Digital Shuffle
By famirad

Disclaimer: Don't own Digimon.
Author's Note: A 2-part side story focused on Yamaki, taking a peak into his past when he was a different man before Hypnos. This was written around 2001-2002ish.

Italics for thoughts and emphasis and sound effect.

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Digital Shuffle
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(SIDE STORY Yamaki Mitsuo – Blind Eyes PART 1)

Four years ago

"This isn't the greatest time to be bringing this up again, Eiji." Yamaki shifted the phone to his other ear. "Look. I just got divorced, I'm due for a meeting in about three hours, I just got off the damn plane, and I need a bath."

"I'm not demanding you come over first thing. Just reminding you that you promised. Remember?"

Yamaki sat down on the edge of the hotel's bed. "Yeah yeah, you don't need to keep pounding me over the head about it."

He began to unbutton the cuffs of his shirt, holding the phone clamped down between his cheek and his shoulder as he rolled up his sleeves. All he really wanted was a nice long soak in the suite's bath and an even longer nap on the heels of that, but he knew just because he was sore and cranky, he didn't have the right to take it out on his older brother like that. Not exactly a good impression he was making, especially considering how long he'd been away.

With a sigh, he said, "I'm being an ass, aren't I?"

"You are." Eiji replied cheerfully. "But you can make it up by keeping your promise."

Damn him. Yamaki scowled. Opportunist. And Eiji knew Yamaki wouldn't go against his word: the he knew how he hated debts, first of all, and how he always tried to do what was right. Taking time off to visit family was most definitely falling in the "right" category.

"You win. You're leaving tomorrow at noon, right?"

"Yup," his brother said. There was a shuffling of papers from the other side of the line, "Yeah, we'll be back by Monday. Ish."

"I'll come in the morning then. I'm staying at your house until you return?"

"We'll take care of the hotel cancellation, so yeah, don't worry about it. 'Sides, we'll be back before you can settle in. I can't have my little runt of a brother squatting in our house." Eiji said. Unseen on the other end of the line, Yamaki rolled his eyes at this. He wasn't that small, first of all – tall for his age, actually – and he was younger by only a few years. Eiji laughed quietly, changing subjects, "You know, she's really looking forward to seeing you again."

Yamaki couldn't help a smile. "It's been what, six months?"

"Try again."

"Two years?"

"That's about right. She's been pestering us since the day you said you were visiting," Eiji added. "If you have time, why don't you drop by tonight for dinner?"

"We'll see how long the meeting goes. I'll try."

Eiji only chuckled. "Brownie points for effort, Yamaki. I'll be seeing you."

"Me too. Bye, Eiji." Yamaki replied and hung up.

It had been a long time since he talked to his brother – or the rest of his family, actually. Since his decision to get married three years earlier, his parents made it clear they hadn't agreed with the marriage. He wouldn't be surprised if they disowned him. It was obvious they no longer wanted to deal with the "troublemaker" of the family.

They told me not to get married to that woman – they warned me over and over, but no, I didn't listen…

Still...

With a grunt, he pushed away the blinds and headed to the window. Yamaki drew the blinds, the light from outside slanting through the opened slats and casting bars across his face. Below the hotel, traffic streamed. Everyone down there knew where they were going. Apparently not him. He knew he looked like hell and he needed to clean himself up so he'd at least give the impression he was a professional.

Yamaki stepped over his luggage, and hit the bathroom, unbuttoning his shirt as sore muscles protested. He still couldn't figure out what made Yayoi suddenly pack up and demand they file for divorce, all he knew he hadn't agreed with it, but he'd went along anyway, deciding if it made Yayoi happy, he'd have to. Another dejected sigh. The sudden announcement his wife wanted a divorce had been stunning and the events afterward were a blur, leaving Yamaki dazed in the frenzied aftermath of paperwork and attorneys exchanges over money.

Which left him with alone, with his company was laying off people. For all he knew, he was next. Maybe he could go broke too.

Yet all he could think about was Yayoi.

He peeled off his shirt, frowning down at the tiled floor. His parents, when he first introduced Yayoi, furious with disapproval afterward. He could still hear their words; that he wouldn't amount to anything if he continued to maintain relations with "that girl", that "she was the type who' never be satisfied with anything". The fight which carried on into days, then weeks and finally into months – it wasn't long before he left the city, vowing that he wouldn't ever ask for their help for anything. That he would be fine and happy with his new wife.

So much for that.

Well, I'm not here to ask for help. Yamaki reminded himself. He was here for business and visitation. In an unusual display of temper he kicked his shirt into the corner. It was frustrating, how he had to tip-toe around so his parents wouldn't know he was here – he made Eiji and his wife Yawara promise they wouldn't say a word about his return. Still, it'd be worth it. It'd been a long time since he'd played with his brother's kids. Yamaki wondered how they were doing in school now.

He was looking forward to seeing the two in person. Pictures really didn't do them justice.

His niece looked adorable in the photo Eiji gave him, her brown hair done up in two little pigtails. She was the one he'd be watching over for the next few days. Eiji told him that she had wanted to stay behind because she knew her favorite uncle. The rest of the family – Eiji, Eiji's wife Yawara, and Junko's brother Shin – would be gone for several days on some kind of family outing.

I'm going to have to think up something for us to do together. Yamaki realized. He should prove that he was still the uncle she loved, and not the complete jerk he felt he was at the moment. He'd get a chance to take a look at Junko's drawings too. Eiji had bragged about her earlier, saying, "She's gotten really good, she's always drawing these days. She's crazy over this new game that came out – she wants me to get the cards for her birthday, y'know."

