Out of the Ashes…: Chapter 5
** Disclaimers: I don't own digimon. Never will. This fic was produced for entertainment purposes only, and will not be sold. Leave me alone, you vultures!
** Author's notes: Due to the new chaptering system, I was unable to post a summary for a new chapter. Well, here it is instead:
Psychic powers again! Quite a lot of it actually. In here, the history, theory and exact capabilities of the destined's powers are explored. Zion prepares for war, and our people leave for Tokyo. Oh, and Tim comes in again! (I got the impression you guys liked the kid. I created him to be kawaii (cute), and to be a reflection of TK when he was eight)
And, as usual, I got a lot of help from TS. She's really a great editor, and she's stuck with me ever since "The Long Winter" (maybe it's because she gets spoilers ^_^). Thanks a lot!
Oh, and just because "Out of the Ashes" is now chaptered doesn't mean you can't review. So at the end, please review as always!
Enough. Onwards…
**********
Zion was girding itself up for war.
An attack and a battle of this magnitude was not to be taken lightly. All throughout the small city, soldiers fought through combat drills, training with a variety of weapons, learning about Bakemon and Diaboromon strengths and weaknesses. Units of twenty men drilled combat formations, tactics, and street warfare, sometimes in tandem with other units and sometimes by themselves. Leaders barked out orders and commands at the sweating rebels. In battle, there would be no time to think. Formations must be flexible and adaptable, and executed without blinking. A few seconds delay could mean the difference between life and death for a lot of people.
Soldiers sat about cleaning and tending to the firearms. The firearms were a widely varied lot. Some were deadly assault rifles. Some were light handguns. Some were submachine automatics. They were the few guns that the rebels had managed to salvage from the city and surviving military installations. Each weapon was carefully tested, cleaned and repaired before issued. Mortars and bombs were painstakingly tested and checked. It would take at least another five years for humanity to crawl back up to the tech level required to produce guns again, so ammunition and firearms were rare, and treasured.
But then again, either this battle would succeed, or humanity would die trying. What was the point of conserving weapons and ammo?
The destined threw themselves headlong into the preparations. Matt, TK and Kari helped with the combat drills. Tai and his group spent hours in the war room poring over detailed maps of Tokyo, trying to familiarize themselves with the area and the system of safehouses and secret passages. The city had changed after five years of war. Certain streets were now impassable, new passageways had opened, old landmarks had disappeared, and new ones had taken their place. Joe, David and Shinta did some cleaning up around Zion, further fortifying the walls and preparing the defenses. Kevin and Jim both oversaw the harvests, taking stock of their supplies, and inspecting supply routes and lines.
Yet everyday, despite the rush to prepare for the imminent attack, the chosen children would seclude themselves in the dojo for a few hours. No one knew what they did in the martial arts studio, but everyone was too busy to ask. Several days after the Zion address, Tim, being younger and not having much to do, decided to go peek in on them and see what they did during one of those sessions.
He knew Takeru wouldn't mind. The two boys had struck up a close friendship since they had first met. Despite his duties as a cell leader, and his position as second-in-command, Takeru had always found the time to be there when Tim needed him. Now, Takeru was more the older brother Tim never had, a caring, protective figure. While others regarded the golden-haired boy with respect, and even fear, Tim had found friendship within the aspect of those blue eyes.
What the young boy wasn't so sure about were the other destined, so he decided to play it safe. The doors of the dojo were made of paper, so the young boy merely sneaked up to the wooden building, poked a finger through the flimsy screen, and peeked through…
CRACK!
The small boy squeaked softly in fright and tumbled backwards, then covered his mouth as he looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Nobody came out to chase him away, so he peered through his peephole into the large, open room again. And his eyes widened incredulously…
TK and Kari were sparring. Viciously. The room was filled with the verdant lightning flashes of their incredible clashes and auras. TK of course, wielded his trusty staff, while Kari was dueling with a "kodachi", a deadly short sword, or a really long dagger. Both of the combatants were wreathed with violent flames. The boy's aura blazed a brilliant gold, while Kari seemed to be halloed with blinding, rose-coloured wildfire. It was an incredible and frightening sight to behold.
As Tim watched, Kari crouched forward, starting to flicker as she began the charge. A moment later, all that could be seen was a blur, streaking across the ground, her blade flashing with the multi-hued colours of crystal. Unfazed, the young boy twisted his body into a defensive stance, and parried the blow deftly. The instant the blade was deflected, his feet shifted, and he assumed an offensive stance. Kari leapt back out of striking range. Tim watched in amazement as the leap carried her a full seven meters. Then, his eyes goggled as the boy streaked after Kari, his staff spinning in a blinding, golden blur, pressing his attack.
