Home Again

Part Five: Thoughts of Past and Future

Standard Disclaimer Thingies: Digimon - not mine. This plot - is. This plot - is strange! This story also contains unavoidable references to various same-sex relationships that some readers may have problems with.

***

Sora packed the remainder of her clothes into the small bag and tied the drawstring shut. She was flooded with memories then, recalling how she'd found the material for the bag when they'd first discovered this abandoned city and she'd decided it would be useful for carrying things, especially if they needed to move on. Since then, she hadn't used it much, as they'd stayed in one place for many years, but she was pleased to see that it was still as sturdy as the day she'd made it. It was a thick, leather-like material, which made it perfect for holding a wide variety of items.

Now the bag was finally going to be useful. Since Koushiro had been taken by the dark beings, they'd been more and more in danger, and no one could deny that they needed to find somewhere safer. As much as they hated to leave this place - the closest most of them could remember to having a home - and as much as they wished they could save their friend, they'd all eventually agreed that it was best to move on.

With a heavy sigh, Sora peered around the room she'd called her own for most of her life. Aside from the table and chair which had been there when she'd arrived, the room was empty. Only one item remained as evidence of its former occupant - a faded photograph lying on the table. Sora turned the object over in her hand, wishing she could remember more about it.

"Sora-san?" Iori's quiet voice interrupted from the door. Startling slightly, she turned to see the small boy peering through the curtain. "Sorry. I'm finished packing. Did I interrupt you?"

She shook her head slowly. "It's all right, Iori-kun," she replied. "I was just...remembering."

Curious, the boy stepped into the room and came to stand beside her. "Is that you?" he questioned, peering over her arm at the photograph. A smiling, cheerful red-headed girl waved at the camera while a dark-haired, more solemn woman stood behind her, smiling with pride.

"Yes," Sora replied. "And that's my mother."

Iori nodded solemnly. He remembered nothing of his parents, and had no pictures to give clues. Sora was the closest thing he'd ever had to a mother, and he was fascinated by the photograph. "Do you know what happened to her?" he wondered.

The girl didn't respond right away. She pulled her gaze from the photo and peered at the wall for a moment. "I'm not sure," she said then, and perceptive Iori realized that somehow Sora had pulled up memories that made her feel sad. Unsure of what to do, he merely stood, watching as the normally composed girl pulled herself together and stuffed the picture into her bag. "Everything's packed, huh?" she asked, changing the subject.

***

"When do you think we'll leave?"

Takeru asked the question without preamble, breaking the silence. Daisuke, who'd been peering seriously over some papers and trying to stay awake, looked up and studied the blond boy's questioning face for a moment before he replied.

"I'm not sure," he said, finally.

Sighing, the boy lay back on the bed - Daisuke's bed, since he had once again felt too lonely in his own room to stay there. "I hope it's soon."

Daisuke peered enviously for a moment at his relaxed state, and thought with some amount of distaste that for someone who'd so much wanted his own room, Takeru didn't spend much time in it. He didn't comment on this, though. He was too tired to start an argument. "Why?" he asked instead, pushing the papers aside.

"I'm tired of being here." The words were spoken with a tone that betrayed the boy's seriousness, yet he stated them quickly. Daisuke wondered if that was because he'd thought long about the statement or because he hadn't needed to.

He didn't have a chance to agree or disagree with the statement, however, because his exhaustion interrupted, causing him to yawn. "I'm tired, period," he said instead.

"Is that my cue?"

"To get out," he nodded. "Go get some sleep. And try not to be so cheerful in the morning."

"Will do," Takeru replied, mock-saluting as he lifted his own papers and prepared to leave. "But I can't promise not to be cheerful."

"Whatever. Get out," Daisuke replied with a good-natured grumble, shutting the door. Takeru was his best friend, one of his only friends, but he couldn't help wondering that if he were given the chance he wouldn't have found someone else.

And what sort of friend would he have, if he'd had the chance to grow up with parents and go to school and meet people who would be friends with him? He'd thought about this before. Indeed, he had a mental picture of the best friend he'd have if he had that perfect life. Not that Takeru wasn't perfect. Not that Daisuke was perfect. But - and he had to admit this to himself - Takeru and he were friends more out of necessity than true compatibility.

The thoughts were deep, too deep, and Daisuke was too tired to think about the life that would have been or could have been but at any rate never was. He'd learned long ago that crying over things he couldn't even remember was useless. Yawning again, he removed his clean, pressed, personalized uniform, and tossed it sloppily over the chair. He wondered vaguely if he would be addressed as "Takeru" if he and the boy were to change shirts.

Slowly, his thoughts drifted toward the more absurd. He climbed into bed, shut the light, and his thoughts floated to dreamland.

It was a strange scene that awaited the boy in the land of dreams. As most of his nighttime thoughts began, he was in the middle of a bustling city. 'Tokyo,' he thought, because he knew for a fact that was where he was from. That was the place listed on his records as birthplace.

