Digital Shuffle
by famirad

Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Digimon.
Author's Note: Names were changed because I initially wrote this before I knew the names for Impmon's Tamers in canon. Junko and Shin are intended to be Ai and Mako.

Yamaki focused, pre-Hypnos, four years before the start of Digimon Tamers.

Italics for thoughts, emphasis, sounds effects

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Side Story: Yamaki Mitsuo– Blind Eyes
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Tuesday, Time Unknown

At some point Yamaki must've fallen asleep. More sedatives, probably. He didn't have any dreams: just an endless tunnel of nothing. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out, but when he began to fight his way back to consciousness, he almost jumped out of his skin when he realized he wasn't alone.

Someone held his hand. His eyes flared open uselessly against the bandages. Yamaki was wide awake now and he listened pensively to the voices around him. There was one, no, two people in the room, but one was preparing to go.

" – but I'm sure he's still asleep."

The fingers holding his hand shifted, absentmindedly stroking the back of his wrist. This speaker was quiet, subdued. His reply was broken. "It…it's okay. I won't wake him up."

With a sinking feeling, Yamaki recognized the voice, even though his brain was moving at a sluggish pace. Eiji.

So his brother was here. He hadn't been hearing things, like he'd hoped. Eiji was here, which meant Yawara and Shin were as well. From the sounds of the conversation above him, Eiji had been at the hospital since yesterday. They had come back early, came back to find everything had gone all wrong, everything straight to hell.

This, all of this…is my fault.

"I'm sorry we couldn't allow you to see him earlier. But it was important he get more rest."

"How is he?"

The unfamiliar voice of the nurse moved away. Someone drew the blinds, closing them with a shush of wood slats. "The doctor expects him to pull through. He should be fine, but he lost a lot of blood. He'll need at least a week, at minimum, to recuperate. The accident damaged his vision."

Wait, what? They were calling it an "accident"?

"He's blind?" Eiji's voice sounded dazed. From the way his brother paused, Yamaki could almost hear the thought wandering around for a place to connect to. He could feel his brother's fingers go slack around his as the realization finally sank in.

"Yes." The nurse heaved a sigh. "I don't like being the bearer of bad news, but…"

"Is it going to be permanent?"

Footsteps, soft footsteps, padded across the hard floor. "No. Like I said, he'll be fine." A deliberating hesitation. "I'm going to leave you two alone, if that's alright." A pause, as if waiting for a nod. "Okay, I'll be back in a few minutes. If you need any assistance, press the button."

No answer from his brother, just an inaudible grunt. The nurse left the hospital room, closing the door behind him and leaving the two brothers together. Yamaki closed his useless eyes. It hurt so much to cry that he found he couldn't.

"I came soon as I heard the news." Eiji said quietly. He didn't appear to realize his audience was awake and listening as he continued, his words disjointed. "I'm sure that you're probably kicking yourself for this..."

Eiji swallowed.

"…but it was an accident. You…you couldn't have done anything to…prevent it."

Junko wasn't gone, she'd gotten away from that monster. Hadn't she? Yamaki racked his brain, his breath almost catching as he realized he couldn't remember. His blood ran cold as he tried harder to reach into his memory's eye, coming up with nothing each time. A few fragments of sounds, of garbled words and flashes of imagery. His need to know tore at him. Yamaki remembered up to the point where Musyamon attacked. But what happened next?

"I talked with the police. They'll be releasing their press report tonight."

So then he would find out what happened? No, something wasn't adding up. He didn't care what they said: what about Junko? He remembered seeing her face. The burning tears simmered again but didn't fall.

It wasn't possible.

It didn't explain the holes he encountered whenever he tried to recall what happened. This wasn't amnesia, not on any level. It felt too specific, to narrow, to be anything else. But whatever (or whoever) it'd been, they hadn't been very clean or thorough about it, because he knew somehow he would remember it all. But who would believe him? A blind man seeing monsters?

"- with Yawara. She…well, she doesn't blame you, but..." A shuddering pause. Eiji's voice wavered. "…I guess we just have our own ways of dealing with these sorts of tragedies."

Another hand laid itself over Yamaki's. Eiji rested his forehead wearily on them. His brother had been crying recently. Yamaki could feel his moist cheeks, still wet with drying tears.

"She won't talk to me anymore. She won't talk to anyone. It's too soon. I don't think she trusts the eyewitness accounts."

