A/N: Ahh, haven't done this in a while… Some graphic description here, but nothing worse than you would see on a Stephen King TV movie. I was reading the Talisman while creating the end part for this fic. I'm still not done it yet, but it's a good muse for this story! Umm, *** mean that someone is remembering something. A pair of stars before and after the word means emphasis on that particular word. And ~*~ indicates a scene change. Boy, it's sure hard to type without my long thumbnail. You'd think it would easier, but no it's harder, because you have to adjust to the nakedness. It was two centimeters long and a hell of a bitch to cut! It was so thick!! Oops, got carried away. Enjoy the story=)
Chapter Five: The Meeting of the Misunderstood
Black Wargreymon lay flat on his back, gazing up into the endless night of the cave roof. The antidote had an annoying side effect that left him unable to sleep. He wouldn't be tired in the morning, but he liked to sleep at night relieve the boredom. If he had something to dream about, he wouldn't be as bored either. Instead of sleeping, he decided that he would take a walk, then return in an hour or so to try again to sleep.
He walked stealthily through a midnight blanket of death and life. Luring his way through the folds, he met with his bridge, which was handsomely illuminated by the light of a false digital moon. In two giant leaps the bridge was behind him. Black Wargreymon gained speed, trying to avoid being seen by those atrocious cretins as he yet again marked his way through their territory. They were too frightened to chase him and too stupid to even notice that he passed by the cave.
As he furthered into the woods, he stopped at a dark barrier which two portions of the world were divided: one at midday and the other at midnight. An aerial view of the landmark showed a strip of trees that extended beyond his eyesight directly in front of him; to the left the night which he had just recently departed; to the right the raging bright of day. He chose to walk through the water for a while; at least until he reached the lake adjacent to a cliff where, he assumed, the strip of trees would stop.
He lowered himself and began to walk; swatting absently at the Flymon which careened out of his way, trying desperately to avoid him. Due to their lack of speed, he caught half a dozen of them in mid-flight, unintentionally injuring their life's wings with his sharp talons. Black Wargreymon had a premonition that he may find something useful at that lake. Perhaps it was a destiny stone. His speed increased. If that was so, he would have to destroy it and reveal the powerful chicken-shit that was constantly evading him. Then maybe he would show it a thing or two.
Black Wargreymon did not know much about the Digital World, or it's history, or the Digidestined. Living there his whole life (as short as that would be) he still thought the world was strange in comparison to other worlds he'd traveled. The world that the Digidestined came from (because he refused to call it "the Human World") was extremely populated and bare, but at least the beings could not do anything unexplainable. Like flying. Black Wargreymon didn't like to believe in magic or the unnatural. In the future, he would have to.
Black Wargreymon was not evil. He would have liked to be evil, that way he would have a reason to be feared and alone. He had thoughts similar to mourning; those thoughts would generally be associated with the flower he had betrayed himself to protect. Evilness was more commonly diagnosed by the Digidestined, inferior beings who had been taught from birth the stereotypical difference between right and wrong. What was wrong in their minds was right in his, what they considered evil was not evil to him. Killing Mammothmon had the significance of killing a fly to him. The Digidestined label him - but they attacked first. Also, they had no remorse when they squashed the Roachmon to death - big deal they weren't real! They were still alive, maybe a little brain-dead, but still alive. If he saw a Digidestined by itself, he would kill without remorse. The rest of those horrible creatures would get over it, eventually. He would show them the DigiWorld difference between right and wrong.
Besides, the Digimon would be able to start life over. Just the other day he saw a herd of Mammothmon he had killed. Certainly death was not a pleasant thought and he wasn't sure why the Digidestined's world kept making newer, more different people, but in this world they came back. He always made their deaths quick if they needed to die. He would do that much. Half the time the Digimon he killed couldn't tell the difference if they were alive or dead. Black Wargreymon thought of his own existence. If someone were to kill him, probably the Digidestined, he would be gone forever. The so-called "evil" Digimon would be fought until they were too weak to degenerate. He assumed Digi-Hell was death. If you weren't reborn and you died in the Digital World, where would you end up? Black Wargreymon didn't know the answer, but he knew that's where he would be.
~*~
***
Ken had waited by the phone all day.
His mom told him that he wouldn't call.
His dad told him to stop it; he wouldn't call.
Still he waited.
Hours ticked by. Ken sat by the phone in his lonely bedroom and waited patiently for the all-important phone call. Sometimes Ken would pick up a book and read but his eyes would flicker off of the pages to the phone. He played with the cord until he managed to get both hands caught. He panicked because he wouldn't be able to answer the phone and quickly undid the mess without jolting the phone from its cradle. Why didn't he call yet? There was no explanation for it because he promised he would and Ken took his promises to heart.