Their sheer speed was incredible. Wave a pencil between your thumb and index finger, and all you see of it is a series of random images, a flowing set of blurred pencils waving back and forth. That was the case for the two sparring destined. Tim rubbed his eyes and squinted as he struggled to see better. The two flickered and flashed, blurred and sometimes disappeared altogether as they strove to outmatch each other's inhuman speed. Whenever their weapons clashed, the young boy could see a ripple of displaced air expanding from the point of impact. He could even hear a faint thunder reverberating around the room, as if the very air in the dojo crackled with the intensity of the conflict.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Tai, Izzy, Mimi, Sora, Matt and their digimon, standing on the sidelines and watching with intense interest. Patamon was flapping in the air, watching with the critical eye of the sensei. Mimi, Sora, Izzy and Willis were all looking with eyes as wide as saucers. Tai was shaking his head. "I'm seeing it, but I'm not believing it," he muttered.
Beside Tai, Matt laughed. "You'd better believe it buddy. You can do it too." Then he turned back to watch the sparring match, a grin on his face. "Did you know they made a bet? Loser has to do the winner's chores for a week…"
Again, Tai turned his gaze back upon the practice match between his sister and TK. This is a sparring match!? he thought incredulously. I'd hate to see what happens when they're really out to kill…His mind went back over the little lecture Patamon had given them on the first day of their "training."
** flashback **
"We angel digimon are different from others. Ever since the conception of the digital world, we have been the guardians and protectors of it. Not to seem like I'm boasting here, but angel digimon are generally much more powerful than other digimon at their level. A champion angel has the powers of an ultimate. An ultimate angel has the powers of a mega.
"And a mega angel is unheard of. It's never happened before, simply because there has never been an evil strong enough to warrant such a powerful force to counteract it. But if an angel were to digivolve to the mega level, its powers would be…well…mind-boggling.
"And part of our power comes from our combat style itself, and not from any inherent strength or abilities."
Gatomon took over. Every eye turned and focused on the cat digimon as she began speaking. "The martial arts and combat style of all Angel digimon is called 'Tenkei'. In ancient digi-code, it literally means 'Angel's Will'. A subset of that martial art is a mental discipline called the 'Kohlinahr', a progressive seven-step mental art. Kohlinahr teaches one how to focus one's mind, silence the inner, useless thoughts, and allow one's true strength to surface. Together, a fighter possessing the martial arts of Tenkei, and the warrior's discipline of Kohlinahr, is a potent fighter indeed." Gatomon grinned. "I should know.
"And the results of teaching Tenkei and Kohlinahr to a digidestined has proved…very interesting indeed."
Matt coughed "Apparently, as digidestined, we're somewhat…more than human. We always have been, since birth. We've just…never noticed before. The power of our crests has done some amazing things before. I somehow healed Tai and WarGreymon during the battle with Piedmon. Kari started…glowing, when we were fighting Machinedramon."
Izzy self-consciously rubbed his breastbone as he finished the line of logic. "And since our crests are inherently a part of us, it makes sense that we'd be able to control it. But, we've never really explored exactly what kind of powers we have…"
Patamon grinned. "Actually, we have. Quite extensively too. Somehow, me teaching TK helped him focus and control his innate abilities, until now, he can call on it at will." The digimon shrugged. "After finding out, he insisted I teach the others. Matt, Kari and Joe can all do it. They've had it all along. We just started exploring new ways of using it. Sometimes, it's for combat, though recently we've begun looking at the healing aspects of such a power…
"Generally though, we know it gives them enhanced speed, reflexes and strength. A relatively new technique that we've only just discovered is the ability to form a small 'shield' of psychic energy that'll block any manner of physical and energy attacks. It's incredibly draining though and requires a high level of skill. It's only about two feet by two feet. Roughly. It doesn't cover your whole body, so it's still possible to sneak past it. Besides, the best of us has only managed to maintain it for a couple seconds."
Sora's head was spinning. Looking around, she saw that the others were looking a little stunned as well. Beside her, Biyomon sniffed. "Does that mean you don't need us digimon anymore?"
Matt shook his head with a grin. "No. Although the upper limits of these powers haven't been reached yet, at this current level, there's no way even TK could take down a Diaboromon. And he's the best. We just don't have the 'firepower'." His grin turned slightly dark. "It comes in damn useful when fighting Bakemon though…." He looked at Agumon and the others. "You guys are still the 'big guns'. You don't have to worry about losing your jobs."
Willis spoke up. "So exactly how 'powerful' can we be?"
Tai frowned. This was where it got unbelievable. At the time he'd said he'd believe it when he saw it.
CLANG!
