounded the perimeter of the lot, long overgrown with climbing weeds. The trees were wild, their shaggy tops hanging over the wall. Dry leaves scuttled about the sidewalk and danced against the pavement; he could see the gate had been left partially opened, which made him frown as a thought hit him. Don't tell me vandals hit this place. Yamaki got out from the car, shutting the door behind him with a bang and silently surveyed the area, his lips tightening into a thin line. It made him fume to think a bunch of brats would trespass and deface the lot. What made him even more irritated was the fact his cousins had turned a blind eye to what was happening in their own neighborhood.
If they even live around here still.
As far as he knew, most of his family – including his parents – left Tokyo recently. They packed up and left without so much as a word of goodbye. They hadn't exchanged words since nearly half a decade ago.
Yamaki approached the derelict lot, his shoes crunching through the dry leaves on the path to the gate. Years ago, the walkway would've been swept clean. Despite his attempts to clean the mess up last time, it was piling up once again. Regretfully, he knew he wasn't going to have enough time to deal with it today. In fact, he knew his work was going to keep him busy for quite a while and that he probably wouldn't have enough time to return for several months, even though he promised himself to visit more often.
As he entered the lot, Yamaki glanced about the area. The trees were whispering each other as their branches rustled and creaked against each other in the strengthening wind. Yamaki didn't hesitate long to listen, instead slowly heading toward the dark house.
As he came upon the dirt-covered threshold, he halted at the door, glancing at the lot behind him. It was depressing, almost painfully so, to see the house liked this. Even more so when he thought of the people who used to lived here.
I wonder if everything would've happened if I hadn't been there? Would she still be alive? If I hadn't come back to Tokyo, would this house still be occupied?
He knew part of the fault (most of it?) was his – he was unwilling to put his faith where it should've been and he hadn't then had the resources to combat the digital threat that even then, so long ago, began to surface. It wouldn't have mattered so much if he had been the casualty. But instead…
Yamaki trailed off, leaning on the frame of doorway. His eyes started to burn, which wasn't a good thing. Tears would irritate still sensitive wounds. Besides, he hadn't cried since his injury and he hadn't cried since he first received the news.
He certainly wasn't going to start now.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Takato sat quietly against the wall of the jungle gym, looking around. This background check was a little different than what he was getting used to and he wasn't sure what to think of it.
To start things off, the Juggernaut hadn't gotten immediately to work. Instead, it told him to wait and that it would be with him momentarily. That was fifteen minutes ago. Not that he had a problem with sitting around doing nothing. At least this place was familiar, and he supposed anything was better (and less boring) than that digital plane waiting room. But it irritated him the Juggernaut had been all uppity earlier about being efficient and saying they must cooperate and act quickly to complete its task, only for the computer to disappear on him.
He thought he was getting a hang of how things were handled here, but now he was put on hold. Apparently. Or whatever term could be applied to this. Guess he should make the best of where he was: for one thing, it was nice to listen to the background noises of the park, just sit there and listen. Sparrows chirped back and forth to each other. He couldn't hear any cars or any people, for that matter. In the distance, that same dog was barking. It's getting more and more detailed here each time. The first check was almost completely silent. And the scenery had been too bright, saturated, like there was some huge light bulb peeping through a filter.
Guess it really is learning. He leaned forward, staring with a sudden interest at the floor. The Juggernaut had it. Right down to the little, itty bitty brown flecks embedded in the concrete.
Enjoying yourself?
Takato sat up sharply, for no reason feeling embarrassed of himself. Guiltily he sat back against the wall. There was a scrabbling sound outside of the jungle gym.
I am coming in.
A gray head appeared for a moment, followed by a pair of paws. Takato couldn't help staring in fascination as what appeared to be the top half of a lean dog popped over the ledge, trying to push itself over the floor and not quite making it. The gray shoulder muscles bunched and twisted as the animal fought to get onto the next level. After a few minutes, Takato finally leaned forward.
"Um…do you need any help?"
Yes. The Juggernaut answered after a pregnant pause. It appears this body is not meant for this type of strain.