Ken's act of neediness disturbed his mother greatly. She tried to coax him out of his room with a plate full of cookies shaped like little soccer balls. He cheerfully greeted her with a "No thanks!" and tried to send her packing. She had made those cookies just for him, knowing that he wasn't swayed like normal little boys when it came to food. Ken would not leave his room for a second, because he had been told the call was of uttermost privacy. He swore his parents would not interfere and he meant to keep his promise.
Ken's parents ended up eating dinner by themselves. His distraught mother tugged at her grease-stained apron, absently stretching the folds of cotton. She would give that boy a piece of her mind, she would. She had never in her life been violent with anyone; that was to change. Protecting her son from the outside world would be her first priority. Unfortunately, her hubby would be the only parental unit available in the house when the call came - the morning after.
"Heellooo?" Mr. Ichijouji cooed into the phone, expecting it to be his wife on the other end of the line. She had forgotten her shopping list and he suspected she would call him back.
"Uhh, may I please speak to Ken?" came the frightened, young, male voice on the other end.
"Oh, sure. Sorry, I thought you were my wife. I'll get him." Mr. Ichijouji had apparently forgotten that his only son had been waiting for the phone call all day yesterday and he wasn't supposed to give the caller any time of day. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to remember.
He tapped on his son's door. Ken was still lying on the bed, racked from lack of sleep and crying. For some reason he felt used. He told his father in a depressed little whisper that he would take it in his room, but didn't do that until he heard his father's footsteps in the corridor.
"Hello?"
"Ken, I told you to wait by the phone! Your parents aren't supposed to find out about this!"
"DAISUKE! ARRGH!" he screamed, slamming the phone back into its cradle.
***
Daisuke remembered the scene with tears in his eyes. The stinging sands of the desert they were walking on did not restrain the flow of tears. It was not a pleasant memory; Daisuke hadn't meant to be ignorant. He had argued later with Takeru that Ken shouldn't act so helpless and needy all of the time. Takeru had simply told him that it was just a poor excuse; like something a little kid would say after his kicked a dog or tarred a cat. He didn't know then why he had even bothered with Takeru. That kid was always wrong. Now he knew; Takeru was right.
Ken had unplugged all of the phones after his dad left to look for his mother. Since he couldn't get through the phone lines or Ken's D3, Daisuke decided it would be a good idea to scrounge up some money and make a trip over to Ken's house. Big mistake. By that time, Ken's parents had returned from shopping and they were not at all pleased to see the little traitor.
Mrs. Ichijouji answered the door with a false smile. "Hello Daisuke, I haven't heard from you in a while."
"Is Ken around? I need to talk to him." He made a move toward the doorway, but Mrs. Ichijouji moved to block his entrance.
"I think you need to talk to me first. What did you say to my son yesterday?"
"Nothing. I just told him I would call sometime. I called this morning."
"Uh huh. Do you know what my son was doing all day yesterday?"
"No…"
"He was sitting by the phone waiting for you to call!"
Daisuke was taken aback. "What? Why?"
"Because you said you would call."
"I…well…I got distracted is all…"
"As my son's friends you have certain responsibilities young man! I trusted that you knew them well and that you were taught well enough to know them, but I guess I was wrong. Ken takes every word that you tell him seriously and you'd better not forget it or I won't ever let you near my house again!"
"Mama, it's all right."
She whipped around, her hair lolling gracefully and her spatula whipping menacingly. She would not approve of her own son taking his situation out of her hands and back into his own. Although she knew he was a genius of some level, she thought that he wasn't capable of handling the situations purposed to him. Therefore she would step back from the door and let Daisuke by, let Ken show him to his room, then press a glass against the bedroom door to hear what they were saying. Then she would intervene at crucial moments with a plate of cookies or tray of tea. And *you* thought parental interruptions were accidental…
Daisuke began to speak after a long silence between him and Ken. "You know, for a genius, (Ken cringed visibly, why did everyone always say that to him?) you don't know anything about people. People aren't always true to their word."
"But if I didn't wait for you you'd be cross if I didn't answer the phone. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"I thought you knew me well enough by now! What does that say about our friendship? I didn't expect you to go completely nutso over something I told you to do! *I'm* the victim here."
"So you to me to wait by the phone for you and that you would call, then you made me wait all day and you decided not to call after all. Therefore you're the victim right?"
"…Yeah"
"Get out."
"Whaa?"
"Get out. NOW."
~*~
That had been the first fight ever to occur between the two boys. Remembering it vividly now, Daisuke trudged further through the debilitating heat; continuing as if finding Ken would be the ultimate apology for his endless stupidity. Maybe it was the heat or maybe the thought that his friend had been killed (not injured, but killed - because unlike badly dubbed anime, he worried more about finding his friend dead than finding his friend injured), but Daisuke stopped being the self-loving boy he usually was. His Digiegg of Friendship flashed frantically from its home in Daisuke's D-Terminal. V-mon, who had been dragging his own feet behind him and panting from the delirious heat, suddenly sprinted forward to meet Daisuke's tired, yet determined, feet. Daisuke didn't notice the change in his Digimon friend's energy.