Witnesses? This was all wrong.

"…I…guess I don't really trust them either, but they told me that…"

His brother continued to talk for a while longer, eventually falling silent as he held Yamaki's hand in his and sat there. After a while it was much easier not to say anything at all. Yamaki mulled Eiji's words over slowly. The whole thing (what Yamaki could remember at the moment) seemed…well, for a lack of a better word, planned. Witnesses when he knew there were none,;his hacked-up memory; and the whole thing getting listed as an "accident". But what if it was true? What if he was just searching for excuses, for a scapegoat? It would be all for nothing then.

But all these suspicions had already struck a cord in him.

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Sunday, 11:11 AM

"Summon!"

Musyamon's saber flicked up casually. An expert twist of the wrist and the burst of fire deflected off the blade and into the pavement. The armored Champion was eerily silent as he fought with single-minded tenacity.

They had been fighting for a while and he still breathed easily, taking his time. The blade gleamed silver as the monster flipped the hilt around so he held it in a different grip. Impmon was already staggering doggedly out of the way as he swept the sword about in a broad arc, his muscled arm bulging.

"Violent Dismissal!"

Yamaki shielded Junko with his body as the attack hit the storefront several meters away. It exploded violently outward with a powder-fine shower of glass and brick, the white energy of the attack still winking with sparks. As soon as the blast subsided, Yamaki was already pulling his niece onto her feet and running again, half-carrying her in his arms.

He glanced over his shoulder. Behind him, Impmon was lobbing a hurricane of fireballs at Musyamon. They had practically no effect, sparking out as soon as they came into contact with the monster's thick hide. The towering Digimon bunched his shoulders, well protected by his red armor and taking whatever Impmon threw at him.

Was he distracted? Would they get away?

No. Musyamon was suddenly looking straight at him with those burning amber eyes, completely ignoring Impmon for the moment. They wouldn't get away. Not as long as that monster was still moving. Despite how far he ran way from the battle, it always seemed to follow. He sucked in a shaking breath. Musyamon made sure they wouldn't get away by bringing the fight to them.

Impmon was only a minor obstacle. Nothing more.

"Bada Boom!"

"Impmon!" Junko cried, her hands reaching around Yamaki toward her partner. The six-year old squirmed in his arms. "H-he needs help!"

"Violent Dismissal!"

There was a buzzing whine behind Yamaki. Some forgotten instinct dropped him quickly to his knees in a duck. Something rocketed over his head, singeing in its blistering heat as it passed harmlessly over the two. Yamaki rolled over painfully, getting to his feet as Junko tried to choke back her racking sobs. Not now. Couldn't stop running. Not until they were safe. Not until Junko was safe. He didn't care about himself.

"Hey, jerk, I'm over here!" Impmon bellowed at Musyamon. He revealed his tiny fangs in a snarl, shaking his fist. "Fight me, you overgrown coward!"

For a second, Yamaki thought he saw annoyance cross the monster's face. But it was gone, instantly concealed as Musyamon turned. Before Impmon had any time to react, the Champion's stance abruptly shifted. He was upon his opponent in a flash. His sword crashed down. Impmon barely managed to dive away. He rolled onto his feet. A low slash of the blade forced Impmon to weave under the blow. The weapon clipped his ears as it suddenly reversed direction and came sweeping back.

Impmon was forced away from the two humans, his paws glowing an unearthly red as he went back a step. And then another.

"Bada Boom!"

Musyamon easily blocked the fireball with the flat of his blade. Tongues of fire licked around his saber as he twisted the pommel around to fit his grip again, starting to step forward. He was taken by surprise as Impmon immediately followed up with another attack.

For a moment, Impmon was sure he'd done some real damage. But that thought quickly died away as Musyamon shook his helmet, unharmed - save for a small, bloodless gash under his chin, he was unhurt. Impmon looked over helplessly at the two humans not too far away from where the two Digimon fought, the tall one was still getting to his feet. Impmon started to shout an order at them:

"Hurry up an–"

Yamaki looked up sharply as Impmon's voice cut off, Junko in his arms frozen in shock as she took in the sight before her. Impmon was suspended in the air by an invisible hand, squirming as Musyamon approached him. The tip of his sword, extended before him, was pointed at the other Digimon. When it moved, the helpless Rookie bobbled in the air. A twitch of the blade; Impmon swayed in response. But the monster's attention was held, for the time being, as he turned to deal with his prisoner.