Takato almost laughed, but thought better of it, instead crawling over on his hands and knees until he was closer to the Juggernaut's current avatar. He placed his hands on the paws, hesitating. If he tried to pull the doggy up, wouldn't he risk injuring the animal? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea: he didn't really like the idea of maybe breaking a bone or dislocating a limb.
I will be fine. Help me.
With a dubious expression, Takato's fingers closed around the Juggernaut's paws and he sat backward, pulling hard as he could. Between his heaving and the dog's efforts, the machine's avatar managed to scramble up onto the jungle gym's floor. Takato settled back to give the Juggernaut some breathing space, his hands resting on his knees as he stared.
Considering the forms the Juggernaut picked in the past, this was probably one of the nicest. It was easily the most lifelike. This time it was a beautiful greyhound, sleek, with closely cropped silver fur he suddenly had an urge to pass his hand over. He managed to resist the temptation, although he was dying to know if dog was as soft as it looked. The greyhound padded a few feet into the tiny room, its claws clicking almost inaudibly against concrete as it circled about. It finally settled down in the warmth of the mid-noon sunlight, the light spilling through the small hole cut in the jungle gym and across the floor, turning its coat into molten silver.
The greyhound's head swiveled around to fix its eyes on the Tamer, noticing his fascinated stare. Is this a suitable avatar, companion system? More appropriate, I think. The dog bared its teeth in a fake yawn.
Where were you? Takato wondered. His eyes remained glued on the greyhound; he was unable to tear them away.
Some things required my immediate attention. The Juggernaut tilted its gray snout, the very motion fluid. It shook its head at the Tamer's unspoken question. For the time being, it was apparent the machine didn't feel it was something he needed to know at the moment and probably wasn't going to satisfy his curiosity any time in the near future. The animal began to pant, pretending to be overheated as it kept that slightly unnerving gaze on the young boy. We begin now.
Takato nodded half-heartedly, although he was far more interested in admiring the dog then sitting down for another lecture.
It seemed like it'd been forever since he'd seen another living thing.
I have decided to use this session to address several things I think are important to reaching my projected goal. The Juggernaut began. The first issue I wish to address is the matter of your own behavior.
What about it? The young boy wondered. His attention, however, remained fixed on the beautiful animal, instead of on the computer's words.
It concerns obedience. I have been reviewing the information I have on file regarding you, and it seems you are lacking in this area. For example, you occasionally fail to obey the command of your parents. They tell you to do your homework, but you do not. Instead, you do something else, such as drawing. But when they ask if you are working hard, you say nothing. Not only do you disobey the order, but you also deviate from the truth by keeping silent.
Takato failed to see how this was a supposedly "dangerous" flaw. It was just a harmless white lie, wasn't it?
Let me explain, using myself as an example. I am a computer, therefore I possess none of these flaws. If I am given a command, I follow it. I do exactly what I am ordered. Because of this, I never fail. A reproaching look from the greyhound. It should be fairly obvious – even to you, Takato Matsuda – which is why I have chosen not to focus entirely on this defect. Even you should see this for what it is. If you do not obey all commands, you will fail. Always. When we merge, as one we must obey all commands given in order to accomplish the set goal.
There can be no arguments, no doubts. There can be no "why" in our operations. Such things mean nothing to me and should mean nothing to you as well. "Why" is meaningless.
During this lecture, Takato managed to scoot closer to the avatar. The Juggernaut didn't appear to notice, although its unblinking eyes were still fixed on him. He decided to pass on asking the question on the tip of his tongue, instead content to just sit there and take in the pretty animal up close. The Tamer was itching to smooth down the silver fur, to touch it just for a moment, but he reminded himself it probably wasn't a good idea. Still, he was tempted, and it was hard to keep his mouth clamped shut.
I trust you understand this. The Juggernaut paused then, and the dog's slender head turned expectantly toward the entrance to the jungle gym. Takato's eyes automatically followed the greyhound's gaze – there was little reaction from the boy as he watched a carbon copy of himself clamber into the small room, lugging a shoebox of cards with him. The Tamer instinctively started to move aside as the other Takato set his box down on the concrete floor, but he stopped when the other boy practically sat down on top of his legs.