Curiously, Yamaki asked, "What's this game called?"

"Digimon."

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Saturday, morning

Junko perfected the flying tackle, complete with kisses and giggles.

"I'm happy to see you too!" Yamaki laughed. He easily held the six year-old in his arms as Junko began patting his blond hair as if it were a carpet.

"Where were you?" Junko demanded, with a mock pout.

Yamaki grinned at his little niece, "Oh, here…there…a little bit of everywhere…"

"Uncle Yama, really! Where were you? I was waiting and waiting!"

Yamaki turned as Eiji cleared his throat behind him. His older brother had cropped his own blond hair short to only a few centimeters, military short, far shorter than his younger brother's, his tinted glasses glinting in the morning sun. Aside from that, his brother looked about the same as when he'd last seen him. A bit thicker built than Yamaki, Eiji's face was more rounded, accented by tiny laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes.

"Junko, what did I tell you about leaping at people like that?" he said, "You can't expect everyone to catch you. One of these days you're going to fall doing that and crack open your skull."

Junko made a face, "Will not! I never hurt myself. 'Sides, Uncle Yama always catches me." She glanced at her uncle for support from her dad, who was apparently soaking up all the fun and replacing it with all the boring stuff.

"She's right, Eiji," Yamaki came to her rescue. "I don't drop things…" he paused, and smiled evilly at his niece, "Except certain little nieces!"

He let go of her as he said these words – Junko let out a delighted shriek as she plummeted - but his niece only fell a few inches before he caught her again, sweeping her up. Junko burst into giggles. Eiji only shook his head at Yamaki, unable to prevent the smile from creeping onto his face.

"You're no better than she is."

Yamaki chuckled. "I am not."

"He is too!" Junko said at the same time. Yamaki grinned.

"Guess I can't lie. You caught me there, Junko: I admit it – I'm hopelessly and incurably immature."

"See, Daddy, I was right!"

Her father grunted good-naturedly, "So you were. Yamaki, why don't you come in? We're not ready to go yet."

Eiji made a motion for Yamaki to come in. He followed his older brother into the house, slipping out of his shoes as he hefted his niece onto his shoulders. Junko gave a squeal as she settled behind his neck, legs waving as she clasped small hands around his forehead. The three trooped down the hall, approaching what he remembered as the kitchen. As they neared the room, two heads popped around the doorway.

"Oh, hello, Yamaki!" The taller of the two said. Yawara flashed an easy grin at both her husband and Yamaki, "Thanks so much for coming."

"Uncle Yama!" The other, a young boy who looked to be about two years younger than Junko, made an identical expression as his mother, though he had a tooth missing, "Are you goin' on vacation with us?"

"Much as I'd love to, I regret to say I'm not.

Shin pouted, "Aww…"

Yawara frowned, "Shin…"

The young boy pulled a face. "Sorry".

Yamaki stepped into the kitchen, and got down onto his knees to allow Junko to hop off. Eiji joined the group, moving about the table so he was standing behind the counter. Yawara motioned for the younger brother to take a seat at the table, as Shin and Junko ran off to their rooms to retrieve some toys or drawings they wanted to show off.

Yawara crossed her arms on the table, leaning forward, "So, it's been awhile, Yamaki. How's things?"

Yamaki settled back in his chair. "Managing. Doing okay," he lied.

The woman blinked, "Really? That's good. I heard you got divorced…?"

"Yeah."

Yawara sighed, shaking her head, "I'm sorry to hear that. Still living in Osaka?"

He nodded, "For now."

Eiji joined in, stirring something bubbling in a pot, "So, then where are you going to move to?"

"Don't know yet," Yamaki shrugged.

Yawara pointed at herself, her lips turning up in that friendly, accepting grin mirroring her husband's, "You're always welcome here."

"Thanks." Yamaki glanced over his shoulder around the kitchen as he changed the subject, "What about you two? I've a lot to catch up on."

Eiji exchanged a special glance with his wife, who smiled. Her hand unconsciously smoothed her sweater over her stomach. Yamaki's eyebrow shot up as he suddenly noticed how the material of her clothing was stretched taunt.

"You're…you're…" he stammered intelligently.

"Pregnant? Might be." Yawara winked.

"Congratulations," said Yamaki, stunned.

The silence was broken by the two kids racing back in. Shin slid past the door, his socked feet skidding on the floor's wooden panels. Yawara shouted after him, her voice easily switching from the conversational adult one to that of a mom:

"No running in the house!"

There was a belated "sorry" followed by a muffled crash. Yawara made a long-suffering face. She shook her head, rubbing at her temples before looking up again.

"He never watches where he's going," Yawara sighed. She got up, pushing her chair back. "Excuse me. Time to break out the band-aids."

Yamaki nodded, watching as she left the kitchen. The quiet sniffles quickly died away as Shin was herded to the bathroom. Eiji began to ladle broth into several bowls as Junko ran in, her hands full of papers and several stuffed animals.

"Uncle Yama!" Junko made a beeline toward Yamaki. He picked up her up and sat her on his knee as she continued, "Here, look at this!"

He took the bundle of papers and spread them out on the table. Junko wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug, glancing from the drawings to her uncle, eager to see his reaction.