Again, Yamaki began to run, ignoring the way his legs trembled in protest under him and forcing his body stumbling forward. Junko was crying in his ear, something about turning back for Impmon.

They couldn't stop.

Yamaki glanced over his shoulder. Musyamon had reached Impmon, his mouth moving as he said something to the Digimon still held in his telekinetic grasp.

"Defeat has shown her smile on you. Accept it." Not even worth the honor of deletion.

Without another word, Musyamon drew back his saber and struck. Junko wailed, her fingers digging into her uncle's arm as Musyamon swatted the Rookie away. The force of the blow sent Impmon flying to the side. His small body hit the ground with a thud and slid out of view as the fog of the digital field closed in. Yamaki's teeth set. Impmon was gone, possibly dead, and he couldn't expect any more help from the Digimon. It was just him now. He was all that was left between his niece and that monster.

Musyamon was on their tail now, the armored beast moving much faster than Yamaki would've believed possible. He wasn't even out of breath from the battle, running easily after his prey with a loping gait. His own breaths rattling hollowly in the back of his throat, Yamaki forced himself to go faster. He was going to protect Junko, no matter the cost. His niece clung to him for dear life, her small face buried into his chest. The mist-shrouded storefronts swept past as he ran.

"Dismissal Blade!"

Acting once again on his instincts, Yamaki dived to the right, falling onto his back to avoid injuring his niece. He hastily rolled onto his side, curling up around Junko as he cringed at the deafening buzz. The loud whine screamed through the air as it shivered under the pure energy. Only a few feet away from him the pavement exploded into a smoking crater, sending chips of concrete zipping through the haze. Several cut into his back and nicked him through his coat. One came dangerously closing to taking out an eye, tearing a bleeding gash above his eyebrow.

Yamaki staggered to his feet, clasping his niece his body. Blood started to dribble into his eye.

Musyamon was still coming.

The figure of the Champion loomed above him, his gray face ghastly as it peered down at the humans through the cloud. For some reason, Musyamon was as still as stone, his huge saber resting on his shoulder as his acid-gaze fixed on them. Junko whimpered she peeked fearfully at Musyamon. Without the monster's attention on something else, both could feel the full force of his presence: his menacing aura alone was forcing Yamaki to take a step backward, the sense of pure hatred and the desire to kill.

With a feeling of horror, Yamaki watched as the large blade was lifted from its resting place, Musyamon taking a step forward. A smile revealed stumped, yellowed fangs.

"Twice I have sought to obliterate you from this plane of existence, and twice you have escaped my Violent Dismissal. You have good reflexes, human. It is almost...commendable."

Yamaki said nothing.

"However, those alone won't save the little one." The hunched shoulders, rolling with thick bands of powerful muscle under the gray hide, straightened with a loud pop of tendons. Musyamon twisted his neck from side to side. "I suggest you leave the little one here: otherwise I will see to your death personally. If you desire to continue living, you will never return to this place. My advice to you, human, is to save yourself. "

Yamaki didn't pretend to know what was going on in that alien brain but what he said next clearly wasn't what the monster was waiting for. The Digimon's face was taken aback as he spoke up. It was a simple, brief reply, just one short word. But it spoke volumes:

"No."

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Musyamon hesitated, his eye ridges rising up in an almost human gesture. For a brief moment, he looked almost unsure of this, but he quickly regained his composure. "I will not give you another chance. You will find my kinda are rarely so merciful." The sword tapped its point on the cracked surface of the pavement. "I see you have no weapons, nor armor. You are defenseless, as is the little one. At this range, I won't miss. Why do you resist?"

Junko shivered with fear in her uncle's arms. Yamaki was scared out of his wits – who wouldn't? – but he couldn't help but feel resolved to resist any way he could. Maybe if he could keep the monster busy (if even for a few minutes), maybe Junko could get away. It was true he didn't have any weapons whatsoever, but as long as he kept a good distance between himself and that thing, he might be ably to buy some time.

A gravelly why. Why? Why, why, why?

Why? "Because that's the most I can do now."

A snort. It was the human's own decision to seal his fate then! If the piddling creature regretted it later, Musyamon wouldn't be held responsible. "Do you have any last words?"

