"The present moment is in your power, but the past is inalterable, the future is inscrutable."
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
The Footsteps are Fading
Chapter Two
There had often been a distinct line seperating right and wrong in Sora's mind. Every night she sat at home with her children and husband, and every night she stood on the right side of that line. And tonight she stood at the kitchen sink, washing up tonight's dinner plates and thinking about what to make tomorrow to sustain her family. Then slowly, slowly the plate slid from her soft fingers into the bubbly sea below, creating a small 'plunk' that sang with Sora's sigh. Maybe she was living her life in the right way, but did it always have to be so boring?
She tried remembering all of her girlfriends from high school, and could not think of one that hadn't gotten married and settled down to a lifetime of cook dinner, clean plates, cook dinner, clean plates and so on. But this ruotine wasn't hers, was it? She had the digital world…
Her hand paused from retriving the lost plate. No she didn't. Not anymore. That haven wasn't a secret anymore. It was more like a treehouse just for you and a few other someones who had built it by hand, but in the end that treehouse had been discovered and, what do you know, others wanted in on the fun, too. Panges of bitterness and possesiveness snapped at her heart as she relived those days of quiet afternoon picnics being ruined by the odd traversing stranger. Sure, it had been a smile and a wave then, but they didn't really belong there. No, the digital world could never truly be…
She watched Yamato's profile reflect in the pan to her right. Forgetting to stop ranting in her head, she sighed openly and picked up the soapy plate from the cloudy water. She shuddered at what might live down there.
"Hey, what's wrong babe?"
"Hm? Nothing, why?" Eh-ver-re-thing, she sang happily in her head.
"Nothing! You just zoned out for a whole five minutes!"
Oh sorry, she spat inwardly, let me finish washing your dishes before I have time to think.
"Oh it's nothing, don't worry. Just thinking about those guys in the digital world."
"Oh, yeah, them." There was a long pause in which Sora had time to remmeber just how alike Taichi's statement was to that. "How long have they been gone now? Two weeks?"
She turned joltingly to stare him in the eye. "Matt," she whispered, "your own brother is out there."
"Yeah, but he can take good care of himself."
He kissed her without much love and then walked upstairs to his office, where he typed away half of the night. When she was in bed, staring at the clock that screamed in blood to her 'one fifteen!', he slipped in next to her. She closed her eyes against the clock, missing the days when he would embrace and love her in the night. When had he lost interest? Tears blurred the darkness of her eyelids, withstanding the silent cursing by their creator. What did tears matter if nothing caught his attention.
The digital world slept in silent peace that night, spreading a dark blanket over the dead and the dying, the wonder and the wondering, until all noise was muffled under its heavy sheets.
Takeru stood looking up at the few stars left in the sky. His imagination whispered that they had fallen out of the sky with those booms yesterday, and reality mumbled dejectedly that, 'they were only covered in clouds'.
All the same only five from the numerous stars blinked at him in curiosity, and then laughed among themsleves of his insignificence. He growled at them, passed into submission, and looked at his sleeping friends. Friends…were they still that to him? He supposed friendship didn't really matter at this point in his life, only that primitve necesity to communicate and reproduce drove humans in this age. Sad how that had been driving him not but five years ago. Had he really aged at all?
He focused the stars into his vision again and listened to the breathing of those around him. Ah, Hikari's was barely audible…Faint and delicate it tickled his ears, but even fainter was that of Daisuke's breath. Davis…
Moody clouds frowned at them as they woke in their trancelike stages. They found Daisuke plagued by the drooping mouth as well, and all in all borrowed the cynical ideology for the remainder of the day. That day – nothing really happened worth mentioning, save the decision to move in a direction, some direction. So they trudged onward to that someplace where they might find their elusive foe, draining their water bottles again and again, not eating anything but their own hard thoughts. It was midday of the next day before Koushiro stopped walking.
He just stopped. There was no complaining or sinking to the ground; he just stopped. The others stood next to him, knawing on their confidences and not-so-extravagent ideas. He was hungry, they all were. They had not slept all last night for they were so intent upon finding their enemy, or their digimon, or perhaps they just could not stand still in the fear that the one idea they were mentally running from would catch up with them and finish them for sure. What one idea? The one idea that they were finished even before they had the chance of fighting. But as they stood there, staring, vittles-starved, dejected people, that one haunting idea swooped from their own scowling cloud that had accumulated above their heads and drenched them to the marrow in cold fear. They had lost at a terribly frightening cost. They were starving to death with bountiful food in their packs, not exactly caring that this could possibly be the end of them and the digital world, if this enemy was so grand.