The other Takato went through him like a ghost.
Just a phantom from some fading memory. Takato glanced away from the "ghost", instead turning his eyes back to the Juggernaut's avatar for an explanation.
The latest occurrence of an act of disobedience. This occurred less than a week ago.
That recent? How long had he been in the Juggernaut, anyway?
Only a few days. But that is not relevant. The computer replied. When you came here, you told your mother you were going to Jenrya Lee's house to study for a math test. But you did not follow through with what you said. Just as you never did when you spent most of the night making pictures of Growlmon – you failed to comply with the order your mother gave you. You cannot afford to follow this pattern any longer. There is only failure if you continue to do so.
Do you want to fail?
He could almost hear the chagrin in his voice, "Well…no, but…"
You do recognize the need to fix this defect, correct? Although it is not difficult to correct this flaw, disobedience is listed – in my banks – as one of the most dangerous you possess.
The greyhound glanced at the ghostly image of the other Takato. The boy sifted through his deck, his red D-Arc sitting near his knee, and looking for something as he spread the cards laid out before him. Takato ignored the ghost hand passing through his thigh. Contrary to your belief, these are not accusations, Takato Matsuda.
Takato started to protest he didn't think they were but he thought better of it. Once again, the Juggernaut saw through him. Guess there's no point in getting huffy about it, then.
Precisely.
It wasn't as painful to Takato to hear the ring of truth in the Juggernaut's words this time, though he now had to wonder what got him so riled up in the first place. Now that he'd been in the computer's company a little while longer, he began to be a bit more accepting, and it was becoming a mystery to him why he'd been acting so weirdly at the time.
It never occurred to him he might have changed since then.
Takato cradled his chin in one hand as he stared at the greyhound. Now that it was clear he understood what needed to be done, the Juggernaut would probably move on to other things. Hopefully it wouldn't be boring. He glanced at the other Takato: the boy was oblivious to their presence. Takato couldn't help feeling a faint sense of disgust at the other and he glanced away before the emotion could get stronger. How he could have ever been so carefree was beyond him.
Confirmation received that the companion system recognizes this imperfection.
Takato shrugged, not really paying as much attention as he had been earlier: it wasn't a big surprise or anything and he guessed the computer was only following its programming. Besides, it was so much nicer to just admire the Juggernaut instead of being reminded of the memories that were now starting to get more and more hazy. The boy kept his eyes on the Juggernaut, ignoring the other Takato. What now?
I decided it would do some good to brief you on the situation, as well as shed some light on the purpose of our merge.
Although his interest wasn't really there, Takato nodded.
As mentioned earlier, I, by myself, am unable to interact with the network of Tokyo, although I do have access to it. The Juggernaut began as it folded its gray paws onto one another. Our work will require this interaction for the storing of data and various forms of energy and is the reason for the merge. Currently, I have little data concerning the details – my creator has yet to upload that into my system – but in the future, we will be working with and sorting the energy that will soon be channeled us from the outside and…
The machine continued to talk as time passed. It spoke of the programs which would be activated once they were one and what those programs would do. The contingencies in place. But Takato's interest faded quickly. His attention span dipped even lower at the minutes ticked by. The minutes began to stretch and as the Juggernaut got more and more technical, Takato got more and more bored. Maybe the two were inversely proportioned, he suddenly wondered. Like, the longer the computer talked, the shorter his attention span got.
…by absorbing all the mental programs and files into one "consciousness" and assimilating the companion system into the…
Gosh, he was bored. He was "hearing" the words, yeah, but they weren't clicking in his head. He was fine with admiring the pretty doggy, although the temptation to pet it was growing. I wonder if it's as soft as a chinchilla? One of his friends used to have a chinchilla, before she moved away – it looked like a ridiculously cute mix between a squirrel and a rabbit, but to him, the best part had how fluffy it was. The gray-black fur had been the softest thing he ever touched.