"Not to you," Yamaki snapped back with far more fearlessness than he actually felt. Junko looked up at him, pleading silently for him to make it all go away, to make everything better. Yamaki tried to smile comfortingly at Junko. "I want you to run to the nearest police station, okay? Or anywhere with a lot of people; it doesn't matter. Just run as fast as you can."

Junko sniffled, clutching at him. He repeated it again – he had a feeling she wasn't absorbing the information. After the third time, she gave a dazed nod. Yes, she would run. To where? To a place with a lot of people, she stammered. Good. Don't stop until you're in a crowd: don't forget. You're a good girl, Jun-Jun. Now, please stop crying, you're going to have to be strong. …Okay.

Junko rubbed at her eyes. Yamaki glanced up at Musyamon. The armored brute watched them with those freaky eyes. It looked like he hadn't heard a word of their exchange. And he was counting on the fact he didn't believe that the Digimon would come after Junko until he was done with the pesky adult. After all, that was the "honorable" thing to do. Kneeling, Yamaki set his niece on the misty ground.

"Better get started, Junko. You're going to be okay."

That was the first lie he told her. And it was the last.

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Tuesday, Time Unknown

"It's almost ten, Yamaki." The nurse's voice crossed the room, pausing at his bedside. "Do you want me to turn on the TV?"

"Yeah."

The footsteps shuffled toward the far end of the room, and, with a click of the remote, turned on the TV. Yamaki couldn't see the screen, but he could certainly hear the TV's almost silent "hiss" even through the disembodied voices and sounds that floated around the endless darkness. The nurse set the remote down next him. "How's that?"

"It's fine," Yamaki said quietly. Since Eiji left awhile ago, he'd been allowed to sit up a little, resting his back against the uncomfortable, crinkling pillows. They still wouldn't let him get out of the bed or take off the bandages. A few more days, and you can take them off, the doctor told him. But when that happened, he couldn't (mustn't) let his eyes come into contact with direct light, whether it was from the sun or anything else. He could either keep the bandages on or find something else to prevent direct exposure. His body would have to do the rest – he could expect his sight to return in a few months, at best.

"I'll be right down the hall if you need me."

The voice bustled around him, beyond the cover of the bandages. She was plainly comfortable in her patient's silence, chattering to fill in the gap.

"In my opinion, I'm amazed that no one else was hurt!"

Yamaki said nothing in reply. In fact, he'd rather the woman take the hint and leave, because he wanted to be alone at the moment.

"Big fluke, you know? Area's usually crawling with people."

"It wasn't then."

A loud pop of gum. "Yeah, I know. That's just the thing." Another pop. "Anyway, the doctor told me to keep an eye on you. If you need anything, just give me a shout." She was sure that this patient wasn't going to need it though. It didn't look like he was the troublemaker type. After all, he'd barely said anything longer than three words, and she found it just incredible how calm he was. It was easy to mistake it for passivity. She continued, "I'm sure you'll recover fast."

Muttering something about finishing her rounds, the nurse finally closed the door behind her. The TV, before a background noise, became louder now that Yamaki had turned his full attention to it.

"Good evening, Shinjuku! It's a lovely night for all of Tokyo!"

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Sunday, 11:34 AM

Yamaki couldn't breathe.

He was choking, invisible hands around his throat. Spots danced before his eyes. The young man was pressed against the wall of a store, fighting to breathe. He couldn't keep this up, not if he couldn't even get close enough to Musyamon to do anything. His legs threatening to give out under him. The dull roaring sound in his ears increased. He had to...had to resist this.

When Yamaki finally turned to face Musyamon, he knew he was probably going to die. He knew he couldn't do anything to him, he'd already seen the monster's telekinesis. When he felt his weight start shifting upward – as if something unseen was straining to pick him up – he angrily convinced himself that he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't going to go down so easily. Yamaki hadn't expected anything from this mental refusal to submit, but something had happened. He'd dropped to his feet as the grip had abruptly loosened, almost as if the monster was startled at the human's defiance. If he slipped, if he began to believe, just for a moment, that Musyamon was really strangling him, he was going to pass out. His mind was already considering the idea of shutting down. Passing out seemed like a good idea.

And then it would have been all for nothing. Yamaki had to keep disbelieving, at least until Musyamon started to resort to physical attacks. Stars burst as the pain in his head, in his being, peaked and threatened to burst.

"No!"