Then Koushiro sat down upon the dead soil, cradling a dead pack, wearing dead skin, and thinking dead thoughts. Deceased, he moaned to himself, deceased and I have not discovered my true meaning here. After this drastic epiphany he crossed his legs and sputtered out random syllables, remembering that one odd moment of discovering Hinduism in a book. He asked himself the three questions then, the ones that slapped reality in the face and laughed atrociously.
What is the meaning of life? What am I? What is the nature of the Divine?
For better or worse he never got to answer them.
Out from the sky a dolphin fell, landed on its back and flashed a stomach emblazoned with the sideways eight of eternity. Almost instantaneously the digidestined passed out from oxygen-poor blood.
An unsettling feeling had crept into Taichi's dreams that night, one that recalled the woman and her sweet smell. Her radiant aura captured and enthralled his soul, then shook it like a fragile baby, from the shoulders…from the shoulders…
Next she appeared to be skating, and she beckoned to him with soft hands to follow her in the curving pattern that –
He gazed down at his feet. Where they had been a gentle stream of light smiled up at him. He smiled down at it, for he had seen too few smiles these past weeks. Now that he thought of it, it had only been him, the angry customers, and his weights. He needed to get out more.
The light asserted his pondering smoothly, and somehow he knew that the woman had nodded, though he had not looked up. He could sense her short hair, though, choppy like Sora's, yet layered so carefully that she was beautiful. Yeah…beautiful…
The dream faded calmly away, leaving him lying on top of the covers on his bed, staring up at the bumpy ceiling. His broad chest heaved up and then down in a contented sigh. His eyes in the darkness were a murky brown, distant yet not confused. For he knew, after that dream, that the woman was to be with him forever, in body or soul. Forever…now he finally had someone to share this life with, someone who could laugh and play with him in the darkness of the bedroom. If this was all that he needed, why had it taken so long for this woman to show herself?
He rolled over onto his side and looked out of the window. Outside the world was just awakening with fresh touches of sun and cloud; the birds danced happily on the building over there to his left and the cats howled up to them in good fun. There was a pressing feeling to shut the blinds tight, stay in bed, and simply lay there. No, no, his mind groaned, there was too much to be done.
Like?
He shot up in bed, his heart beating abnormally fast. He hadn't said that. His eyes paned the newly illuminated room suspiciously. He had not said that.
Still, he could see nothing out of place save he was wearing his clothes and his shoes were tied tightly on his feet. He dragged them slowly from the side of the bed and tucked them under his legs. Fear, something that had not been real to him for quite a while, was sitting next to him, breathing down his neck in hot blasts. This room, the one he had been sleeping in for years now, had a new smell and feel about it now, one of danger. His jumpy instincts hollered and screeched at him to get up and bolt, out of the window if necessary, but he sat stock still, trying to not breath at all. Over there! His head whipped in the direction of the shadow, but he instantly felt something move behind him. So he snapped his head back to its former position, in a way that allowed him almost a full vision of the room. But what about what he couldn't see? His skin crawled desperately at the fear of those shadows in every corner, and yet the want of closing the blinds was persistently pecking at his courage. Then everything relaxed.
He shoulders dropped, his fists unclenched, and his forehead ridded itself of unwelcome wrinkles. He let his breathing regulate, let his knees move freely, and let out his breath in one great sigh. Ah, there had been nothing to be afraid of.
Further along in the day he unconsciously steered clear of the bedroom, and when the reality of sleep began forming he made a quick dash to his phone to call some buddies, see if they wanted to go out to a bar tonight. Only one relented to his pestering.
"Tai man, I've never seen you so uptight before!" Roushi exclaimed as they sat down on parallel barstools. Roushi ordered two beers, but Taichi refused.
"Oh, I just needed to get away from the angry mob on my doorstep, that's all."
"Are they still after you? Jeez, you'd figure that they'd give up by now."
Actually, no one stood on his doorstep anymore. The path in a wide radius from that door was well beaten, though, so that accounted for something, right? Taichi studied his hands, picked a pesky hang nail, and accosted that it did have some meaning, but maybe not the vim of being able to back up a flat lie.
"Well, they're not really there anymore, I just needed to get away from…the…presence that they left behind."
Roushi put his drink on the table and looked over meaningfully at Taichi. There was a little regret in Taichi's mind for not talking to a really close friend on this matter, but Roushi was somewhat notorious for good advice.