"Did you draw all of these yourself?" Yamaki held up one. He had to admit, he was genuinely impressed – Eiji hadn't been exaggerating at all. "These are really good!"

Junko beamed at him, pleased. She pointed with a childish finger at the creature on the crinkled paper, oblivious to its condition, "That's Gabumon. He's a Rookie." She leaned away from her perch on his knee, picking up another picture with the open pride of a young child – it was a little sketchy, but it looked like a white teddy (polar?) bear sporting red buttons down its chest, "And this is Frigimon. He's a Champion type. That's higher than a Rookie."

"A Champion type?" Yamaki then made a quick, wild guess, connecting two and two, "He's a Digimon, right?"

"Yup!" Junko looked delighted. She was probably used to blank stares and now was more than a little surprised when someone appeared to understand what she was talking about, "Digimon're fun, so I draw 'em all the time."

Yamaki began to gently bounce the six year-old on his knees, listening to her giggles in response, "I heard you like the game. Are these your favorites?"

"…yeah…but…" Junko leaned close, holding onto her uncle with one hand as she reached over with another, searching through the mass of pencil and crayon drawings. She held up another picture, this one of a dark creature with, (strangely enough) a toothy smiley face on its stomach, "He's my favorite. I like 'em all, but he's the best."

Yamaki regarded the picture. The legs looked a little deformed, and the black and purple crayon coloring went out of the sketchy lines everywhere (except for the little scarlet scarf), but overall, it looked pretty good. The Digimon stood in the center of the page on his two skinny legs, leaning a bit to the left as he made a silent, exaggerated growling expression, pale green eyes staring at him from the paper.

"What's he called? He looks almost like a little puppy."

Junko hugged the picture to her chest, "Impmon!" She then proceeded to rattle off his stats in a sing-song voice, "Rookie, virus-type, small Demon Digimon, Attacks: Badda Boom and Summon; Impmon's the greatest of them all! He's funny. And smart…and…and…" she trailed off, trying to find more words to describe the Digimon.

Eiji set down the bowls before them, laughing, "Impmon's all you talk about these days. What about the others? You used to like that dinosaur one a lot."

"Agumon," his daughter supplied as she was shifted to Yamaki's other knee in order to clear the way for her father. "Impmon's better 'cause he's got more per…p…pers…"

Eiji noticed Junko's trouble with the word, "Personality?"

"Yeah…he's got more per-son-ali-idy," Junko declared, carefully imitating her dad. Yamaki held her balanced on his knee as she began to slurp the broth, too preoccupied to talk any longer.

Yamaki kept silent, watching in amusement as the young girl ate. She was quiet once again, bending over the large bowl. Several times he had to pull her braids back from dipping into her food, though she didn't appear to notice the near misses or the saves. He forgot how much he enjoyed being in this family's company, even if it was only for a little while. With them, he was simply too distracted to brood over his own problem.

It was easy to fool himself that there was nothing wrong.

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Several hours later

Junko and Yamaki waved as the car disappeared from view, rounding the corner. He dropped his arm as soon as he lost sight of it, his niece continuing to pump her arm in the air for a few more seconds. With a giggling, mischievous grin, she turned around, and took his larger hand in hers.

"Well, it looks like it's just the two of us."

Junko began heading toward the house, tugging her young uncle after her, "Good! No more mean Shin!"

Yamaki followed. He quickly stooped down and swept his niece onto his shoulder.

"First of all, sweetheart, your parents and Shin are only going to be gone a few days. They're coming back. Second, you really shouldn't say things you don't mean. You're going to hurt someone's feelings."

"I don't care! He's always taking my stuff and he's…he's…he's mean!" The young girl pouted.

"He's still your brother," Yamaki said. "If he wasn't here, who would you play with? It'd be very bored living here by yourself."

"I'd play with Impmon."

Yamaki glanced at his niece, sighing. She didn't seem to be getting his point at all, "I'm talking about real people here."

This comment earned him a gentle poke in the side of his head.

"Impmon's real."

"Not in the same way Shin is," Yamaki countered. Junko was young, he wasn't surprised she was infatuated with a game character. He was going to have to explain the differences between real and not-real sometime, but in such a way that he wouldn't dash her feelings into the ground after shooting them from the sky. "Thing is, Shin's always going to be with you. He's not mean to you all the time, is he?"

"…No…" Junko answered reluctantly.

"Besides, everyone fights over stuff," the two entered the house, Yamaki closing the door behind him and slipping out of his shoes. "Your Dad and I always used to fight." He stooped down carefully and set the two pairs of shoes on the threshold.

"Shin's a meanie," Junko said stubbornly. "He broke my phone - "

" - Toy phones can be replaced, kiddo."

" – and he hurt Impmon 'cause we got in a fight! I think he's still mad at us."

Now Yamaki was lost. Up till this point he'd been convinced that he was comfortably in control of the conversation. Does she really think Impmon's real?

"Hey." Yamaki began gently, turning his head so he could see her. His niece looked up at him. Yamaki faltered. Was this in his right? He was only her uncle; the one who rarely visited her. After all, what was wrong with using your imagination while you still had it? You practically lost the damned thing when you were an adult, so…

He decided a change of tactics was in order. "Uh, why don't you tell me about this Digimon?"

"Impmon?" Junko perked up. At his nod, the young girl glowed. "He's small and purple with fur. He's got these funny little red gloves, and we gave him this bandana, so he wears it around his neck, and he's great and he says the funniest things –"

"Says? You can hear him?"