The stranglehold fell away at Yamaki's hoarse moan. He staggered, leaning on the wall for support. His head throbbed.

"Persistent for one of your species," Musyamon remarked. He didn't sounded pleased. "Didn't think you had it in you. Stronger than average Will. It must run in your family."

Yamaki didn't reply, too busy gasping for breath. A thin trail of blood trickled from his nose.

Musyamon's acid gaze drifted past his prey onto something else beyond Yamaki's field of vision, then flicked expressionlessly back onto him. "A nice ploy. A last resort that might have worked." The lips quirked in amusement. "But I don't intend to let the little one escape while I deal with you."

Musyamon lowered his blade. For a moment, Yamaki felt the invisible threads of the monster's telekinetic grip fade away and, stupidly, he relaxed. His eyes flared open, startled, as the monster was suddenly in front of him, the huge boy towering over him and casting its deep shadow on him. One of the Digimon's claws was suddenly around his tortured neck. The eyes narrowed at him, and, with a growl, Musyamon slammed him into the wall. Yamaki felt the back of his head make contact with the brick.

Everything become a meaningless jumble.

He wasn't altogether sure what happened next. He didn't think he passed out, but he couldn't recall the last few minutes. He was aware of being surprised, some sort of struggle as the invisible hands took hold of him, confusion and then he was suddenly here, pinned against a different building.

Yamaki fought to break free of the white snow threatening to send him spiraling into unconsciousness. Ignore the dizziness. The blood, as well, that he could feel matting his hair. Ignore it. Get up. Break free. But his brain moved at a snail's pace, and, his eyes opening, it took a while for his sluggish mind to make sense of the scene before him.

He was pinned up against a window of a storefront, so rattled by the blow he couldn't shake off the telekinesis keeping him trapped against the glass. Before him, Musyamon was crossing his blurring field of vision, his sword drawn as the huge, man-like creature advanced on something. Turning his head to see what it was, Yamaki almost passed out again in the process.

Junko backed away from Musyamon. But…now she looked helplessly at Yamaki, her eyes wavering with tears. Her uncle would come to her rescue, just like always, he would make it all better, wouldn't he? Junko's s dark clothing stood out in the mist, and, Yamaki realized dazedly, made her stand out like a target. He struggled to free himself: more stars and the pain driving into his skull like a knife.

Musyamon turned toward him. For a moment, the Champion's golden eyes were blank.

He smiled.

With a jolt, Yamaki knew what the Digimon was going to do, his exhausted mind open to the images the monster was "sending"; he would force him to witness the slaughter of his niece, finish the other human off when he deemed fit and not before. Horrified, Yamaki watched, wide-eyed, as the saber changed grips, this to one he hadn't seen before. Musyamon's steps widened as the distance between Junko and the monster closed. Yamaki thrashed, oblivious to the circles of pain leaping up into his vision as he screamed.

"No!"

Junko kept backing away, but there was nowhere to run.

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"It's a beautiful night."

"It sure is." A shuffle of papers. "But now to the news. Two days ago there was an explosion near…"

"…Shinjuku. Luckily, injuries were low…"

"…one dead or missing, one wounded…"

It was all starting to come back to him.

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"Junko!" Yamaki screamed.

Blocking out his own pain, he focused all his strength into breaking free. He wasn't tied down, he couldn't be. His muscles strained against unseen bonds, aching with the effort. Blood dripped into his eyes, down the bridge of his nose as he leaned his body forward and threw his weight out, struggling furiously. "Junko!"

His world folded in on itself, he couldn't see, he hurt everywhere, but there was his niece, no no no no…

Musyamon glanced lazily over at his captive, one eye-ridge rising as he fixed on the human. It looked like he was doing the stupid thing and actually trying to get free – foolish, really. Even if he did fight off the Champion's mental grip with his Will, he wouldn't reach the little one in time. It puzzled the Digimon to no end. Why waste one's time when the last few moments of life should be savored? The whole thing was beyond his understanding, he decided and he turned his attention back on his target. Best to get this over with.

After all, it was the least he could do.

"Junko!"

It was too late. The blade came screaming forward as charged with whining energy, Musyamon's huge arms bulging as he began his final attack.

"White Bird Blade!"

