A/N: So…yeah. This chapter is pretty late. I got about three-fifths of the way through when my internet conked out. Had to get a new router and after that my connection was spotty. Good enough to (sometimes) communicate with people, but not good enough to reliably do anything else (two minutes of connection followed by five to ten of no connection). Had to have a guy come out to fix and then had to upgrade some other stuff related to the new router. Now I'm back on and I can get back to work. :D

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.

Digimon Trinity

Chapter: 185/ Episode 27: The Fog of the Past

The fog was there when he awoke again, and the only thing Impmon could see was the ground at his feet. This wasn't the desert. That much he knew for certain. For one, the temperature was too cool, and for another the ground was far from grains of sand. Rather, there were green bricks neatly packed against each other. They were solid and smooth to the touch.

"Where am I?" the tiny Rookie asked, caressing the brick to see if he could discern anything from it that would tell him his location.

"Not exactly follow the yellow-brick road, is it?" came a voice from behind him. Startled, Impmon shot to his feet and red fire flickered between his fingertips. He whirled about, ready for anything, fangs and all.

Instead, he found a small, blimp-like creature, orange-furred with chubby cheeks, wide, blue eyes, stubby legs and bat-wings attached to where ears ought to be. He looked achingly familiar, but a fog hung over his mind, making it hard to think.

"Wh-Who do you think you are, sneaking up on me like that?" he stammered out. The creature tilted its round head at him.

"But I didn't sneak up on you," the digimon said. "At least, I don't think so. I just found myself here and…" He trailed off, frowning slightly. "That's weird. How did I come here? I don't remember."

Impmon smothered his finger flames. This creature wasn't a threat to him. That much he felt certain on.

"Who cares? If you don't know, then there's no point in asking. So, I might as well split. See you, peewee!"

"Ah! Wait, Impmon!" the digimon exclaimed as the dark-furred virus began to stomp away. "Shouldn't we stick together?"

Impmon paused and looked over his shoulder. "I don't remember telling you my name, blimpy."

The digimon looked confused. "You didn't," he confessed. "I just knew it. And-And I know that you know who I am."

They stared at each other for a moment until Impmon snorted and resumed his trek. "Yeah, right," he replied. "Anyway, I'm out of here."

"Wait! Let me come with you!"

There came a flap-flap of wings. Impmon didn't need to turn to know that he was being followed by his unexpected companion. The Patamon. The one whose voice had been in his head for some time now. The fog in his brain had lifted a little, allowing some insight to return to him. He was in the digital world. He accepted a deal with some entity claiming to represent The Sovereign, offering to return him to what he once was. The Demon Lord of Gluttony. Not that he remembered anything about that life before he came to be what he is now. A worthless nobody.

A nobody Apocalymon thought might be useful, a part of him thought. I used to be a big name in the digital world. That's got to mean something. Yeah, it's got to.

At least, that's what he wanted to believe. It felt more comforting than the idea that he had made an enormous mistake accepting this deal.

Speaking of which, shouldn't there be someone here to greet me? What's the point of bringing me to wherever this place is if there's no welcoming committee?

The only answers that came to him was the endless fog, brick ground and the sound of flapping wings. Snarling in annoyance, Impmon whirled about, a flame flickering at his fingertips once more.

"Will you stop following me?!"

Much to his surprise, the flapping stopped and of the Patamon there was no sign. Confused, Impmon looked about.

"Uh, hello?" he called tentatively. "You there? Patamon?"

Nothing. Just the empty fog and himself for company. Scratching his head, Impmon resumed walking. There wasn't much left for him to do after all. It was far preferable to be moving even if it meant wandering aimlessly. Far better than standing still anyway.

Time passed. How long, he didn't know, but his feet certainly ate up a considerable amount of mileage judging how they began to hurt after a while.

"My ears are starting to hurt."

Somehow, Impmon wasn't surprised to find the Patamon there.

"That's what you get for using them things to fly," Impmon berated. "Serves you right, peewee."