The bustling crowds common to the city surrounded him, and he felt a sense of loss. He searched for whoever was supposed to be with him - usually in these dreams it was his sister, though he never found her - but he recognized none of the faces.

"Hey, move it," a rude man shouted, running past him and shoving him aside. Daisuke watched, confused and helpless, as the man barreled past and ran down a flight of steps that appeared to be headed underground. 'Subway,' Daisuke's semi-conscious mind recognized, and without really understanding why, he followed him down the steps.

'You're here,' a voice spoke then, almost in his ear, almost a whisper, almost a thought of his own.

'Where?' he wondered, and was surprised to find the same voice answer.

'It's your dream,' it replied candidly. 'You should know best. It was your mind that created this.'

'It's from a memory,' Daisuke realized then. 'From when I was a child - Are you my sister?'

In response, the air appeared to thicken, and the crowded subway station suddenly emptied of people. A boy not much older than he appeared. 'I should think not,' the boy said, with a sly grin.

'You're not a memory!' he realized, astonished. 'I know I didn't create you! Where did you come from?'

'From where all dream images come,' the boy replied, shrugging. 'I am a memory, Daisuke, but not one from this life.'

'Not from this life - ?' he struggled to comprehend this. 'But then - from an earlier life?'

'From many earlier lives, Dai,' the boy replied. He casually brushed his hair from his eyes, and the light glinted off the shiny locks. For a moment, Daisuke found himself captivated.

'Then I do know you. But - not in this life,' he replied slowly, shaking off the dazzled sensation. It was only hair, he reminded himself. No need to be so distracted.

'No,' the boy replied solemnly. 'Not yet. And I fear we will never meet.'

'Why?' Daisuke wondered.

'Because we must meet this time. It is imperative.'

'Imperative? Why?'

"Attention. Attention. It is seven o'clock. It is seven o'clock." The announcement from the overhead speaker announced the next train. "Alert. Seven o'clock. Seven o'clock." A pounding sound interrupted.

The boy shrugged, and was gone. "No! Wait!" Daisuke shouted. "Don't go!"

"Daisuke?" The pounding continued. "Wake up!"

With a start, he sat up in bed.

***

"The difficulty in leaving is that we don't know where to go," Yamato noted as he hefted the bag over his shoulder and peered out at the endless expanse of desert. It was early evening and they were about to leave. "Anyone have any bright ideas?"

As expected, there was silence from the group. Hikari absently scratched her newly grown ears and peered out over the dry landscape. Sora reached over to pull the hood of her garment over her own ears and checked to see that the youngest member of their group was dressed warmly. "It's not as if we have a destination in mind," she spoke up. "Just pick."

With a shrug, Yamato turned east and began to walk away from the sun. A moment later, the rest of the group began to follow. "I don't want to hear anyone ask if we're there yet," he said, half joking.

"Are we there yet?" Jun questioned, in a teasing voice from her post on the roof over his head. "Kidding!" she added when he glared daggers in her direction.

"Just scout ahead," he grumbled. "Instead of being a pain."

"Will do!" she replied, mock-saluting. "Ready?"

"Ready for takeoff!" Momoe called cheerfully. She spread her wings, wide bird-like appendages that were easily at least as wide as she was tall, took a running leap, and was soaring through the sky.

"Right behind you!" Jun called, spreading her own wide wings and leaping into the air. An updraft caught her, a strong breeze lifted her, and she was soon easily soaring over the desert, feeling the wind in her wings as though she'd been born with them. 'Maybe I was born for this life,' she thought as she floated effortlessly. The breeze that evening was strong enough so she hardly needed to flap.

Hikari peered up at the fliers. "I wish I could do that," she said in awe. "It looks like so much fun."

Sora smiled at the younger girl. "It is," she said with a knowing grin. "But it won't be much longer until your wings sprout, I'm sure."

"It'll be a long time before I can fly," Iori spoke up. "For now I think I can stay on the ground."

"Not I. As soon as they grow in, I'm going to try," Hikari said, peering up at the girls, who were circling high enough over head so that she almost thought they were birds.

Suddenly, Momoe broke away and swooped lower towards the ground. "Wide river about half mile to the north, chief," she reported. She and Jun often would fly overhead to watch for oncoming dangers and to scout the landscape, and they'd gotten into the habit of referring to the boy as "chief." It was through such practices that, although Momoe and Jun were both older than he, he'd been designated unofficial leader of the group.

"Anything else?" he questioned. "Food?"

"Plenty of animals near the river," she replied. "Those four legged-deer-like things we've seen around. Smaller ones, too. Fish in the river, I'd expect."

"That'd be a good place to camp," Sora offered. "Once the sun goes down all the way it'll be harder for us to travel."

Yamato nodded in agreement. "Right. Lets head toward it. North you said?"

"Yup," Momoe replied before catching an updraft and flying high into the sky.

***