An especially vicious weapon clash jerked Tai out of his reflection. Again, he focused on the battle. And now, he was seeing it, and…well…still not quite believing. And the incredible part was, he was supposed to be able to do this as well…
Tim was, at the moment, feeling a little light-headed with excitement. He had never seen the full extent of the destined's powers, and the blinding show of force was impressive, to say the least. Eagerly, he pressed his face up against the screen, determined not to miss a thing. If he hadn't been so distracted, he'd have noticed Gatomon quietly sneaking out a side door…
Sometimes, the two pushed off the walls and ceiling, using them as platforms from which to launch their attack. More often than not, clashes occurred in midair. Neither of them seemed to be the slightest bit disoriented, or struck with vertigo. They were not flying, Tai realized, but more like ricocheting off the walls, floor and ceiling. And the whole time, their blinding auras made it difficult to discern exactly what was going on. Their respective shields flashed sporadically into existence to block strikes, then just as quickly dissipating as its owner shifted to offense. They were as two angels of war, unstoppable in their sheer power and speed. As fast and deadly as the keen Northern winds, the type that can never be bothered to go around, over or under, but cuts straight through.
You can't hit the howling wind. Anymore than you can stop the raging fire.
Tai shook his head in amazement. This was his sweet sister Kari? And this was the innocent and clueless blond kid he had first met six years ago? It was surreal. They were two of the sweetest and most gentle people he knew. How could they possess such an incredible…killer's…instinct? It was disturbing to see two so young in possession of so much power…And it was more disturbing still that such an instinct existed within himself.
He grinned wryly. Of course, you realize, as Kari's older brother, I now have to give you the traditional 'beat your sister's boyfriend dead' ceremony…"
Yeah right.
** flashback **
Patamon brought the discussion back on-track. "Tenkei is not a conventional martial arts. It's focused around a weapon. Always. It does provide you with the means to fight hand to hand, but ultimately, every Tenkei warrior has a weapon of some kind."
TK explained. "For me, I chose the staff." He held up his trusty bo. The long weapon gleamed golden in the sunlight slanting in the dojo. "Both Kari and Joe chose the kodachi. Generally, we tried to use light, fast and easy-to-carry weapons." He shrugged. "My bo isn't exactly small, but then, it doubles as a walking staff, so that's alright."
Izzy held up a hand. "What weapon did Matt choose?"
Matt answered the question for his brother. "I chose the iron coshes." He produced two peculiar looking weapons, basically iron bars, with perpendicular handles. Tai looked at them curiously. Even the way Matt held them was weird. The handles were gripped with the hand, and the actual bar part was held over the forearm.
"It's mainly a defensive weapon, but it's devastating in close-quarters." He turned to look at Tai's group, and scrutinized them carefully. "I think, for you guys, kodachis would be the best. It's a light, easy-to-carry weapon, and it's the easiest to learn as well. Remember, you have to be ready in one month."
Mimi and Sora both grimaced with distaste at having to fight with a weapon, so Matt's expression softened somewhat. "If all goes well with the attack, we won't need to do any fighting ourselves. In fact, there's a good chance that none of us would be calling on our powers at all.
"Even if we do have to fight, we'll all be carrying firearms. I set aside some snub-nosed automatics, and three clips of ammo for each of us. Since all of us know our way around a gun, I didn't think we'd need to practice that. This training session is just to prepare you for the possibility that you might have to defend yourself, in case your gun jams, or you run out of ammo, or something like that. It's always better to be safe than sorry.
"But remember this." Matt's face turned deadly serious. "Always use your gifts for the good of all. Never stray to the dark side. If history has taught us anything, it's that power corrupts. And absolute power corrupts absolutely.
"'Nuchidu Takara'. Life is the most precious thing. The highest principle in the Tenkei code of honour. Remember that, above all else."
** end flashback **
Finally, the two dueling combatants locked weapons with a tremendous clash. Ripples of gold and red and sparks of fire crackled around the point of impact between the two weapons. Straining, they each tried to push the other back, their auras flaring even brighter as they gathered their strength. A flaring wind swirled around the room. Now that they had slowed down a little, Izzy could see that they were both panting hard. Sweat was rolling down their faces, and their clothes were damp. Their limbs trembled with exhaustion. Their powers aren't limitless after all…he mused. In fact, they must really be going all out to be tired so quickly. He strained his eyes to see more.
Patamon followed Izzy's gaze, and nodded. "Yes, they're really trying their best to beat each other. At the rate they're going, one or both of them will burn out in another five minutes or so. Then, it'll become a contest of endurance, and not of strength."
Willis, his gaze still locked on the two viciously sparring combatants, piped up. "So calling on your power drains you?"
Matt's gaze was also locked on his brother's struggling figure. "Depends on your level of skill in the Kohlinahr. Generally, calling upon your full power can be very draining, both physically and mentally. All-out sparring matches normally don't last any longer than fifteen minutes. TK is the only one who's managed to reach the seventh and final level of Kohlinahr skill. He can now be rightfully considered a Tenkei master. Kari's reached the sixth, and Joe and I have reached the fifth."
He nodded at the two sparring warriors. "Those two are the only ones who can maintain their full auras for longer than fifteen minutes. Even then, by the time they're finished, it's another couple hours before they can do it again." He chuckled at the memory. "Kari even passed out once from exhaustion, and TK threw up a couple times. Hell, we all did."
Then, all conversation ceased as the stronger TK won the standoff. Giving a mighty heave, he pushed Kari's blade away. His staff suddenly free, he began spinning his weapon rapidly until it resembled nothing more than a great, scything blur, a whirling maelstrom of destruction.
This time, Kari didn't back off, but went on offensive. Her weapon switched back and forth constantly from left hand to right hand, and from forehand to backhand, so in essence, she had no less than four basic stances from which she could attack. And she used them all. The flashing blade was whirling wildfire, stabbing and slashing everywhere. Sparring viciously, both combatants went at it at point blank range, their weapon points constantly seeking and questing for an opening, but resisted and blocked with superhuman speed at every turn.
Sometimes instead of blocking with weapons, they would spread their palms wide, and a small field flashed into being in front of their hands, shaped and manipulated by their fingers into whatever shape they chose. Whenever the weapons smashed into one of those psychic shields, bright, blinding sparks erupted. But the shields held. It was a testament to their incredible mental strength, the union of the soul and the body.
It was like a dance in its delicate intricacy. A deadly ballet to the symphony of crashing steel. A flashing display of blinding colours and blurs.
Then, TK saw an opening. Wrenching his staff free, he spun it once, knocked Kari's blade aside with a tremendous clash, and swung savagely at her head. Watching from his peephole, Tim's heart skipped a beat. If the blow hit home, Kari's head would be knocked clean off.
The blond boy stopped an instant before he actually hit the girl, the staff-tip quivering a centimeter from Kari's temple. Tim let out the breath he had been holding. Gasping for breath, TK managed to give her a small, yet triumphant smile. "I…guess you…owe me…a week of chores…"
A small smile played across Kari's lips as well. Sweat rolled down her face, and her breathing came in ragged gasps, but she shook her head. "TK…look down," she said softly.
The blond boy looked down, and froze. The tip of Kari's kodachi was poised a millimeter off his throat. The deadly, pointed tip caught the light of the room and sparkled like a jewel. Both of them stood stock still as they panted for air. She chuckled.
"If this had been a real fight, we would've joined each other in death."
Slowly, she dropped the weapon's tip, and her aura disappeared. With her powers reigned in, she suddenly seemed to deflate from exhaustion, putting her hands on her knees and panting. Likewise, TK lowered his staff, and reigned in his aura. He smiled ruefully. "You're getting better, Kari." The boy stepped back. "I guess we'll have to call it a draw."
They bowed to each other, a gesture that indicated respect for your sparring opponent. It was really nothing but a formality, but it was a time-honoured tradition that Patamon insisted upon. On the sidelines, Tai let out a sigh of relief that her sister was safe, while Matt merely raised an eyebrow in amusement. Tim was still a little stunned by the show of power he had just witnessed, so he didn't notice the small, feline shape creeping up behind him…
"BOO!!"
The small eight-year-old almost jumped out of his skin. Already pressed against the flimsy screen, he lost his balance and fell against the paper. The entire screen gave way, and Tim tumbled into the dojo, landing on top of the collapsed screen with a crash. Mimi and Sora jumped, and all eyes focused on the sprawled boy on the ground. Tim turned scarlet. "I…um…uh…"
Behind him, Gatomon giggled, and stepped carefully around the boy into the room. "Look who I found. He was looking in on our little sparring session." She smiled deviously. "What should we do with him?"
Although still sweaty and exhausted, TK laughed. Walking over to the fallen boy, he offered a hand, and helped him back up to his feet. "Tim? What are you doing here?"
Matt frowned. "TK? You know him?" He vaguely remembered the flustered kid who had contacted him the night Tai had come, but had never bothered to ask his name.
His younger brother nodded, a smile on his face. "Yeah. Hey guys, this is Tim Sterling. Tim, well…you know who we are." Then his face turned serious. Squatting down on his haunches, he looked the boy squarely in the face. "What were you doing spying on us?"
Tim looked at his feet with an abashed expression on his face. "Well…I wasn't really spying…just sorta looking in." He scuffed the ground lightly with his toe. "I…I'm sorry, but I was just curious…"
Tai shrugged. "Well, if you really wanted to watch, then you should've just asked. Nothing secret about what we're doing."
Tim looked up with shining eyes. "Really?" he inquired eagerly.
TK stood up, and nodded. Taking hold of the dark-haired boy, he gently lifted the child, and deposited him on top of a pile of mats. Matt grinned. The gesture was so reminiscent of what he used to do to TK. "You can stay if you want to. But you have to promise that you won't interrupt us, and won't disturb us." TK's blue eyes stared solemnly into Tim's. "OK?"
The eight-year-old nodded eagerly, his dark hair falling in front of his eyes. "OK. I promise." TK gave the boy a last glance to make sure he was settled, then turned back to the others. Sora tossed him a towel, and he caught it, gratefully wiping his face and neck. He smiled at Sora. "Thanks."
"OK." Patamon said. "Nice match there, but Kari, your stance was a little off. Try spreading your feet a little further apart to balance better. TK, your strikes are still too slow. In battle, you just can't hesitate like that…"
And so the lessons went on and on. Over the next couple weeks, Tai and his group began to learn. At first, none of them were able to summon the slightest aura. It was only Patamon's patient teaching, and the constant encouragement of their digimon and the other digidestined, that their innate abilities became apparent. Gradually, they began to focus and control their dormant crests. With the experience gained from five years of experimentation, the other digidestined taught them all they knew, and their progress was astounding. Within a couple weeks, most of them had achieved the fourth level of Kohlinahr, whereas it had taken Matt and the others a whole year to get that far.
The sparring matches went on. Usually, Patamon tried to pair the fighters up according to ability. Sometimes though, the sparring matches went on between grossly mismatched opponents. The digimon did that on purpose, trying to force the weaker one to improve. There were several matches between Tai and Matt (an inside joke, considering their history), and Tai invariably came out of it soundly defeated and sporting a couple bruises, but each time, he improved immensely.
TK was a popular sparring partner, since everyone knew he would never actually hit anyone. One, his precision was the best among the group, so he always managed to stop his attack in time. Two, he could never bear hurting anyone anyway, and almost always hesitated for a crucial split second before striking. Although he was inarguably one of the strongest in the group, and the only one who had achieved the seventh and final state of Kohlinahr, he was taken advantage of several times. From time to time, it was TK who came out of the odd match sporting a couple bruises or cuts.
It was an obvious deficiency in his fighting style. "TK." Kari and Patamon had finally sat him down to talk to him about it. "You've got to be more…ruthless. Aggressive. You're good, but you can be much better if you'd stop hesitating before striking. In battle, Bakemon would kill you without a second thought. You've got to do the same. You have to come at your opponents as if you mean to kill."
The blond boy had sighed in frustration. "I know, I know. But I can't help it! I'm not a soldier, no matter how you try to make me one. No matter how I try to make myself one. It's just…not in me to kill in cold-blood." He was a warrior by destiny, but not a warrior at heart. The flames of war had baptized him, and his hands were stained with blood, but his soul remained pure and innocent. He was simply not cut out to be a soldier.
"War sucks…big time," he had finished plaintively.
**********
Four weeks before the final attack, Tai called a council of war. All cell and squadron leaders were to be in attendance. Together, the digidestined with their digimon, and Zion's commanders all gathered in the war room, surrounding the large, wooden conference table. Like Matt, Tai scorned protocol, so the meeting was very informal. There were no set speakers, no set seating arrangements, and no set presidents. However, what they discussed, was not informal at all.
"OK." Tai said, gesturing towards a large map of Tokyo hanging on the wall. "This is Tokyo. These are our advance bases," he pointed towards three circles to the North, West and South of the city, "this is the power station," he pointed to a dot in the North-Eastern industrial section of town, "and this is Diaboromon's HQ, right here in the middle of the city." He looked around.
"We'll be leaving behind a token defending force of fifty soldiers. That means we have three hundred and fifty commandos to work with. Options?"
A moment of silence, then David raised a hand. Matt turned to look at his cell leader as he began speaking.
"It's like in chess. You strategically position your pieces all across the board, then, when the time is right, strike, all at once. Don't give your opponent a chance to recover." A rare grin spread across David's usually serious face. "Keep them 'punch-drunk'."
Matt leaned forward, frowning. "Then, we'd have to sneak in our soldiers, in small groups, at different intervals. What you're suggesting is, have them hideout in the safehouses for awhile, then, at a set time, everyone attack at once, have soldiers popping up all over the place within the space of a minute."
Agumon looked pensive. Like his master, the digimon had acquired a knack for strategic thinking through the years. "It's risky though. Are you sure you can sneak in our soldiers without being detected? Sure, you've done the same thing for recon missions, but then, you were in groups of ten to fifteen. Can you do it with four hundred soldiers?"
David nodded. "It's not without risks. It would be hard to sneak in our soldiers, and position them all across Tokyo without being noticed, but then, we're only an army of three hundred fifty. For once, smaller is better, since we can't be detected as easily. Plus, we have a system of secret passages on our side, and we know the patrol shifts so we can avoid them. I think it can be done."
TK steepled his fingers. "All right then. How about this?" He gestured towards the map. "In four weeks time, September 15th, when we move out, our first destination would be this advance base right here." He pointed to the Western base. "Allow two more weeks of travel time, which means we get there on September 29th. Once there, the army splits up, probably into cells and squadrons, and heads their separate ways, sneaking via underground secret passages into various safehouses around the city."
Kari frowned. "I'd say we allow our troops a week's time to get into position. Any longer, and we risk being discovered. Any shorter, and someone might not be in position. That means the actual attack date would be…" she did some mental calculations. "October 6th."
Joe leaned back. "What about actual time of day? For maximum effect, this attack should be coordinated down to the second."
Agumon shrugged. "The actual time isn't that important. Probably sometime at night, when they can't see us. A good, well-armed soldier can fight with the effectiveness of three in the dark."
Tai nodded. "I'd say, 12:00 AM, October 7th, down to the second, should be the moment when we all strike." He grinned. "When we're finished kicking Diaboromon's butt, they'll have a holiday named after us on October 7th."
Gabumon held his head with his paws. "All this planning is giving me a headache…" he complained.
Willis, who was closest, ruffled the digimon's fur sympathetically. "I know what you mean." Then, he looked up to ask a question. Everyone turned to look at the blond boy. "What about digidestined? What will the teams be?"
Matt sighed. "I've been thinking a lot about that." He ran a hand through his blond hair. "Here's my proposal. Tai, TK, Kari, Willis and I will infiltrate Diaboromon's base. Joe, Mimi, Sora and Izzy try to take out the power plant." He looked at Izzy. "You guys will probably attack right at 12:00, but my group will be on hot standby until you've done your job. We'll know you've succeeded when all the lights in his base go out."
Gabumon frowned. Those were grossly unbalanced teams. Both megas and both angels on one team? TK, Kari and Matt, three of the resistance's best digidestined fighters on one team? Not to be disrespectful of the others' abilities, but Matt had to have a reason for this. "Um…Matt? Are you sure about this…"
Matt held up a hand. "Let me explain."
"The infiltration mission will be a lot harder, and it will probably require some personal combat on the digidestined's part. Our mission is stealth, so digimon would essentially be incapacitated. Thus, our best fighters, TK, Kari and myself, will be on that team. Willis has to be along to actually install the virus, we need his technical smarts.
"On the other hand, the team raiding the power station won't need stealth at all. It'll be a lightning fast, brute force raid with digimon. MegaKabuterimon and Zudomon would be well-suited for that." Gomamon grinned savagely, and Tentomon, even though he had no facial expressions, still managed to give the impression of baring his teeth. "The destined on that team probably won't need to fight. Um…no offense to you guys," he nodded apologetically to Izzy's group, "but that's why I chose these teams."
Mimi sniffed. "Hmph. Showoff," she muttered.
Tai ignored her, and nodded at Matt. It made sense. "Anyone have any objections?" He looked around. Izzy's team looked a little disgruntled, even downright insulted, but they reluctantly nodded. It made sense. David and Shinta nodded as well, having no problem with the actual battle plan. "Fine then, it's settled. Tend to your cells and get them battle-ready in four weeks. Dismissed." Everyone began to walk out.
"Oh yeah. TK, Kari and Joe. You won't be able to command your cells during the battle, so remember to forward recommendations of new cell commanders to me by tomorrow!" Matt yelled after them.
**********
Over the next month, Zion was a beehive of activity. The troops were prepared and trained, drilled over and over again. Supplies were packed, and directions confirmed. Weapons were checked, double-checked, and triple-checked. No one wanted to die due to faulty equipment.
Many other councils took place in the war-room. The digidestined and Zion's commanders spent hours arguing about which route would be best, which safehouses to use, which secret passages would be safest, which targets to attack, how to cause the most confusion with the soldiers they had, the details went on and on. An intricate attack plan was formulated, with backup plans, escape and attack routes, potential targets highlighted, and so on and so on. No detail missed intense scrutiny. Before they knew it, four weeks had passed.
Finally, September 15th arrived.
The gentle, autumn wind whistled through TK's golden hair as he stood in front of a huge, cheering crowd. Patamon perched faithfully on the shoulder of his master. Zion's civilians were gathered to wish the departing army good luck. Emotional and sometimes tearful farewells were evident all around, as families were separated. Spirits were high, and jubilant shouts echoed across the valley. TK did nothing to stop them. Let them be happy, he thought with a sad smile. They deserve it…. Casting his azure eyes on the small army, TK's grin turned proud.
Although the army was small, it was well trained. Every member was dressed in a dark-blue, long-sleeved shirt, and simple dark trousers, the default "uniform" of the rebellion. The officers only had a small, simple strip of colour, the colour of their cell, sewn onto their right shoulder. Tai had reasoned, and TK agreed, that a true leader didn't need fancy colours to show their rank. The digidestined themselves were clad in the same dress, and to the uneducated onlooker, looked just like any other platoon leader.
The attack would take place at night, so the "uniforms" served as camouflage. They army wielded a motley collection of weapons, from a few automatic rifles, to snub-nosed automatics, to handguns, to sawed-off shotguns, to combat swords and knives. Almost all of them carried a supply of homemade bombs and explosives. The weapons were wide and varied, but they were all in perfect working order. It was a rag-tag, unconventional army, but it was armed to the teeth.
But the most important thing was, every soldier fought for a purpose, had a cause to believe in. The blond boy could see it in everyone's eyes. There was no fear, merely a burning determination to take their world back. He nodded approvingly. That was the most important thing. An army without a heart is not an army at all.
Sighing, TK turned, and heaved his bag of supplies and weapons onto his back. He adjusted the sub-automatic at his side, and checked the ammo cartridges clipped to his belt. Patamon flapped up into the air. Carrying his staff in one hand, he prepared to join the column marching East towards Tokyo. Once past the mountains, the army would split up for the journey, the better to conceal themselves. But for now, they would remain together. Tai and Matt were already at the front, leading the way. The others were scattered within the army, overseeing the flanks and rear of the column. Once past the mountains, the army would split up for the journey, the better to conceal themselves. But for now, they would remain together.
"Takeru?"
The blond boy turned to the small voice behind him. "Tim?" His blue eyes widened at the sight of the kid. "What's wrong?"
The eight-year-old looked very worried, almost frightened. His lower lip trembled, and he looked about ready to cry. Then with a sob, he threw himself forward and hugged TK's waist tightly. Startled, he held the little boy securely. "Tim? What's the matter?"
The little boy sniffled. "Takeru? Why do you have to go fight? I heard Mom saying that you might…well…well…"
TK's blue eyes softened. Squatting down on his haunches, he looked the kid in the eye. "That I might die?"
Tim sniffed, and refused to meet TK's gaze. He nodded once. "I don't want you to die…I've already lost so many friends, I don't want to lose you too…" His childish voice sounded plaintive as he clutched at the blond boy. His small hands gripped the dark-blue fabric of TK's shirt tightly, almost desperately.
Here, at last, was an older brother, a friend to whom he could tell anything, even the smallest and most stupid whims, and be confident that he would never be laughed at. A mentor, and yet, a partner-in-crime at the same time. And he was in danger of losing him to the accursed war, the same war that had consumed his friends, his family, his life.
So Tim did the only thing he knew how. He refused to let go.
The older blond boy slowly put his bag back down onto the soft grass. In a way, he understood the little boy's feelings. Patamon swooped down and perched on Tim's shoulder, trying to offer what solace he could to the young, frightened child. TK smiled at the gesture, and nodded at the questioning look Patamon shot him.
"We have to go. If we didn't, we wouldn't be able to live with ourselves. Diaboromon has to be stopped, and those friends you lost have to be avenged," the digimon said. "For the sake of Earth, and for the sake of the digiworld."
The small, dark-haired boy shook his head fiercely. "That's a lie. That's what Mom and Dad always says, and it never comes true. What's the point of this stupid war? All it does is kill people, and we never seem to be making any progress…"
TK sighed. Sometimes, the insights of a child contained more wisdom than that of grown adults. What was the point of fighting? In the end, it just brought pain, and more pain. He himself had lost many dear friends and family to the war. His mother was still missing, and most probably long dead. Now, he understood how Mimi felt all those years ago, when she had finally given in to the pressure, and refused to fight.
Even heroes got tired. Sometimes, the pain was simply unbearable.
Then, he looked at Tim, at Zion, at the peaceful valley around him. He saw the green fields and sturdy buildings they had worked so hard together to build. He saw the happy faces of men and women, the innocent antics of playing children. And instantly, he knew why. The blond boy put his hands on Tim's shoulders. Still sniffling, Tim looked up into TK's crystal blue eyes. The older boy smiled.
"Tim. Listen to me. Unfortunately, not everyone in the world is as reasonable as you. Yes, wars are painful. I've lost a lot of friends too, but that just means we have to fight that much harder to ensure we win, that their deaths won't be in vain.
"We fight because there's evil in the world. Diaboromon must be stopped, at any cost.
"And if that cost includes my life, then I'll give it up gladly, just so others like you may live in a world of hope, and not a world of fear. My life is worth that much. You understand, don't you?"
Tim finally looked up. His innocent blue eyes, shining with tears, met TK's own. The small boy took a deep breath, trying to calm down, and failed miserably. "I…I understand." His voice quavered, and fresh tears pooled in his eyes. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it…."
TK looked at the boy he now considered a younger brother. He had grown to like the kid a lot. There was something about him that was infinitely precious, his air of youthful innocence perhaps, that the blond boy wanted to protect. Maybe it was because of his own innocence and childhood that had been so forcefully ripped away from him.
All around him, TK could hear more soldiers joining the column of warriors bound for Tokyo. Men and women shouldered their weapons and packs, said final good-byes to their family and friends, and marched off determinedly to battle. He would have to leave soon.
But not before he had fixed something.
Taking hold of the pendant around his neck, he carefully took it off, and placed it gently around Tim's neck. The delicate crystal carving caught the sunlight, and refracted it into a dozen different colours. "Here, I want you to have this," he said.
Startled, Tim looked up. "Takeru? I…I can't take this! I know how much this pendant means to you…"
TK shook his head to silence the boy. Taking the pendant, still hanging about Tim's neck, he turned it around, and showed him the intricate symbol carved onto the glass. "Do you know what this symbol means?"
Tim frowned. "It's your crest, the crest of hope."
"That's right." TK said gently. "Keep it. Kari gave this to me four years ago, and it's pulled me through the darkest and most despairing moments of my life since then. Maybe it'll do the same for you. It's always reminded me of how I mustn't lose hope. It's the most important thing. Without hope, then all is lost. Remember that." He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately. "Everything will turn out fine. You'll see."
Tim threw his arms around TK's shoulders. "Thanks TK." Smiling, the blond boy hugged him back. Then, Tim pulled away, and stood back, letting TK go. A small smile illuminated his features, though his eyes were still blurred with tears. "I promise I'll remember. I won't lose hope."
Patamon grinned. "Don't worry, nothing'll happen to him. I'll make sure of that." TK gave him a look of gratitude, not so much for his vow of protection, but for his efforts in consoling Tim. The digimon nodded back.
TK stood up, holding his staff casually. Adjusting the pack on his shoulders, he turned to join the marching army. "Then, I'll see you in about two months time, when we come home after we've kicked Diaboromon's ass!" He gave a final, farewell wave, then began walking away, Patamon flapping by his side.
Slipping out of Zion's gates, the boy and his faithful digimon joined the streaming column of men, fading into the forest. Falling easily into ranks, they slipped through the trees like wraiths. TK held his bo like a walking staff. Padding silently, he strode ahead to the front of the column to meet up with Matt and Tai. Their forms disappeared into the mountains, slowly fading from view.
They didn't look back.
Behind them, Tim was left standing, holding the pendant in his small hand. He gazed at the intricately carved symbol. The crest of hope glistened softly in the gentle sunlight. Raising his head, he looked into back at the forest where TK had disappeared.
He trembled. Although young, Tim was instinctively awed by the greatness of the spirit embodied within the slim, smiling blond-haired boy that now receded into the forest. Cowed by the awesome strength and righteous courage in his blue eyes, yet reassured by the compassion and gentleness in his touch. He reflected upon the words this boy had left him with.
"…and if that cost includes my life, then I'll give it up gladly, just so others like you may live in a world of hope, and not a world of fear. My life is worth that much.
"You understand, don't you?"
** Author's notes:
Ooh…ominous foreshadowing. Does Tai die? Does Matt die? DOES TK DIE?! Not telling you…*giggles insanely *
Did anyone know that Tiger Shark's a fanart artist? A very good one, in fact. I'm not sure whether she wants me to tell everyone where to find her art, so I'll leave it up to her. TS, if you're reading this and you have no problem with everyone seeing your art, please review this fic, and put the URL of your site in it. The rest of you can follow that review if you want to see it (if she has no problem with it)
Also, she's actually drawn a picture of my characters! *collapses laughing * She sent me a rough sketch of what she thinks TK would look like in "zion-wear", carrying a staff and fourteen-years-old. It was incredible! Of course, I laughed all day, since I was the one who "created" him. But really guys, even though it was just a preliminary sketch, with no details, I was really impressed. His expression was…so real!
She also inspired me to do my own drawing. *makes a face * I don't think it's as good as hers, but it's alright. If anyone's interested in seeing either one, or both of the pictures, tell me in the review, or email me, and I'll send'em over. They're not posted yet, since technically they're not finished, but you'd get to see an artist's impression of what TK would look like with a staff. LOL! I promise you, it's worth your while. Of course, you have to review to get it. ^_^
PS. Ghost, well…I tried, I really did, but this is really as far as I can develop the digimon without sacrificing the fic's focus and direction.