Giving an exhausted sigh, the pair slumped together to the ground.

"Why are we even here?" the Patamon asked.

"Why are you even here?" Impmon asked. "You're supposed to just be a voice in my head."

"Huh? I am?"

"What else are you supposed to be? I know I'm real, and you…" Reaching out, Impmon poked Patamon's cheek. He blinked. "W-Wait. You're real?!"

"Of course, I'm real!" Patamon cried, indignant. "Why would my ears hurt if I wasn't?"

"I don't know, but if you are real…" Getting back to his feet, Impmon ignited a flame above a finger. "Bada-Boom!"

With a fling of his hand, Impmon shot the fireball at the exhausted Patamon. The peach-furred Rookie took the fireball dead center in the face.

"That hurt!" he cried out, falling back. Impmon flicked another fireball into existence.

"And you've been annoying! All those weeks I've been hearing your voice and it's time to get rid of you! Bada-!"

"Boom Bubble!"

At once, Patamon's body swelled and then he unleashed a blast of compressed air. The attack hit Impmon like a brick wall, sending him flying backward with a cry. With an enraged cry, he surged back to his feet.

"That's how you want it, huh?!" he shouted. "I was going to be nice and quick about it, but if you're going to fight then I'll… Huh?"

Nothing. Once more, only fog greeted him. Impmon growled in frustration and shook his fist at the fog.

"Fine! Go run and hide! See what I care, peewee!"

Crossing his arms, he huffed. "No wonder, I loaded your data."

At that, memory bloomed fully formed in his mind. An image of himself traversing through a burned-out city. He was riding a motorcycle and he felt rage churning in his heart.

"Coward!" he heard himself shout. "I know you're hiding! Come out and fight me!"

Clutching at his head, Impmon made small, whimpering sounds at the sudden influx of information assaulting his mind.

"S-Stop," he groaned. "It's too much. Too much!"

He saw himself lifting a pair of shotguns – double barreled – and proceed to fire them into the ruined buildings. He could sense the presence of digimon that weren't members of his army. If he could flush them out into the open…

Got one!

He smirked as an angelic figure shot into the air, wings spread out. He retrained his guns and lead the target a little. An Angemon. An exhausted one at that! All the better. That told him precisely who his target was.

"Double Impact!" he shouted, his guns kicking from the recoil. The Angemon fell out of the air, feathers flying. Impmon laughed. It was an ugly laugh, even to his ears and he was shocked at the bloodlust in it. What was worse was the feeling that he was being sucked into the memory. He felt like he was in a whirlpool. He fought against it; against his lips curling into a vicious smile, eager to consume the suffering of his opponent. The whirlpool of memory only grew in intensity and he found himself riding toward the Angemon. Two humans were running out of the rubble toward him. One of them a boy with light-colored hair. A Digidestined. He saw himself train a shotgun on the human. His mind recoiled in horror.

I'm going to kill Mako!

The thought came from out of nowhere and with it the image of two children, a young boy and a girl with brown hair, both holding a teddy bear between them. The memory froze in place and then snapped out of existence, leaving Impmon lying there, panting heavily. He didn't remember falling, but he was grateful for the memory being gone now.

That's-That's who I was? he thought, feeling his stomach churn in disgust. Why would I want to go back to that?

Yet, the feeling of power – the Mega level – had been undeniable. Had he been Mega, he would have torn the purple pony apart. Renamon wouldn't look down on him and neither would that helicopter head, Terriermon.

An angel fell to him. No wonder Apocalymon had wanted him.

Doubt gnawed at him though. Did he want that power again? Did he want to be that Demon Lord once more?

Who says I'd be him again? I'm me now and that's that.

Rolling onto his back, he hoisted himself up to a sitting position. His breathing felt a little easier and his brain no longer felt that it was about to explode on him. Both were good. With an effort, he climbed to his feet.

His legs held him. Also good.

He resumed walking. He didn't want to, but he wanted out of this fog even more.