"I think there's a ghost in my house."
Roushi's eyebrows arched high up, and his cheeks uplifted in mirth.
"A ghost! Well, haven't you ever seen Ghostbusters? Those things are darn easy to get rid of! Darn easy!" Then he doubled over laughing, banging his hand on the bar.
"No, no, that didn't come out right, sorry."
Sorry? Taichi's mind was ringing with what had just happened, the looks that were being shot at Roushi's incessant pounding, and with the own words he had spoken. A ghost? Surely that's not what he really thought! But it was, he realized, and the very thought of how pale that girl had been frightened him even more. When had he become such a coward?
You didn't go with them because of that.
Reality slowed down at that notion, that notion that had come straight out of the bar's walls, out of Roushi's open mouth, out of the beer bottle that was bouncing up and down, out of…his own soul.
He had to make amends.
The woman that had so frightened Taichi was sitting rather nonchalantly on the ground, picking at some stubborn blades of grass. They were withered and brown, yet their roots were still deep and penetrating. These she ripped from the unproductive soil, remembering how this place had once been the receiver of alluvial dirt. Why, the river that had deposited all of that wondrous thing was just over there, choking with pollution. A grim smile sneaked upon her ghostly face. This was going to be so much fun.
Remaining blades protested wearily under her feet as she stood, digging a good heel into the ground. Over across the river she could see Those People. She frowned. They had no idea what they were up against, or where they were supposed to go. What would they do if she walked over to them and whispered quietly in one of their ears: "Nowhere."
She brushed a teasing hair away from her eyes, but it fell back out of order. Soon…Soon she would make her move, but for now she was content to mill around the river's banks, watching Those People.
A wet nudging pain prodded continuously in Koushiro's side. He made to bat at it, found he had no strength to do so, then relented to its pestering. Perhaps he had enough spirit in him to at least open one eye…
He shut it quickly.
No, no…no no no no no. That couldn't…couldn't…
No, he would just stay inside of this blackness for now. Ah, sweet blackness that covered up all other unwanted images. Then he felt it nudge again. Again. Again with that horrendous wet touch. No, no, he sang, not opening my eyes, I do not want to see this, I've been through way too much. But it could care less, for it kept up its prodding, prodding, prodding, until Koushiro opened both eyes in a rush of adrenalin, tried to grab at it, and then discovered his arms were bound behind him. So he lay staring at it, staring at it…
Then he tried screaming, but the gag around his mouth put an early end to that. Then squirming, but he only got closer to the object. Kicking: his legs were bound. Breathing: his throat was tight with fear. Thinking: only about getting away, only about…
It opened its eyes. Good god it was still alive.
Its chest rose slowly, deeply, then exhaled in a slight spatter of blood. It wasn't bound, too, but…if it tried to touch him…
Subsequently the eyes looked past his own wriggling body, out into some secret space where the answers weren't too hard to find. It sighed contently, then died.
In the white noise of the background, Koushiro finally picked up familiar sounds. He could hear Daisuke quarrelling with someone, hear footsteps on hollow metal, hear the pounding of his own heart. He could not catch any words of the argument, but for some reason he didn't feel like Daisuke was particularly winning. Next he heard a smack like leathery skin on a baby's face, heard someone fall, but the rest was hidden by a loud crashing overhead.
He chanced a look upwards and saw a large crane making its slow procession across the ceiling. Hadn't he just been outside in a desert? These abrupt changes of scenery were really getting to his nerves.
As the crane struggled to get wherever it was headed, he imagined Daisuke and what he would be doing. He always balled his fists when he argued, slit his Japanese eyes till they were past visible, and he would lean forward at the other argue-y. Stupid Daisuke, if anyone he was usually the one to be out of any bad situations. He probably wasn't tied up like a hog and staring at a milky-eyed, twitching –
What was this thing?
Resisting his unusual curiosity, Koushiro tired to crane his head in the argument's direction. Before his neck gave way with the effort, he caught a glimpse of light blonde hair in front of a back drop of darkness. Had it been short like Takeru's? Even given, Takeru's hair wasn't that light. Then he looked at the dead beast beside him, not so excited now that he had some perception of where he was. Why, it looks like a dolphin, he thought. And indeed it was; a bleeding, bruised dolphin, with a creamy belly and a shiny blue face. Why had it been prodding him?