Junko stumbling backward, holding her small hands over her eyes in an attempt to blot everything out of sight. Her scream was lost in the shriek from the Digimon's saber, her dark clothes becoming bleached from the approaching burst of power. Black to gray and finally to a ghostly white as the light descended on the six-year old. With a hoarse shout, Yamaki burst free of the restraints. Even as he staggered forward, he was already scrambling to get between Junko and the deadly beam, trying to move as quickly as he could.

"Uncle Yama!"

Junko vanished into the shrill calls of the falcon-shaped beam, the very sky lit up by the blast. The air before him flared a blinding white. His eyes involuntarily shut against the burn -

"…the local authorities have released their press report…"

White. So much white, searing his eyes. Rushing wind whipped at him like a hurricane.

"…at 11:30 AM, there was an acetylene explosion…"

Too much noise. Too much light. Yamaki's own desperate shout was swallowed up by the explosion and suddenly he was lifted off his feet and flying, flying…

"…most likely an accident, according to the chief of police. Damages have been estimated at…"

…backwards. A vague sensation of hitting something – a window – and smashing through it. Sharp trails of agony raced up and down his arms as shards became lodged into his skin, others bouncing off as they shattered from the frame. The energy of the blast tore around him, shredding everything, destroying anything.

All he knew was pain as he finally hit the floor of the building.

And then nothing.

"…yen…the canisters were located in…Mikimoto's…the owner expects…"

"…Really just a miracle… it wasn't crowded…"

Yamaki was slowly being smothered to death.

"…Ah! The chief of police has finished his interview now and…"

"…The victims were a young girl and a man in his mid-twenties…"

It wasn't from the rubble either…so…

"…So sad…but I suppose people can be careless…"

"…I agree…it's very sad…"

Invisible claws were around his throat, lifting his bleeding body up from the debris...

"In East Shinjuku…"

Silence. And then the throttling grip slowed as footsteps approached, so loud in his barely conscious ears.

"V-Vajramon! I…forgive me, my lord. I did not recognize you in that other form."

He couldn't move his limbs. Whatever the beast called it, "Will" or whatever, wasn't there.

"The beard and human body was necessary for the execution of the mission. And the humans here wouldn't accept me as Vajramon." A sound of mild disgust; the human voice, so normal, stooped down next to Yamaki. "Is the girl taken care of?"

"Yes, my lord."

"And her Digimon?"

"Not worth the effort. I found I could not bestow the honor of deletion on him. He wasn't like the others."

"Very well. He'll be tabled for now. No, don't start apologizing. Sometimes one needs to get his own hands into affairs to see they're finished properly."

"Yes, my lord." The choking grip around Yamaki's neck tightened. "What shall I do about this one?"

A deliberating silence.

"Leave him for now. I have a feeling he might be of some use to our cause."

Yamaki hardly felt himself drop to the ground.

"This should set an example, I think. As if the first humans weren't enough."

"Perhaps it takes some time for the lesson to sink through, my lord."

"Most likely. I'll see to it this is all cleaned up. Rather big mess you left."

"My deepest apologies."

Silence, something moving about. The human voice, somewhere above the curtain of pain and darkness, was talking into a cell phone.

"Bring a squad to clean this up, I want this to look like an accident. Right…yes, that too. No, low casualties, as planned. Right….right. Yes, go ahead." The toe of a boot roughly dug into Yamaki's torn side, prodding the limp human. No reaction. "Pick some of your men to be witnesses. I'll give you a story for them to memorize, but make sure they differ a little bit. It would look suspicious if all of their facts were the same. As soon as you've finished, call the paramedics…No…no, that's not an option. Be here in five minutes. Any slower isn't acceptable."

Click.

"Are you sure we should leave this one alive, my lord? He could reveal your position. He saw you."

A laugh through the deepening darkness. "By telling everyone that he saw a monster? That would be a disappointing reaction. I'm counting on something else."

"…I see," a puzzled grunt.

Yamaki couldn't see, could barely hear. He felt his blood, felt it trickling out of him into the dusty ground. There seemed to be so much of it. How much did he have in his body anyway?

"I'll see to this. Go. You've carried out your service. Your slate is now clean."

Dizzy…light-headed…

"Yes, my lord." Plodding footsteps away.

"You royally messed things up," the boot nudged Yamaki non-too gently in the stomach. "But do me a favor and live."

Yamaki slipped back into unconsciousness again.

"I look forward to seeing you driven with revenge."

