Children of the Digital

by Debbie Dai-chan

Part Fourteen: Get a comfortable seat and popcorn, people, because this chapter is a longie. You probably want to take a couple of breaks in between. :p The Nature Children go off to talk with Holy Beasts and Oikawa and Seijamon have their moments.

10. Blood and Dream

Author's Note about Willis

Now, remember, Toei didn't set the brief movie about Willis (Wallace in the Japanese version *winces*) in the continuity with the series. It's completely out of the story. It's supposed to be about Wendigomon (what a silly name, this Kokomon. x_o) 'kidnapping' the older Digidestined into some sort of a negative dimension that moves the age backward so he could find Willis.Yes, he did have a virus, but not by Diaboromon or anybody else. Just a computer bug.

In the American version (Butchered, grr. . .), it's in continuity. And very confusing, I have to say. I would choose to rant about it, but wouldn't anybody else? ;) I'm just doing my best to make my saga working around the incident of Willis and his mistake. I think I did pretty good, but if you feel that I leave out some details or make this further confusing, you have my pemission to blame Saban. ^_^ If you think I'm oddly cheerful, well, that's because I don't know what the heck I'm talking about. Why am I ranting? :p

Ok, should we go ahead and read or what?

Children of the Digital

Part Ten: Blood and Dream

By Debbie (Dai-chan)

From the blackness, he found himself in a hall of white. It was like he was in a grand hall of some mansion, just a hall with no decoartion of furtunite to line the walls, except for maybe the beautiful, mellow white light that seemed to shine from within the walls. The light wasn't blinding or bright, but soft and dim to the eyes. The light almost encouraged him to fall asleep, feeling safe in the light, but an urging kept waking him. He didn't know why, but he just had this feeling that he needed to find his missing friends.

He knew that his friends weren't here because he didn't see them. He didn't see anbody at all, but he saw his Protector and Digimon, nearby sleeping, so close that he first felt their breaths upon his cheek when he woke up. Ken sat up, trying not to wake them, and looked around. He was puzzled; where are his friends, really? Have they woken up and walked away. He immediately knew he was wrong. At the beginning, he would think that they would do that, but now, seeing that his friends were very loyal and trustworthy, he knew that they wouldn't do a thing like that. They accepted him already, accepted him into their small group of friendship and loyalty.

After scanning around, he assumed that he was alone with Kimika and Wormon. Almost not surprising, he wasn't frightened at all. He didn't see why he should panic or worry over the disappearances of his friends. He got some kind of feeling, a sensation, maybe, that his friends were alright. He felt confident about that. He just knew that he will find them eventually.

Ken looked down to Wormon, who was curled next to Kimika, also stirring to awareness. He then reached to gently shake on her shoulder. "Kimi-san?" He would choose not call her with the title 'san', but he felt it was approciate. He did call the other older kids with the title, giving them high respect, even though they mentioned taht he didn't need to. The respect he putted in the title for the Old Kids were different from what he gave to Kimika; the respect for Kimika was thankful because she chose to support him to forgive him, just as what Daisuke did for him.

As Wormon craled upon Ken's shoulder, for it was his usual resting spot, Kimika sat up and scanned around with great puzzlement in her face. Seeing that there was no injuried on his friends, Ken stood and  went to touch the walls, curious. The walls felt like smooth stones, stones that were smoothed by crashing waves. There were no flaws or scratches that stated that a person was here before them.

There was no dirt, no dust, or anything else beside the light. It was clean. Too clean

Ken aburptly got a visiont that he was trapped within the hall of the beauitful light, trapped in eternal light. That earned him a shiver up his spine.

The black-haired boy turned to Kimika. "Look like we are the only ones here." Kimika didn't answer, appearing deep in thought.

Wormon softly questioned, "I guess that we have to go find the others, if they are here somewhere?"

Ken nodded at him in agreement, then lightly frowned. "Though . . . I don't remember hearing about this place before." His dark memories of the Emperor no longer bothered him, the nightmares were nearly gones, replaced with sweet dreams of his new friends and a new life with the Digimon. He was forgiven and was already happy. The memories no longer scared him. Instead, he just recalled them, to see if, while he was the Emperor, he had ever heard a place like this. He had travelled all over the owrld, but he didn't remember a hall that shone with light.

Kimika stood and mentioned, "It's because it's hidden. I known this place. It's the Hall of Illusions."

"The Hall of . . . Illusions?" Ken was puzzled; the name sounded familiar, and he looked down to Wormon to see if  he knew.

The worm knew. "I remember it was supposed to be a kind of amusement park for Digimon, but I guess something happened to it that caused its disappearance."

"Arachnimon must have snared it under her control," she said.

He then remembered. Kimika told him about her stories of how she got her power and saw the reality behind the illusions, as she was once fond to say. He also remembered the dark tone in her voice . . ."Kim, are you afraid that . . . you are back here?"

Kimika gazed back for a moment, then shook her head. "No, I'm not afraid of this place anymore . . ." However, there was a faint frown on her lips. "But it makes me wonder. The Hall is hidden and I wonder how we got inside here. I recalled that my crest opened the entrance."

" . . . Maybe there are other entracnes." It seemed to be the logical statement.

Kimika looked not so certain. "Maybe . . ."

"And there is a way out, right?" Wormon sounded shyly hopeful. Ken knew how he felt. He still felt trapped in the strange eternal light and was looking forwrad to get out.

"Yes, there is," she said. "You have to believe that this place is not real. That's how we get out by looking behind the illusions."

"Look behind the illusions . . ." Ken gazed around and briefly shook his head. "Kim, i have to say this place is difinitely real."

"I know . . ." Kimika frowned toward the walls, appearing to use her power to see anything strange or out of the orindary. She then exhaled. "Well, never mind this. I suggest we do what Wormon said."

"Me?" Wormon was astonished, his tiny anntennae raising upward. "What did I say?"

Kimika smiled and reached to friendly rub under the Digimon's chin. "Finding the others."

Wormon's yellow and blue shell reddened and Ken just had to grin at the comical sight. Wormon cleared his throat, "Oh, ok, we need to find the others, but where to go?"

Ken had the answer for him. He quietly pointed to his right down the hall. There was no way to tell if there was a door or even an exit on either side, but Ken had this feeling that something was waiting over there. It was possible to see if it had something with their search. Worth a try. "I have a feeling that we need to go there."

"A feeling?" Kimika appeared untrusting, gazing at him carefully. "How bad?"

The Friend was puzzled. "Bad? Nothing like that. Just a feeling."

"I see . . . " the Seer gave the hall a suspicious gaze.

"Kim, are you okay?"

She seemed to quickly shake her head. "Nothing. Come on." She moved on, toward what Ken had pointed at. There was distrust in her body, he noticed, and he followed behind, watching her movements. He had learned that when she may be quiet and reserved, her body language was very easy to read. She didn't know how to hide her feelings, or perhaps just didn't see how she should hide them. The way she walked like that showed that she was uneasy about this place, despite her words. Maybe it was not that she was scared of the place. It was something else.

Ken strode up to her side and spoke, "Kim, something is bothering you, I can tell that."

Kimika slowed into a stroll, meeting his purple-blue gaze. "No, it's not something that bothers me." Her brown eyes scunitized around. "I can't help but feel that there is a reason for us to be here, alone, in this place."

"How can you tell?"

The Seer made a knowing grin. "How can I tell? I'm the Seer. I can see the future."

He knew that she was named the Seer, but he never assumed that that meaned she was a prophet. She didn't mention anything like that. "You really can . . .?"

Kimika shrugged. "Not that good, but I can see things that are hidden."

Ah, clairvoyance. That would make sense.

Wormon was talking, "Did you see something else here?"

"It's not the way it works. Often, if I see or touch something unique, it could trigger an event or an image that could happen anything in the future. My sight is not that accurate."

Ken lightly frowned as he regarded an exit ahead.The exitway seemed to lead into a room, but he didn't get a good look inside. They paused before it, Kimika peering in with a serious face. There must be something that she noticed and they haven't. Ken asked, "Then, Kim, what do you feel about the reasons we are here?"

"It's a test, Ken." There was a such certainity in her voice that Ken was startled to hear. It almost didn't sound like her, but sounded like the Seer.

"Test?" he repeated. "Like the tests Sanimon gave?"

She quietly shrugged her hands, stating that she didn't know. "I don't know for sure, but I think we will find out. Prepare yourself." As she stepped in, Ken simply nodded. Anything that seemed outlandish tend to happen to them in a few minutes. Ken felt that he will see something new.

He entered the room and was astonished to see a room like that. Wormon might be right; the Hall of Illusions perhaps was an amusement park. This room reminded him of a typical hall with all the mirrors, bent and twisted, giving the reflections an interesting, disoriented appearence. But the six life-size mirrors present weren't bent at all, but stood erect and sharp. The reflections were what astonished him. Different reflections looked back, reflections of his, yes, but different.

He went to the first mirror, where Kimika stood in front, a bewildered look in her face. There were reflections of a younger Kimika, Ken, and Wormon in the mirror, wearing the same expressions. He looked down to his reflection, a four-years-old boy in dark blue nightclothes that matched his wide eyes. On his shoulder, there was Wormon, but in his Digibaby stage of Leafmon. Beside them, the seven-years-old Kimika was touching the surface, at where the older Kimika also touched. She was in nightclothes, too, a long nightgown of light purple and her black hair in two pigtails.

"That's what I looked like when I saw my first Digimon," Kimika whispered. "Back then at the apartment where Tai, Joe, and everybody else saw their first Digimon, a Red Greymon and a Parrotmon fighting . . ."