"We need to stop," someone panted from behind. Daisuke paused in his walking, momentarily, to whip around and face the offending voice. It was Yamato. The sun had burned him so badly he looked the same color of a pig that has been twirling in the rotisserie for hours and hours. In fact, all of the pale faces in the group had the same horrific look - Yamato's blonde hair just amplified the painful burnt look.
Daisuke scoffed. "Who the hell gave *you* the Crest of Friendship? Fine, leave. We'll see who the true friends are - when we find Ken we'll tell him exactly where you went!"
He felt a pressure on his arm. "Daisuke," Sora started, but didn't finish.
Daisuke laughed curtly. "Don't stick up for him," he said as he turned and continued walking. He paid no attention to the entire group who had stopped completely and who were now watching his back depart into the never-ending sun. Taichi feared the kid would die from the scorching heat, though some part of him commended Daisuke's bravery.
He caught up to the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder as if to stop him. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground; a punch in the throat had seen to that. While still gasping for breath, Daisuke loomed over him, a comforting shadow from the heat, and was punched again and again. Taichi was aware of the pain escaping his throat and face, but made no move to stop the boy. Jyou, worried that Taichi would break his nose in the scuffle, hurried to the scene, first aid kit in tow. Yamato separated the two boys with the skill of someone who had been accustomed to fighting, especially with Taichi. Takeru tried pulling on Daisuke's arm to make him stop, but Veemon, who was offended by the fighting and the hurtful gestures made towards Daisuke, head-butted his knee so hard that Takeru heard it pop out of place.
The girls decided it was their turn to intervene. Simultaneously, Mimi and Miyako grabbed one of Daisuke's arms and swung it behind his back. Their long, thick nails dug into his skin, causing him to yelp in pain. Meanwhile, Sora had worked her way to the front and punched Daisuke squarely in the forehead. "TKO!" they shouted, giving each other hugs.
Jyou rushed over, determined to help, but not so determined to be injured. Koushirou and Iori watched silently from the sidelines until Koushirou decided he had had enough violence. He covered Iori's eyes with one hand, despite the protests from the mouth of the youngest member of the group.
With Takeru screaming in agony, Taichi bleeding his shirt through, Yamato hollering at the bite marks he had recently received from a raging Daisuke and the offender temporarily subdued by the girls of the group, no one noticed the small creature inching its painful little way towards them. Its legs gave suddenly, hurling it toward the dry, burning ground. Raging pain soared into its head, making it yelp. The Digidestined heard the noise, despite their own quarrels, and rushed to the side of the fallen Digimon. They didn't realize who it was until they came a little bit closer.
"Wormmon!" Hikari cried scooping him up into her loving arms (A/N you thought I forgot about her didn't you???). He twitched a claw in agony, trying to speak with broken mandibles and blood in his little mouth. Panicked, the rest of the Digidestined clambered to the nearest tree, trying desperately to find some shade for the heat-struck Digimon, who was used to living in cool houses. Jyou frantically dressed the wounds while Daisuke, now complete with a gnarly bruise, knelt beside the dying Digimon.
"Wormmon, where's Ken?" Daisuke asked slowly.
"…."
"Wormmon?"
"…He's…dead."
~*~
Black Wargreymon had tread too far. Inevitably, he was lost. He remembered that the forest was just straight strip of trees, but which would take him farther in and which way would get him out of the forest? At last he decided to fly up and see where he had ended up. When he got high enough to see where he was, he realized the reason why he was so hopelessly lost. The earth had shifted and the sections he traveled in had rearranged themselves in confusing patterns. The desert now the forest, the forest now bathed in darkness and the darkness was now melted by a beaming sun. In the center of the misshapen regions a lake stood out, like the yellow blobs of nectar nestled in the heart of a flower. It was the central point of the maze the Digital World had created to elude him, so he decided it would be best to start from there and work his way in. If he was still lost after that he would have to ask for directions. He shuddered involuntarily.
Coming towards the lake through the forest, Black Wargreymon saw that he had three choices: north, west or east. As he walked he swatted a few forest-dwelling Digimon out of his way, knowing full well that he would have to turn to them if he needed help to find his way back to the cave. He wouldn't get lost, he would expect that, but he would find something that would change his destiny for good. Unbeknownst to him, a destiny stone glimmered underneath its layers of protection, undetectable under the circumstances. It was nestled comfortably in its bed of water. Numerous types of sea-Digimon in dazzling colors and shapes swum past this monstrosity, barely casting it a glance; it had been so long in the lake its presence was no longer a concern.