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His head was killing him. As if an angry Allomon decided to take residence between his ears. My head…Squeezing his eyes shut, Impmon rubbed at his battered forehead with his paws. His ears rang as he sat up, and promptly hit his head on a branch overhead. Biting down a curse, the Rookie hit the offending branch, but failed to get any reaction from it. And his head still hurt!

Impmon crawled forward, careful this time of the bush. It came to his notice that the ringing sound wasn't in his ears, although it was definitely close. It looked like a bunch of red and white boxes on wheels – cars? – were approaching the street, lights flickering as a siren wailed. Impmon clapped his paws over his ears in attempt to muffle the siren. He watched in morbid fascination as they came to a stop and a bunch of two-legged figures piled out – humans – and began bustling about the area, which, he suddenly noticed was in real bad shape.

A mental whistle. You'd think a bomb woulda went off here or something...

"Hey, there's someone over here!"

Impmon crept closer, careful to remain hidden. One of the humans knelt within the wreckage of a store (the front was completely missing, demolished from some sort of blast), and waving energetically at her friends. Two ran over with a stretcher. It seemed the others were attacking a fire with a big water hose. What's goin' on? He couldn't help but wonder when this all happened. He thought he would've noticed buildings getting blown up this close by. It was with mild interest that he watched the humans carefully put another human on the stretcher, the man's blond hair matted with drying blood.

What's this feeling? Impmon's eyes narrowed in confusion. Needles blossomed in his head now as he focused on the unconscious human.

It seemed like he might've been someone he met, but any ah-ha moments were met by a solid wall of throbbing pain. He clutched at his head as he came to a conclusion: humans were a cause of this. It was in his best interests to avoid them if he could, because if he came face to face with one – a young girl laughing – he would probably regret it. Impmon began backing away from the street. In fact, now seemed like a good time to start.

Impmon crawled away from his hiding place, unnoticed by the paramedics and the firefighters. Lost in a frightening city filled with uncaring humans, he would end up wandering for four years without any memory of his Tamer and the positive emotions he'd felt in her presence.

As far as he concerned, humans were just bad news.

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Today they let Yamaki get out of that damned bed. He'd made enough of a fuss about it for the past week and a half, but for some reason the hospital staff treated him like he was made out of china.

It had been that long since he'd first found himself here and Yamaki was quickly getting tired of it. Today couldn't come fast enough. Yamaki wanted to get used to moving without his eyes: his mind's gears were working and he was already starting to formulate a plan. One that even Eiji might have been proud of.

Well, if he was here. Maybe. Eiji hadn't visited again. Yamaki couldn't blame him.

With a sigh, Yamaki sat on the edge of the bed. Groping about, he found the sidebars and pushed himself up until he was standing on shaky legs. It pissed him off to no end to find his body hadn't been keeping up with his brain. He'd remembered more of what happened that day, his mind dancing from one idea to another, putting two and two together, calculating, sometimes smoldering with rage and sorrow as he remembered more and more. He had to do something.

That, unfortunately, started with learning how to walk on his own.

Staggering forward, Yamaki felt along the walls, following them until he felt the glass of the shut window. He eventually found the lock and pulled the window open. Even through the bandages they changed daily, he could still feel the warmth of the afternoon sunlight pouring in.

In fact, he was so occupied with the touch of the fresh air that he didn't hear the door open. He jumped when someone knocked on the wall, whirling around automaticaly.

"May I come in?"

Yamaki frowned. God, he hated this, having to figure out just where the visitor stood. If he didn't keep talking, Yamaki would lose track of the man. He still had to work on using his other senses, now that sight was out of the picture. Considering the fact he didn't recognize the speaker as someone he intimately knew (the voice sounded mildly familiar, if anything), he didn't feel the need to give a response.

With a shrug, he went about locating a chair, straining to place this newcomer.

"My most heartfelt apologies concerning the accident."

Finally finding the chair, Yamaki sat down. He winced as pain shot through his body. The speaker moved around the bed now as he spoke. "My name is Ataru Nagamora."

"It sounds like you know who I am," Yamaki replied. He briefly considered shutting the window and drawing the blinds. It was the only way he could take off the bandages. Considering how hard it had been to get to the window, he decided against it. Yamaki faced the general direction he thought his visitor was, his mouth set. "I thought they didn't allow visitors after a certain point," he remarked.

"They made an exception for me," Nagamora's indistinct voice said in return.