Junko shot him a Look, as if the very idea he couldn't was silly. "' Course I can hear him."

"Really."

His niece squirmed on her perch until her uncle removed her from his shoulders and set her down. Junko crossed her arms over her chest, attempting to block the hallway with her small frame.

"You don't think he's real!"

Yamaki sighed again and crouched down so that he was eye-to-eye with her, "I never said that."

"Impmon is real! I can prove it!" With that, Junko grabbed his hand and began leading him down the hall. He really couldn't imagine what she was going to show him – a favorite stuffed animal, maybe? – and he had to wonder what he was going to say.

Junko resolutely stomped down the hall. At the end of it she halted in her tracks, stopping before the closed door.

The kid narrowed her eyes up at Yamaki. "You gotta promise first 'fore you can meet him."

"Promise what?"

"Promise that you're not gonna tell Mommy and Daddy about him."

Yamaki wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. As a general rule, when a kid said something was to be kept from their parents, chances were that whatever it was, it was something those those adults weren't going to like. What would a six year-old have that's dangerous? He knew Junko better than that. Although she had have some fights with her brother, she was pretty peaceful and as far as he knew, she never got in a fight at school.

"I promise."

Junko fixed him with a stern stare. "Promise promise?" She held out her small pinky, curved in a little hook. Yamaki stooped down and linked hers with his. She shook it.

Yamaki disengaged his hand from his niece's, who looked satisfied now that she had his "official" word he would keep his promise.

"Okay, now that you promised, I'll show you to Impmon."

"Sure."

Junko laid her hand on the doorknob and, almost furtively, opened it, glancing around the door as she entered her bedroom. An opened window allowed fresh air and sunlight in. His niece stopped in the middle of the room, frowning. Yamaki came up behind her as the kid began frantically searching the room.

"He's gone?" Yamaki managed to keep his skepticism to a minimum.

"Yeah." Although he doubted Impmon was little more than a toy, the panic starting to rise in Junko's voice was very real. "I…I hafta find him…he…"

Yamaki watched as she pawed through her closet. Several stuffed animals rolled out, bounced, and lay silent on the floor. His niece refused to give up, bouncing onto her bed (she nearly tripped when she entangled herself in the sheets). Junko leaned haphazardly out the window. A squeal of relief.

"Impmon!" Junko pulled herself up, holding something in her arms. For a few seconds, her head bent and she whispered something he didn't catch.

"That him?"

"Yeah." Junko turned around, nodding at what she held in his arms as she turned around on the bed to face him. "Uncle Yama, this is Impmon. Impmon, this is Uncle Yama."

It's a stuffed animal, was Yamaki's first thought. Sure, a large, fancy one, but definitely a stuffed animal. It was a spitting image of the drawing that his niece showed him earlier, though the puppy-like face was frozen in a neutral expression instead of the deep scowl that had been scrawled on the wrinkled paper. Junko glanced in confusion from her uncle to the Digimon toy she held in her arms.

"I don't get it…" Confused, Junko poked at the stuffed animal. "C'mon, Impmon, say hi to Uncle Yama. He's really nice and he knows about Digimon, so you can talk now."

No reaction from the Impmon toy. The eyes only glittered.

Junko prodded and pleaded and pouted. No matter what she did, the reaction was the same. Nothing. The six-year old was growing more flustered and embarrassed as the minutes ticked by and her efforts to get the Digimon to talk failed over and over.

Yamaki stopped down so that he was at eye level with Junko, "Maybe he doesn't want to talk right now."

Junko tried to suppress a sniffle. "You believe me? Impmon can talk, but he isn't and I don't know why…" She trailed off helplessly.

Yamaki decided it was wiser to dodge the question altogether.

"Hey, I have an idea. How about I go make us some popcorn and all three of us can watch a movie together?" He smiled winningly at her: it made him feel like an absolute jackass when Junko fought back a final sniff and tried bravely to return his smile. "He's just shy, I bet."

"I guess."

"Why don't you go pick a movie?"

"Okay." Junko fled the room, Impmon with her. It looked like a tornado hit her room. One day here and he was already picking up toys. Yamaki stooped down every now and then to pick up a toy or a stuffed animal, replacing them on a shelf or in a drawer.

Maybe he should take her somewhere tomorrow, especially since they didn't have that much time together. Yamaki racked his brain. The closest place he could think of was West Shinjuku. There were streets of stores and restaurants there and he decided it was up to him to treat her to something special. A small grin. At this time of the year, it probably shouldn't be very crowded, which was perfectly fine with him. It's been a long time since I've done anything fun with Junko. Now that he thought about it, he realized he was looking forward to tomorrow.

By the time the movie credits began rolling, Junko decided she was fine with staying in the house for the day, as long as her uncle would play with her. The lazy afternoon soon deepend into twilight when it occurred to Yamaki he was on dinner duty.

As Yamaki began taking inventory of the refrigerator and the pantry, his niece plopped herself down at the table to draw. He turned back to what he was doing, rummaging through the shelves for the ingredients. When he turned around, he nearly fell backward into the pantry with surprise as he suddenly found himself almost face-to-face with the Impmon toy presented to him by Junko.

"Can he watch you make dinner, Uncle Yama?"

"Sure, why not?"