…with the aid of an outside source, packets of data will be gathered and…
All these thoughts about animals were making him wish he'd been allowed to have one. Stupid of him. His parents wouldn't let him even take care of a hamster, much less a dog.
…build up enough energy according to the set parameters and release it. In theory, the collective energy should propel itself straight upward to the Shinjuku tear and transcend through the levels of the different planes, which will allow...
A dog would be nice. Takato could take care of it, he thought he was pretty responsible for his age. After all, look how he'd taken care of Guilmon, Sure, it had been hard, but Guilmon was healthy, which went to show he'd probably been giving him the proper care. Try telling that to Mom and Dad.
…the breach through the barrier between planes will result in...
Takato's eyes rested on the greyhound. Actually, now that he thought about it, a dog just like the Juggernaut would be great. The animal was almost unreal, the stray flickers of sunlight turning its fur into glimpses of blazing silver as the tree branches outside rasped comfortably in the gentle breeze.
When the barrier has been disabled, it entirely possible it will affect the - …The Juggernaut trailed off, its sleek head rising up and fixing on Takato, who was still staring into space. In the silence that followed Takato blinked sheepishly, realizing the computer had stopped talking and was now looking questioningly at him. Are you paying attention, companion system?
"Um…I was…uh…" Takato made an attempt to look away, but his eyes seemed to move with a will of their own and locked back onto the greyhound. He scratched the back of his head. He sighed as the Juggernaut waited expectantly for an answer. Yeah, he would ask, he decided as he blurted, "Um…I know this is really off-topic and stuff, but…er…could I, uh…pet you?"
The response from the Juggernaut was classic. The greyhound stared at him sharply in astonishment, falling completely silent at the question as if it had difficulty processing it. He'd actually caught the machine off guard. It occurred to him maybe the Juggernaut wouldn't agree. Hopefully that's not the case.
It wasn't. The beautiful dog lowered its head so that its snout rested on its paws. It looked almost like a gesture of submission.
Very well. The false amusement was evident in the Juggernaut's omnipresent voice. You may do so. But you must pay attention to what I say. It holds great importance to what will come. To the computer's credit, it even pretended to wag its tail, for a moment looking like a real greyhound. Do not let your mind wander away from what I am telling you – all you have to do is keep it open, and you may pet me as long as you like.
Takato wasted no time in plopping himself right next to the gray animal. You're sure this is okay? He asked doubtfully. You don't mind?
It is fine. And no, I do not mind. It is not my body – only a representation – and I do not have the ability to care. So it matters little to me if you pet me or not.
A blunt answer, but Takato was really just happy with the way things turned out. There was a little surge of triumph. He hadn't been expecting the machine would let him do this, but he supposed he guessed wrong. Yet another misjudgment he'd made regarding the Juggernaut. Tentatively, he reached out with one hand and lightly touched the glistening gray fur. For a brief moment, it was coarse, then the avatar's sleek form shimmered and rippled as a black eye turned to fix on him. Another braver touch. The fur was no longer coarse; now it was impossibly soft, he found, his long fingers passing with open admiration over the gray coat. Just like the chinchilla in his memories.
As he did this, the Juggernaut resumed its lecture, satisfied the Tamer was ready to listen.
It is because of the merge we will succeed where there has only been failure. The merge will result in…
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Yamaki felt positively lazy as he lay on his back, aware of the sheets under him, aware of his blond hair lying in a messy halo around his head, the damp strands tickling his cheek. Aware, too, of the warmth of another body at his side. From the murmurs Reika made, the model was just as sleepy as he was.
But that didn't stop her from asking those questions.
A warm hand snaked up under the sheets and caressed his arms, the her fingernails brushing his skin. Yamaki had kept his arms crossed across his bare chest when they finished, although he made no attempt to pull away from the lingering touches, which were just as familiar as he remembered. The fingers paused as they encountered the same old obstacles they found every night the two did this. Reika began tracing the ridges of scars. They were old, years old. They hadn't faded away. Yamaki wasn't sure he wanted them to.
"I don't think these were all from a suicide attempt," Reika breathed.
"You know me better than that."