Usually, Black Wargreymon would notice the presence of any destiny stone - but today was not a usual day. Actually, today was beginning to set into tomorrow: who could tell? It was the Digital World after all. Black Wargreymon had seen something unusual under a tree straight ahead from where he was standing. He suspected he knew what was laying crumpled and indignant over there, but he marched forward, tugged a little by the force of the destiny stone, just to ease his suspicious.
Almost sadly enough, he was right. Under the beautiful blooming cherry tree lay a boy of about the same age of other human boys he had seen trampling through the Digital World. He was in such a tangle of arms, limbs and blood that Black Wargreymon could not distinguish which of the boys it was. Not that it mattered. He would be doing the little human boy a favor by discarding his remains in the lake. Then, the boy could be at rest.
He got closer to the boy and noticed that the corpse did not emit any sort of smell. That must be because the corpse is fresh, he thought, then crept even closer. It was only when the corpse of the boy opened his eyes that Black Wargreymon realized that he was still alive. "Help me," the Boy's breath whispered, the orbs of his eyes blanketed in a sea of pain. Blood dribbled from his stiff fingertips and flowed thickly down from the Boy's mouth. His cheeks carried the drops of red goo down to his ears, where it had begun to pool. A rib had seared some the Boy's skin out of the way and was now a sharp, white point protruding from the middle of his chest. Black Wargreymon automatically suspected foul play. Perhaps a Digimon had stomped this human to death - an excellent reason why Digimon should have the ability to Digivolve to the next step without the aid of humans. Humans were too easily killed and a Digimon could get itself murdered protecting them instead of themselves. Black Wargreymon decided that he was going to do this suffering human a favor by putting him out of his misery.
As he approached the Boy he saw fear linger in his eyes for a moment, before it was swallowed by a gust of pain from damaged nerves. He sensed the Boy knew what was coming to him and had gnawed at the last ounce of fear. Black Wargreymon hovered his foot over the body, and the Boy opened his eyes wide enough for Black Wargreymon to see his own fear reflected in the vibrating, liquid orbs. The Boy was in pain, he wanted to die - so why was this so hard? He had done mercy killings before. He had done even more killings on purpose. Yet his foot, which was getting quite stiff from hovering for so long, never came down. What was wrong with him? He couldn't possibly be sympathetic for this Digidestined Boy, could he?
He knelt beside the Boy, trying to douse his new emotions with old ones. He pressed a cool claw to the
Boy's face, marveling briefly about how soft his skin felt. Black Wargreymon found himself increasingly more upset over the fact that he couldn't mercy-kill a lousy human being. And it wasn't that he could use the excuse about making the Boy suffer either. He couldn't let the Boy suffer and he didn't know why.
Black Wargreymon then made a decision that would change his life profusely. He decided to bring the Boy back with him to the cave and then proceed to care for his wounds - somehow. The plan had many holes, he discovered as he thought it over, but for some reason it felt right. His conscious plagued his mind and right now it was screaming at him, screaming
(*thisishowtheyfelttheyfeltafteryourippedthemapartandleftthemtodieuh-huh*)
about past occurrences and how things could have been. He now knew why he always walked away from a massive blood bath - the smart fighters don't want to see their victims die slowly and morbidly. Also he didn't want to be faced with the coup-de-grace.
He knelt closer to the boy, he was knocked farther back on his rear from the purely appalling stench that had gravitated from the Boy to his nostrils. The Boy hadn't pissed himself - no that wasn't it. This stench was familiarized with death and only creatures with the greatest sense of smell were affected. It was worse than anything he had ever encountered, but if this Boy was meant to be taken to the cave it would happen or he would eat the Boy himself. Wait, no, that's not how it goes…
Something needed to fend off that horrible smell or else Black Wargreymon would not be able to near the Boy without retching and becoming violently ill. It was one of the prices he had to pay for being such an amazing and perfect creature. Another disadvantage was that he wasn't exactly - how to put it lightly - the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact, he was two Cheerios short of a whole bowl. His solution to the problem: Stuff some leaves up his nostrils! As it turned out, Black Wargreymon didn't know much about leaves either, especially the kind that was poisonous. He wouldn't notice the numbness until he had gotten the Boy back to the cave because as soon as his mind rested he would register the lack of pain.
He approached the Boy again, no longer smelling *anything*, and wondered how the heck he was going to carry him home without breaking him even more. Delicately he extended his right index claw and poked the Boy just enough to jostle his arms and legs into slightly different positions. He could see the Boy's beautiful, pale face scrunch up in pain. His mouth erupted in a gush of blood as the Boy tried to scream. Things suddenly got a little easier for Black Wargreymon to handle as the Boy lost consciousness.