The fog shifted around him, and out of the corner of his eyes they appeared to form shadowy figures and buildings. He didn't look at them. He didn't want to look, for he had an idea what they would be.

A child kneeling in front of him while he pointed a shotgun at their face. His triumphant smirk gleamed in the darkness.

Himself again, drawing data into his body from a dying digimon. His body shook with laughter.

Another angel, its wings crucified against a building by his bullets.

A dragon warrior with a shield upon its back attacking him. Claws smashed against claws, sending sparks flying through the air.

Impmon's pace began to pick up. Before he knew it, he was running, eyes clenched shut against the sights around him. The horrors of a past he didn't remember living but had. Everything Apocalymon wanted him to be again.

I'm not him anymore. I'm not! I'm not! I'm not!

He tried to think of other things. Eating cheeseburgers. Terrorizing humans in the park. Playing with Guilmon and his friends in the water.

Those shadows didn't appear around him however. That sense of a fog settling over his mind once more came heavy. His breathing became more labored and a cold chill seeped into his body. Finally, coming to a halt, he looked hopelessly about him, seeing nothing more than the same dense fog that he saw before.

"What is this place?" he asked aloud. "Isn't anyone here? What about you, Peewee? Aren't you here too?"

The fog shifted, as if attempting to respond. Nothing formed however, and the cold chill deepened. Impmon hugged himself, shivering violently.

It's like fog city around here. Typical, mother nature hates me, even in the digital world. My life stinks.

His thoughts returned to his miserable failure of an existence. That had to be it. The digital world was telling him he didn't deserve anything. The Sovereign or whoever it was may have promised him all the power in the world, but he didn't deserve it a bit. He was a weakling after all. The Nightmare Soldiers knew it and despised him for it. Renamon mocked him for his weakness too and Indramon? The mule-face simply told him what he was. It was his fault for picking a fight over reality.

I didn't ask to be humiliated like that though. I just wanted to be stronger. I wanted to prove that I didn't need anybody. What's being a Demon Lord got to do with it when I don't even remember that life?

He wondered then about the flashes of memory. Were they his? Or were they that Patamon? Was he trying to influence him? Was he angry about being absorbed?

That's the law of the digi-jungle though! What's there to be mad about? Huh? Peewee?! What's wrong with taking your data to get stronger?!

The shaking in his body reached a crescendo and Impmon let out a loud, angry howl. He raged against the fog, against the unfair beating he received, at Apocalymon and the voices that pulled him this way and that, just like those two humans he abandoned. Digimon. They weren't so different from humans either and humans killed each other just as readily as digimon, often over trivial things.

In such a world, who wouldn't want to get stronger? So strong that no one would ever want to mess with them?

"You had partners?" came the voice from of the Patamon from the depths of his mind, and the fog ahead of him began to swirl in response to it.

"Go away, peewee," Impmon snarled. The fog continued to swirl and a shadow formed. This one was different from the others and it certainly wasn't that Patamon. It was larger, and its shape suggested something with four limbs in a seated position.

"I-Is someone there?" he called out shakily. "Are you a digimon?"

Silence from the figure. Impatient, Impmon threw caution to the wind and ran toward it.

"All right, fella! What's the deal?! Who do you think you…you…? Ohhh…"

Slowing, Impmon whistled in amazement as the figure's appearance emerged from the fog. It was dog-like, resembling some of the statues he had seen scattered around Shinjuku, with a round, flat face with visible lips baring wide, visible fangs. A necklace of purple orbs encircled it and its body was covered from head to claw with white and blue armor with a violet scarf over its back. Impmon stood there, taking it in while watching for any sign of movement. It gave no indication that it was even alive though, and stood there, staring down at him. Planting his hands on his hips, Impmon angled his head, looking at it from a different angle.

Everywhere I go, its like its eyes keep following me.

He thought it was a digimon, yet for some reason he didn't sense anything about it like he did from Renamon or the other tamed digimon. Even wild ones trying to hide their presence usually gave off something that would cause his instincts to stand up and take notice. Here, there was nothing.