Yamaki carefully took the stuffed animal from his niece. To his surprise, it was a lot firmer than he'd thought. It almost felt like there were bones (plastic inserts, no doubt) underneath the lifelike fur. Warm. Huh. Yamaki shrugged mentally and put the Impmon toy near the cutting board, setting out the packages, along with an apple that he was intending to eat later. Turning around again, he began searching through the refrigerator for some fish. Pulling it out, he glanced over his shoulder at the cutting board.

The apple was gone.

Yamaki blinked and glanced over at Junko. His niece was busy drawing. His confusion only increased when he found half of the fruit's core next to Impmon.

Could…? No, that was stupid. Now he was imagining things.

Yamaki couldn't help but glance suspiciously at the Impmon toy every now and then. The eyes gleamed mischievously back at him. His niece joined him in setting the table. She insisted he set out another bowl for Impmon.

Junko jumped into the chair, looking over the steaming rim of her bowl at her uncle:

"Smells yummy!"

A grin. "Probably because it is."

His niece only pretended to roll her eyes at this statement of the obvious and picked up her spoon.

"About Impmon, how long have you had him?"

Junko shrugged. "Two weeks, I guess."

"You don't know?" He raised an eyebrow at this. "How'd you get him?"

"I really dunno." Junko said. "Actually, I know how. Not why." She eyed the chunk of fish balanced in her spoon, wondering if she could fit the whole thing in her mouth. "He just appeared one day."

...Huh, okay.

After the dinner, he tried to shoo Junko away so he could clean up, but his niece stubbornly insisted on helping him out (she wanted to do the dishes). Or maybe she just wanted to play with the dish detergent.

Yamaki touched Junko's shoulder. "Going to make sure all the doors are locked. I'll be right back, okay?"

His niece didn't answer. She was too busy making a soap castle.

Yamaki left the room. His brother's family lived in a safe neighborhood. Yamaki knew he'd personally feel better if he checked, just to make sure, anyway. Old habit. Maybe he was just being paranoid though. I mean, what can possibly happen in two days?

He checked the front door and began to work his way toward the back of the house, checking the windows, the toys left out earlier picked up so he wouldn't trip over them later. He'd just finished with cleaning up when he happened to look up from his work and noticed that the door to Junko's bedroom was open.

Didn't Junko close it? He might as well go check if her windows were locked, Yamaki told himself as he headed down the hallway. Passing the kitchen, his step slowing as he glanced in. Junko was just as busy as she had been when he'd left, however, it did look like she tried to make a dent in the dirty dishes, because it appeared some of them were stacked on a rack nearby.

He was almost at it Junko's room when he noticed the stuffed animal sitting near the open door.

Yamaki stooped down. "Now what are you doing out here? You should be in Junko's room," he scolded the toy as he picked it up.

No response. The eyes only gazed back at him with a silent, knowing stare.

Junko probably dropped him when she left her room. Toys didn't start running around on their own after all. Still shaking his head, Yamaki set the Digimon on Junko's bed.

"Stay put," he ordered the toy, half-joking.

With that done, Yamaki left the room and quietly closed the door shut behind him. He didn't see the stuffed animal shift from its position and leap down from the bed, nor did he see the door open noiselessly behind him. It was one mistake, out of many, that he would deeply regret a few days later. Perhaps, if he had been more careful and trusting, he would have been more prepared...

If he had looked, and seen for himself, Yamaki might have saved her.

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Sunday, 9:36 AM

Yamaki locked the door behind them as his niece gazed up at the dismal sky. Clouds overhead were thickening, in some places turning an ugly black, swelling like a large collection of large, purpling bruises. He pocketed the key in the depths of his coat, turning toward his niece. She was all smiles as she hugged Impmon to her.

"D'you think it's gonna snow? Oh, I hope it does!" Junko giggled. She swung their hands cheerfully as she planted a kiss on Impmon's head. "'Cause I like snow and this is Impmon's first winter here, y'know. So I want him to see it and stuff!"

"The way things are going, I wouldn't be surprised if it did snow." Yamaki returned his niece's grin as they headed for the subway station.

The trip to the subway station was uneventful. Yamaki frowned when they arrived onto the crowded platform. True, the subway was always crowded, but he didn't feel comfortable with all these people around his niece. Not all of them looked like they were going to work or shop and his eyes easily picked out the potential trouble-makers. He told himself he was just being over-protective, but his unease didn't seem to be going away. His grip on her hand had tightened unconsciously. Junko squirmed at this, making a pained face up at him.

"Uncle Yama, you're hurting me," she said, pouting.

"I'm sorry." Yamaki hastily loosened his death grip.

He should be more careful. Precaution was what mattered, not paranoia, he scolded himself. He was just jumping at non-existent threats for no reason.

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Sunday, 9:45 AM

To Junko's credit, she held on tightly to Yamaki's hand as they got onto the train. It was a tight fit, and he was shoved face-to-face with a middle-aged man. He did his best not to stare at other's bushy beard, avoiding direct eye contact. It was something he took for granted: whenever you were on the bus/train/subway/etc, it was a rule of thumb not to stare at people, mostly because it got awkward staring into one another person's eyes for who knew how long when they were only a few inches away.

But that didn't mean Junko had the same issues. She looked around at everyone's waists with the same open curiosity, her head craning up as she looked at the adults crowding around her, hugging Impmon to her chest.

Yamaki glanced at his watch. Still a while to go before they go to West Shinjuku…

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Sunday, 10:02 AM

"Next stop, West Shinjuku." The message was repeated over, first in Japanese and then in English. "Next stop, West Shinjuku."