He used his claws as giant scoops, carefully sliding them underneath the Boy so as not to agitate any more skin. Even though the Boy was unconscious, he still may wake up if he experienced any pain. Black Wargreymon got as far as lifting the Boy up to his hips, then he realized he didn't know how to carry a human being…
Chapter Five: The Meeting of the Misunderstood
Black Wargreymon lay flat on his back, gazing up into the endless night of the cave roof. The antidote had an annoying side effect that left him unable to sleep. He wouldn't be tired in the morning, but he liked to sleep at night relieve the boredom. If he had something to dream about, he wouldn't be as bored either. Instead of sleeping, he decided that he would take a walk, then return in an hour or so to try again to sleep.
He walked stealthily through a midnight blanket of death and life. Luring his way through the folds, he met with his bridge, which was handsomely illuminated by the light of a false digital moon. In two giant leaps the bridge was behind him. Black Wargreymon gained speed, trying to avoid being seen by those atrocious cretins as he yet again marked his way through their territory. They were too frightened to chase him and too stupid to even notice that he passed by the cave.
As he furthered into the woods, he stopped at a dark barrier which two portions of the world were divided: one at midday and the other at midnight. An aerial view of the landmark showed a strip of trees that extended beyond his eyesight directly in front of him; to the left the night which he had just recently departed; to the right the raging bright of day. He chose to walk through the water for a while; at least until he reached the lake adjacent to a cliff where, he assumed, the strip of trees would stop.
He lowered himself and began to walk; swatting absently at the Flymon which careened out of his way, trying desperately to avoid him. Due to their lack of speed, he caught half a dozen of them in mid-flight, unintentionally injuring their life's wings with his sharp talons. Black Wargreymon had a premonition that he may find something useful at that lake. Perhaps it was a destiny stone. His speed increased. If that was so, he would have to destroy it and reveal the powerful chicken-shit that was constantly evading him. Then maybe he would show it a thing or two.
Black Wargreymon did not know much about the Digital World, or it's history, or the Digidestined. Living there his whole life (as short as that would be) he still thought the world was strange in comparison to other worlds he'd traveled. The world that the Digidestined came from (because he refused to call it "the Human World") was extremely populated and bare, but at least the beings could not do anything unexplainable. Like flying. Black Wargreymon didn't like to believe in magic or the unnatural. In the future, he would have to.
Black Wargreymon was not evil. He would have liked to be evil, that way he would have a reason to be feared and alone. He had thoughts similar to mourning; those thoughts would generally be associated with the flower he had betrayed himself to protect. Evilness was more commonly diagnosed by the Digidestined, inferior beings who had been taught from birth the stereotypical difference between right and wrong. What was wrong in their minds was right in his, what they considered evil was not evil to him. Killing Mammothmon had the significance of killing a fly to him. The Digidestined label him - but they attacked first. Also, they had no remorse when they squashed the Roachmon to death - big deal they weren't real! They were still alive, maybe a little brain-dead, but still alive. If he saw a Digidestined by itself, he would kill without remorse. The rest of those horrible creatures would get over it, eventually. He would show them the DigiWorld difference between right and wrong.
Besides, the Digimon would be able to start life over. Just the other day he saw a herd of Mammothmon he had killed. Certainly death was not a pleasant thought and he wasn't sure why the Digidestined's world kept making newer, more different people, but in this world they came back. He always made their deaths quick if they needed to die. He would do that much. Half the time the Digimon he killed couldn't tell the difference if they were alive or dead. Black Wargreymon thought of his own existence. If someone were to kill him, probably the Digidestined, he would be gone forever. The so-called "evil" Digimon would be fought until they were too weak to degenerate. He assumed Digi-Hell was death. If you weren't reborn and you died in the Digital World, where would you end up? Black Wargreymon didn't know the answer, but he knew that's where he would be.
~*~
***
Ken had waited by the phone all day.
His mom told him that he wouldn't call.
His dad told him to stop it; he wouldn't call.
Still he waited.
Hours ticked by. Ken sat by the phone in his lonely bedroom and waited patiently for the all-important phone call. Sometimes Ken would pick up a book and read but his eyes would flicker off of the pages to the phone. He played with the cord until he managed to get both hands caught. He panicked because he wouldn't be able to answer the phone and quickly undid the mess without jolting the phone from its cradle. Why didn't he call yet? There was no explanation for it because he promised he would and Ken took his promises to heart.
Ken's act of neediness disturbed his mother greatly. She tried to coax him out of his room with a plate full of cookies shaped like little soccer balls. He cheerfully greeted her with a "No thanks!" and tried to send her packing. She had made those cookies just for him, knowing that he wasn't swayed like normal little boys when it came to food. Ken would not leave his room for a second, because he had been told the call was of uttermost privacy. He swore his parents would not interfere and he meant to keep his promise.