His heart sank with the premonition of knowing the dolphin had been kind. Even in the glazed eyes there was still a look of benevolence and compassion. What monster would have killed this beautiful creature? His eyes drifted down onto the dolphin's belly again and this time caught the sign of eternity. It was a color like blood, like blood that was being washed away by rain. It even seemed to be dripping to Koushiro's tired eyes, and he would have swore on every laptop he owned that the color was oozing from the inside, though no wound was apparent.
Then the crane stopped its journey, and he could once again hear the stentorian voices. They suddenly stopped, and there was a sound like ostentatious osculation. Then that ended, and a body thumped heavily to the left of him. A voice seemed to call to his visitor: "Hope you don't forget!", then there was a light padding of footsteps, and then they faded away.
That was when Koushiro realized he no longer had a steady grip on sanity. It was just his abrupt intuition, a scintilla reminiscent of the old days of sitting at his computer, working with C++ and C. He was not entirely positive that he could do anything of that magnitude anymore. This stupid mission! It was pummeling down all that he had worked for in his life. These stupid bonds! They were restricting his movement to thoughts only, thoughts that he did not want to think right now. He was spread thin, so thin, and if he hadn't already broken then it was sure to happen in the next few minutes.
Something nudged his side.
It was two thirty in the morning when Taichi started pounding on their door, and either by coincidence or fate Sora was sitting in the kitchen in a tenebrous mode of trepidation.
Her mind told her body to jump in fright, and she did, then it told her to open the door, which she also did. This governing organ told her not to be surprised when she saw Taichi standing there, panting, but she just couldn't find the nonchalance to follow that command.
"Tai!" her mouth whispered in a new and susurrus way.
"Sora, I have to get to the digital world right now! Jesus, I can't believe I let them go without me. It's all my fault if they get hurt, I have to go to them right now." He trailed off mumbling the same words until the only sound was their breathing and the wind pushing past him.
"It's windy tonight," Sora said, stepping out into the yard. She had been surprised by his appearance, but not by his reason. She had felt he was going to go since his decline of the team's urging and now all that mattered was holding onto him for a little longer.
"I have to go."
"Yeah, sure is windy. This would be a nice night for a walk around, don't you think?"
"I don't have time, I have to leave."
"If you had wanted to go now, you wouldn't have come here. Now walk with me."
She started off down towards the gate of their property, and he reluctantly followed. They walked in silence for some time down the empty sidewalk, two best friends deprived of each other's company. Then Sora spoke.
"Have you been watching the news?"
"What?" Taichi thought about the past few days: they were filled with the pale woman and imaginings of a haunted room. "No, not lately."
"It's sad, really."
"What's that?"
"They say there have been killings."
"Of?"
"Of poor people." They walked along in silence for a moment while a lonely car snuck past, its headlights lingering on their drawn faces. Taichi shoved his hands into his pockets.
"Sora, I really-"
"Just because they don't want overpopulation."
"What?" Taichi looked at her face. It was bitter and tight.
"Because they don't want overpopulation! They're doing it in China and Java, too. That's all that the news used to be for a few days, but it was taken off suddenly and now all that the anchors talk about is how great our economy is, and how much food we have. But on the internet…on the internet you can still find listings of all the people that have been killed."
"The internet is rarely a legitimate source of information. Look, I'm sure those people just had some form of the flu, I don't think that this is some great government conspiracy here. Jeez Sora, I didn't think you were so cynical!"
He began to laugh, but she shot him a sour look.
"It's true, Tai! I swear it is!"
"Sora," he stopped and put his hand on her shoulder, but she pulled roughly away and stood in front of him.
"I got a call tonight, just an hour ago actually."
Taichi raised his eyebrow.
"My moms dead, Tai, and do you know why?" He reached out to touch her, but she jerked away sharply. "Do you know why!"
"I'm sorry," he whispered, but tears of anger were still blossoming in her eyes.
"Because this isn't the flu! You know who told me my mother was dead, Tai? Do you know!"
She was close to screeching and Taichi's head was bent down.
"Her neighbor! My mom has been dead three days, but no official reported that! None! Now tell me that something isn't going on here! Tell me that discrimination hasn't taken the place of empathy and I'll tear your heart out! Oh, and don't you want to hear how she died, Tai? Well I couldn't possibly tell you because no one knows! Not even the coroner could tell me, that or he wasn't allowed to!" She stared in fury at his lowered head, panting after the outbreak. "Three days," she mumbled, "three days." Then she sat down on the pavement and cried into her fists.