Yamaki started trying to push his way toward the doors, cursing quietly under his breath as the wall of people resisted him. The bearded man seemed to have the most trouble getting out of the way: he fiddled with his glasses, scrunched up his painfully normal face, and made a general nuisance of himself as he bungled around, mumbling apologies. He, Yamaki noticed with growing irritation, only seemed to place himself right in the middle of his path, blocking his way.

"We have arrived at West Shinjuku," the voice on the intercom noted. "Please exit the car when the train comes to a complete stop."

Over the passenger's heads, Yamaki could see the doors slide open, could see the platform on the other side, tantalizingly close. No matter what he did, the bearded man was in his way and he could only watch, annoyed, as the doors closed on him. Yamaki glared at the other passenger, who bobbed and nervously shoving his glasses up his face.

Junko tugged on his sleeve, trying to get his attention. He bent down until he was at eye-level with his niece, as the train lurched forward again.

"Are we in trouble?" Junko asked in a whisper.

Yamaki shook his head, keeping his voice low. "No, we'll just get off at the next stop. Don't worry about it. It's not your fault."

He began pushing his way forward. He gave up trying to be polite about the whole damn thing. Manners hadn't helped him and when that didn't, there was always the more effective method: brute force. He put his elbows in full use – when they were needed – and, ignoring the angry glares and the frowns from the other passengers, he eventually forced his way to the door. The next stop was announced just as Yamaki and Junko got to the side: the bearded man vanished in the crowd and Yamaki could see no sign of him. It had been the guy's fault that they'd missed his stop. Thanks, genius.

The train slid to a halt. Surprisingly enough, the platform outside was empty and they were the only ones to leave the train. The train began to pull away as Junko looked up at her uncle, at first glancing around at the abandoned platform.

Junko gulped timidly. "Um…are you mad at me, Uncle Yama?"

"No way. I couldn't be mad at you." He smiled encouragingly at his niece. "It's people that make me mad, kiddo. Not you." He patted her hand reassuringly, and gestured toward the stairs leading to the surface. "Okay, I guess we'd better get started. We missed our stop, so we might have to walk."

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Sunday, 10:16 PM

Junko scowled. "I bet that mean man did it on purpose."

"I don't see why he would."

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Sunday, 10:17 AM

Junko traded Impmon to another arm as she took Yamaki's hand in hers. They began climbing up the stairs, leaving the darkness of the empty platform and heading to the surface.

For a second, Yamaki stopped in his tracks. This was weird – this place wasn't familiar at all, and it was even more strange because he thought he knew this area. But he recognized none of the buildings, and there were no landmarks (well, except for the Shinjuku Highrise building he could see far in the distance) that would prove to be of any help. This isn't the stop I thought it was. The thing was, he knew he hadn't heard wrong. But how could he explain this?

What the hell is going on?

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Sunday, 10:21 AM

Another tug on his hand.

"A-are we lost?" Junko noticed as well something was wrong. It was weird there didn't seem to be a living soul out on the streets besides them. Cars were parked along the sidewalks, but where was everyone? It was getting spooky.

Yamaki shaded his eyes, glancing down the street. "Might be, but I think we should be able to find our way." Overhead, the sky continued to darken threateningly. Yamaki sighed. I guess we'd better start going before it gets any later. He didn't expect to have to walk the entire way to their destination, but maybe he'd have better luck finding a bus or something further else down the road.

Besides, he thought he saw some heavy fog rolling in.

A smile. "Come on, let's go, Junko."

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Day Unknown, Time Unknown

Yamaki wasn't sure what dragged him awake.

For some reason it was hard to think straight and he realized, after a dazed pause, that he'd been drugged. Whatever it was, it was wearing off now and pain stared to return as he slid away from the black depths of unconsciousness. Yamaki became aware of the little details. He was lying down on an unfamiliar bed. Drugged. Hurt, in several places. A long strip of gauze was wrapped around his head and covering his eyes. More bandages on his arms and shoulder. His breathing was even as he listened to the mechanical beeps of machinery.

He wasn't alone.

Whoever stood above him took a seat next to his bed as Yamaki turned his head blindly toward where he thought the person was. An older man's voice cleared his throat above the sounds of rustling papers.

"I see you're awake." A low sigh. "Please, try not to move around too much – you've been through a lot. You're very lucky, you know."

Yamaki's mouth turned down in a silent frown. What was going on? Why was he here? "Here" obviously being a hospital. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him, saying something wasn't right with this picture. Despite the man's order, he automatically started to raise his hand toward his face. Before he could touch the bandages blocking his vision, his arm was gently, but firmly forced back down onto the thin sheets. Yamaki opened his mouth and was considerably surprised to find his voice came out raw and hoarse, broken as if he'd been screaming for hours or something. He tried again, this time with a bit more success:

"Where…where am I?"

The doctor wrote something down, pen scratching. "The hospital." Another sound as he cleared his throat again. "How do you feel? Can you move the fingers of your left hand?"

Yamaki obeyed, wincing as the movement brought a ripple of pain up his arm. The man asked him to turn his head from left to right: did it hurt? Yes it did, and he would be under watch because of that concussion. Could he please move his legs a little bit? He did so. What about his chest – did his heart hurt or anything? No. His arms? Yeah. That was to be expected – it would be a few days before it would die down. Okay. And his eyes? Could he open and close them? Yeah.

One more question: did he remember anything before this?