Ken's parents ended up eating dinner by themselves. His distraught mother tugged at her grease-stained apron, absently stretching the folds of cotton. She would give that boy a piece of her mind, she would. She had never in her life been violent with anyone; that was to change. Protecting her son from the outside world would be her first priority. Unfortunately, her hubby would be the only parental unit available in the house when the call came - the morning after.
"Heellooo?" Mr. Ichijouji cooed into the phone, expecting it to be his wife on the other end of the line. She had forgotten her shopping list and he suspected she would call him back.
"Uhh, may I please speak to Ken?" came the frightened, young, male voice on the other end.
"Oh, sure. Sorry, I thought you were my wife. I'll get him." Mr. Ichijouji had apparently forgotten that his only son had been waiting for the phone call all day yesterday and he wasn't supposed to give the caller any time of day. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to remember.
He tapped on his son's door. Ken was still lying on the bed, racked from lack of sleep and crying. For some reason he felt used. He told his father in a depressed little whisper that he would take it in his room, but didn't do that until he heard his father's footsteps in the corridor.
"Hello?"
"Ken, I told you to wait by the phone! Your parents aren't supposed to find out about this!"
"DAISUKE! ARRGH!" he screamed, slamming the phone back into its cradle.
***
Daisuke remembered the scene with tears in his eyes. The stinging sands of the desert they were walking on did not restrain the flow of tears. It was not a pleasant memory; Daisuke hadn't meant to be ignorant. He had argued later with Takeru that Ken shouldn't act so helpless and needy all of the time. Takeru had simply told him that it was just a poor excuse; like something a little kid would say after his kicked a dog or tarred a cat. He didn't know then why he had even bothered with Takeru. That kid was always wrong. Now he knew; Takeru was right.
Ken had unplugged all of the phones after his dad left to look for his mother. Since he couldn't get through the phone lines or Ken's D3, Daisuke decided it would be a good idea to scrounge up some money and make a trip over to Ken's house. Big mistake. By that time, Ken's parents had returned from shopping and they were not at all pleased to see the little traitor.
Mrs. Ichijouji answered the door with a false smile. "Hello Daisuke, I haven't heard from you in a while."
"Is Ken around? I need to talk to him." He made a move toward the doorway, but Mrs. Ichijouji moved to block his entrance.
"I think you need to talk to me first. What did you say to my son yesterday?"
"Nothing. I just told him I would call sometime. I called this morning."
"Uh huh. Do you know what my son was doing all day yesterday?"
"No…"
"He was sitting by the phone waiting for you to call!"
Daisuke was taken aback. "What? Why?"
"Because you said you would call."
"I…well…I got distracted is all…"
"As my son's friends you have certain responsibilities young man! I trusted that you knew them well and that you were taught well enough to know them, but I guess I was wrong. Ken takes every word that you tell him seriously and you'd better not forget it or I won't ever let you near my house again!"
"Mama, it's all right."
She whipped around, her hair lolling gracefully and her spatula whipping menacingly. She would not approve of her own son taking his situation out of her hands and back into his own. Although she knew he was a genius of some level, she thought that he wasn't capable of handling the situations purposed to him. Therefore she would step back from the door and let Daisuke by, let Ken show him to his room, then press a glass against the bedroom door to hear what they were saying. Then she would intervene at crucial moments with a plate of cookies or tray of tea. And *you* thought parental interruptions were accidental…
Daisuke began to speak after a long silence between him and Ken. "You know, for a genius, (Ken cringed visibly, why did everyone always say that to him?) you don't know anything about people. People aren't always true to their word."
"But if I didn't wait for you you'd be cross if I didn't answer the phone. What the hell was I supposed to do?"
"I thought you knew me well enough by now! What does that say about our friendship? I didn't expect you to go completely nutso over something I told you to do! *I'm* the victim here."
"So you to me to wait by the phone for you and that you would call, then you made me wait all day and you decided not to call after all. Therefore you're the victim right?"
"…Yeah"
"Get out."
"Whaa?"
"Get out. NOW."
~*~
That had been the first fight ever to occur between the two boys. Remembering it vividly now, Daisuke trudged further through the debilitating heat; continuing as if finding Ken would be the ultimate apology for his endless stupidity. Maybe it was the heat or maybe the thought that his friend had been killed (not injured, but killed - because unlike badly dubbed anime, he worried more about finding his friend dead than finding his friend injured), but Daisuke stopped being the self-loving boy he usually was. His Digiegg of Friendship flashed frantically from its home in Daisuke's D-Terminal. V-mon, who had been dragging his own feet behind him and panting from the delirious heat, suddenly sprinted forward to meet Daisuke's tired, yet determined, feet. Daisuke didn't notice the change in his Digimon friend's energy.