"You gonna throw me a bone here, pally, or just stare at me all day?" he asked. When the dog continued to remain silent, Impmon shrugged. "Eh. Must be a statue."

"You want to become strong, don't you?"

The sudden shift in its head as the beast spoke caused Impmon to pinwheel backward in surprise before he fell to the ground. He waited, tense, digi-core hammering inside his chest for the inevitable. When deletion didn't immediately come, he scowled.

"Okay so you're a digimon after all," he began, trying to hide his panic. "That don't mean you have to scare me!"

Impmon shook his fist at the beast for emphasis. The dog's lips curled upward, seemingly amused by the Rookie.

"Those who wish to be stronger can evolve to gain that strength," he said, his voice echoing. "That is a digimon's true nature, and the way it should be. I can help you digivolve if that's what you want, it's very simple actually."

Digivolve? Simple? Simple my butt! Impmon shot to his feet and planted both hands on his hips to make himself look like he was in complete control of himself.

"Huh? Did you scramble your brains for breakfast, what are you talking about?"

The dog digimon continued to gaze at him, his smile not changing at all.

###

"What if we took every data stream we saw until we find them?"

"That still doesn't change the fact that there's no guarantee that we would be sent to the same place or that Rika would even stay in one place long enough for it to matter. It's best we think of another option."

Henry watched Takato as the boy hung his head, bowing to Sora's logic. After his success with the water, he began brainstorming all kinds of ways to try and locate Rika. Naturally, using the data streams was the first thing that came to mind. Henry considered it as well. No doubt they all did, but there remained the problem they couldn't control where they were sent. With how large the digital world was and how varied its environments were, Henry was forced to admit that the idea, even with Takato's addition, wasn't a very good one.

"There's got to be something we can do," Takato said in a low voice.

"We are," Sora replied, checking her digivice for any other digivice signals. "It's just for now, this one is much slower."

Henry pressed his lips together in sympathy, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel a touch of annoyance. Takato's urge to 'do something' whenever there was even a hint of trouble was one of his strong points and the reason why he trusted him to have his back, but at the same time it was also a weakness. Quite often, he would do things without understanding what he involved himself with, risking making things worse.

"He sure is worried about Rika, huh?" Terriermon observed from his spot atop Henry's head.

"Not now, Terriermon," Henry sighed.

"I'm not saying that just to tease him, Henry. You know if I was, I'd be louder about it. I'm just saying, he's taking this pretty seriously." Terriermon giggled. "Quite the difference from when they first met, huh? I bet if we weren't here to keep him in check, he'd be jumping from one data stream to another just to find her."

"And Rika would be the first to tell him that we're supposed to be searching for Calumon, not each other." Henry wiped an arm across his brow before taking another sip from his water bottle. Now that they had enough, they could afford to be a little freer with it. Not too much of course, but they could take the edge off when needed.

"Well, maybe they'll find him first," Terriermon replied with a smile. "Momentai. I'm sure it'll work out."

"Ever the optimist, aren't you?"

"Hey, just because you're the one with the Crest of Hope doesn't mean you get to be mad at me for trying to be hopeful. I'm not taking your job."

Henry gave a wry chuckle and passed his bottle up to his partner. Inwardly, he felt his stomach shift anxiously.

He might not have meant it that way, but he does have a point, he mused. I don't exactly give the impression that I'm hopeful about anything but he does it more than me. I'm always feeling like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. Rika disappears into a data stream and instead of thinking we'll find her again all I can think of is how huge the digital world is and how hard that makes searching for her.

His eyes fell on Takato as the boy plodded alongside Guilmon and Sora.

He never seems to think we'll lose or have trouble. He then thought of the battle with Vikaralamon and quickly amended, Well, most of the time. He does get rattled, but he still has more hope than I do.