Yeah, but it was a bit fuzzy at the moment. Well, he shouldn't worry about it right now. Yamaki was silent for a moment as the interrogation came to an end for the time being, the doctor falling quiet as he wrote something down.

Yamaki tried another question. "What happened? Why can't I see?"

The doctor ignored his first inquiry. "In the…ah, condition you were found in, your eyesight was partially damaged. Among other things." A noise beside him as something was set down on what he guessed was an end table. "We've done what we can, but you'll have to keep the bandages on for a few days more. Any further exposure to bright lights – or light of any kind – may result in more permanent damage."

"Are you saying that I'm…?

"That you're blind at the moment?" The doctor finished for his patient. "Yes. The blindness should be temporary, but it could take several months to a few years to regain full use of your eyes."

Yamaki turned his face away from the other man, his eyes open now under the bandages. What time was it? What day was today, for that matter? There were so many questions that he had – petty ones, important ones, irrelevant ones – and, for some reason, he was unable to sort his priorities out. Yamaki's initial unease only grew as the minutes ticked by. And his body – it hurt all over, the dull, buzzing pain blazing up whenever he moved and giving the darkness he was bathed in a sort of strange red "color".

"It's now 7:20 PM," the man's voice continued. "You've been under sedation for two days." A pause, and then the voice went on to clarify this. "Today is Tuesday, December 4." More scratching on paper, the gravely voice reading out loud what he was most likely jotting down on his clipboard. "Age twenty-five –"

Yamaki cut him off incredulously. "Wait, today's Tuesday?" In his growing panic, he started to sit quickly sit up, but was forced down again, this time not as gently as before. The act of moving so quickly left him light-headed and dizzy with pain.

"Please, Mr. Asamiya. I don't like being harsh, but if you keep moving around, you will aggravate your injuries. Please don't make me have to restrain you."

"What happened? What am I doing here?" No answer. From the sounds of it, the doctor was getting up to leave. A chair scooted back, its legs scrapping against the floor. Yamaki could sense the other pushing himself up from his seat.

"I'll have a nurse turn on the TV for you later tonight. I'm sure they'll have a news report for you to listen to."

Wait, don't go! But Yamaki was suddenly tired, drained beyond belief. His body alternated from being frighteningly numb to twisting with the agony that danced along his limbs and clutched at his temples. The doctor opened a door somewhere. Yamaki's head lolled to the side as he tried to gather his fragmented thoughts together. He was forgetting something. No…not something. Someone.

Someone was missing. But his mind didn't seem to be clicking and it was working at a snail's pace. Someone…the doctor was almost out of the room when a hoarse shout rose up weakly from the bed.

"Wait, what about Junko? Where's my niece!?"

Click.

The doctor was gone. He was alone.

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Sunday, 10:32 AM

At first Yamaki hadn't thought much of the fog rolling in.

The mist grew thicker as they walked down the sidewalk. At first iwas at knee height and he had been so preoccupied he hadn't noticed it get higher until Junko started complaining her eyes were starting to hurt. She rubbed at them with the back of her hand, pawing at them as the tendrils of mist rose like dense steam around them. Yamaki stopped in his tracks as soon as he noticed the involuntary tears starting to form, sliding a damp trail his niece's cheek as she rubbed at her eyes.

"Did you get something in them?"

Junko shook her head. "N-no…"

The fog surrounded them now, growing thicker by the minute.

Eventually Yamaki started to feel the same symptoms. At first, it was just a vague irritation, but it grew worse and soon he was tearing furiously himself. He glanced at Junko as tears welled in his own eyes. For some reason, she was perfectly fine now, dry-eyed as she looked up at her uncle. As he glanced about the misty street, vision blurring, he didn't see the Impmon toy in his niece's arm move, didn't see it turn its head to where the fog was thickest.

It started to occur to Yamaki this fog wasn't natural.

It surrounded them now, and it was only getting denser. After a few yards away, everything disappeared into the mist. Something, some nearly forgotten instinct, was telling him to back away, to get away from this area. Right. Now.

Something was coming.

Junko sensed it too – the same animal instinct was warning her this was a Bad Place. She made no protest when he took her hand in his and began backing away from the fog, where it was getting so thick that it had turned a milky opaque color. The need to get away grew stronger and stronger, his alarm becoming very real. Another step backward. And another. They quickened. He had turned tail and started jogging, throwing glances over his shoulder as he tugged his niece after him. Pretty soon they were running.

They never made it out of the Digital Field.

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Tuesday, Time Unknown

"-Yamaki?"

"He's resting right now, sir."

"Tell. Me. What. Happened!? Where's my daughter?! Why can't I see her?!"

Yamaki drowsily opened one eye against the gauze bandages. Although he couldn't see, he could hear the voices outside of the room, just beyond the paper-thin walls. Stark terror welled up as he recognized them. A man's voice spoke up again, followed by that of a woman's. Someone was crying. Eiji was choking up in grief as he asked another question, demanded some answers. Whoever else was with the couple said something too low for Yamaki to catch, but he was swimming in shame as he lay motionless in his bed.

They were here. And they knew now.

She's dead…isn't she…?

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Sunday, 10: 40 AM

Something was coming…

It was almost here.

They ran.

The foggy air was heavy as their footsteps pounded against the sidewalk, echoing back at them as if walls were forming around them. Yamaki found no time to think, his breath racing as he ran at full tilt through the thick fog. Junko stumbled behind him.