Ken nodded, staring at his reflection. His curiosity about the other mirrors grew and he, along with Kimika, moved to the next one. The reflections seemed to age four years later. Ken was very surprised to see his reflection wearing the clothes he recalled when his older brother taught him how to blow bubbles; a grey short and a light blue shirt. Wormon, in his In-Training stage of Minomon, was still on his shoulder. Kimika looked like she was eleven, in her clothes when she first entered the Digiworld, a red tank-top with the black stripe across her chest, blue jeans, yellow gloves and boots, along with the red-tinted sunglasses upon her braided hair.

They moved to the third one, which showed them in their present ages and clad in casual clothing; Kimika in her black tunic, black jeans, and white sneakers and Ken in his black and purple striped shirt and khaki pants. Wormon remained the same. The fourth mirror showed a funny reflection of Stingmon appearing to sit upon Ken's shoulder, which drew a few laughs from the trio. But then Ken noticed that his own reflection was also changed, unlike Kimika's. While Kimika wore her grey fighting uniform, Ken appeared to be clad in a black and white uniform. He wore a long-sleeved tunic, pants, and mocassions, all black except for white lining among the ends and sides.  The black clothes seemed to be loose for moevemnts. He didn't know why, but he had the impression that he was dressed like a ninja.

"That's an interesting place, don't you think?" Ken said as he turned to the fifth mirror. Kimika was silent, staring in the mirror, then followed after him, a thoughtful look in her eyes. The fifth mirror was very odd, indeed, for it showed Kimika in an unusual reflection. She wore the same uniform, but it seemed to be darker in the light, he wasn't sure, and instead of the rich brown eyes, there was darkness in her eyes, or . . . perhaps the darkness was the eyes, orbs of the blackest black. There was a faint silver light around her, almost unseen, but Ken could see and was curious. Wormon was there, too, in his Armor Form of Suiginmon. Ken frowned; there was no reflection of him.

"What happened to my reflection?" he wondered out loud.

"I believe this mirror shows the powers," Kimika murmured, touching the mirror, meeting the fingers of her reflection. "As you see, it shows my power and Wormon's Armor form, but you have none, so no reflections."

As the Friend stared intently at the mirror, he would swear that he did see something else, something that looked very close to him. His reflection was in there, he was positive, but if he did have a reflection in this mirror, would it mean he has a power? He mentally scoffed. Why would he has one? What was the point? Even if he did have one, he didn't feel worthy to have one. He was happy enough being himself, and he was sure that he didn't need to be someone else.

Ken turned to his Protector and shrugged. "Maybe that is why."

The sixth mirror was completely different, totally surprised the trio that it drew out a gasp from Kimika, a step back from Ken, and a violent shudder from Wormon.  There was only two reflections and Wormon's wasn't one of them. The reflection wasn't Kimika, even though she was the twin, Ken knew it. He knew Kimika well enough to know that the reflection wasn't difinitely hers. Despite the appearance, the reflection was too . . . dark. The posture showed that there was no emotion, no feeling within. The eyes were too blank, too dead to be hers. The face was stony, impassivity, expressionless, but it bore the faintest hint of emptiness, as if there was no life behind the facade.

Wormon buried his head in Ken's neck, whimpering, and he felt sympathy for him. The dead eyes made him feel like he was nothing, meant nothing. "Who is she . . . ?" he voiced.

Kimika met the dark twin's gaze with heavy pity and hurt in her gaze. She managed to answer, "This is my dark self, the Stranger.'

Stranger . . . He recalled her stories, the stories that she spoke with a heavy heart. The stories about how she met her dark self. Ken never doubted her; he knew how he felt when he recalled about his dark self, the Emperor. He remembered that she bore the stories differently from what he carried his stories. When he was shamed of his dark self, she didn't sound guilty or ashamed, just heavy remorseful, mentioning that she could have  become her dark self if she didn't go to the Digiworld and changed her life. The Stranger of Emptiness.

Ken turned to stare at the other reflection. His reflection. His dark self. The Emperor. Unlike the emptiness the Stranger held, the Emperor clearly held cruelty and harm. The dark grin, the bright, scheming twilight eyes, the arrogant posture, the dark clothes . . . It was no doubt that it was the reflection of the Emperor. He only hoped it was only a reflection . . .

His Digimon again whimpered, a pitiful sound, and Ken rested a hand on the shell. Turning to her, he said, "Why are we here? We have to leave." He took another step toward the entrance.

"No, wait," Kimika said, not leaving her gaze from the mirror. "There msut be a reason why we are here. We have to find what."

Ken shook his head violently, his blue-black hair brushing his cheek. "No, Kim, we don't have to." He whirled toward the entrance and stopped there, his face drawing in a disbelived expression. The entrance was closed. How could it be possible? There was no door! Nothing! "Hey, let us go!" Ken pounded on the seeming doorless wall, but to no success.

Suddenly, but slowly, the light dimmed. The walls seemed to lose the light, turning black, as the light lost its white color, turning into a weak grey. Ken turned to Kimika, who had the panicked look on her face. He thought it was her doing, but the look proved him wrong. "Kim!"

She was frightened, shaking her head. "My power doesn't work here! We are trapped!"

Like hell he was trapped! Ken focused on what he can do, which was pounding on the walls and mirrors. He knew it was silly and a waste of breath, but he sure won't wait and fidget. He won't feel helpless again. The mirrors seemed too solid to break through, and the bouncing, panicked reflections didn't help to ease their panic. The light continued to dim, weakening his sight, and he struggled to see around. He noticed something bewildered. He saw that the dark reflections wasn't moving, not following the real kids' movements. They just stood there, sneering and watching . . . As if they were alive . . .

The light blackened, removing any degree of visilsibity. Ken froze, not knowing what to do. He had the sudden senation that he was alone, really alone. He couldn't hear Kimika's breathing or voice and Wormon somehow vanished right into midair, his weight on his shoulder gone. It was too quiet . . . Fearfully quiet . . .

"Wormon-kun?" Ken dared to whisper out, his voice barely echoing. "Kimi-san?" He then staggered around blindly, his hands moving in front. " . .  Answer me, please."

At the same time, a breath inhaled and a mellow white light came out from behind him. He again froze, because of two things. FIrst, the breathing sounded like Kimika, but he knew that it wasn't her. He wasn't alone. And the light . . . It didn't have the softness, the gentleness to it as Kimika had in her LIght Power. The light felt empty, felt that there were no colors shining within the whiteness. It was glaringly bland.

He stepped around, cautiously, to see the mirror that reflected the dark selves shining with the bland light. The Stranger was there, standing alone. Her dead eyes were staring at him with no sensation of pleasure or disapproval. Just a cold stare that Ken suddenly wanted to get away from. He was puzzled, although. He recalled that when Kimika told her stories, she mentioned that her dark self was destoryed, thanks to her friends' loyalty. THe Stranger was supposed to be gone, supposed to be nonexistant.

"You are alive . . ." Ken dared to speak his thoughts, carefully watching the reactions of the Stranger.

She only blinked once, moved forward to 'step out' the mirror, the actions causing it to ripple like water. Her voice was flat and toneless, "I'm always alive, Friend of Kindness."

Teh voice shivered him, and Ken urged himself to keep his compusure. "What did you do to them?"

The Stranger didn't answer, instead  quietly gestured toward the rest of the mirrors. Ken glanced at them cautiously and was startled to see his friends in a mirror. Those weren't reflections, but the real Kimika and Wormon. They appeared to be within the mirror, trapped, staring out with expressions of bewildered confusion.

The Friend rushed to them, kneeling down, pounding the surface. It won't break. He made a hissing sound. "What did she do to you?" he whispered to them, knowing that they couldn't hear him. He turned to the Stranger. "Let them out!"

"Only if you defeat me, then I will," the Stranger said calmly.

Ken scowled. "Defeat you? Why? What is the point to this?"

"Didn't you hear what your Protector said?" The Stranger made a brief glance around the room and continued, "It's a test and the test is to face me and defeat me so your friends will be free."

The Friend didn't like it. He didn't see the point why he should fight her. If it was a test, it was a stupid one. She was a dark self and probably had the advantage of enhanced poewr, for he knew when he used the living darkness to enhance his henchmen. Also, there was no doubt that she had the Light Power, and so he was at a disadvantage. It was a stupid test. But . . . Isn't that what the Digiworld taught him to do? Learning how to take advantage in a disadvantage? He had fought battles of his makings, his nightmares, and the Digiworld's nightmares, as well. He earned friendship and forgiveness. Maybe this disadvantage could be his advantage . . .  Wasn't that what he was prepared for . . . ? He faced two tests, one that broke him from self-pity into forgiveness and another that woke him to his unique trait of Kindness. What kind of test would this one be?

He had to face it.

Ken inhaled and met the gaze of Kimika. She seemed to know what was going on, and she was shaking her head in answer. The eybrows were crossed in disagreement, but there was fright in her eyes. Ken knew. She was frightened for him. He placed a hand upon the surface, and she also placed her hand on the surface. He kinda hoped that way he could feel her fright, but he won't let fear overcome him. He faced the darkness once too many and it hardened him. It was pointless to be scared when he already had confidence in himself.

Ken gave her a gentle smile. "Kim, I will be fine. I have faith in myself. I'm ready." He then grinned confidently down to the silent Wormon and stood up to face the Stranger. The Stranger haven't moved from her spot.

"Are you sure that you are ready, Friend?"

Ken resisted a scowl. He cherished his title, liked the humbleness, the power behind the word, but he didn't like the way the Stranger used his title. It made him sounded like he was a stranger as well. "Anything you throw at me, I will face it."

"Anything?"

"Anything." He knew he should't say it, but he had to be ready for anything.