"We need to stop," someone panted from behind. Daisuke paused in his walking, momentarily, to whip around and face the offending voice. It was Yamato. The sun had burned him so badly he looked the same color of a pig that has been twirling in the rotisserie for hours and hours. In fact, all of the pale faces in the group had the same horrific look - Yamato's blonde hair just amplified the painful burnt look.
Daisuke scoffed. "Who the hell gave *you* the Crest of Friendship? Fine, leave. We'll see who the true friends are - when we find Ken we'll tell him exactly where you went!"
He felt a pressure on his arm. "Daisuke," Sora started, but didn't finish.
Daisuke laughed curtly. "Don't stick up for him," he said as he turned and continued walking. He paid no attention to the entire group who had stopped completely and who were now watching his back depart into the never-ending sun. Taichi feared the kid would die from the scorching heat, though some part of him commended Daisuke's bravery.
He caught up to the young man and placed a hand on his shoulder as if to stop him. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground; a punch in the throat had seen to that. While still gasping for breath, Daisuke loomed over him, a comforting shadow from the heat, and was punched again and again. Taichi was aware of the pain escaping his throat and face, but made no move to stop the boy. Jyou, worried that Taichi would break his nose in the scuffle, hurried to the scene, first aid kit in tow. Yamato separated the two boys with the skill of someone who had been accustomed to fighting, especially with Taichi. Takeru tried pulling on Daisuke's arm to make him stop, but Veemon, who was offended by the fighting and the hurtful gestures made towards Daisuke, head-butted his knee so hard that Takeru heard it pop out of place.
The girls decided it was their turn to intervene. Simultaneously, Mimi and Miyako grabbed one of Daisuke's arms and swung it behind his back. Their long, thick nails dug into his skin, causing him to yelp in pain. Meanwhile, Sora had worked her way to the front and punched Daisuke squarely in the forehead. "TKO!" they shouted, giving each other hugs.
Jyou rushed over, determined to help, but not so determined to be injured. Koushirou and Iori watched silently from the sidelines until Koushirou decided he had had enough violence. He covered Iori's eyes with one hand, despite the protests from the mouth of the youngest member of the group.
With Takeru screaming in agony, Taichi bleeding his shirt through, Yamato hollering at the bite marks he had recently received from a raging Daisuke and the offender temporarily subdued by the girls of the group, no one noticed the small creature inching its painful little way towards them. Its legs gave suddenly, hurling it toward the dry, burning ground. Raging pain soared into its head, making it yelp. The Digidestined heard the noise, despite their own quarrels, and rushed to the side of the fallen Digimon. They didn't realize who it was until they came a little bit closer.
"Wormmon!" Hikari cried scooping him up into her loving arms (A/N you thought I forgot about her didn't you???). He twitched a claw in agony, trying to speak with broken mandibles and blood in his little mouth. Panicked, the rest of the Digidestined clambered to the nearest tree, trying desperately to find some shade for the heat-struck Digimon, who was used to living in cool houses. Jyou frantically dressed the wounds while Daisuke, now complete with a gnarly bruise, knelt beside the dying Digimon.
"Wormmon, where's Ken?" Daisuke asked slowly.
"…."
"Wormmon?"
"…He's…dead."
~*~
Black Wargreymon had tread too far. Inevitably, he was lost. He remembered that the forest was just straight strip of trees, but which would take him farther in and which way would get him out of the forest? At last he decided to fly up and see where he had ended up. When he got high enough to see where he was, he realized the reason why he was so hopelessly lost. The earth had shifted and the sections he traveled in had rearranged themselves in confusing patterns. The desert now the forest, the forest now bathed in darkness and the darkness was now melted by a beaming sun. In the center of the misshapen regions a lake stood out, like the yellow blobs of nectar nestled in the heart of a flower. It was the central point of the maze the Digital World had created to elude him, so he decided it would be best to start from there and work his way in. If he was still lost after that he would have to ask for directions. He shuddered involuntarily.
Coming towards the lake through the forest, Black Wargreymon saw that he had three choices: north, west or east. As he walked he swatted a few forest-dwelling Digimon out of his way, knowing full well that he would have to turn to them if he needed help to find his way back to the cave. He wouldn't get lost, he would expect that, but he would find something that would change his destiny for good. Unbeknownst to him, a destiny stone glimmered underneath its layers of protection, undetectable under the circumstances. It was nestled comfortably in its bed of water. Numerous types of sea-Digimon in dazzling colors and shapes swum past this monstrosity, barely casting it a glance; it had been so long in the lake its presence was no longer a concern.
Usually, Black Wargreymon would notice the presence of any destiny stone - but today was not a usual day. Actually, today was beginning to set into tomorrow: who could tell? It was the Digital World after all. Black Wargreymon had seen something unusual under a tree straight ahead from where he was standing. He suspected he knew what was laying crumpled and indignant over there, but he marched forward, tugged a little by the force of the destiny stone, just to ease his suspicious.