The probing fingers poked at one particularly large scar as Yamaki turned his head to focus sleepily on his companion. Reika glanced up, her eyes unreadable in the dim light peeping in through the drawn shades. "Then where did you get them?"
"That's none of your business," he replied softly.
This remark earned a snort. "It's never my business."
"I have them. It's old news."
Her voice was husky as she gave a low chuckle. She pressed on.
"An accident, then?"
"I was careless at the time." Yamaki closed his eyes. Reminded himself later to open a window or something – the scent of sex wasn't particularly pleasing to him. Besides, that scent drowned out the more pleasant one of the model's hair. Rose? I could have sworn it was rose last time. Or maybe it was freesia? "Accidents happen."
"Not to you."
"No one's perfect."
Reika pressed herself closer, tucking her head so it rested on his naked shoulder. He could feel her lips teasingly brush up against his skin as she spoke. A final tweak at one of the raised ridges from his uneven scars: "You like to pretend you are, though."
"Bull."
"That's not very professional," she purred. Despite his natural suspicions, Yamaki started to drift away. Tonight had been surprisingly satisfying. His body was fine with just lying where it was now that it had lost all that tense energy. Still, he didn't trust himself. If he fell asleep, he might say something he shouldn't.
Reika yawned. Yamaki could feel her warm body shifting against his as she stretched languidly. Her breath was hot against his skin as she sighed, content. He was silent for a moment, before his low voice broke the heavy, comfortable silence:
"Go to sleep. It's two in the morning, Reika."
"Am I hitting too close to home?" Reika murmured. It was impossible to tell if she was speaking matter-of-factly or mockingly.
"Not even close," he replied. The lie came easily to him, years of practice making it less and less difficult to tell the same one over and over again.
"Really." Although Reika was on the verge of falling asleep, her tone was dry.
"Really."
A sound of disbelief floated up from the darkness. "So then I would be just as wrong if I thought you were not even Yamaki Mitsuo until recently?"
For a brief moment that seemed to stretch into endless eternity, Yamaki froze, going rigid. How had she known that? He'd be more than careful keeping his personal records from the public eye. They were as good as gone. No one could salvage them, not even himself, not even if his life depended on it. But if she knows that much, then… That was it. She didn't know, thus the question. It was only a guess. She doesn't know. He realized with a thick wave of satisfaction, breathing easier now. She never did.
And never would.
"Wrong and gullible for believing those rumors."
"Are you suggesting you miraculously appeared out of nowhere?" Reika asked into the crook of his neck, her lips brushing against his chin. Her movements were slow as she kissed him.
"Not at all." He obliged Reika and tilted his head back into the pillow so she could press closer, his eyes still closed. "I am suggesting you shouldn't bother bringing up a dead subject."
"Does it bother you?" An experimental prod.
"It does when I'm trying to get some sleep and a certain someone keeps asking all these questions."
Reika's laugh was almost inaudible, a nearly silent chiming sound. "Nosy, huh?" She nipped at him underneath his jaw line, but didn't go any further. "Nosy questions come from nosy people, right?"
"Exactly."
"You ever think there's a reason for nosy questions?"
"Never. Far as I'm concerned, you can keep on asking long as you like."
Reika was quiet for a long second, apparently thinking something over, and he felt her moving away from him, the comfortable warmth drawing away. It was colder now that she was further away, but he wasn't about to come crawling over and insist she stay by his side. It wouldn't matter anyway. She'd be gone by the time he woke up. And it looked like she'd stopped with the questions for the night, which made him sigh with relief.
However, it looked like his guess was off the mark as a sigh drifted up from the shadows.
"How long have we been doing this, Yamaki?"
A pause as he thought about it. "Almost a year? Or two?"
"That long?" Yamaki's eyes crept open, glancing with sleepy curiosity at the woman next to him. Reika's smooth back was to him, lying now closer to the edge of the bed. It wasn't a large bed, but from where he lay, the distance between them looked immeasurable. "Seems like it's only been a few months." A yawn, which proved to be contagious as he tried to stifle his that followed suit. "Maybe I just need some sleep right now, but it seems like it…" she trailed off.