"Hey, Ken?" he turned to the Digidestined of Kindness. "How does the digital world determine crests for Tamers and Digidestined?"

Ken arched an eyebrow.

"That's easy enough," said Wormmon from down at Ken's feet. "If you have that trait and it's your strongest, then it's the one you get."

Ken nodded. "It is as he says. Why do you ask?"

Henry caught a gleam in Ken's eyes that suggested he knew why the question was being asked. Frowning, he decided the best course of action was to confirm his suspicions.

"I guess I just feel like my crest is wrong for me," he admitted. "I don't see how it fits."

"Understandable," Ken nodded. "I felt much the same way about my crest after awakening from my time as the Digimon Emperor. I still feel that way sometimes."

"I can imagine." Henry thought back to what he knew about Ken's time as the digital world's tyrannical despot. The documentaries were short on details except that he had been infected by a Dark Spore, which led to his personality becoming drastically altered as it enhanced his abilities. With his crest being that of Kindness, it couldn't have been very easy to accept.

"It's why my crest has rarely activated since I was a child," Ken continued, his expression tight. "After everything I know about what happened to me back then, a part of me still can't accept that I could be at all kind."

"All of us have been like that in one way or another," chimed in Joe. "Some of us are able to move past it more easily. It took Sora a while to accept her crest. Mimi once felt that she didn't deserve hers. Understanding yourself is not an easy thing."

"Especially when you've caused a lot of pain for others," Ken added, agreeing with the Digidestined of Reliability.

"Or trip over your feet a lot. But life is like riding a bicycle. Sometimes you have to fall down a lot to learn how to ride."

Ken fell silent at this, but his expression was one of gratitude toward the other adult. Henry felt as though he were listening to something that only they understood – some shared history – but the analogy was a universal one.

For a long time, I felt like I always had to be in control over myself. Especially after I hurt Koji.

In a way, such an intense desire for control was the opposite of what his teacher taught him. Control was essential of course, as it was important to know when to hold back, but there was a flow to his martial arts – to breathing – that was more akin to a river. It went where it would, following paths that opened up for it and circulating energy, whether his own or an opponent's. His opposing mindset was one of the reasons why he had difficulty focusing at times, especially once the Devas began to invade. The silent flow that he was supposed to cultivate within himself was often broken by the crashing boulders of his thoughts, damming it all up.

My crest is supposed to be about trusting things will work out. But do I? Can I really trust that anything will work out after everything that's happened? The real world just doesn't work that way. It's all probability. Some things are more likely than others. How does having faith affect that?

So his mind went while they continued to trudge through the harsh desert. He came no closer to finding an answer than they did with finding Rika or Calumon.

At least we're closing in on that village, he thought with relief. We could really use a break about now.

Wiping an arm over his brow, he took in the village in question as they approached its boundaries. It was full of mud-like domes adorned with an odd mishmash of pipes, windows and doors of no particularly standardized shape or size. All about it lay heaps of what looked to be garbage and broken items. All about, data packets hovered and tumbled.

"We're here," came Sora's voice at the head of the group. "Let's knock and see if anyone's home."

Approaching cautiously, they peered about for any signs of life. Presently, there appeared to be none. The village lay deathly silent and some of the domes were broken ruins with some fading in and out of stability.

"Sheesh. This village looks like a petrified bubble bath if you ask me," quipped Terriermon.

"Man, I can see why no one's hanging around. It's not exactly what you'd call one of the world's most beautiful vacation spots, huh?" added Takato, casting an uncertain look at one of the crumpled buildings. He felt disappointed and more than a little sad for whoever lived here.

Kind of looks like a graveyard of buildings.

Terriermon, squirming atop Henry's head in discomfort over how quiet the place was, cupped his tiny hands around his mouth.

"Whoever's there, come out now!" he screamed, causing Henry to flinch and plug his ears.

"Terriermon…" he scolded.

"What? You expect me to just sit here in the middle of a creepy village and just be quiet?"

"You know, if we get attacked by zombies, I'm blaming you."