It was only years later Yamaki would learn this phenomenon was the act of a Digimon bio-emerging into the Real World. That this was a Digital Field. All he knew at the time was the inhuman roar that suddenly split through the blinding fog was bloodcurdling. The noise cut through the air, so deafening Yamaki clapped his hands to his ears in a futile effort to drown it out. His niece yelped in pain, covering her own ears.

It was then that the stuffed animal in Junko's arm came alive.

Yamaki thought he was seeing things. This couldn't be real, this had to be some sort of trick! Impmon jumped down from his niece's arms, had done it of his own free will. His large, pale eyes turned up to glance at the humans behind him. He was real. And very much alive. Impmon assumed a defensive stance, standing protectively in front of Yamaki and Junko.

He had no choice but to accept this Digimon-are-real development.

Still, he couldn't help a surprised jump when the toy opened its mouth and actually spoke.

"It's another Digimon," A cocky, fanged grin at Junko. "Don't worry yer pretty little head. I got it all under control." The smile vanished as Impmon turned serious. "I'll try to fight 'im off, Junko, delay 'im a bit: I'll tell you two when to run."

Yamaki swallowed his bitter shock. Junko nodded, biting her lip in an effort to hide her fear.

"Junko, I'm gonna need you t' take out yer Digivice. This ain't a game anymore." Impmon's posture stiffened, fur bristling as he scanned the fog around them. Junko pulled something out of her small backpack. It was about the size of a beeper, the symmetrical casing a light tan. The Digivice's screen glowed a neutral green as it nestled in her palm. "Push the button on the right corner."

Although Impmon had his back turned to the humans, Yamaki could see his shoulders droop slightly as he scanned the area in front of them. It was obvious to Yamaki he'd just gotten some bad news. But Impmon didn't let this show to Junko, instead giving an almost disdainful snort.

"Musyamon, Champion level. Violent Dismissal and White Bird Blade." Impmon cracked the knuckles of his gloved paws, aiming for nonchalant. Yamaki wasn't fooled. "Piece o' cake."

It was at the end of the Rookie's little speech the heavy footsteps of something approaching them became audible. Armor clanked hollowly against itself as a shadow began to materialize in the haze. Yamaki kept his own body between his niece and whatever was coming after them, backing away a few steps. He glanced down at his niece, ignoring the way his heart pounded frantically with adrenaline. Junko clung onto his coat, her small fingers clamped with a death-grip. They both could feel the "it" coming, a dark, dizzying wave sweeping over them.

The Thing came into view, emerging from the haze. Yamaki sucked in a breath of horror. It was a monster. Standing several feet taller than Yamaki, Musyamon towered over everyone. The creature – the young man could only assume this was a Digimon as well – walking steadily toward them on its hind-legs, the gray face set low on its bulging ashy neck. The burnt yellow eyes regarded the three. Its red plates of armor rattled as it closed the distance between them, the samurai helmet tassel limp in the still air.

When it was merely several yards away, the monster stopped, sizing the group up slowly.

"So you're the ones that escaped," Musyamon drew his blade with a smooth motion, the weapon exiting its sheath with a hungry hiss. A gravelly rumble as the Digimon's eyes flicked from Yamaki to Junko and finally to Impmon. "I thought there was only a few humans."

"Times change," Impmon spat murderously. "Why can't you leave us alone?"

"Orders are orders. If you hadn't come here, your lives would have both been spared." The point of the saber flicked from Junko to Impmon. Musyamon lowered his blade into a "ready" stance. "I will give you a minute to prepare yourselves for an honorable deletion."

Junko's grip on Yamaki's coat tightened. Yamaki laid his hand on hers – true, it was a feeble gesture of comfort, but there was little else he could do – and making sure that he stood between the monster and his niece. The Digimon across from them was still as stone, but the unnatural golden eyes were still fixed on them, hooded under large lids. Impmon was the first to make any movement: he stepped angrily forward, his paws curling into tight fists as he glared up at Musyamon.

"I'm not gonna let you hurt them! Y'think I'm gonna sit around and let myself be deleted?!" Impmon shouted, his voice coloring with fury. "I won't let you take Junko away from me!"

Musyamon lowered his head in acceptance. "So you desire to put up a fight then?"

"Damn straight I do! You're gonna have t'get past me first!"

"Very well." Taking his time, the Champion shed his cloak of fur, tossing aside the sheath of his massive sword. It clattered loudly onto the abandoned street as he took a two-handed grip on the hilt of his saber. "Fight honorably and I will make your elimination painless. If you prove yourself to me, then I will gladly offer my humble services and upload your data myself."

"We'll see 'bout that." Impmon snarled. He glanced over his shoulder at Junko. His eyes met Yamaki's. "I'd get back if I were you. It's gonna get messy an' I don't wanna see either of you get hurt. If I can hold 'im off long enough, you might be able t'get out of the digital field."

Yamaki nodded, trying to keep steady. He didn't have any weapons and there was only so much he could do with his bare hands. Considering the fact he was new to this whole Digimon thing, he wasn't about to question the advice. Impmon's remark, however, only brought a gurgling laugh as the Champion stared down the length of his blade at the group before him.

"Even if they escape, I will seek out the girl. She will be Purged." The laughter died as Musyamon's eyes narrowed. "I will keep coming until the threat has been disposed of. The most you can do is make this a battle worth remembering." A salute with the saber. His stance shifted. "My mission comes to a close."

With no warning, he charged.

"Bada Boom!"

"Violent Dismissal!"

End of Part 1- to be continued

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