Almost sadly enough, he was right. Under the beautiful blooming cherry tree lay a boy of about the same age of other human boys he had seen trampling through the Digital World. He was in such a tangle of arms, limbs and blood that Black Wargreymon could not distinguish which of the boys it was. Not that it mattered. He would be doing the little human boy a favor by discarding his remains in the lake. Then, the boy could be at rest.
He got closer to the boy and noticed that the corpse did not emit any sort of smell. That must be because the corpse is fresh, he thought, then crept even closer. It was only when the corpse of the boy opened his eyes that Black Wargreymon realized that he was still alive. "Help me," the Boy's breath whispered, the orbs of his eyes blanketed in a sea of pain. Blood dribbled from his stiff fingertips and flowed thickly down from the Boy's mouth. His cheeks carried the drops of red goo down to his ears, where it had begun to pool. A rib had seared some the Boy's skin out of the way and was now a sharp, white point protruding from the middle of his chest. Black Wargreymon automatically suspected foul play. Perhaps a Digimon had stomped this human to death - an excellent reason why Digimon should have the ability to Digivolve to the next step without the aid of humans. Humans were too easily killed and a Digimon could get itself murdered protecting them instead of themselves. Black Wargreymon decided that he was going to do this suffering human a favor by putting him out of his misery.
As he approached the Boy he saw fear linger in his eyes for a moment, before it was swallowed by a gust of pain from damaged nerves. He sensed the Boy knew what was coming to him and had gnawed at the last ounce of fear. Black Wargreymon hovered his foot over the body, and the Boy opened his eyes wide enough for Black Wargreymon to see his own fear reflected in the vibrating, liquid orbs. The Boy was in pain, he wanted to die - so why was this so hard? He had done mercy killings before. He had done even more killings on purpose. Yet his foot, which was getting quite stiff from hovering for so long, never came down. What was wrong with him? He couldn't possibly be sympathetic for this Digidestined Boy, could he?
He knelt beside the Boy, trying to douse his new emotions with old ones. He pressed a cool claw to the
Boy's face, marveling briefly about how soft his skin felt. Black Wargreymon found himself increasingly more upset over the fact that he couldn't mercy-kill a lousy human being. And it wasn't that he could use the excuse about making the Boy suffer either. He couldn't let the Boy suffer and he didn't know why.
Black Wargreymon then made a decision that would change his life profusely. He decided to bring the Boy back with him to the cave and then proceed to care for his wounds - somehow. The plan had many holes, he discovered as he thought it over, but for some reason it felt right. His conscious plagued his mind and right now it was screaming at him, screaming
(*thisishowtheyfelttheyfeltafteryourippedthemapartandleftthemtodieuh-huh*)
about past occurrences and how things could have been. He now knew why he always walked away from a massive blood bath - the smart fighters don't want to see their victims die slowly and morbidly. Also he didn't want to be faced with the coup-de-grace.
He knelt closer to the boy, he was knocked farther back on his rear from the purely appalling stench that had gravitated from the Boy to his nostrils. The Boy hadn't pissed himself - no that wasn't it. This stench was familiarized with death and only creatures with the greatest sense of smell were affected. It was worse than anything he had ever encountered, but if this Boy was meant to be taken to the cave it would happen or he would eat the Boy himself. Wait, no, that's not how it goes…
Something needed to fend off that horrible smell or else Black Wargreymon would not be able to near the Boy without retching and becoming violently ill. It was one of the prices he had to pay for being such an amazing and perfect creature. Another disadvantage was that he wasn't exactly - how to put it lightly - the sharpest tool in the shed. In fact, he was two Cheerios short of a whole bowl. His solution to the problem: Stuff some leaves up his nostrils! As it turned out, Black Wargreymon didn't know much about leaves either, especially the kind that was poisonous. He wouldn't notice the numbness until he had gotten the Boy back to the cave because as soon as his mind rested he would register the lack of pain.
He approached the Boy again, no longer smelling *anything*, and wondered how the heck he was going to carry him home without breaking him even more. Delicately he extended his right index claw and poked the Boy just enough to jostle his arms and legs into slightly different positions. He could see the Boy's beautiful, pale face scrunch up in pain. His mouth erupted in a gush of blood as the Boy tried to scream. Things suddenly got a little easier for Black Wargreymon to handle as the Boy lost consciousness.
He used his claws as giant scoops, carefully sliding them underneath the Boy so as not to agitate any more skin. Even though the Boy was unconscious, he still may wake up if he experienced any pain. Black Wargreymon got as far as lifting the Boy up to his hips, then he realized he didn't know how to carry a human being…