The Stranger tilted her head in reaction, and then her right hand flickered in movements. To his astonishment, his shadow beneath him jumped into life, pulled out of reality by the Stranger's power, and laid in front of her, in a formless black puddle. She spoke, "Then will you face the source of all your hatred, fear, and anger?"

Ah, a stupid test, indeed. Ken allowed another frown on his face, this time tinted with boredom. "Can you just do better than that? It's getting old."

The Stranger shot him a look that hint her disapproval, if the stone face was possible to express anything. "I'm not finished." A sweeping gesture, and the shadow leaped for his eyes.

Ken plunged into blackness, but he knew that he was still standing on solid ground, and so he stubbornly told himself that it was not real. He was here in the room, just blinded by his shadow . . .

As quick as the blackness blinded him, it was gone, and Ken found himself in a desert. For some reason, he recognized the place . . . The desert where he met his brother. Ken inhaled in disbelief. The illusion that Malomyotismon drew him in. He searched for the scene where Digimon 'deleted' him for his punishment or the sight of his brother, but there was nothing. Nothing but . . . bubbles. Ken softly gasped, for they looked so alike the bubbles he and Sam once made. He watched as bubbles floated aimlessly past him. One by one, he noticed that there was something inside the tiny bubbles. Flashes of scenes. Voices.

Sam laughes, grinning to his young brother, who was holding a bubble blower. 'You are so gentle unlike me. Tha's what I like about you, Kenny boy.'

Ken was startled. " . . .  Sam?" He tried to see more, but the scene was gone, and the bubble quietly joined its brethen in the drifts.

"Mama, Dad?" The young Ken appears to stand outside of a picture-like scene, where Mama and Dad sit by Sam, laughing altogether. Young Ken wants to cry. "I'm here . . . Why can't they see me?"

Ken bristled. Not again . . . He closed his eyes, forced himself to hear the voices.

The sound of someone slapping a hand and Sam's sharp voice. "Never touch my things, you hear me?!

"I wish Sam would go away. I wish he never exists." There is a tone that is almost dark in Young Ken. "Then Mama Dad will see me."

Ken flinched at the sound of a car crashing into someone and the brief screaming.

Young Ken wails, "I didn't mean to make this happen! Please, Sam! Come back!"

Ken ignored the tears that fell on his cheeks. He knew he wasn't heartless. He was still hurt with his past. But the stupid Stranger . . .  taking advantage of him.

He heard his laugh, the laugh that was born out of the Emperor. "I will become better than those weak insects! I'm the Digimon Emperor!"

"I know you are always kind and gentle," Wormon speaks, a knowing smile in his voice. "That's the Ken-chan I know."

A cracking of a whip. "Work, you worms!"

Amidst of the Digimon's yelps of pain, he heard his best friend's voice, angry and frustrated, "You are a Digidestined like us!"

"Digimon are alive like you and me!" Takeru's voice is hot with rage. "How could you treat them like nothing?"

Thousands of Digimon's voices, yelling in unison, mixed with pain, anger, and disbelief. "You are a monster! A monster! A monster! A monster!

"Stop!" Ken finally yelled, yelled to drown the voices. He clapped his hands over his ears and knelt down. "Stop it! My memories no longer haunt me, so stop it, Stranger!"

"Then why are you cowering there like a pathetic worm?"

Ken popped his eyes at the voice. His voice. The Emperor's voice. He slowly gazed up and saw his dark twin standing before him. His face controted into a grimace. Of course. The Stranger would do that. It was nothing but a cheap illusion. "You are not real."

The Emperor made an exaggerated, annoyed sigh. "How many times do I have to say it? I. Am. real." He furiously tapped on his head. "Get it through your thick skull!"

"Go away." Ken became calm, staring back. No need to waste his energy on the illusion.

The Emperor just grinned with dark eagerness. "It's very nice of you to grovel at my feet. Are you ready to fight me?"

Kensaid nothing. What was the point to fight an illusion? Nothing of this was real. All he had to do was believe that it was not real.

The Emperor seemed frustrated at his calmness. "Come on, Kenny boy! Your friends will be very disappointed if you don't fight me. You will be seen as a coward."

Ken simply shook his head. "I'm not a coward never am." He then smirked as he stood up. "I don't fight you because you are not real, my brother." He was pleased to hear the mocking tone in his voice. He was confident that he will defeat the Stranger that way.

He turned away, and almost suddenly, he heard a cracking of a whip. He tensed, but it was too late. The whip slashed upon his back, sending pure hot daggers through his body. He gasped, but not screamed, as he fell down. He forced himself to resist the pain and told himself that nothing of this was real. Not real. Not real.

The dark laughter rang in the air. "How real can it be?" Another slashing of the whip upon his back.

'I know it is not real!' Ken bit on his lip from the pain. 'Why can't the illusion go away?!'

'Look behind the illusions . . .'

The Friend closed his eyes, puzzled. Kimika? What did she say before . . .? Look behind the illusions? How? He tried! He has tried! He knew that the Emperor was not real, the pain wasn't real, the desert wasn't real. Why can't it go away . . .? The pain . . . He noticed . . . it was the same to his pain of suffering . . . It was the pain to remember his memories, the pain from being the Emperor. The Emperor was him, not an illusion. The desert was real because . . . that was where he first met Wormon . . . It was real . . . Everything was real . . . That was why the illusion didn't go away because it wasn't an illusion . . . He had to face it . . . Face what?

Look behind the illusions . . .

What was the illusion . . .? Nothing of this was an illusion . . . What was  the illusion? Who was the illusion?

Stranger.

Suddnely, he knew what to do. He will defeat it. He was confident and determined. He never felt that way before, even when he faced Malomyotismon with his friends. It was his test alone, with no help. It was his turn. He felt something new, stirring within the pain he bore. Something that bore warmth, not body heat or anything that represent heat, but the warmth that he held for himself. He was cleansed from his pain, not matter how long the memories stay with him. Nothing of this may not be a illusion, but it didn't mean that he had to reject them. They were part of him. He knew it and he accepted it.

He knew who he was. He was Kindness, bearing warmth for anybody who was hurting inside, willing to share the pain. A power was awakened within him. One of the powers. The Power of an Armor Child.

The Friend of Kindness burst out a laughter, a laughter that was born of kindness. "Heart-Armor, Energize!"

His Crest of Kindness shone in its soft lavender shade under his shirt. It was bright and kind and it gave out a healing feeling, a cool and gentle touch that eased the pain. A new aura began shining from within him, engulfing along his outline. The aura was a deep, soft black, the blackness that came from the night, a peaceful blackness that caressed during Sleep, as warm, gentle rays of lavender spread outward, seeming to break through the night blackness into a new purple dawn.

His grey uniform darkened into black, the blackest of the black, and the details adjusted to match his kindness, his spirit, his power. A long-sleeved tunic covered his upper body, loose-fitting and yet comfortable and silent in movements, along with white strips tied around his wrists and elbows, crisscrossing across his chest and arms. His pants were loose, as well, and also tied with white strips, and he wore black gloves and mocassions, as well. A black face mask covered his lower face and head, allowing only his eyes to peer out. His clothes represented a Japanese ninja, and a ninja he was, silent, obversant, and a killer only when he needed to.

Because he paid his mistakes with his blood, he was simply called as Blood.

With amazing flexibilty that would make a gymnast envious, Blood twisted himself into a standing position, facing the Emperor. His twilight eyes sparkled with softness yet danger, stating that even the gentle, kind Friend can be bloody dangerous. The Emperor was startled at the movements, but regained his bearings and attacked with his whip. Blood dodged them with quickness, bending backward and sidestepping. The Emperor was too astonished to defend himself, and Blood took the chance. He thrust his right foot forward and crashed against the Emperor's head.

The Emperor screamed. It wasn't his. It was the Stranger's scream. The Emperor fell to the ground, holding his head. An instant later, as the details blurred, the Stranger laid in place of the Emperor, holding her head. The illusion was the Stranger. Her power was lost to his power, and again, the details around him blurred, and he stood in the room of the mirrors, with his friends still trapped in a mirror and the Stranger struggling to gather her composure.

"Fighting with your illusions . . ." Blood spoke, his voice new and calm. It also grinned. "Are you afraid to face reality, Stranger?"

If she could cast him a frown, she would. But she didn't. Just staring back. Still, there was disapproval in her voice. "I will not be defeated before I have my revenge . . ." A hand gestured toward him. A beam of darkness leaped out.

From his raised hand, a black and white shield appeared out of the air, spread outward, getting bigger until it was twice his size in diameter. It held in stabilty as the beam struck upon the surface. It seemed that the shield had a power to resist another power and the beam exploded upon the contact. The darkness faded into the dim light. Light swallowed darkness.

His black aura crept down to his hands at the same time the shield was summoned. His heart weapons. Curled metals appeared among his fingers, sharp in lethalness and glimmering in the light. Claws. Claws that represent a tiger, a bear, a dragon. His claws. The metal was hued blood red, as if it was dripped in his blood, not dried and rusty, but wet and bright red, fresh red. The metal claws were tied around his fingers with hard leather, colored black upon black gloves, making the metal claws appearing real claws.

He removed his shield and noticed that he was alone once again. No Stranger. He didn't move, his eyes the only ones moving, searching for her. Then she appeared in front. And another. And another. Six Strangers. Standing in the front of the six mirrors, the dead eyes watching him. Illusions, he noticed, and which one was real?

They spoke in one voice, "You may have faced your darkness, but can you face the Seer's darkness?"

Blood took a glance around and smiled.

Six. Six mirrors.

One. One showed the reflection.

He knew. "Sure, I can. She showed me."