"Don't think I've met you before," Yamaki said. He really didn't want to be in anyone's company right now, much less that of a stranger. In fact, he'd rather not talk to anyone, if he had a choice.

"Actually, you have, but I guess most people forget my face easily. It's not exactly memorable."

Christ, he hoped this wasn't someone from his job. Yamaki couldn't even think about working right now, going back to everything like nothing happened.

"Oh." Yamaki turned his face down, rubbing at the gauze around his arms absentmindedly. According to the doctor, he could take those off soon, but because of the damage, he would probably have a bunch of scars there. They itched underneath the cloth. "I don't suppose you came here to chit-chat, Nagamora," he didn't bother being polite. "Get to the point."

"You're awfully calm, considering your niece died recently."

Yamaki tried to aim a murderous glare at the man without a face. "How I feel isn't any of your business." Far as he was concerned, this wasn't over. Musyamon was out there and Yamaki planned to get him. Yamaki bit the inside of his cheek. He had to be calm. If he didn't, he wasn't sure he could keep himself together. "And I don't believe that," he found he started to choke up on saying Junko's name, "has anything to do with you."

Nagamora only chuckled, unfazed. "True. I didn't come here to bring up some, ah, unpleasant memories."

Memories? Bull. I saw her die right in front of me, vaporized to nothing – and you reduce her to a "memory"?

Yamaki angrily pushed himself to his feet, careful to keep the unsteady waver in his legs to a minimum. He didn't have to put up with this asshole, this pretentious jerk who got on his nerves that much more because he seemed so normal. "Well? Talk or get out of my room."

"It's really a gesture of goodwill, but I think I might be of some use to you in the future," Nagamora answered, unhurried. "I'll leave you my card, but you should contact me when you're in need of my services. Then and only then."

Yamaki was suddenly tired from dealing with Nagamora and just wished him gone, rubbing at his temples. He didn't turn around as his visitor made a motion to leave. Nagamora's footsteps reached the door.

"Accidents don't just 'happen'. It's always cause and effect – and this cause, I believe, was of a digital nature. Goodbye, Yamaki."

Yamaki spun around at this last comment, but Nagamora was already gone.

He leaned against the window, astonished, and slowly slid down to the floor. This…this wasn't what he'd been expecting. Someone knew about these monsters, it wasn't just him! This changed everything. The room cooled as the evening deepened, casting the room in a darkness he couldn't see. Others know of Digimon. He hadn't thought of that. If others knew, then maybe… Yamaki wasn't by himself. He could find others.

It's still my fault. Junko was dead because of him. He hadn't done enough to prevent it from happening. His hesitation cost her and everyone else, her parents, her brother: now an only child.

There hadn't even been anything left of his niece after the attack. Yamaki drew his legs up to his stomach, his chest heaving silently with tears that wouldn't come but burned at his damaged eyes. It should've been me, not her. But he was alive, and it was more and more painful the more he thought about it now. I should be dead.

I could've been. But I was spared…

Junko hadn't been spared. Neither had Impmon.

…Impmon. Part of his anger suddenly found a place to latch onto. Impmon had a part to play in this as well, he'd failed too. Useless, completely useless! Yamaki hadn't been able to do anything, but Impmon had that power. He hadn't used it, he'd let Junko down like Yamaki had. It didn't matter where Impmon was now, if he was even alive. Nothing mattered, except that Yamaki had failed in his duties. Junko was dead. It was horrifying to recall the incident, the accident-that-wasn't.

"Leave him for now. I have a feeling that he might be of some use to our cause."

Yamaki wasn't even worth the bother.

"Do me a favor and live."

He was going to be used by these creatures.

Yamaki's fingers tightened around his knee. No. The shame and anger would always follow him as long as he lived the life he didn't deserve in the first place, but he wouldn't give in so easily. No, he wouldn't roll over, he decided, not to these murderers. There was nothing else to look forward. Not his job, not Yayoi, nor his unsupportive family or his brother. There was nothing else to lose.

Why was I spared? There must have been a reason.

Something had to done, something to pay those monsters, those Digimon back in full. To punish them all for what they did to her. He was still at fault, so very guilty…but he would have a purpose now. He would hunt them down just like they came after his niece; he would get stop them before it would happen to someone else.

My guilt, this shame…this won't be a penance. This will be revenge.

I'll destroy them all.

Fin
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