"You sure get loud when you're tired," said Gomamon, giving the long-eared digimon a hard look. Terriermon shrugged.

"Momentai. This place is as quiet as a tomb and probably has a population to match."

"We'll have a look around to make sure," said Sora. "Either way, this looks like it might be a good place to camp in for the night. There's not much shelter after this."

"Sounds good," agreed Ken with a nod. "Henry, let's… Henry?"

The Digidestined of Kindness frowned at the half-Chinese boy as he stood frozen in place. He was muttering something to himself.

"That's odd," Ken heard him say. "Those tire marks look like they came from a bike."

"Tire marks?" Ken asked, following his gaze. Sure enough, a single line of tread marks disturbed the sand, running straight through the village.

"These look fresh," Wormmon said, crawling over to the track. He poked it with a claw indicatively. "The wind should have covered this up by now if it was made a long time ago."

"All the weird things that happen in the digital world and you're expecting something normal?" Terriermon asked. "I'd think normal would be the last thing you'd expect."

"Wind doesn't change much in either world," Ken said, joining his partner. "It's probably the only thing you can rely on really."

He studied the tire mark, his brow furrowing. A bicycle for sure, no doubt about it. But not many digimon made use of such vehicles as far as he knew. For all the digital world's technology, most digimon preferred the use of their feet, flight or whatever method of transportation that was natural to them. There were some exceptions, but they were just that. Exceptions.

"What do you make of it?" Sora asked. Ken shook his head.

"Might be nothing. A digimon passing through. Whatever it is, it's gone now."

No sooner were the words out of his mouth did the sound of a revving engine reach their ears. Guilmon rose up, sniffing the air in apprehension.

"That sound…" began Terriermon, turning in the direction of the engine. "Does that sound close to you?"

Whirling around a corner, a black and grey motorcycle appeared. It was without a visible driver and had a red shield at its front. Without taking a second to slow down and consider them, it whipped itself in their direction, as if guided by some obscene intelligence hellbent on attacking, and reared up on its back wheel. Its engine gave a particularly loud roar, like an animalistic snarl and then shot toward them. Its front wheel, hanging in the air, had all the subtlety of a bared fang before it crashed back down to the earth.

Sora's shout was the first to break everyone out of their shocked paralysis.

"It's Beelzemon! He's after us!"

###

A/N2: A long time ago, first during my late childhood, and then during my late teens and early adulthood, I explored Chinese philosophy, specifically with regards to Taoism and Zen. My dad has a lot of the material lying around so it was easy to read things like Tao Te Ching or Zhaungzi Speaks: The Music of Nature (the latter, admittedly at the time because it was in comic form and I was a bored ten-year-old). It's been a long time since then and I could probably do with a refresher course at some point, but as I understand it there's a fair bit of connection between the philosophies and the martial arts (owing to my brief forays around the same periods with regards to kung-fu and taekwondo), some of which may be a result of the era they emerged in (the Warring States period, which saw a lot of people looking for ideas that could end the seemingly endless chaotic state of affairs, or at least live with it). The balance between control and 'going with the flow' (bear in mind this description is a gross oversimplification of things) is something that's been a part of Henry's character, but not a very well developed one with regards to the season proper. Admittedly, I struggle with Henry as well because of this, but if I had to describe his character, it's straight from Zhaungzi Speaks. In it, there's a discussion about a mantis and how, when angered, attacks anything, including an oncoming cart. Obviously, this is not a one-to-one comparison and the chapter discussed something other than Henry's situation, but the point being made was that Henry's need to control himself or events around him is him overestimating his ability to handle those things directly instead of trying other avenues.

I sometimes relate the ideas of Taoism to Hope. The two, despite their dissimilarities (massive ones I feel) share some things in common, especially with regards to Hope's association with trust and faith.

Or maybe I'm just talking out of my ass in an attempt to justify my choice of crest for Henry as my choice of crests for all the Tamers are a bit out of the ordinary. XD

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