Blood burst forward, not making a move to slash the Stranger standing before him, but moving past her, even as she moved not. He aimed for the mirror. Red flashed, and his claws slashed across the surface of a mirror, drawing white lines, then the surface cracked. Cracked again. Shattered. He didn't stop. As one of the Strangers faded into nothing, a simple illusion, he leaped over to the next one, also shattering it down with his claws. He was a black blur, moving in a circle, shattering the mirrors and the five Strangers faded into midair. Then he stopped.

One mirror left. The real Stranger. She gestured toward him, but he was too swift. Keeping his body low, he darted past her and drew long lines upon the last mirror, lines that shattered the surface, destorying the Stranger. The dark Kimika gasped, winced once, then disssovled into digital pixels.

Blood stopped by the last mirror and glanced inside it. Kimika and Wormon were there, finally free from the Stranger's illusions. She stood up, a bit unsteadily, with Wormon perched on her shoulder. Blood reached to hold her. "Are you guys are all right?"

Wormon grinned and nodded as Kimika said, "We are alright, thanks to you."

Blood smiled behind the mask, and suddenly, a dazzle came around him. It was not glaring, but the black dazzle had solidity to it, as bright and as deep as the night. His ninja clothes and claws were gone, perhaps now within his power. His clothes were new, the same to his reflection in the fourth mirror. Upon the black shirt, the Crest of Kindness was still glowing with a soft light, lightening the dark room, reflected off the shattered mirrors. The light caused tiny rays to dance in the darkness like purple stars.

Kimika appeared thoughtful as she let Wormon crawling upon Ken's shoulder. He gave the worm a warm hug; he will never get tired of hugs and he knew that Wormon was fond of hugs, even though he shied toward other kids' touches. He watched as Kimika walked up to where the Stranger once stood and reached down to pick up something. He was puzzled and he took a look down to her hand.

There was a doll in her hand, plush and small enough to lay in the palm. The doll looked exactly alike to her, with the grey uniform and the quiet smile. He looked up to her face and knew immediately that she wasn't thinking about the doll, but something else. He can tell that. He waited until she looked to him and she spoke. Her words surprised him.

"It's amazing when you think about it." She glanced down to the doll. "Even since I joined my friends in our adventures, I had learned that anything could and can happen anywhere, anytie. We are living in a world that there are possibilties that we would never think of, but only dream of. Dreams . . .memorires . . . they are what we know, what we wish to become true."

Ken nodded with understanding. "Yes, but there is also reailty to remind us of our love, our friendship, our lives. If there was no reality, then there would be no imagination."

He was surprised at his words, but some how, it made sense. Kimika smiled and nodded. "Yes, you are right . . ."

Ken then felt that he needed to say something. He noticed that the place was not real, after all. There was a haze around the edges of the vision, very hard to notice, but it was there. He suspected that the haze hinted at something. It showed that the place was real, but only in the mind. A memory.

"Speaking of memories," Ken said, "We are in your memories, where you first found your power."

"And faced the Stranger." Kimika finished. Her fingers curled around the doll. "There are many memories; mine, yours, and everybody else . . . I sometimes wonder if we are living in someone's thoughts, memories, dreams . . ."

Ken faintly smiled; Kimika can be dreamy, sometimes, but her words could make sense if he considered carefuly about them.

He heard his Digimon speaking, and he was startled. His words seemed innocent, but it could be true . . . "I wonder if we are living in the memories of the Final Evil . . ."

Kimika gazed at him, not startled or frowning, but pensive, as if she was thinking the same. Her only responses were a small sigh and a brief shrug. She then looked over to the Friend, asking, "Is there a way out of my memories?"

He  nodded in answer and his hand lightly touched on his crest. By his touch, the Crest of Kindness brigthened its lavender glow, filling the room and glaring off the shattered pieces. Within the light, a thick beam shone upon the air. He noticed with interest that the beam shone on the air, not in the air, as it should be. He lived in the Digiworld long enough to know it wasn't always the case. The beam appeared to open something from the air, looking like a hole, a hoe in space, perhaps. As the hole widened in size, he saw a new enviroment that he didn't hear of. It appeared that it was a beach, surrounded by cliffs and black waters that crashed upon grey sands. Two lighthouses, one white and another black, stood up on shelves, each shining its own color of the light; white and black, respectively. The beach seemed to be the negative dimension of a normal beach.

The Seer and Friend, along with Wormon, silently stepped into the beach, for words didn't need to be exchanged about the beach. THey knew that they needed to get out, and the beach had the sensation of safety. So they moved on.

However, there was a light, proud smile playing on her lips for her ward.

***

He admited that he was very surprised to find himself at the beach.

Willis stood near the shore, watching the two lighthouses shining their lights. The white light, beside the marble-white lighthouse, was the only white object at the beach. It blinded him, but he would prefer to look at it than even glance to the black lighthouse. The black lighthouse spooked him. He didn't know why, but every time he looked at it, he felt a creep crawling up his back, tickling his neck. Cleo told him that they could represent the light and the dark, and he didn't doubt it. But it wasn't the darkness about the black lighthouse that spooked him. It was the fact that it looked . . .  well, solid, while the white lighthouse appeared pale, transparent. It didn't happen before. They used to look the same, but now that the black lighthouse looked more solider, stronger while the white lighthouse seemed to be wispy, filmy . . . he had an eerie feeling that he knew what did that mean and he didn't want to think of what. He didn't know if Cleo or Hikari noticed it.

His Digimon, perching on him, were gazing at the beach with deep awe. Terriermon usually got bored easily, he was brilliant and always wanted to learn new things. If he stayed in one place too long, he will die bored, he once said with a grin. But the cream-colored bunny, laid on the top of WIllis's head, watched the lighthouses with wide black eyes, unusually quiet for the talkative Digimon. Lopmon was different; It wasn't because he was mute, but it was because he was scared. Willis can feel the tension in the infantine Digimon on his shoulder, his tiny cheek resting on his own cheek for comfort. Willis gave him a brief pat on his head, careful of the three horns, his usual way to comfort the chocolate-colored bunny.

"Where are we?"

Willis noticed the dark agitation in Takeru's voice. There was one other thing that Willis was surprised about. He knew that only Digiwalkers can come here; not other Digidestined or Digimon can come here, and yet, Takeru and their Digimon were here by accident. He didn't get it how did that happen. Maybe the abilties of the Digiwalkers can extend to people who were near enough to make it possible for them to travel to the beach. Willis was uncertain about it. All he knew now was that Takeru was scared stiff.

Takeru was the last one to wake from the strange blackness, the blackness that Vampdevimon gave. Willis watched as Hikari tried her best to calm the blonde. He was frightened, his azure eyes wide and pale, as he gazed around. Cleo stood a bit away, had already tried to calm him, as well. Beside her, Gatomon was darkly silent, her wide ears flattened as she glared to nobody. Patamon was afloat, not uneasy, but worried, clearly for Takeru.

"TK, calm down!" Hikari held on his arm, gently stroking his shoulder until he finally gazed back to her. "Calm down . . . It's alright." She gave him a reassuring smile. "We are at where I first met Cleo as the Watcher, remember? It's safe."

'Safe?' Willis didn't stop himself from mentally thinking to himself, lightly frowning. 'I feel it's just false security.' He should know to keep his thoughts to himself. Hikari and Cleo can hear him very well, just like he was shouting outloud. Cleo didn't look to him, appearing quiet, but there was a light expression of calmness in her face as Hikari turned her head to give him a warning glare. Surely, she didn't want Takeru to know that. Willis simply gave her an apologiziing look.

Takeru ran a hand through his fair hair, his other hand wringed on the white hat. Beside the fright in his face, he appeared confused as he fixed a gaze to Hikari. "Kari, you don't look scared . . . Isn't this the same place where . . .?"

"No, it's not," Hikari said, shaking her head. "It's not the Dark Ocean."

"Then why do this place look so alike?" Gatomon mentioned her first words.

Cleo answered, "I don't know why this place looks like the Dark Ocean, but I can assume you that it's a part of the DIgiworld. You have nothing to worry about."

Takeru scowled, not believing. "Nothing to worry about? Is it safe?"

Cleo said nothing, her jade eyes guarded.

Willis felt the azure eyes on him, but he remained silent, remembering the frown on Hikari.

" . . . Kari?"

WIllis listened as Hikari sighed and continued, "It's one of the places where darkness dwells. THe darkness does have the power to lure us to attack us, but it never does. So far, it haven't." She placed a pink-gloved hand on his arm for reassurement. "Don't worry, TK. Even though it feels dark and frighteningly, I feel safe here."

"Yes, if it's possible to be safe in the face of the darkness," the blonde's voice snapped with scorn. His arms hugged around him, but it didnt' chase away the shivers from him.

Willis knew about Takeru's warm and hopeful attitude and the way he always did his best to cheer up people. He thought that Takeru would never get mad or hold any grudge over anybody, and that was why he was astonished to hear the scorn in his voice. Hikari and Cleo did nothing to him, just looked on with light worry, and Willis grew puzzled. Was there another side to Takeru that he hasn't met?

"What's the matter?" Willis asked as he arrived to the group.

"What?" Takeru turned to him, still scowling.

"Why are you so tense about being here?"

The scowl softened, but the fright was still there. "I just don't like the darkness."

The answer puzzled him, but he didn't ask any further. He didn't want to provoke Takeru's fright or anger, whatever it was present. He would be more than glad to help, but he didn't know Takeru well enough, and so he left Hikari and Patamon tending to him. He glanced over to Cleo and noticed that she was listening. Not listening to any sound, but using her telepathic abilities to listen. She was confused, her head tilted to one side.

He remembered that using his voice can stir the darkness and try to lure him, so he decided to use his mind-voice. 'Cleo, what's the matter?'

The jade eyes met his cobalt eyes. 'Do you feel them?'

He did't doubt that he had some limited telepathic ability. He just had the feeling. Some people told him that he appeared so aware that they thought he noticed something that they missed. He couldn't call that telepathic ability, but after recalling the ability to sense people coming before they arrive and to know what words a person will say before he said it, he guessed that he did have some telepathic ability. After finding out that he was a Digiwalker, he was kinda glad that he had an ability that very few have. It showed taht he was special.

He felt his mind's eye expanding, to feel the air, the space in between, and he suddenly received vagueness and manyness that it almost overwhelmed. He needed to take it easily. He stengthened the ability and began to notice solidity and existance of something. He felt the presenses of people present. There were many colors in his mind-eye, blurred and hazy, like a desert haze. The colors weren't stable, mingling into each other, but they seem trying to become stable, mingling and separating at the same time.

Willis frowned. 'What are they?'

'Our friends,' he heard the soft pink tone from Hikari as she joined in. She appeared puzzled, too. 'I can feel them, but I don't get it. They are close, but I don't see them.'

'That's why I'm confused,' Cleo nodded.

Willis was bewildered at that. Cleo's mind abilities were extraoridinary, powerful, and yet she couldn't sense the presences clearly?

He heard the uncertainity in Takeru's voice as he said, "Why do I feel like you are talking without moving your mouths?"

Cleo's mental voice was bolder, meaning that it was heard in Takeru's  and the other Digimon's minds, as well. 'Keep your voice down, Takeru.' The blonde and the Digimon jumped at that, wide-eyed. 'We may be safe here, but the darkness can hear us. I'm using telelpathy, so it won't hear me. Sorry that I didn't tell you eariler,' she added with a comforting smile toward them, then a quiet frown appeared. 'And yes, we are talking. I feel presenes of our friends, but oddly, I can't see them or find them.'

Terriermon spoke, "Are they here right now or . . .?"

'They are here, but . . .' she palced a finger on her lips in thought. 'Their presenses are weak, hazy . . . lost. I can't find their exact whereabouts.'

Hikari verbally spoke, knowig that her telepathic ability wasn't as strong as Cleo's. "Do you sense everybody?"

Cleo was quiet for a moment, her eyes focused. ' . . . well, I sense the Old Kids and the New Kids together, along with the New Digimon . . .But the Old Digimon are up there, somehwere.' She pointed upward to the cliff behind them, towrad the top.

So that was what the colors were. They were familiar to him, but he couldn't tell what. Now he recognized the colors as the colors of their crests. He used his mind's eye as his real eyes, trying to see who was with who. All of them were very close together, but he noticed that there was a pattern in the colors. The first colors he saw, a haze of silver and lavender, were obviously Kimika and Ken, along as a small spot of lavender, which must be Wormon. No Iyumon here. Then the mix of midnight blue, fiery orange, and two ovals of peach orange idenitied Yamato, Taichi, Daisuke, and Veemon.

Yes, there was a pattern. The New Kids were with their Protectors. He found it unusual. There was no randomness. If they were separated, it tended to have randomness and anybody would be with anybody. There was no way that the New Kids would be with their Protectors all of a sudden. There was something fishy going on.

He missed out the rest of the conversation, but he caught the last words of Patamon as he said, "Well, what can we do now?"

Cleo paused for an instant, then raised up a hand. When he saw her doing that, he knew why. She placed her hand in the air, looking like she was cutting through something. Her hand slashed down through the air, but to his puzzlement, nothing happened. She was puzzled, too. 'It's odd, indeed. I can't make a tear. We can't get out . . .'

"What, a tear?" Takeru muttered. "You talk in words I don't understand."

Hikari tried to explain, "Cleo told me Digiwalkers can . . . 'cut' through space, forming in the air . . ." She trailed off, noticing the great befuddlement in Takeru's face. "Ok, imagine a blanket hanging in front of you and your desired area behind it. With a knife, you rip through the blanket and step through it. It's the way it works. We can step from here to any other place by 'cutting' through space." As Takeru nodded in understanding, Hikari glanced to Cleo with an anxious visage. "But if you said you can't make a tear . . . we are trapped here."

"Trapped . . ." Takeru made a dark grimace.

Willis quietly glanced around the beach. He remmbered that he had walked down the length of the becah. Despite the fact that the beach appeared small, the distance was misjudged. The beach was huge and long, the ends hidden around the cliffs. It was the same with the shelves where the lighthouses stood. The shevles looked short in height, but as you got closer, they became unbearably tall and steep. It was possible that while he can see the colors up-close, the distance between them could be far away, probably nearby to the shelves or at the ends of the beach, hidden. It was worth a try.

"Guys . . ." he said mildly, "May I suggest we go in groups and search for either the way out or the others?"

"Separating up?" Takeru raised his eyebrows at him.

"It's no good to stand here and fidget." Willis then mentally slapped himself for sounding blunt and was sorry to see the dark silence coming over Takeru.

Cleo noticed the mood hanging above them and spoke gently, "Willis is right, although. We have to do something and I do like to know why can't I feel the presenes clearly and why we can't leave here." She gazed around the group. "Let's see, I can take Kari and Gatomon, and the rest of you can go together. It's good enough, and we can call on each other if we see danger." Since they were telepathic, although limited, the Digiwalkers had made a stragery to call upon each other for help, for it could be quicker than using the D-3s or the D-Terminals.

Willis glanced to Takeru, hoping that the suggestion would ease his mind, but the pensive Takeru quietly stared at Cleo, said nothing. He then glanced to the two new groups and noticed the number. "Wait . . ." He reached to pick up Terriermon. "Terriermon, would you mind to go with Cleo and Kari?"

Terriermon cheerfully nodded. "No problem!" Terriermon was close to Cleo, too, and he hopped over to Cleo to rest upon her head. She chuckled at that.

"I would feel confident if you have enough power, in case," Willis said.

"Willis, we have our powers to protect each other," Hikari smiled. "You don't need to worry."

He smiled back. "I know."

He watched as the group departed, walked along the right part of the beach. He doubt that there was danger around; it's never been one, even though the darkness was present. His cobalt gaze returned to Takeru and he was chestfallen to see Takeru still in his dark silence, in deep thought or something. WIllis softly sighed and touched upon his shoulder to rouse him. "TK, are you alright? I'm sorry if I make you mad or anything . . ."

Takeru looked back not with upset anger in his eyes, but with troubled uncertainity. Nevertheless, he smiled back. "No, it's nothing. It's not you at all." He rubbed his neck, taking a short scan around the beach. "I suppose we need to move on, shall we?"

They walked in silence. Not companionable silence, but uneasy and awkward silence. Willis felt awkward, not quite as close to Takeru as he was to Daisuke and Miyako. He kept on wondering if he really did hurt Takeru when he mentinoed about separating up. Obviously, Takeru had been through much more than Willis had and perhaps saw the separation in a different light. He wondered what Takeru had seen in his adventures that sparked his scorn for the darkness. He began to wish that he would take time to learn more about his new friends and understood why they were that way. He felt left out, once again.

"Willis."

The Judge almost jumped at Takeru's voice. It was calm and curious. He met his gaze, which held demanding curiosity. He wondered what Takeru thought of him.

"Pardon me if it's personal, but you . . . are really changed from the last time . . ."

He felt his mood darkening and he made a dry smile. He can't help it. He knew that eventually, they will notice that. "Am I? How so?"

He felt the gaze getting off him. "YOu are not the easy-going amible guy."

Willis shoved his hands in the shorts pockets, his eyes half-closed. "I guess I have a lot on my mind lately."

A shake of fair mane, and Takeru gazed back intently. "That's not what I mean. You are changed."

The alabster-haired boy lowered his gaze. Unwanted memories appeared in his mind and he didn't make an effort to push them away. "Well . . . I suppose I'm still upset over the incident four years ago with Lopmon."

Lopmon must have noticed the tension in his voice, for he again pressured his cheek upon WIllis's cheek and the tiny arms hugged around his neck. Willis placed a hand on him, smiling. "It's alright, Lopmon." But he noticed the intelligence in the black eyes. Lopmon may be infantine, but he was smart. He knew his surroundings, and he knew Willis very well, even better than Terriermon. Lopmon gave him an unconvincing frown.

"I can see that you are still scarred from it," Takeru said.

" . . . Scarred. Yeah, scarred is the word," Willis agreed.

Takeru glanced upward to the coming cliffs; they didn't walk fast as usual. "I think I do understand."

"You do?" He couldn't stop the wariness from his voice.

Fortunately, Takeru didn't notice it. "I have to say that I'm still scarred from my terror of seeing Angemon deleted by Devimon. I thought I'd never see him again and even when he did come back, I was still terror-stricken by the presense of evil. THat's why I tend to get upset every time I see a doing of an evil."

The Judge slowed down in his tracks, watching him. "Is that why you are tense about being here?"

Takeru also paused, nodding. He gave the surroundings an unhappy visage. "It looks very alike to the Dark Ocean where Kari disappeared to. There, I felt the power of evilness. It was unsettling."

Willis's hand tightened on Lopmon's fur, feeling the softness. "Yeah . . . it's close to what I felt. But it's not because of the evilness itself, as  you did." His voice grew dark. "It's beacause I did evil, wrongly creating a Digiegg and letting that virus taint Lopmon. That's why I still feel guiilty."

"You don't have to, anymore," Takeru sounded gentle as he smiled back. "You know that it wasn't your fault."

Willis quietly closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't want to hear anymore about it. He knew that he needed to forget his pain, but it was hard to do that. He didn't know how. He heard silence from Takeru, and was kinda glad for that and at the same time, scolded himself beacuse he knew Takeru was trying to help.

Soon, he heard another voice, Patamon's, as he murmured seemingly to himself, "Maybe we have to suffer to get what we desire."

Willis opened his eyes in bewilderement. "What?"

Takeru was puzzled, too. "Patamon, wha are you talking about?"

Patamon, perched on his digi-partner's head, appeared mediative, his black paws resting under his head. His azure eyes  gazed sharply at Willis and they seemed piercing, bright. "Willis, have you forgave yourself yet?"

He blinked, wondering why he asked that. He gazed back, wondering if the words were just simple words to speak, but Patamon was too serious for his taste. Takeru was quiet, too, looking at him, waiting for the answer. Willis again looked at Patamon and shook his head. "No, I haven't . . . How could I? It's hard to forget what I did."

"I didn't mean that you have to forget," the winged mouse voiced. "Those experiences shape you into a better person, helping you learn not to make the same mistakes again." One of the winged ears twitched. "But the shaping won't begin unless you forgive yourself."

" . . . "

"If you don't forgive yourself now, you probably never will. Each moment is very hard to handle and as each moment passes by, it gets harder and harder to do that."

Still, Willis remained silent, not beacuse he wished not to hear it, but because of his awkwardness. He felt embarrassed to say that he couldn't, he didn't know how. His response was averting his gaze away from the sharp azure eyes.

Patamon's next words were aimmed to someone else. "Lopmon, did you forgive him?"

Willis was speechless to see the chocolate bunny bobbing his head in agreement. "Lopmon, you forgave me?" Again, Lopmon nodded, a mix of understanding and sympatheic in his eyes. Willis again was silent, his thoughts turned to a certain cream bunny. His voice held a hint of sadness. " . . . Lopmon may've forgiven me, but I dont know about Terriermon."

"I'm sure he did," Takeru was sounding positive, as always. He then crossed his arms on his chest, appearing solemn. "Honestly, I don't get this. Why are you so hesitant to forgive yourself? Ken was like that, fidgeting about if anybody would ever forgive him or should be forever punished for his mistakes. He finally realized that it wasn't good to gloom over his mistakes." There was a certain degree of respect he had for Ken; deep and honest respect. "Matt had turned against us one time, and in his shame, he left us, brodding. Gabumon woke him to his realization and he forgave himself." It was no mistake noticing the pride he had for his brother. And, also, there was dignity he once regained when he spoke about himself. "Even I felt guitly when I couldn't protect Kari from the Dark Ocean, but I realized that she can protect herself and I don't have to worry too much about that.

"We all have similiar experiences and we forgive ourselves sooner or later. We felt better and we knew it was useless to brood about them." A sympathic, not pitying look, appeared on his face. "Like Patamon said, if you don't forgive yourself now, you probably never will."

Willis couldn't keep a hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his lips. "That's deep, man."

Patamon laughed with amusement, glancing down. "Oh, yeah! I never know that my boy is a poet."

"Oh, quit it, guys," Takeru muttered, but not without a smile toward the silently giggling Lopmon. He than glanaced back, again solemnly. "But do you understand what I'm saying, Willis?"

Willis silently nodded. He thought so. It may be true that Takeru did understand how he felt, but even with his words of forgiveness, he still felt the twinge of guilt in his chest. It was hard, very hard to forget what he did to Lopmon. He knew, just knew that he just had to stop blaming himself and started forgiving himself. It wasn't that easy as he thought so.

Patamon was the one who gazed up in curiostiy. "Look, we are here."

A cliff blocked them from going any further. The edge ended up in the waves; the shore became rocky and unreachable. Willis took a look at the cliff, again feeling what he always got from looking at the cliffs; a sense of protection, mixed with a sense of tension a mouse cornered by something that he couldn't see. When he first got here and looked upon the cliffs, he almost lost his composure. He thought he would be trapped forever in the strange black-and white world with the icy-cold waters, the lighthouses and the looming cliffs. Every time he felt that, he wondered if there was a purpose to the cliffs; were they protecting him from danger or keeping him away from safety?

Patamon took off Takeru's head with a flap of his ears. "Do you think that we can get over up there? I could fly and find a path."

Willis shook his head, glancing up to the top, where it seemed impossible to reach. "It's useless. The cliff is like a guardian; it's too steep, too smooth, and even though you can fly up there, the top seems to be unreachable. It's strange, I know it . . ." He exhaled quietly. "The only way out is through a tear."

Takeru peered from the corners of his eyes in a doubtful gesture, then returned his gaze to the rocks. "So we are really trapped."

Willis turned his back to the cliff; he didn't like to look at it too long. "I doubt it. I'm sure there is a way out. Somehow."

A slow nod, still uncertain. "Well, at least, we aren't in danger. There is a positive thing about this place."

He wanted to believe him, but he said nothing. Instead, his eyes turned to the vision of his mind's eye, searching for the colors of the presences. He percieved that the colors were dimmer, farther, which could mean that they remained near the lighthouses. THey didn't move at all, except for that haze that wavered the vision and made his eyes water. "The presenses are farther from here, which means they are close to the Lighthouses."

"How can it be possible?" Takeru murmured, trying to peer at what Willis saw. "It's like they are standing among us, but not here. Like . . . like they are hiding in the air."

"Or hiding in another dimension," Patamon said thoughtfully.

He didn't have the ability to sense emotions, but he almost sensed astonishment in Takeru. "That's it! I remember! Yolei, Kari, and Ken walked in another dimension, which is the Dark Ocean. Gennai said there are separate worlds, including ours, and they are connected in a way. Maybe our friends are in an dimenion."

Willis glanceda at him in interest. "There really are other worlds?"

"Yeah, and there is a world called the Dream World, where our dreams and wishes can exist in reality."

He nodded; he recalled Hikari telling him about it in one of their converstaions. "Yeah, Kari told me about it . . ." His cobalt eyes then glanced over to where the Lighthouses. He wondered how they were doing. So far, he hadn't sensed any cry of help, so he assumed that they were safe. Still, he didn't like the feleing of this place, the feeling of being trapped. He decided to check on them, just in case. In his mind's eye, he sent a flash, a line of deep sea green to stroke either Hikari's or Cleo's mind for their response.

Dread.'

The Judge quietly gasped, for the sense of dread came from Hikari. The thick line of pink flashed past his eyes, leaving behind a stroke of dread. Something was wrong. 'Cleo?' An instant later, he found himself kneeling down, panting, his hands gently holding his head, as Takeru was at his side, a hand resting on his shoulder, giving him comfort. Willis recalled that Takeru's power allowed him to heal varisou pain and injuries, and he almost felt the warm glow from the hand, could see the golden yellow light coming from it and filling him with coolness and relief. It helped him a bit, but the heavy agony remained in his head.

As Willis sat upright, trying to clear his head, Takeru questioned steadily, "What's the matter?"

Willis couldn't believe it. When he contacted Cleo, he received the most agonized pain he would ever experience. It was like a surge of heat, coldness, and heaviness mingled into one, pounding through his head, like someone was hitting his head with a hammer.He almost passed out from the pain. He quickly cut off the contact from Cleo, and the pain greatly reduced, although the pain moved down to his chest, tightening and seeming to fill his lungs, hard for him to breathe.

"It's Cleo . . ." Willis mentioned through clenched teeth. "She's hurt."

Takeru's face darkened with trouble and unhappiness. "Then we can't wait any longer. Come on!"

The blondes rushed across the shore, toward the lighthouses. It didn't take them long, for they got a glance of Hikari kneeling on the sand, with Cleo laying on her back, her head on the Saint's lap. "Cleo!" WIllis cried for his Protector, kneeling down by her. But he didn't dare to touch her, not wanting to experience the pain again. Cleo appeared unconscious, but her face was in deep agony. She also breathed laboredly, as if she was ill with some kind of sickness, her pale skin whiter than before. Gatomon was a distance away, her ears backed, glaring at everywhere but on her. Terriermon remained at her side, as he promised, anxious.

Willis looked up to Hikari, who was also pale, afraid, as her arms held Cleo steadily. "Kari, tell me what happened?!"

"I don't know!" her voice was strained.. Willis cringed at the fact that she was still holding Cleo, which she was suffering the horrible pain at the same time. "She suddenly dropped to her knees, crying out. She is hurting inside."

Willis urged to hold on the Watcher's hand, but the remembrance of the pain kept him back. He looked at her with helplessness.

"There is no other danger here?" Patamon was saying.

"No, there is none," Terriermon repsonded.

Who did it to her? Willis wanted to know. His face scowled as he watched the wrinkles of pain on her face. She was sick once. She didn't need to get sick again. She didn't need to experience the pain again. He wanted to know who did it.

A flash of pale purple, in an vague shape of a person.

Willis sharply gazed up. He saw nothing except his friends. But someone was here. Hiding. Nearby. He tried to grasp on the vague purple figure, but it easily moved out of his vision, skilledly and smooth. He half felt that he was hallunicating, but it was too real. He knew someone was here. He wasn't mistaken. A glance at Hikari's alert face proved him right.

"What's it . . .?" Takeru voiced, noticing the sharpness on the Digiwalkers' faces.

Willis stood up, trying to follow the figure with his mind's eye. "Someone is here."

Automatically, the Digimon moved into a defensive position around the kids, their multicolored eyes heedful and guarded, their bodies itching to attack. EVen Lopmon joined his brother in the guard, his baby face deadly serious. Willis was furious; he couldn't take a steady hold on the figure. The figure didn't seem to play with him, but simply wanted to get out of sight. It was good at that. The moment he thought the figure was in front of him, suddenly it disappeared and he had the sensation of a presense behind him, the purple haze wavering at the corners of his eyes.

Immediately, it was there in solidity, clearly. But the figure didn't let him have the full sight on it. As soon as Willis just begun to turn to face it, he experienced an incredible push on his chest, a force like gravity upon his chest. It didn't crush him with the heaviness, but it had such force that he felt like he was pushed back by a giant hand. Willis was widly thrusted backward, skidding on the sand, eventually stopped near sharp rocks that were scattered at the base of the cliff. He quiclky looked up as screams burst in the air.

Takeru were also pushed back, almost tumbled into the black waters; he quickly crawled away from it, perhaps from the iciness. But Hikari had the ill fortunate as she was casually tossed up in the air.

"Gatomon, Armor-digivolve into Nefertimon!"

WIllis exhaled a relieved breath as Nefertimon captured Hikari out from the air. He then sensed the purple haze by Cleo and turned his gaze to it. He was speechless. Cleo? No . . . it wasn't Cleo, but a Cleo twin . . . She was standing by the laying Cleo, her hands smoothly gesturing in the air. Telekinesis, obviously, as she used it to push the Digimon away. She looked so alike to the real Cleo, with the casual clothes, the short ivory hair, the jade eyes . . . It was not Cleo at all. The young face held something that pained him to look upon; something that related to pain and agony. He didn't know what. Her eyes were too dark, too sad, too angry. She looked ill, thin, pale in color, and there were sluggish movements hidden wihtin her stance, as if she was too weak to stand upright.

"Who are you?" Takeru demanded, standing up with a frustrated expression. He then gasped in terrified startlement when the jade eyes turned to him. Willis could feel the shivers running in the blonde's body.

The dark Cleo's voice was weak, whispery, but full with the kind of anger ill people bore when everything were hopeless and they were angry with themselves, with everything. She may sound angry, but in her words, there was a dignity that she struggled to hold up. "I do not see any point to introduce myself, but if you so demand . . . I am one of the Dark Digidestined."

All but Willis and his Digimon reacted in alarm with various sounds of gasping and growling. Takeru frowned. "But that means . . ." Suddenly an understanding dawned on his face and he inhaled through closed teeth. "You are Cleo's dark self."

Willis then knew. Hikari told him. The stories that scarred all the Old Kids' memories and souls, perhaps for the rest of their lives. Each of them had their own pain and anger to remember. Hikari spoke of how it was possible to face yourself when you can be dark and corrupted, just like Ken and his dark personality as the Emperor. She called them the Dark Digidestined, the dark selves that rose from the darkness of their hearts and were used to face them for a particular reason that they didn't quite understand why. She mentioned that the other seven New Kids and Cleo were the only ones out of the large group who haven't met their dark selves, and for that, Hikari was thankful. She didn't want them to be scarred.

But now that there was a dark Cleo standing by the suffering Cleo, bearing pain and agony, Willis wondered if his dark self was nearby. No one was invulerable to the darkness.

"Bravo," the dark Cleo whispered with bored sacrasm. "If you are concerned about my identity, I shall tell you. I'm the Victim of Suffering."

"I ever knew she has one," Willis almost murmured to himself, but the Victim clearly heard him.

"She does not know I exist, although I am only the malady that once harmed her."

Nefertimon returned to the ground and Hikari slid off, resisting the pain radiating from the jade eyes. Jaded eyes. "What do you want with us or Cleo?"

"Nothing."

A dark scowl crossed his face and Willis stood up, daring to step closer. His voice was low, warningly. "Are you hurting Cleo?"

"She is constantly hurting . . ." The jade gaze didn't move from Hikari, as if she found something interesting in her.

"Stop it, please," his voice was not pleading. "She doesn't need any more pain."

"'She does not need any more pain?'" The voice was suddenly angry, snappy. Willis gasped at the waves of agony coming out from her. Pain was visible to him, billowing waves of silver-red rippling outward from her. He tensed against the waves, feeling the surge of agony he recently experienced. Her voice raised a otavce. "You do not know what is pain. Everybody suffers at a time. Do not deny your pain. Never deny your pain."

"Stop it . . ." Hikari was weeping, on her knees, a hand holding on her head. Nefertimon had dedigivolved into her Champion stage, probably couldn't resist the waves of pain. Even Takeru was affected, still standing, but hunched, his azure eyes paled into a woeful blue color, with his Digimon weakly flapping in the air. Terrerimon and Lopmon were huddled together, the brown bunny burying his face under the cream bunny's ears.

The waves lessened, and abuprtly, he felt the jaded eyes upon him. His gaze met up to her gaze. Beside the agony, he saw interest in the gaze. "You . . . I sense great pain in you." He frowned at that, and she gave out a simple shrug. "Oh, I do sense pain in everybody, but . . .you have pain, bitter guilt from hurting your Digimon. It gnaws on you, is it not? You seem a perfect ward for your Protector, little Judge of Justice, you both in such pain."

Why did he have the feeling that he was being tested? "What do you want with her? Or with me?"

"I told you already. I want nothing."

"Then why are you here?!"

Her voice softened, somehow, beyond the whispery tone. "Why do you stay hurt? Why did you not forgive yourself? Why will you not put yourself to forgiveness?"

Willis' s tongue was silent. He heard that before. From Takeru and Patamon. About forgiveness and why can't he just move on. He didn't want to hear about it. He didn't want to remember the pain he had lived through. Why can't they leave him alone?

The Victim didn't move from her spot, but he got the sudden sensation of her standing by him, her voice unnerving him. "WHy do you still feel guilty after eight years of pain, even after you got your Digimon back? Why?"

He couldn't say something, growing unsettled, wanting to get away from the airy, piercing voice. He shut his eyes, averted his head to avoid the jade eyes, but didn't cover his ears.

"Willis, say something!"

His eyes popped open and stared over to Terriermon. He didn't move from his brother, but he was glaring back, his black eyes with disapproval. "Say something! Don't let her defeat you!"

The Victim cast a brief glance at the cream-colored bunny, then back to Willis. "Funny that your Digimon encourage you even though he bears anger toward you for hurting his brother."

At her words, Terriermon's gaze waas startled at her, then it was controted into a solemn frown as Lopmon was shaking his head, as if was denying her words.

Terriermon? Willis mentally thought as he watched his Digimon. The solemnness on the tiny face was clear; he was angry. He never knew that Terriermon was upset with him for hurting Lopmon. He often brushed it off with a laugh whenever Willis asked him about the battle. His heart clenched at the thought of one of his best friends, the friend that he walked with in search for Lopmon, shared laughter, and suffered troubles for eight years, bore anger toward him and never told him. He was hurt.

He forced himself to pull his gaze away from his Digimon to the Victim as she spoke, "Judge, you are supposed to grant justice and grant forgiveness, and yet . . . you could not forgive yourself. Why is that, Judge?"

Why can't she just leave him alone? Why must he explain about forgiveness? Willis forced his teeth to clench together, but seeing the jaded gaze, the urgency she had to find out the reason behind his pain irriated him. Why should he tell that? It was his business and not hers. It was none of anybody's business. But then . . . After hearing that his Digimon was still angry with him even after a year when they got Lopmon back, he had to admit it. He had to admit that he didn't know how and found out what the Victim wanted with him.

He inhaled and spoke haltingly, "I . . . I don't know how."

There was silence. He never knew that silence can be so loud.The only response he noticed was of the Vicim's. Her agonized face was totally astonished, wide-eyed at him. "You . . . You do not know how?" Her lips twitched, and to his startlement, he heard a giggle from her. "You do not know how . . ." The giggle grew into a laugh that chilled him; it held no amusement, held no scarasm. Just chillness.

He missed the angry gesture toward him and, by an invisible force, he was pushed behind, sending him crashing on the rocks. He gasped at the rugged edges that tore at his clothes. He couldn't move far away, for the Victim suddenly heaved stones at him. He was agile in his movements, and he quickly dodged most of them, ignoring the bruises forming on his skin from those he missed. The Victim was enfuried and he didn't know why. She ws angry all of a sudden and attempted to harm him.

"Stop it!" Takeru ordered as he dashed forward, his tall limbs algow with his aura.

"Fool!" The Victim sharply pointed toward him. A shocked scream burst from him and his hands went to his eyes. Even from the distance, Willis could see the whiteness in his eyes. Takeru was blind. He dropped to his knees, yelling that he couldn't see, his body holding utter panic. As Patamon moved forward to attack, Hikari ran to Takeru, trying to calm him down. SHe knew it was useless, and a scowl appeared on her face.

She turned to the Victim and closed her hands in front. A pink beam came out vertically from her hands. "Rebrith of Death!" Her hands came wide, forming a pink-glowed cross in the air. The light brightened, brushing against the Victim, but Death seemed to have no affect on her. She held a hand up and the light darkened into nothing, baffling Hikari. She removed her power aside, but stayed in front of Takeru in defense. The Vicitm paid them no attention as the Digimon kept her busy.

"Willis!" Terriermon's voice came to him and he turned to see him running forward. There was something in his eyes . . . wetness? "Willis! I forgave you!"

". . .  Terrerimon!" The Judge wasted no time; he stood up unsteadily, and reached to hoist him up in his arms. But the Vicitm's telekinesis pushed him away, back to where Lopmon cowered in worry.

The cobalt eyes darkened; a grimace crossed his face. No one would dare to keep Terriermon away from him. He had lost Lopmon once. He will not lose Terriermon. Then he realized it. His friends were fighting the Victim. Because of him. They didn't want the Victim to harm him or Cleo. But why? Cleo was well-known among the Digidestined; they would fight for her. But for him? He was the newest Digidestined. Depsite the fact that he was part of the group, he still felt he was an outcast. And yet . . . they fought for him. They defended for him. They . . . accepted him. They didn't judge him.

In that instant, thoughts passed his mind, relieving his pain and guilt. ' . . . I understand now . . . I know why I couldn't forgive myself. It's not because of the pain I suffered. It's not even my inability. It's because I'm scared. I was an outsider and I was too scared to forgive myself because I thoguht I was no longer accepted. But not anymore. They accepted me. And most importantly, my Digimon forgave me. They accepted me . . .'

He felt it. It was new, something bright and powerful. He could see it, a light that brightened, growing into blindingly whiteness. He felt safe, felt secure. He felt like he was part of everything, part of everybody, and yet, he felt wholesome. He could sense everything within him, sensing his friends nearby, feeling their strength, their wisdom, their courage. It was delicious, and he drunk in the power. A new Power. An Armor Power, one of the powers of the Armor Children.

"Heart-Armor, Energize!"

Underneath his shirt, his Crest of Justice burst into bright light. It was full of energy, flaring outward with power, eager to show its strength. It was hot, burning on his skin, but he quietly accepted it, for pain was part of him. A new aura appeared around him, an aura of orange that was born out from fire. It flared and blazed, and yet there was security in it, giving out warmth that kept safety within. Rays of sea green, the color of his crest, streaked within the fiery orange aura, deep and intense.

His new powers gave him amor in the form of garments that clearly exposed his true purpose. A long-sleeved shirt was worn, reaching down to his hips and colored dark orange, almost as dark as the umber color. It was covered under a sleeveless jacket that was tight around his chest. The white jacket was closed among the upper buttons, but from the hip down, the buttrons were undone, setting the edges of the jacket in a wide brim around his knees. Bracers, colored snow-white, were grasped around his wrists, up to his elbows, clearly made for a purpose. His pants were cut for a hunter, tight yet flexible, and also orange-umber in color. The boots reached up to his calves, colored white, as well, soft and supple.

Because he longed for a world where justice prevails, he was called Dream.

As if he knew what to do, he came into a posture that seemed ready to hunt. His left hand came up and his aura formed into a long, existique bow resting in his hand. It was hued golden yellow, along with white tips and bindings, and was perfectly created for the short boy. It was the length of his height, and yet it was lightweight, easy for him to hold it in one hand. It was shaped beautifully and curved with an invisible string that was visible only when it vibrated in the air with a silvery light. His right hand came to pull back the string, the silvery light forming the curve, and an arrow magically appeared in place, also golden, long and light. He silently aimmed it and let it go.

THe Victim turned, seeming to know what was going on, and didn't even scream as the arror smoothly struck into her right shoulder. She jerked at the force and dropped down to her knees. Still, she looked back and gestured sullenly with her other hand.

Dream again felt the waves of silver-red pain, his bow vanishing out of sight from his weak control. He strained against the pain, the surge of agony through his body and head, but it was too much. He knelt, gathering his strength to fight against it. Rustling. He heard a startled inhale of breath, and instantly, the pain was gone. The waves were stopped as quick, and he found easier to breathe. Then he realized that he was flanked by two people.

He took a good look at his guardians. At his right, the male guardian was clad in green and white clothing that represented a priest. A long, ankle-length robe was clad, open in front, shaded a white color. Its hems were olive green. Underneath the sleeveless robe, the dark green long-sleeved shirt and loose pants, along with the white shoes held a ministerial feeling to them, divine and humble. The clothing were approaiable for him, for he was holy, peaceful, and fiercely protective. In his hands, a silver staff glimmered in the dimmness. It didn't appear to be made out of wood or metal, but out of pure light, solid light that was in the shape of a staff. Black digicode, he recognized, was engraved upon the surface.

At his left, the female guardian was the oppisite of the other one, dark, mysterious, and yet, she had a huge heart to shine its light through the darkness. She wore a robe made for females, long and billowing, along with voluminous sleeves and a layered hood that shadowed her face but not her eyes. The robe was colored pale pink, seemingly unsuitable for one who bore Death, with white edges among the hem, the sleeves, and hood. A white line around her chest marked the bodice line. She held a heart-weapon that was suitable and mismatched. A black-shafted scythe held high in her white-gloved hands, a weapon that the Grim Reaper would hold. The curved blade was silver-colored, but its edge was lighted with pink light.

Dream immediately knew that they were Angel and Dawn.

The azure eyes of Angel glanced down to him and he spoke, "Stand, Dawn, and we will fight with you to the end."

Dawn stirred into a defensive stance. "But it's your fight alone. You msut face it."

Angel leaped forward, his robes flaring in movements, swinging his staff. He wasn't meant to attack the Victim, but only distracted her from Dream. He narrowly missed swinging his staff past her side, or perhaps, he did it on purpose. The Victim seemed to know his stratergy and dodged from the swing and didn't counterattack back as Angel leaped out of the way.

A pink light twinkled among the silver blade and Dawn pendulated her scythe. The blade formed a pink-glowed energy in the shape of a slash. Again, she wasn't aimming to harm the Victim, and again, the Victim jerked her body to avoid the impact of the slash as it crashed beside her.

A twang plucked and the Vicitim froze, looking up.  The arrow was aimmed toward her face, and Dream stood, his eyes holding nothing, watching her carefully.

"Go ahead," the Victim whispered, ignoring the shudders the other arrow had sent through her body. "No matter what you will do to me, you only add pain to mine. It means nothing."

"Why must you suffer?" the Judge asked gently.

"I am pain incarnate. I am supposed to suffer. I am supposed to feel woe, distress, regret, pain. Nothing else."

"Not even . . . happiness?" He relaxed on the string slightly.

A chuckle mixed with a scornful scoff, and she half-closed her eyes. "Happiness means nothing when I feel nothing but pain."

A soft sea green light gleamed among his bow and arrow and they vanished out of the air in an instant. Dream gazed intently. "Perhaps your suffering is not knowing happiness."

The Victim moved not, but she held a suspicious frown as Dream went to kneel by her. He gave her one of the rare smiles he had for friends, a tender and almost shy smile. He noticed that the Victim appeared slightly surprised and frightened. He gently wrapped his arms around her, careful of the arrow, and pulled her into his embrace. The Victim stiffened in the comfort and tried to struggle away. Then her body relaxed in his arms, and he knew that she was experiencing an emotion that she had never had - contentment. She gave out a soft sigh of relief and he watched as she dissolved intp digital pixels. He defeated her with comfort.

He felt glad, not because she couldn't live with happiness, but because he gave her a chance to experience it even for a moment. It was enough.

"Willis!" He turned to see Terriermon coming to him, but stopped just before him, his black eyes concerned. "Are you alright?"

Willis simply smiled as Lopmon leaped in his arms, his own black eyes full of gladness and relief. Willis gave him a rub under his chin before turned to Terriermon. "Yes, I'm."

Terriermon seemed unconveinced, his paws wringing in quiet resignation. His head hung, his voice small and quiet. "I'm sorry that - " But Willis then paused him with a hand on his head.

"It's in the past," Willis said, smiling as Terriermon looked back. "Just be glad that we heave each other, right?" He hoisted the cream bunny back in his arms and cherished the moment his Digimon hugged him, feeling their cheeks rubbing against his face in affection. He then stood up, they clinging on, and arrived to where Hikari gently helped Cleo sitting up. The blonde had the glazed look in her eyes and she was holding her head. He rested his hand upon her hand, giving her comfort.

Cleo glanced back in puzzlement, her voice fuzzy. "What happened here? I'd have sworn that I saw another me . . ."

Willis griamced, for she now had a dark self. After what Hikari told him about the Dark Digidestined, he only hoped that none of the rest of the Digidestined would meet his/her dark self. Now that Cleo did have a dark self, he was disapprovalled that the darkness had to do such a thing to scar the Digidestined. What more pain must they suffer? He gave her a squeeze on her hand and said, "She was your dark self, but I defaetd her."

Cleo's face was like a strike to his heart; dread and terror reigned. "I . . . I have a dark self . . .?"

WIllis solemnly nodded. "Yes, but don't worry. She doesn't bother us anymore."

She appeared uncertain and looked away, confused. Willis left her be; it was no need to comfort her any further because she already knew. He just hoped that she would choose to forget about it and not fidget about it. He then looked up to his friends, this time seriously and demanding. Like his new clothes, which should have changed back to his Earth clothes, Takeru's and Hikari's garments remained the same, althought a little changed. He eyed the pink robe-dress of Hikari, her camera still there, hanging around her neck, and Takeru's opened robe, his white hat now gone, perhaps because of the changes of the clothes. He also noticed that Patamon and Gatomon didn't look surprised with their partners' clothes. He kept a serious gaze on Takeru, who looked embarrassed and awkward. "I believe that you need to explain yourself."

Takeru hesitated, not sure how to explain. "Well . . ."

Something else saved him from his explaination. New colors appeared on the air, five colors in total, and instantly, Willis knew that the colors belonged to the New Kids.  They were oblong-shaped and in the size of the usual height of the New Kids, the rose-red, peach, wine-purple, ice-blue, and lavender ovals wavering together. At the same time, the rest of the Digidestined stepped out, the New Kids and Digimon leading with the Old Kids behind. Willis noticed that the New Kids bore new garments, which meant they had found their powers. The Digidestined appeared puzzled as they inquired among each other and their surroundings.

Before anybody could speak, a pericing, high-pitched sound reverberated the air. Static, as it was seen on televisions, appeared upon Kimika, Ken, Jyou, and Koushiro, the white discharges distorting their bodies. Their faces controted, straining against something from the static, perhaps pain or distortion. The high-pitched sound didn't hurt the ears, but it was irriating to the sensation, almost like nails raking on ablackboard. Willis glanced upward and saw that the beach was also in static, as well as the waters, sky , and the lighthouses.

For an instant, the Digiworld was unstable.

To be continued.