Is this over? Are you tired of me now, I wonder?
But he didn't say anything. Yamaki didn't exactly pride himself on being tactful, but there was some little voice in the back of his mind that decided it was wiser to keep silent. If Reika felt like rambling, well, then fine, she could go right on ahead, he certainly wasn't going to stop her. Yamaki kept his breaths even and slow, staring up and regarding the dark ceiling above him. It was a bit strange – usually her questions were a lot longer and intense, but something was on her mind tonight.
"Never mind."
Reika had been on the verge of admitting something. Maybe she doesn't trust me? Yamaki wondered. It wasn't his business what she thought or what she did. As long as she didn't slack off at Hypnos, he wasn't going to say anything.
He probably should focus on work himself. It hadn't been made clear to him just what the meeting tomorrow was about, or even why. No, he'd been simply told that Nagamora would "like to have a private discussion". A private discussion at five in the goddamn morning? "Private conversation" my ass. It was hard to determine what Nagamora thought or how much he knew that Yamaki and it just rubbed him the wrong way to hand out information when withholding it was just safer. He couldn't explain why he got this vibe off his superior. That perfectly normal face, for one. Nagamora surely wasn't aware of the extent of Yamaki's knowledge concerning the digital threat and the previous incidents.
It was far, far greater than just that one incident.
And it's going to stay that way. Nagamora knew things regarding the digital menace (hence the reason for the agreement to pour funds into Hypnos) that he didn't, but Yamaki had access to hundreds of files he "forgot", numerous times, to bring up whenever they met. Files that outlined the plans, files that had all known data on Digimon saved on them, even files from long ago that described the first incident with the Digital World. Funny what a little research on my part can dig up. Yamaki had stumbled across the curt, emotionless reports when he'd first started Hypnos – being more than a little proficient, it had been easy to get into the government's network.
He'd been bored at the time, if he recalled correctly.
Of course, it had been a big shock then. He'd been already aware by that time there was something up with his newfound sponsors, but he hadn't been expecting that level of participation. According to the clandestine report, Nagamora's branch had been involved in the first Digital World incident. It had been their officials that saw to the clean up. It shook him badly to think she hadn't been the only victim – no, she'd been, what, the ninth? Tenth? But that wasn't an excuse.
There was no excuse.
It was easy to blow off Nagamora during the video-conferences, but when it was face-to-face…well, it was safe to say Yamaki stayed on his toes. Better to dumb himself and his operations down, and pretend to be far more dependent on Nagamora than he truly was. Never know – the man just might slip himself. And he'd be waiting. It was the previous involvement with Digimon, and Nagamora himself, that made the him instinctively suspicious.
Yamaki listened to the slow rhythm of Reika's breathing not too far away. She eventually drifted off, the model now fast asleep.
Yamaki closed his eyes, focusing on letting himself relax. He'd heard on average it took a human seven minutes to go to sleep. His work these days wasn't pointless, not like it had been before the Incident. But he didn't let himself get caught up in the "glory" of it all – he wasn't some knight on his crusade against evil. Far from it. His operations were almost completely covert, for one thing. And he wasn't doing this just for himself anymore. I'll delete them all, for the good of everyone. If they were deleted…it wouldn't erase the past, but he would be damned if it would happen again while he was alive. It was painfully obvious those kids he recently saw and their pet Digimon were going to be prime targets.
After all, it had been the same the first time there was contact with the Digital World.
It had been the same when she met her partner. It didn't take long for the monsters to hunt her down. They had been hauntingly efficient.
Yamaki's fingers touched the raised skin of a scar just above his collarbone. He couldn't possibly forget the sensation of falling through that glass, feeling it sprinkling around him as he hit the floor inside. The searing agony of the chunks of glass that had been forced into his arms and other parts of his body. Those scar were testimony of his failures in the past, mistakes Yamaki would never make again in his lifetime. For him, what happened to then would never repeat itself.
But are others going to make the same, wrong decisions? Is this just an endless cycle? He hoped not, but he found he couldn't summon up any faith in the strength of humanity.
To be continued...
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx