Ch.7— Sacrifice on the Battlefield Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. I do own Trikmon©, and the concept of this story. If you want to see fanart for this fic, go to "http://www.crosswinds.net/~filldnothingness." The site isn't complete, yet, but the Digimon fanfiction and fanart sections are up (I always say that).

Author's Notes: I hope everyone's ready for much angst, cause here it comes. You've been warned. Also, now that I've finally seen Michael in action, I can write about him. *wicked grin* He won't be in the story physically, but that doesn't mean I can't use him to torture someone.

Japanese Lesson of the Day:

itotochan— informal way of saying "younger brother."
gijinka— personified. Didn't you always want to know exactly what that meant?

And mature feedback. I love it. I crave it. I need it. *in best Oliver impersonation* Can I have some more, please?


The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth

Chapter 7: Sacrifice on the Battlefield

"No," Joe pleaded, backing away with something akin to fear in his black eyes. "You can't do this."

"C'mon, Kido," his enemy groaned, obviously annoyed. "You have to."

"No!" he wrapped his arms about himself in a desperate attempt at protection. "I won't let you!"

"Joe," the person said, voice firmer. "If you don't do it on your own, I'll do it for you."

He blinked. "You wouldn't."

"Wanna bet?"

Joe's bottom lip trembled for a minute. Then, he straightened to his full height, and glared down at his adversary. It helped he was the tallest in the household, while his enemy was just about the shortest. "I won't do it. And you wouldn't dare."

His adversary's eyebrow twitched for a moment, but other than that, the person made no movement. Joe relaxed, somewhat. He had called the bluff right. He was safe. He was-

"No mercy for the weak!" his enemy suddenly cried, springing on him in such speed that Joe could do little else but fall ungracefully to the floor.

The next thing he knew, Joe had been flipped over, his face in the carpeting of his bedroom, while small hands pulled at the hem of his shirt, removing it from his pants.

"Jun!" he cried. "Get off!"

"No," the auburn haired girl stated, simply and calmly. "Someone needs to check your wound, and you certainly can't do it."

"But do you have to be so forceful?" Joe asked, trying not to choke on the rug.

"I wouldn't have to be, if someone would've just taken off his shirt like I asked," she said, poking him on the side.

As she pulled his shirt higher up, Joe grumbled. This is what he got for playing peacemaker. He had entered the living room in time to see a fist fight break out between Davis and Ken. At first, Joe was surprised; Ken had been pretty laid back and cautious since getting into the house. But apparently, something Davis said had set him off, and there the two young men were, grappling with each other, Jun and Yolei begging them to stop.

Joe, always the one to try to skirt around violence, attempted to calm the both of them down. Unfortunately, that resulted in Davis accidentally being smacked into him, and Joe falling and slamming into the coffee table behind him. His lower back had hit the edge pretty roughly, and had caused a decent gash.

After both Ken and Davis sheepishly apologized, Joe had dragged himself up to his room. Unfortunately, he couldn't take care of his wound, since it was in such an odd place. Which meant someone else would have to. Jun had volunteered. Normally, Joe wouldn't have cared. But, there was something about the idea of Jun, of all people, staring at his half naked body that left Joe... uncomfortable. Tingly, but uncomfortable.

Of course, Jun wasn't going to take no for an answer. She was far too stubborn for that. Which is why Joe was now lying on his stomach, with the perky girl on top of him, checking his wound. Her warm fingers gently grazed around the hurt area, and Joe hissed sharply, burying his reddened face into the carpet.

"Gomen!" Jun apologized, taking her hands away as if his back had burned her. "Did it sting?"

"A little bit," he uttered, falsely. Better for her to think that than the truth. Joe concentrated on the rough carpet against his forehead. And ignored her hands... and how nice they felt... how soothing... Ah! Ignore them!!

However, Joe couldn't ignore them when he felt a burning sensation go through his back as Jun gently pressed some iodine to the wound. He yelped, subsequently banging his head into the floor.

"Gomen nasai," Jun cooed, almost like a nurse with a stubborn patient. "Mimi didn't have anything else to clean the wound with."

Joe nodded his understanding, while secretly planning a talk with his pink haired friend on buying newer medical supplies. Then, all thoughts ceased to exist, as Jun leaned over, softly blowing on the hurt area.

He stiffened like a piece of wood, not even daring to breathe. All his focus was on the gentle breath that was caressing his back like light, cooling fingertips. Her lips were so close... only a few more inches and...

Oh, God. Joe shut his eyes, his cheeks burning from heat. He was not thinking like this! Not about her. Certainly, not about her!

Then, as quickly as it began, it ended. Jun patted the medical tape that held the gauze on the wound. Not the best, considering she was no doctor, but it would have to do. "How's that?" she asked.

Silence.

"Joe?" Jun poked him on the side, trying to get him to respond. "Hey, Kido. You okay?"

Joe could just see his tombstone. 'Here lies Jyou Kido: Good Ol' Reliable. Reliably Died of Embarrassment.' "Fine," he finally managed to mumble. "Could... could you get off me now?"

"Oh. Okay," she flushed, standing up quickly.

Getting to his knees, Joe tucked his shirt back in. Oh, well. At least he hadn't needed to take it off completely. Thank God for small miracles. He stood up and turned to her, surprised at finding Jun looking at her feet, her face mildly colored.

He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by, "Hey! Dinner!" Ah, Matt. Never one to actually go upstairs to say that to everyone in a normal voice. Why should he do that when he could just bellow it up the stairs?

"Let's go!" Jun chirped, nearly running out of the room without waiting for him.

Joe stared after her for a moment, blinking. Now, that was odd.


Dinner was unusually subdued. The perpetual darkness outside seemed to seeping into everyone's bones. Aside from the occasional snicker from Gomamon, which, bafflingly enough to most at the table, sent Palmon and Agumon into fits of blushing, no one said much of anything. "Pass ..., please," "May I... please," was heard. Polite terms, but nothing friendly. It seemed as if everyone were breaking down from the weight on their collective shoulder.

Supper ended just as silently. Everyone drifted to different parts of the house. Most went upstairs. Patamon, Gatomon and Wormmon huddled in the living room, trying to figure out the complexities of Cat's Cradle. Kari had taught it to Gatomon, and the female digimon had been entranced by it. Much to her chagrin, however, Patamon was much more apt to it. He was easily doing it compared to the many mistakes Gatomon and Wormmon were making.

Tai and Sora were once again in the kitchen, cleaning the dishes. Aside from the light clacking of plates and silverware, the room was silent. That is, until a sudden *splash* was heard.

"Tai!" Sora squealed. "I-I'm soaked. You baka! That's it! Taichi Kamiya, I'm going to kill you!"

A laughing Tai practically flew out of the kitchen, a dripping, angry Sora right behind him. The three young humanized digimon watched as the two ran through the living room and up the stairs. Sora had yet to stop yelling.

She caught up to him in the hallway, leaping and tackling him to the ground. They tumbled for a moment, then, when Sora had reoriented herself, her fingers flew to his vulnerable form, trying to find a weak spot.

"You are so going to suffer, Tai!" she declared, doing her best to tickle him into submission.

He chuckled, but wasn't in fits like she thought he'd be. "Sorry, but I'm not that ticklish," he explained. Then, a glint came to his eye. "But you are!"

The next thing Sora knew, she was on her side, curled in the fetal position to protect herself from Tai's killer hands. He was right; she was extremely ticklish. She yelped and squirmed, and begged him to let up, but he just shook his head, laughing.

"That's what ya get trying to challenge me," he chided her in an affectionate manner.

"Y-you better... " Sora gasped between giggles, "... better let me go... or... I'll get... you good!"

"I'd like to see you try," Tai heckled, grinning and doubling his efforts.

"Okay," she said, shortly.

Sora stopped trying to get away, giving Tai the perfect opportunity to tickle her about the neck. However, the moment his fingers touched her throat, she reached up, taking a hold of his shirt with a grip any guy would envy.

He blinked. "Eh?"

Tai's grunt of surprise was the only thing he managed to get out, before Sora pulled him down, pressing his lips to hers.

Funny things, kisses. Particularly first ones. You never know what to expect. You're not even sure which side you should tilt your head. And when you do finally kiss, just what is supposed to happen then? Are those romance movies right? Do the stars shine brighter? Do the heavens open for angels to sing? Do ethereal fireworks go off inside your body? Maybe. Possibly. But that's not what happened for Tai.

For Taichi Kamiya, the world stopped moving.

Bombs could've exploded all around. Trikmon could've evaded the home and sent everyone into a full out war. An earthquake of unimaginable proportions could've erupted, swallowing the house whole. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that he, Taichi Kamiya, was kissing Sora Takenouchi. His Sora. For now, the world could go to hell for all he cared.

Her hands released his shirt, slipping around his chest to caress his back. Tai relaxed in her embrace, making sure to keep himself propped on his elbows so he wouldn't crush her. He felt a trill of pleasure as her fingers slid down his spin, nearing his waist. Tai tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss. This, he decided, was as close to heaven as an earthbound person could get.

Sora's light, sweeping fingers grazed along the bottom hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly to expose his lower back to her curious hands. Brushing her fingertips along his now oversensitised skin, they went lower still, flirting with top of his pants. Tai's head swum. This was almost too good to be happening, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he might be hallucinating, and that in reality Sora was actually just cutting off the air to his brain. Truthfully, in a way, she was. But not in a rough, horrid manner. Rather, in a pleasant, amazing manner that made Tai unable to do anything but go on instinct. Instinct, which at the moment, was telling him to just sit back and enjoy the ride. That is, until Sora found the small of his back.

Then it all went straight to hell.

Her once gentle, stroking fingers took a more sinister turn, and began to relentlessly tickle him on the one vulnerable spot on his body. Unable to hold back the involuntary laughter, Tai pulled away from Sora, who was now grinning in a mischievous manner.

"Gotcha!" she declared, triumphantly, increasing the ticklish torture.

A set up. She had set him up! He fell back, in a vain attempt to get away. Why, that little imp...

After a few moments of Tai begging for a cease fire, and him being quite flushed from laughter and embarrassment, Sora released her hostage. She leaned over him, and smiled rather smugly.

"I warned you," she reminded him.

Then, with a grin, she dropped a tiny kiss on his nose. Leaving him stunned silent, which was rather rare for Tai, Sora stood up and walked away, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Thoughts which, at the moment, were decidedly and justifiably confused.

After settling the entire situation in his mind, going through all the possibilities, scenarios, explanations and whatnot, Tai came up with the universal conclusion that all males use when a female does something against them.

"I just don't understand that woman," he mumbled.


"Stop moving," Yolei ordered, softly.

Ken grumbled under his breath, but sat still as she re-cleaned the gash on his forehead. He had patched it up before, but she'd insisted on giving it a better look. She had gentle hands, so she wasn't hurting him. It was more his pride that was injured. Stupid Davis and his ego...

"He really got you good," Yolei remarked, frowning.

"I bet he looks worse," he retorted, a smirk edging on his usually placid face.

"I really wish you wouldn't be so smug about it," she sighed. "There's nothing intelligent or cool about beating each other's brains in like a couple of neanderthals."

Ken stared at her for a moment, then pursed his lips to the closest extent of pouting that he could muster. "He started it," he mumbled.

Yolei cocked a brow, one side of her mouth twitching at the sight of him. Then, unable to contain it, she began giggling. "You can be such a kid sometimes!" she declared, then blushed at her blunt statement.

The smirk returned to his face. "He did, though."

"I guess that's true," she agreed, calming her laughter. "He was just looking out for her, though."

"I was only talking to his sister," Ken scowled. "It wasn't like I was sitting in her lap! If I had been, then maybe I would've deserved being attacked."

"Oh, please," Yolei couldn't help but grin. "If you had been sitting in Jun's lap, Davis wouldn't have gotten a shot in. Jun would've sent you sailing across the room long before."

"You think?" he inquired, wondering about the petite, auburn haired girl.

"She can be just as hot headed as Davis," Yolei nodded. "And from what Davis has mentioned, she's gotta helluva right hook."

Ken imagined the older, yet smaller Motomiya flinging him around like a rag doll, and found, much to his displeasure, that he could envision it easily. Jun Motomiya: Petite but Mighty. He shivered. Maybe it was a good thing that it had been Davis who had attacked him.

Quickly, he shook it off. "Well, it doesn't matter," he shrugged. "Nothing happened." He winced when she poked his bandaged cut. "Okay. Nothing happened with Jun."

Yolei giggled again, then let out a sigh of contentment. She was getting used to him being around. It was nice to be near him and not blush up a storm from every look he gave her. And, if he gave you the chance, you could have a decent conversation. Which was rather nice, come to think of it. She hadn't really had a deep conversation with anyone since the last time she saw Michael. The thought of the American digidestined brought a whimsical smile to her face.

A smile that did not go unnoticed by Ken. "What is it?" he asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking about Michael," she answered, as if that explained everything.

He cocked a brow. "Who?"

Yolei blinked at him for a moment, then blushed in embarrassment. "Oh, that's right! You never met him, did you? He's a Digidestined, from America, actually."

"An American Digidestined... " Ken mused. "That I didn't know about. Huh. Why are you thinking about him?" he asked, his tone rather odd.

"Well," she frowned, rather put off by the strange harshness in his voice, "Michael and I always used to talk about all sorts of things when we saw each other. He asked me out the first day I met him in the DigiWorld, you know?" she gushed, feeling her face warm at the confession.

"He... did?" The left side of Ken's mouth twitched in irritation, but she was too busy looking shyly at her feet to notice.

"Yeah. Michael's really sweet," Yolei grinned. Then, she laughed an utterly girlish laugh. "He has the cutest New York accent when he talks. Really impressive how he know Japanese so well."

Ken twitched again. "Really?" What was she doing? Was she actually trying to make him jealous?! He stared at her face, hard. Nothing but sincerity and shyness. No, not possible. She wasn't doing it on purpose. Ken shook his head, shocked at himself. He was not jealous! Was not!

She continued on as if nothing was wrong. "He was so good at so many things. He knew how to play polo, and chess. He was great in school. Once, he spent the whole night pointing out the different constellations and telling me what each meant," she sighed, dreamily.

Ken bristled. "Hell, I could do that," he uttered under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked.

He barely caught hold of his temper and stopped himself from repeating what he had said. "Nothing," he answered, smoothly. Then, just as smoothly, asked, "So, you two are pretty close?"

"Well, not really," Yolei blushed and laughed, nervously. "We only went on a few dates. We could only meet in the Digital World, after all. We thought we should just be friends."

"Oh." Ken nodded, an odd feeling akin to relief flooding his system. "Just... friends."

"Yup," she grinned, completely oblivious to what had just happened right next to her. "I haven't even seen Michael in a while. Though, I really miss him. He could do almost anything when he put his mind to it! I bet you two would've gotten along famously," Yolei declared, brightly.

"Oh, yeah," he muttered, dryly. "Two peas in a pod, I'm sure."


The match had gone on for almost five minutes, but still neither opponent would show wear. Sweat began to dot their brows, and arms muscles twitched for relief. But there would be no mercy on either side.

"Give up, Davish?" Veemon asked. Even in humanoid form, his speech was eternally slurred.

"Never!" Davis answered, stubborn as ever. After that fight with Ken, he needed some way to cool down.

An arm wrestling match seemed just the thing.

Had Veemon been in his normal, digimon form, it wouldn't have been much of a fight. After all, tiny as he was, Veemon was stronger than an average human. But, in his present state, the playing field was level, and Davis was giving as good as he was getting. Neither one of them seemed to be winning.

If there had been anyone in the living room with them, they might've found it amusing when Veemon suddenly let go, and Davis' hand hit the table a little too hard. The brown haired boy muttered a curse and gingerly held his throbbing hand.

"Itai," Davis mumbled, then looked up at his friend. "Veemon, whadja do that for?"

The blue boy didn't answer; he walked over to the window, eyes locked on something. Davis watched his friend press a hand to the glass, his fingers trembling ever so slightly. Whatever it was that had caught the humanized digimon's attention, it was not good.

"Veemon?" Davis prompted.

"Get everyone down here, Davish," ordered Veemon, softly. "Hurry."


It hadn't taken much on Davis' part to get everyone to huddle up in the living room. Most had seen what was going on through their windows. And the ones that hadn't seen, soon heard the screams.

There were people everywhere outside. Small children to teenagers. And they were all being herded by Ghastlymon. More Ghastlymon than even Joe and Jun had seen. At least forty, maybe even more. People were running, screaming, tripping over each other in fear. Dying. People were getting killed out there, acid ripping through their bodies like hot knives through butter.

"No, no, no... " Kari whispered the word like a mantra, as if it would somehow stop the carnage she was witnessing.

Yolei turned Iori away from it, huddling his face in her chest. He was older now, yes. Ten, in fact, but he was still just a small boy to her, and she'd do anything to protect him from seeing this horror take place.

But he had seen. And he had known. He had known for a while what would happen today. He'd die. He had to accept it, since he could see no way around it. His knowledge of his fate was confirmed when he heard Tai speak.

"We have to find a way to help them," the brunette stated, his voice barely steady. "This... I won't let this continue while I stand here helpless!"

"Plan, fearless leader?" Matt asked. His tone was flat, dead, but one look in his clear blue eyes and it was easy to see the strain.

Tai's fists tightened to the point that his knuckles went white. He clenched his teeth and his lips pulled back in a snarl of frustration. There was no plan. What could they do against those creatures? Nothing. They were powerless.

"Trikmon's trying to get us away from the safety of the house, you know?" Izzy said, his voice rough. "He's trying to lure us out."

"He's doing a damn good job, then," Tai snapped.

"Hey, look!" Davis pointed out to something in the crowd of mad people.

There were a few teenagers, roughed up, clothes tattered and worn. They were yelling and running around, pieces of wood set aflame held in their hands. They waved their fiery weapons wildly about them, causing other children to scatter even more so than before. But one teen hit a Ghastlymon, barely grazing the creature's arm. The gelatinous digimon immediately erupted into flames, billowy, bitter smoke rising above the crowd.

"Fire," Tai whispered. "Fire kills them. Dammit, it kills them! Why didn't we try that before?" he demanded to no one in particular. He spun around, determination now etched in his face. "Mimi, do you have anything you don't mind us using as torches?"

Mimi blinked once. Twice. Tilted her head, and blinked again. "Well, my dad does have some lumber downstairs that he was going to use to make the gazebo my mom wanted." She said it hesitantly, already fearing her father's wrath when he found his highly expensive wood gone. That is, if he ever came back.

"Perfect," Tai said, striding past her, and giving her an approving pat on the head.

She wrinkled her nose in mild annoyance, but followed his lead, as did everyone else. The neat pile of wood in the basement soon fell victim to a large group of young adults, saws, hammers, and oil soaked rags. As Sora wrapped one rag around the end of her stick, she almost felt bad for Mr. Tachikawa. This really was fine wood. He was not going to be happy when he learned of its untimely and unexpected ending.

"Let's light this puppy and see if it works," Tai murmured, flicking a lighter dangerously close to the rag on the end of his torch.

The thing ignited, fire reaching for the ceiling for one heart thumping moment. Then, it died down a bit, tongues licking the air lavishly. Soon, everyone held a flame tightly; not just in their hands, but in their eyes. Hope was daring to burn in them. They couldn't save everyone, they were already too late for that. But maybe they could save most. It would have to be enough. It would have to be.

They walked up the stairs in determination. Well, most did. Palmon seemed to be frozen to the spot, her green eyes fixated on the torch she held in her trembling hands. Fire. Why did it have to be fire? Her dream... those flames... It had seemed so real, so sharp. And it had hurt, the pain coming back to her in a flash, throbbing through her.

"Palmie?"

"Agumon." She looked up and met his worried eyes.

"Mimi's waiting for you," he motioned upstairs.

"I... " Palmon bit her lip, chewing it in thought.

"You okay, Palmie?" Agumon asked, frowning slightly.

She wanted to tell him that she was far from okay. That she wanted nothing more than to stay in the safety of the house and hide until it was all over. But Mimi was waiting. And if Mimi was going to go out there, so was she. She'd never leave her Digidestined undefended. She'd never leave her best friend undefended.

Palmon inhaled sharply through her nose, and nodded. "I'm fine," she said, sounding far more assured than she felt.

Making sure her legs didn't quake, she made her way up the stairs, Agumon close behind her. They found the rest of the group had already left the house, and were heading toward the invisible barrier of the firewall.

"You don't have to do this," Davis looked down at his older sister.

"Pshyeah," Jun snorted, keeping pace with him. "Like I'm gonna let my itotochan fight big, bad monsters without me."

A similar discussion was being held two feet away.

"You're not going out there without us," Patamon narrowed his eyes, Gatomon and Wormmon following suit.

"We don't want you to get hurt," T.K. explained, as Kari nodded next to him.

"Back at you," Gatomon retorted. "You're our Digidestined. You're going. We're going."

Ken looked down at his gijinka digimon, and saw a rare stubbornness in his true-blue eyes. "Wormmon-"

"I'm going, Ken-chan," he interrupted, his usual hesitant voice surprisingly firm. "We're all going."

"Guys!" Tai yelled from the edge of the barrier. Just a step was all it would take to send him right into the fray. "It's now or never. You either go out or stay in. I won't blame you in either case," he added.

And with that, he walked out, the firewall not even frizzing a bit. It was as if Tai had a sign that said, "Hi, I'm a Digidestined." Or perhaps it was because of the torch he held. In either case, the instant he was away from the safety of the house, the Ghastlymon turned away from the other teens, and went straight of for the holder of the Crest of Courage.

Tai did not retreat. Instead, he held his ground, and the moment a Ghastlymon was in range, took a calculated swing. The thing burst into fire, in turn igniting a few other unfortunate Ghastlymon that happened to be close, causing a small inferno. It seemed that time stood still for a few precious moments; the screams stopped, and so did the running. Everyone stilled to bear witness to the hope that the crimson waves brought. The enemy, it seemed, could indeed be killed.

"Well," Matt said, breaking the silence, "if Tai thinks I'm going to let him be the big hero, he's wrong!"

It was like a wave of dominos. The moment Matt stepped out, the others immediately followed, various faces of determination and fear on them all. Iori was the last one to leave, a face of indifference masking his terror. If he was going to die, he was going to show no fear. Like his father.

Davis kept close to Jun, not wanting to let her completely out of his line of sight. Flames roared around him as he struck a dangerously close Ghastlymon in the face. He could practically feel some of his hair singe. Veemon, he realized, was behind him, watching both his and Jun's backs. The Ghastlymon in front of him continued to burn, and Davis wondered if they'd ever burn out. His silent question was answered when the ignited creature suddenly exploded into millions of pixels before disappearing forever.

Jun was actually holding her own pretty well. She was petite, small compared to everyone else but Iori. However, her size made her quick and agile. Good traits when you were avoiding being hit by acid. One acid strike nearly got her feet, and she tumbled to the ground, deliberately rolling with the fall. Grateful that her torch was still lit, Jun jumped up, only to have to spin around in order to hit a Ghastlymon on its shoulder before it got to her.

"Close," she mumbled. "That was too damned close."

Matt and Tai had decided the best way through was to simply cut the enemy down, quick and hard. A variation of the scorched earth process. Ungraceful, rather ugly, but highly effective. Trails of flame, smoke, and the acidic smell of rotting digimon moments before they pixilated into nothingness filled the hair behind the two.

Mimi, Sora, Biyomon and Palmon had formed a rather formidable team. With all sides protected, they slashed their way through whatever dared to come near them. If acid flew to them, which it did, one would warn, and they'd scatter for safety for a second, only to find their ways back to each other. However, during one scatter, Mimi found herself facing off against three Ghastlymon. They were indeed slower than her, but their one attack was far quicker than she could ever be. She only managed to cut down one when another hurled acid at her. Mimi fell to the ground to avoid it, and in the process dropped her torch.

"No!" she cried, reaching for her precious weapon.

She squealed when acid hit near her fingers, and she backpedalled away on the ground. So much for being armed. Mimi continued to dodge acid as she stumbled back to her feet and ran. By now she had lost sight of Palmon and the others. She'd have to make a break for it and hope she'd find someone. She was a sitting duck without her torch.

There was another unlikely group that formed among the Digidestined. T.K. and Kari stayed close, their humanized digimon near them. But Ken and Wormmon were also with them. They didn't quite know how it had happened, nor did they care at the time. There was safety in numbers, regardless of who was part of those numbers.

T.K. felt like he had been shoved in an oven. Sweat was rolling off of him like a waterfall, and it was difficult to breathe. People were still screaming around him, and he tried his best to keep the Ghastlymon away from the unarmed children, and toward him. It just never seemed to end. The instant he got one, two more were there in its place.

"They just never stop!" T.K. shouted over his shoulder.

"I know," Kari replied, swinging at one Ghastlymon that was reaching for a couple children. "I'm just waiting."

"For what?" he inquired.

"For when Trikmon shows up," she answered, avoiding a splash of acid. "He has us out in the open. He has to know it."

"You're right," T.K. swallowed, his once burning body now shivering with chills. "Where is he? What's he waiting for?"

Those questions were not lost on Ken, who wasn't that far away from the blond boy. Where was Trikmon, anyway? He had a perfect shot at them. If he were Trikmon, he would've attacked by now. Ken's stomach twisted at the dumb thought. He... was Trikmon. In a way. In a horrible, sick way.

A screech to his right snapped Ken out of his morbid thoughts. He couldn't see who screamed through the blaze. Another scream pierced the air, and he felt his heart fall to his feet.

"Miyako?" he whispered.

Ken turned to Wormmon. His digimon was fine, fighting along side Gatomon and Patamon. He'd be safe if left alone for a moment. Ken turned away, running toward the area where he heard Yolei's cry. There she was, isolated from friends and surrounded by no less than five Ghastlymon. She couldn't make a decent offense, too busy dodging acid. She was going to get hit sooner or later. She continued to shout in fear with each movement, obviously getting tired from all her running. She'd have to stop soon, and the instant she did that it would all be over.

He tightened his grip on his torch, and took a deep breath. Don't think. Just go. Just like diving for a soccer ball all those times he played goalie in soccer practice. Don't think. Just go. Ken ran forward, his torch held at his side, and took a strong dive, his arm making a long, hard swipe at the creatures' backs. He landed almost gracefully, quickly getting back to his feet. His eyes scanned the damage he had just caused. Did he get them all? Please, God, did he get them all?

Yes, he did. All five Ghastlymon were twitching, their strange faces contorted in almost a mockery of pain, as fire coursed on them, devouring them with hungry, red tongues. And as they pixelated, Ken and Yolei's eyes met. She looked at him in stunned silence, her mouth actually agape.

Ken stared at her for a moment, relieved to see her safe, then smirked and wiped his brow with his free hand. "So," he began, arrogantly, "did Michael ever do that?"

His smirk only deepened when she shook her head no.

Iori was actually all right in his present situation. Armadimon was behind them, and the two of them were making decent progress through the Ghastlymon that came at them. In fact, from what Iori could see, the evil digimon were diminishing in ranks at a good rate now. And he was still alive! This was amazing. This was a miracle. Or maybe he had been wrong all this time. Nothing more than paranoid illusions of a young boy with a vivid imagination.

Either way, Iori felt more confident than he had in days, and strongly swung at any Ghastlymon that came near. Acid was also easy for him to dodge. He was observant enough to notice the way the gelatinous things quivered ever so slightly before using their attack. As long as he caught that he could prepare himself to avoid it.

What Iori wasn't prepared for was Armadimon being taken down. The golden hued boy was caught totally unawares when a couple of frantic teen boys jumped him.

"Give us your torch, freak boy!" one demanded, as the other one held Armadimon to the ground.

The humanized digimon stared up at them in shock. Were they mad? Didn't they realize that he was one of the good guys? The one who had yelled at him grabbed the torched from his hands and stood up with a snarl. The other one got up too, pushing on Armadimon's chest to give him leverage, then, with no warning whatsoever, kicked the digimon hard on the side. As the two left, Armadimon curled up in pain. Of course, they knew he was a good guy. They just didn't care. They wanted to save themselves, and if that meant taking someone out to do so, then so be it. Armadimon closed his eyes, waiting for either the pain to subside, or a Ghastlymon to finish him off.

This left Iori alone. Unfortunately, the boy was unaware of this fact, the roar of fire around him too loud to hear what had just gone on behind him. Had he known, he would've stopped the attack. He only became aware of it when he heard his friend cry out.

"Iori!"

The boy turned. "Armadimon? Armadimon!" His eyes fell upon his wounded friend.

He began to go to his wounded friend, when a sharp hiss and a horrid smell stopped him cold. Acid ate through the center of his torch, and Iori had to drop it before it reached his unprotected hand. He spun around to face the new threat. It was, of course, another Ghastlymon. Iori stared hard at it for a second, and felt his heart freeze. It wasn't another Ghastlymon. It was the Ghastlymon.

His Ghastlymon.

It had come for him, finally. Death in digital form. Iori recognized it easily. He didn't know how, but he knew the digimon he was locked in eye contact with was the same one that had been watching the house since the beginning. It finally had what it wanted. He was out in the open, ripe for the picking. The mouse had come out for the hawk to swoop down and devour it.

Iori felt tears come to his eyes. He was unarmed, since making a move for what was left of the torch would only result in him surely being hit with acid. And his friend was on the ground, unable to help. This was it. All this time, he had been right. All his fears were coming true in one, swift movement. The Ghastlymon --his Ghastlymon-- began its telltale quiver. Any moment now, and... Iori forced his tears back. He refused to cry. He'd be brave. He'd die with honor. He would not disappoint his mother, or his grandfather. Nor his father. Never his father.

"Father... " he whispered. "I'll be with you soon."

The Ghastlymon seemed to smile at him, as if somehow respecting the boy's bravery. Then, it readied itself. Iori kept his eyes open, refusing to turn away. He'd be dignified to the bitter end. The Ghastlymon aimed, opened its mouth to fire, and-

"Iori! No!"

It happened so quickly, Iori didn't have time to blink. One moment, the Ghastlymon was about to kill him, and the next moment, a blur of pink had tackled the evil digimon to the ground, saving his life. A familiar blur of pink, as well.

"Mimi!" Iori shouted, forcing himself out of his shock.

The pretty girl lay still on the ground, next to the Ghastlymon. The creature itself was moving, trying to slip its way up. With an uncharacteristic growl of rage, Iori reached for his disintegrating torch. It was falling apart, and as it was he was getting burned by having to hold it so close to the flame. He ignored the pain, though, and with all his strength, plunged it into what could've been the heart of the Ghastlymon.

It actually looked up at him, and the two made eye contact once again. It seemed... surprised. The prey had all too quickly become the predator. The role reversal was unexpected. But what the Ghastlymon saw in Iori's eyes was not surprise. It was anger, and grief. Loss for people that he cared for, and the unknown dead around him.

"Die," the boy whispered, bitterly, his tears now flowing freely. "For my mother. For my grandfather. For all these people. For Mimi. For my father," he spat. "Just die."

And it did.

Iori collapsed to his knees, sobbing as he reached for the fallen Mimi. She was face down on the ground, and when he turned her over, his stomach felt empty and twisted. Her eyes were open, but instead of the warm red-brown they usually were, they were dull, void of all life. The shine was gone, and they were unfocused. Dead eyes.

"Oh, Mimi!" he cried, his heart retching. "Please, don't be... Please, don't be dead!"

His trembling fingers touched her neck for her pulse. He felt a small rush of relief when he found it. But it was so weak. Barely there at all. Iori's tears fell even harder. This was his fault. That Ghastlymon was meant for him, not Mimi. Him!

He was crying so hard he didn't even notice Matt and Joe rush to the scene with Gabumon and Gomamon not far behind them.

"Mimi... " Matt's voice snagged, and he paled several shades as he knelt next to the still girl. "Is she... ?"

"No," Iori shook his head, wildly. "No thanks to me."

Joe checked her eyes and her breathing. "Get her inside," he ordered. "We can't do anything out here."

Matt nodded, silently. Then, as if she were made of glass, he scooped her up, carrying her off. Iori watched them, wiping his eyes furiously. A hand on his shoulder made him look up.

"You okay?" Joe asked. "What happened?"

"A Ghastlymon," Iori stuttered. "It at-t-tacked me, and Mimi jumped on it before it could... before it could... " He couldn't finish the sentence, his throat was too tight.

"She touched it?" Joe paled himself now.

Iori nodded, feeling fresh tears threaten to spill.

"It'll be all right," Joe said, patting the boy reassuringly on the head. It was a damned lie, of course, but Joe wasn't going to just let the poor thing remain on the ground like a broken doll.

Mimi had actually touched it. Joe wondered if that was why all the remaining Ghastlymon had suddenly pixelated into oblivion. For a second, he had foolishly thought they had been given a break. Of course not, though. It was just that Trikmon had gotten what he wanted. A fallen Digidestined. A broken chain of strength now weak with a missing link.

"Iori," Armadimon walked over, gingerly holding his injured side. "Let's go in, okay?"

The small boy seemed to have ears only for his digimon now, and he simply nodded, getting up and walking to the house almost mechanically. The golden hued digimon, his partner and best friend, wrapped a protective arm about his shoulders, as if he could scare away all the emotional pain Iori was going through with his caring.

They all went back to the house, the surviving outside children scattering back to wherever they had originally come from in safety. They had, whether they knew it or not, fulfilled their roles as bait. Their reward for services rendered was their lives. Sora towed the line back to the mansion, but when she reached the door, a sound stopped her. At first, she couldn't make it out. But then, it got clearer, and fear crawled up her spine. It was singing. Strange singing, like shattering glass, or an ice cube cracking when placed in a warm drink.

"And they all fell down,"
Sang the angels above.
Sincerity was the first.
Will next be Love?

"Trikmon!" Sora whirled around, anger replacing her fear. "You sick, little-"

"Ah, ah, ah," Trikmon wiggled his finger, as he floated just outside the firewall. "A young lady such as yourself should not use such crude language."

"Where do you get off?" she demanded. "I swear, if Mimi dies, I'll kill you!"

"I'd love to see you try, bearer of the Crest of Love," he said, almost sounding sincere. A wicked grin crossed his face. "I really would adore being close to you."

Sora shuddered in disgust. "Don't you dare threaten me."

"But I'm not threatening you, Love," his grin widened. "After all, I like you. And isn't there someone else who bears the sign of Love?" Trikmon added, his odd voice barely a whisper.

She blinked in shock, but before she could say anything he was gone, as if he'd never been there. Her legs now quaking, Sora stumbled inside of the house, shutting the door behind her. Almost everyone was shoved into the living room, all huddled around the couch, where Matt had put Mimi down. Joe was checking her over, and simply shook his head.

"She's alive," he said, as much a doctor as he could be. "But that's it. She won't respond to stimuli, and her breathing and pulse are abnormally low. She's basically in a coma."

Tai swearing underneath his breath was the only sound in the room. Every gaze was focused on the usually vivacious, loud girl with the pink hair. How strange it was to see her in such an unmoving, unforgiving state.

Finally, Iori broke down again and sobbed into Armadimon's shoulder. "It's my fault!" he cried. "It was going after me. It was supposed to get me! Mimi... she shouldn't have helped me. I should be dead now, not her!"

"Hey!" Izzy barked, harshly. "She's not dead. Not by a long shot. If whatever is in a Ghastlymon can do this, there has to be a way to reverse it. Also," he looked at the boy, his face and tone softening, "don't blame yourself. Mimi did that because she wanted to. We all would. It's part of being a team. Don't beat yourself up over it. She wouldn't want you to. Okay?"

The boy sniffled a bit, but rubbed his bleary green eyes, and nodded.

"A way to reverse it... " Matt's voice trailed, and he reached out to finger one of Mimi's shining, pink locks. He gave her a look between fondness and pain, then settled a cold one on Izzy. "What way?"

"I don't know," the computer genius admitted, softly. Then, his eyes narrowed in determination on Mimi's still form. "But I'll find out."

During all this, no one noticed they were short one person. They hadn't heard her climb the stairs, too busy they were with Mimi. Palmon sat huddled in the far corner of her room, arms wrapped tightly around her legs, and her face buried in her knees. Tears were sliding down her face and legs in a crystal waterfall, but she made no attempt to stop them. Instead, she rocked back and forth, allowing the emotional pain, as hurtful as knife slashes, course through her system, leaving her trembling.

"I failed Mimi. I failed her," she whispered in a broken voice. "I failed her. I failed her. I failed her. I failed her... "

Next Chapter: Revelations