"Out of the island,
Into the highway
Past the places where you might have turned
You never did notice
But you still hide away the
Anger of angels who won't return."
Vertical Horizon—"Everything You Want"
Echoes of Angels Who Won't Return
Chapter One, January: "Anger of Angels Who Won't Return"
She sat on the beach, watching a deep red sun descend into the calm blue waters of the Pacific Ocean, as splashes of pink, orange, and purple yielded to an endless sea of rich blue in the evening sky. Waves lapped up against her bare feet, leaving sea foam in their wake. She wriggled her toes in the wet sand, embracing the beautiful serenity around her. How long had it been since her adventure in the Digital World? The emergency to save Kouichi forced them to go back to the day they left in April of 2002. It was January of 2003 now, and it was as almost as if that fiasco had been a dream. She was back in the Real World, no longer dealing with evil creatures that wanted to destroy the world; but rather, evil teachers who wanted her to fail every subject. The only way she knew she'd actually gone on that journey were her self-discovery and her friends and theirs. Never before had any of the six had companions as close as they had now, and their friendship was something that would last a lifetime.
The streetlights cast a shadow onto the sand beside her. Surprised, she turned to see a familiar boy with dark hair and blue eyes.
"Kouji, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I didn't expect to see you." He was silent, even more so than usual. His eyes reflected a combination of anger and pain, just as they used to and always had seemed to. There was something wrong with him; he was too much like his old self for nothing to be. It was then that she noticed that red burns covered the palms of his hands and traced a ring around his neck. "What's wrong?" He remained mute and turned to leave. "Kouji, please, answer me. We're friends; I can help."
"Friends?" he repeated. It was his voice, and yet it was not. The sound was the same, but it echoed, sounding unearthly, ethereal. It was as though he had stopped living in that realm of being. "If we're friends, why did you leave me to die?"
She stared at him in shock, her mouth slightly agape. Left? To die? "What are you talking about?"
"You know," he replied. "You abandoned me."
"Kouji, this isn't funny!"
"Does it look like I'm laughing?" His voice was sharp and angered. She bit her lip to prevent tears from escaping. Kouji had never used this tone with her personally. He had been one of her closest friends, closer still as the brother of her boyfriend. "You abandoned me. You let me die."
She reached out to touch him, but when she touched his jacket, the images of his death bombarded her mind: his fall as Kouichi's newfound whip released itself from his neck, the few spasms his body created from the electrical shock, his half-horrified and pain-filled face, the faintly audible breaths that were too shallow for him to live on… Black snow fell all around her, turning the sand gray. Black feathers soon followed, as though from the wings of a raven, or of a fallen angel.
"You let me die!"
"No, I didn't, Kouji," she pleaded. "You have to believe me. We just weren't able to get there in time. I tried…" She began crying, remembering how she'd cradled him in her arms as he took his last three breaths.
"Then why did you leave me alone in the first place? You said yourself that it didn't seem right. Why didn't you come with me? You could have helped."
She was unable to answer. Tears found their way from her eyes to the gray sand as the waves swept up to wash them away. The tears seemed small and insignificant, just as she felt at that moment. What were a few human tears to an ocean like this? What was an eleven-year-old girl to two worlds full of people and Digimon? What was one boy's death to the grand universal cycle of life and of death?
Kouji's voice was considerably softer when he finally spoke again, but there was no trace of compassion in it:
"You abandoned me, Izumi. Why?"
Izumi Orimoto slowly opened her teary eyes to the bright light of morning. Her alarm clock radio was softly playing Kae Araki's "Yasashii Ame" in her bedroom, but in the midst of her nightmares, she'd been unable to hear it.
Reaching over, the nearly twelve-year-old girl turned off the soft jazz sound and continued to lie in her bed. She had no desire to hear about a gentle rain when a torrential downpour had just shattered her world.
I was hoping it was only a dream, she thought, watching the snow fall down outside her window. But the nightmare was only beginning.
Nine-year-old Iori Hida gripped his kendo sword with trembling hands as he continued his morning practice. His grandfather watched him while Upamon—Iori's Baby II partner Digimon—munched down on some muffins they'd picked up at I-mart, a local grocery store run by the family of one of Iori's friends.
Iori's breaths were rapid and troubled as he slashed his weapon. Normally, the martial art calmed him and freed his thoughts, but after the day before… It had been bad enough when they had to kill SkullSatamon and MarineDevimon, but watching Oikawa die was more than he could bear. And why? The man had kidnapped Ken and a truckload of other kids, attacked the Chosen Children, agreed to house BelialVamdemon, and even threatened the young boy's life once or twice. Why should he care?
Because despite everything he'd done, that man had known Hiroki Hida.
Iori lost his father, Hiroki, at a young age when the officer took a bullet intended for a government official. The death had quieted the boy, causing him to develop manners and insight advanced beyond his years. He had few friends in his grade, but many friends nonetheless. And as a Chosen Child, he had the privilege and honor of entering a world beyond his wildest imaginations.
"Iori!" his grandfather called.
"Yes, sensei?" he questioned.
"Your mother called. She's wondering why we aren't at the breakfast table, where we'll have to be due to a small digital creature with quite a large appetite."
"I'm sorry if Upamon caused any trouble," Iori apologized, bowing deeply. "I didn't want him to disturb Mom, so I brought him with us."
"It's all right, Iori," the elder Hida replied, seeing past the mask his grandson wore over his emotions. "But we had better head home before your mother wonders what's happened to us."
"Yes, Grandfather."
Chikara Hida watched Iori pack his gear and walk out with Upamon in his arms. He did not know what had happened the previous day to scar his only grandchild so badly, but he prayed with all his heart that he would not lose Iori like how he'd lost Hiroki.
Takuya Kanbara walked out to the living room to see his younger brother, Shinya, playing their Playstation 2 system. Normally, on any day, especially Sundays like this, the goggle-headed boy was impossible to wake, and spent hours on end in bed; however, after the events of the previous night, he'd been unable to sleep.
"You look tired, Takuya. Are you okay?" Shinya asked.
No, he thought. He'd just lost one of his best friends, and at the hands of another friend, no less. How could anything ever be "okay"?
"Yes."
The word was automatic—he didn't want to go through an explanation. Perhaps that was why Kouji used to ignore people. His tactic usually worked, as did Takuya's now. Shinya answered, "Okay," and returned to his game—.hack/INFECTION, about a boy named Kite in an online RPG called "The World," trying to find out why his friend, the legendary Orca, was attacked by a virus and rendered comatose. It reminded Takuya much of his current situation, only there had been no question about Kouji's condition. He had completely stopped breathing, and Izumi hadn't been able to find his heartbeat. He was not comatose or unconscious. He had died. And there was no way to undo it, like with Kouichi. Takuya now bitterly regretted the miracle that brought back the older twin. How were they to know that this would come at a price, like so many other things? How were they to know that to resurrect one brother from the realm of death, they would later have to sacrifice the other? Why should the innocent have to suffer? Why should a young boy, who had been put through more tests and grief than most men far older than he and still survived with the blessings of a family and friends he had been deprived of, lose everything in the single instant of death's kiss? It, like everything else in this accursed world they called reality, was unfair.
Izumi stepped into the shower and turned the hot water on full blast.
Never before had she felt so dirty.
Death clung to her.
Before eating breakfast, Iori went to the sink and turned on the warm water.
He always washed his hands before eating, but now it was vital.
He needed to hide somewhere from the ghosts of the past.
She lathered soap onto her body and began scrubbing viciously.
Her vicious scrubbing soon became desperate as her nightmare returned in the shower.
"Kouji, no, please!" she begged. "I would never abandon you!"
All she wanted was to be left alone.
He placed the soap on his hands like always, but this time he scrubbed his hands.
He was a man possessed as he scoured his hands, trying to wash away that death.
How many had he lost? His father, Oikawa, BlackWarGreymon, the evil Digimon…
Why did they haunt him now?
Kouji's voice was still fresh in her mind, crying out for justice.
The only way she could fight him was to keep washing and pushing him away, though it wasn't that she wanted to do.
Her skin turned bright red from her maddened attempts to cleanse herself from the essence of death.
But still, the more she tried, the more she saw him standing in front of her.
Finally, she collapsed in tears, the hot water pelting her body.
There was no way to wash away death.
The words of Oikawa's desires haunted his psyche, filling him with madness.
To fight the insanity, he continued to scrub his hands, eventually peeling away his skin.
At least two layers peeled away, but he ignored them.
He peeled off the dead skin and kept going.
He could not give in, or risk losing to the darkness forever.
It would be quite a sad fate for a Chosen Child.
"Kouji, stop!" she cried as her mother broke open the door to the bathroom.
Forcefully, the older woman placed her in a towel.
"Izumi, what happened?" she asked.
"Kouji, no!" she continued to cry.
Finally, blood began to show on his hands, worrying his elders.
His grandfather rapidly turned off the faucet while his mother pulled him away.
"Iori?" Upamon questioned. "Iori, what's wrong?"
The young boy was still in shock.
Kouji stared at Izumi, no emotion on his face.
The specters of the past seemed to surround Iori with their memory.
"Izumi, is this about last night?" her mother demanded.
"Iori, please, you have to tell us what's wrong," his mother urged.
She couldn't answer…
…all he could do was cry.
Yutaka Himi walked into his younger brother's room in Shinjuku, Japan. Nine-year-old Tomoki sat on his bed, holding a white-and-green electronic device.
"Tomoki, do you have a minute?" No answer. "Mrs. Orimoto called. She said your friend Izumi collapsed in the shower." No reply. "She's okay, but she's telling a strange story about something that happened last April." No reaction. "Tomoki, about these Digimon…do they have something to do with what happened last night?" No response. "What did happen, anyway?" After seeing that his brother remained in his catatonic state, he turned and began to leave.
"It all started when we got strange messages on our cell phones," Tomoki began, his small voice choked by tears. Yutaka turned and pulled up a chair close to him, sitting on it backwards while his chin was placed in his folded arms. "We were told to go to the Shibuya train station—all of us. Five of us were chosen; the rest were eventually sent back home. We were sent to a place called the Digital World, where we found things called Spirits and became Digimon ourselves. We then found a sixth kid, Kouichi, who was being controlled by the enemy. He was our friend Kouji's twin brother. Kouichi had separated from his body by accident, and he tried to go back after learning he was the key to joining Darkness and Light. But the enemy, Lucemon, scanned his soul and trapped him. When the battle was over and we were sent back, we found Kouichi in the hospital, brain-dead from a mysterious heart attack according to the doctors. But we knew he was that way because of a fall from the stairs at the station. We had never seen Kouji so terrified. He began crying, and one of his tears fell on Kouichi's forehead. Somehow, that saved him." The more he talked, the more tightly he clenched his device.
"Is that thing the Spirit?"
"No. This is a digivice, a D-scanner, and it holds our Spirits. When Kouji revived Kouichi, our digivices became cell phones again. For a year, we thought it was all over; but last night, our phones became D-scanners again. Because of that, we knew something was wrong."
"What was it that happened?"
Tears definitely rolled down his cheeks this time. As he told his story, it became harder and harder to choke back the pain that was now all he knew.
"I think I'm getting a pretty good idea of what happened last night," the elder brother commented. "I remember your friends from that picnic last year. Was Kouji just a bystander that got pulled into this?"
"He was one of the five original Chosen."
"Chosen?"
"Chosen Children. The Legendary Warriors. Us."
"Mm-hmm. I think I understand now."
Rather than answering, Tomoki continued staring at his digivice. He had once spoken of fighting for hope. Where was that hope now that he needed it?
Takuya drank his third cup of orange juice the way one would drink an alcoholic beverage. After receiving a call from Izumi's mother, he'd been forced to tell his parents and brother about his time in the Digital World. They were in shock afterward—they still sat in the same position at the kitchen table, even though ten minutes had passed. Becoming tired of the silence, he walked outside, nearly tripping on a half-dead dog.
What's wrong with this guy? he silently asked, examining the dog. It looked familiar to him somehow, but he didn't know why. Quickly, he ran back in, past his frozen family, and grabbed a bowl of water. The unfortunate animal eagerly lapped up the water, regaining its strength. When it was done, Takuya carefully reached for the tag on its collar, which gave the name and address of the family that owned him: a family in Yokohama by the name of Minamoto.
"What?" he cried. Something felt wrong; something felt very wrong. He ran inside, the dog at his heels, and rapidly headed for the phone. Unfortunately, his father had recovered and was now trying to make sense out of the story he'd been told.
"Takuya, what you've just told us is…"
"Dad, I can't talk right now."
"No, you will."
"Dad!" His voice was stern and serious. "I'm sorry. But right now, there's something I need to take care of. And I'll need the last three Chosen to help me."
He dialed the others and explained the situation. Within minutes, they met at the charred remains of the Minamotos' home. Nothing remained of the once lovely home aside from broken and burned tiles from the roof, ashes, some surviving support beams, and a broken and melted string from Kouji's guitar. Nothing living or dead was in sight.
"I can't believe this," Junpei declared. "Who could have done this?"
"Do you really have to ask?" Takuya demanded bitterly. Izumi lowered her head and allowed a single tear to land on the ashes.
"There's nothing left," she whispered. "No body, no survivors… Nothing."
"He had to die, didn't he?" Takuya commented. "He just had to leave us at a time like this!" He kicked a burnt roof tile and faced the sky, yelling to the heavens. "Is this your idea of a fucking joke? Is it, Kouji? Well, we're not laughing!"
"Does it look like I'm laughing?" The words from the dream echoed in Izumi's mind.
"This is the worst thing I've seen," Yutaka Himi decided, removing a pair of dark sunglasses from his eyes. "I can't believe anyone could do this to his own family."
"I had to tell Yutaka onii-chan about us," Tomoki admitted timidly.
The elder Himi brother sifted through the rubble, searching for any trace of…anything. "It's unbelievable. Though I only met him once, Kouichi struck me as a good kid…loyal to his friends and close to his family. He wouldn't have killed them."
"Tell him that," Takuya cynically remarked. "He's the one that killed his brother."
"Yeah. I know what happened to Kouji. I couldn't believe it either. Whatever happened on that beach is a mystery only they know. It's too bad that neither can tell his story." His voice was calm and compassionate. "I don't think this fire was meant to kill everyone else; I think it was just to destroy all trace of Kouji's existence. Their family may still be alive."
"What now?" Izumi asked.
"I don't think it's safe for any of you to return home," their newfound confidant confessed. "Kouichi may come and do the same against you. But you will need to pack your necessities, so do that." It was suddenly aware to him that all four children wore the exact same clothes they had the previous night. It was as if they were trying to keep things exactly as they used to be. "One of my old teachers might be able to help—Kae Watanabe. She no longer teaches, but she runs a sort of youth group that could shelter you four if trouble does come. If anything worse happens, she'll get you somewhere even safer. And she'll find a place to hide our families—I think that world you went to last April would be best: the Digital World. I don't want the same incident repeating itself." His green eyes were calm and unwavering as he continued, almost reminding them of Kouji, but it was a different kind of calm. He made eye contact with each of the four, but it was not uncomforting. "I don't blame you for taking photographs or anything like that with you, but pack light. Don't bring extra clothes—Kae will probably be able to scavenge for some. She's got a favorite kid, a boy named Kage, and he's resourceful enough to get whatever you'll need. Just take a few things and meet me at our house. Call if you need directions." He took Tomoki and was about to leave when one last thought crossed his mind. "And don't try and think of Kouji that way. I know you all had good times together, so remember those when you think of him. It will be hard, but don't let his death kill you."
"He's right."
Normally, the response would have been from Takuya, the self-proclaimed leader of the group, but in actuality, little Tomoki had said it. Though he was the youngest of the group, he was the first to speak.
"Kouji was our friend," he continued. "We can't forget that. He wasn't someone who just died—he was a friend that we all cared about. And he cared about us too, though we sometimes didn't see it. That is the one thing we can't forget."
"Right then," Takuya agreed. "We'll all promise not to let Kouji's memory be in vain. We'll remember the good times we had, the bad ones, and the ones where we just got into more trouble than we could handle." Everyone's face was set with the memories. "Those were our experiences, and that was how our friendship was created. We can't forget that fact. We couldn't stop him from dying before, but we can do something now. We won't let him die."
No more words were uttered. The dog whined softly and rubbed up against Izumi's leg. Then, in the exact opposite fashion of how they'd entered, they exited into another flurry of snow.
Iori sat in the hospital garden, holding Upamon. Earlier that week, he'd been admitted to the psychiatric ward, but the doctors had decided he was calm enough to be in this controlled environment. Better, they allowed him to keep Upamon with him, provided the small creature didn't cause any trouble. Iori was glad; he didn't think he'd survive otherwise.
"What is that thing?" asked a young boy with black hair and blue eyes. The boy looked to be his age, and his hair was just reaching past his neck—probably because he wasn't mentally steady enough to be in the same room with a person carrying scissors to cut said hair. But one look into his heaven-azure eyes dispelled any notion that he was unhealthy. No patient could ever look so alive. But perhaps that was why he was a patient: He was alive in a dead world. "That thing on your lap?"
"I'm not a thing!" Upamon protested. "I'm a Digimon!"
"Wow!" the boy declared. "It talked!"
"Of course I talk! All Digimon can talk!"
"Upamon," Iori addressed. "Don't get too agitated or they'll kick you out." It was still the first week, and he didn't want any trouble to begin.
"Sorry," Upamon apologized.
"My name is Akemi Miyahara," the boy introduced. "I know it's a girl's name, but my mom named me that. The social workers said that she was very sick—I don't know what though, but I think it's why I'm sick too. Who are the two of you?"
"I'm Upamon, and this is my partner, Iori."
"Why are you in the hospital, Iori?" Akemi questioned.
"Obsessive-compulsive disorder and severe depression," he answered. "I saw too many people die, and I had to kill, so they say these problems arise from post-traumatic stress disorder."
"Oh," Akemi replied. "Is it from the darkness that covered the world?"
"Yes."
"The doctors say I have schizophrenia. It means I imagine stuff that I think is real and talk to myself when I think someone else is there. They also say I'm bipolar." Iori nodded, showing his understanding. "I take medicines to stay calm or fight the depression, but they sometimes interfere with my schizophrenia medicine. Are you taking medicine for your depression?"
"Yes, but it doesn't help me with what I've seen. Nothing can ever erase that." Akemi nodded. No matter how advanced medicine was, there was no pill that could wipe clean the slate of the past.
Reiji Takamoto sat in detention at his rather classy high school in Tokyo, Japan. But rather than look dejected for being locked up on such a beautiful afternoon, he suppressed a grin and let his dancing eyes do his speaking. The nearly eighteen-year-old's punishment had been well worth it—he'd successfully discredited his least efficient teacher.
Though biology was his best subject, Mr. Toruyama was his worst teacher. The man simply didn't know how to teach a class. Rather than school them in the workings of the science of life, he gave them study guides and let them teach themselves. But he hadn't counted on his most troublemaking student on being a complete genius at the subject. Takamoto had taken it upon himself to culture a homemade bacterium in a hospital near Mt. Fuji and place a sample on a glass slide. The symptoms were fever and genetic interference, as proved on a laboratory specimen, so the teacher had claimed the discovery of his own, praising it as a new virus! But Takamoto showed him by dropping a single grain of penicillin on the bacterium, eradicating it. Because the antibiotic killed it, the specimen was not a virus, and so the school realized his inability to teach high school science. Takamoto received detention for tampering with a teacher's work, although it had been for a good cause. Fortunately for the student, he hadn't mentioned how he'd come across that bacterium sample, so it saved him quite a deal of trouble with the police.
"Time's up, Mr. Takamoto," the detention director informed. "You're free to go." The redhead with steely gray eyes got up and left, soon encountering his best friend, Chideta Miyagami.
"What? You didn't head to the dojo?" he asked, noting the school's uniform was still on the other young man.
"One day isn't enough for everyone to miss us," Miyagami answered. "And I'm sure Sensei doesn't miss us at all."
"Well, serves him right for taking the fun out of martial arts."
"Right as usual."
"Well, detention was the same old bore as usual."
"But it was better than being arrested. You know, if you keep making all that trouble, the Kaiser will come looking for you."
"Shh!" Takamoto hushed, his lighthearted expression growing darker. He looked around the area, making sure that no one else was about. After the Kaiser's appearance two weeks before, no place on Earth felt safe to him or to any other members of the secret Resistance. "The Kaiser's up to a lot of things that just feel wrong. It's just too unusual that all those world leaders disappear and he takes command of Earth, opening the doors to that Digital World."
"You don't think he killed them?"
"No. I think—I hope the Resistance got them to safety. But… Whispers among the Resistance tell a story that shatters the Kaiser's perfect image. They say he killed his own brother in cold blood. If he could do that, who knows what he's capable of?"
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"I tell you because I know they don't have you. It's easy to distinguish the free from the controlled: Those who are controlled have clouded eyes—grayer than mine."
"But how do you know I'm not a mercenary? And how do I know you're not?"
"We've known each other all our lives, so that's enough for me. But we're both taking a leap of faith if we decide to trust each other."
Miyagami stared back at Takamoto. Everything he'd said was too true to be a lie. "All right then."
"Good. Now, I want to take you to meet some friends of mine. The thing is, once you come with me, there's no turning back. You can't leave."
"Should I pack?"
"Do it carefully and quickly. And Chideta, remember I'm trusting you."
Miyagami nodded and headed home. Fortunately for him, his father was still at work and his mother was away at some business trip in London, which gave him plenty of time to pack clothes into his school briefcase and martial arts bag. Then, taking a last look behind him, he headed for Takamoto's.
The redheaded young man was wearing his uniform from the dojo and standing outside the house with a disappointed look on his face. "You haven't even changed out of your school uniform," he observed. "Sensei's not going to like this."
Miyagami understood that Imperials were about, and so continued the ruse. "Sorry I'm so late. I had detention, and I didn't have time to head home and change."
"It's a good thing you keep your bag with you at school," Takamoto commented.
"Yeah," Miyagami agreed, walking alongside his friend. "You think Sensei will mind if I bring my calculus homework with me?" Takamoto laughed, convincing the spy that their excuse was valid.
"All right, we're in the clear," Takamoto whispered. "But let's head in the direction of the dojo just in case. From there, we head for the forest."
"Which one?"
"You'll see when we get there."
On the outside, Kage Tenshi looked like an average fourteen-year-old boy. His brown hair was spiked in a medium between the styles of Dark from DN Angel and Yahiko from Rurouni Kenshin, only his was tipped with blond and reached just below his earlobes. He wore a T-shirt of some rock band over a pair of fading blue jeans. The one physical difference between him and other fourteen-year-olds were his cerulean eyes that shaded like the sky: darkest on top and lightest at the bottom.
He was with the Resistance.
He was their Chief of Technical Operations, or something of the sort, taking orders only from Commander Kae Watanabe of the Mt. Fuji Resistance fighters. His duty was hacking, hacking into anything and everything he could bypass. His position was second-in-command, so he would take over if something happened to her. But Kae was a brick wall—nothing could stop her, so he rarely worried about it. Rather, he spent his time concentrating on the files he'd hacked on his computer.
Print it, read it, burn it, he ushered himself, using the mantra to keep on task as he waited for the papers to leave the small built-in printer he'd designed to go at the bottom of his laptop.
He was seated in a cavern in an underground tunnel system he'd designed, affectionately nicknamed the Underground Railroad by the Resistance fighters stationed there, or just the Railroad for short. Originally, it had been an escape for the more troubled kids Kae worked with, but now it was a haven for the Resistance fighters who needed to hide.
Someone called out a name, either Kae or Kage. More than likely, it was Kae. Nobody bothered talking to Kage, especially when he was hacking.
"Kage!" the voice called again. This time, the young hacker was certain it was his name being called. He killed the connection and walked to the mess hall. A rather annoyed Kae Watanabe stood beside a grinning Reiji Takamoto, an embarrassed Yutaka Himi, a humiliated eighteen-year-old male, and four somber children between the ages of nine and twelve. Knowing these five new faces would be important, Kage took in their physical appearances. The eighteen-year-old was tall and lean, with the build of someone who had been practicing the martial arts for several years. He had brown hair that bordered on black, and light blue eyes that bordered on white. Judging by his humiliation, he was Takamoto's friend.
There were three male children and one female. The oldest of the males was rather overweight, with reddish hair that could qualify as a shade of brown. He was warmly dressed in a dark-colored sweater and jeans, but he was obviously not dressed for the snow that had been plaguing the area. The next oldest was dressed in flaming colors—long khakis, a red T-shirt, and an orange windbreaker. Again, judging by his garb and bronze tan, Kage could tell he wasn't from the area. This boy had brown hair and goggles—what they were for, Kage had no clue, nor any desire to know. The youngest boy was nine, possibly ten. Dressed in a cream-colored turtleneck and black slacks, and sporting a saddened face, he looked like he'd come from a funeral. His origin was easy to place just by looking at his resemblance to Yutaka Himi; the two were obviously brothers, and therefore from Shinjuku.
Finally, there was the girl. If they were somber, she was sad. Her aqua green eyes glittered with the tears she wouldn't allow to fall. Because of her blonde hair and Caucasian features, he assumed she came from European descent. Her clothing consisted of a blue-and-white striped shirt that exposed her naval, a lavender vest and matching hat, and a lavender skirt of some thick material that was keeping her warm. But Kage had a feeling that it would take a lot more than that to warm a soul that cold.
"Kage, the young man in the uniform is Chideta Miyagami, a friend of Takamoto's," Kae informed. "These four are the Chosen Children—I believe you've heard of them."
He nodded. "Mysterious children mentioned in tales from the Digital World. Their identities are—were—unknown, but the Digimon Kaiser is rumored to be one of them."
"Meet Junpei Shibayama of the Spirit of Thunder," Kae introduced, "Takuya Kanbara of the Spirit of Fire, Tomoki Himi of the Spirit of Ice, and Izumi Orimoto of the Spirit of Wind. They have come here as a last resort."
"Against the Kaiser," Kage assumed. "I take it the rumors are correct in saying he is one of the Chosen?" Their silence was all the answer he needed.
"Chosen, Miyagami, this is Kage Tenshi, our technical engineer," Himi introduced. "You'll rarely see him or hear him because he's always working on his computer in the back." He then looked at his watch. "I'd better get going if I'm going to meet those refugees. Tomoki, I'll be back; I'm just going to meet a Trailmon."
Strange, Kage thought. I would have expected a Chosen Child to say that to a Resistance fighter. He looked up at the stony ceiling. Someday, Imperials and Resistance fighters would be warring above them, causing the ground to shake with the pounding of feet and their blood to leak through this ceiling. And he and these others would be there to witness it firsthand. How very sad… Well, the entire world's changing, he reminded himself, so I suppose we must too.
Himi stood in a Trailmon station underneath the Shibuya train station, the first pinpointed barrier between the Real and Digital Worlds. All was calm, but not too calm; he'd met up with a team of Resistance fighters that were scouting everything out ahead and behind him to be sure that he would not be attacked. Perks like that came with the duty of being a Chosen Child's brother, he supposed.
But it didn't happen that way for one, he remembered, thinking of the fate of the boy named Kouji Minamoto. He didn't know him very well, but he liked the kid in some way. He was a recluse, yes, but he was incredibly devoted to his friends to the point that he'd die for them time and time again. The Resistance could learn a thing or two from people like that. But now it was just too late.
A swirling ball of fire erupted from the tunnel. Himi and a crowd of fighters jumped out of the way just seconds before they could be obliterated in the blaze, covering their faces with their arms to avoid being blinded from the flash or being heated from the searing burn. Sadly, the others were not as lucky as the smell of burnt flesh wafted to their nostrils and the sounds of charred bodies hitting the tracks floated to their ears. But from the blaze, two Digimon exited: one a hideous DeathMeramon, the other a vengeful Gabumon.
"That was my class!" the Gabumon declared. "You killed them, each and every one of them. How could you?"
"The Kaiser's law is my life," DeathMeramon replied.
"Get down!" Himi ordered, shooting at DeathMeramon with a laser pistol Kage had supplied the entire Mt. Fuji team with.
"That won't hurt him!" another fighter informed, throwing him a small grenade. "Try this!"
"Get out of the way!" Himi shouted at Gabumon before tossing the grenade at DeathMeramon.
The fiery creature tried to block the weapon, but it detonated and released a chilling gas all over him, reducing the power of his flames by a very large ratio. More and more grenades were hurled until he was barely able to ignite even a spark. It was then that Sakiko Ayamisa, a sharp-shooting part-time Resistance fighter from the Yokohama forces put a bullet in his brain, ending his pathetic life.
"Good riddance," she muttered before leaving. She would have stayed longer to help, but her mother and father would have suspected her whereabouts. They were Resistance too, but far more secretive about it. She couldn't stand the cloak-and-dagger without taking up a dagger, so she assisted the fighters in recovering refugees. That was all her parents could know.
As the Gothic teenager began to leave in order to avoid her family's suspicions, Himi walked over to the devastated Gabumon, who stared at the wreckage of a Trailmon's car in horror.
"All of them…" he commented. "Togemon, Cocomon, Jellymon, Yaamon, Gigimon, Nyaromon, Yukimibotamon, and Kapurimon…all of them…gone…"
"An entire class?" Himi repeated.
Sakiko stopped from where she was walking, hearing Himi's words. This was part of the reason why she was leaving; she didn't want to acknowledge the horrors of war.
"Where humans go to school in the hopes of becoming intelligent adults, Digimon go to school to learn to be strong and intelligent Adults and Perfects and so on," she informed. "It's similar, but not entirely the same." Finally, she turned, but no one particularly saw her. "Judging by the evolution on this one and how he survived, he must have been the strongest of all of them. It's no surprise that the others died." A horrified Yutaka Himi turned with the intent of seeing the face that went with that emotionless voice and those detached words, but nobody was there, and the elevator was already soaring to the top level.
"An entire class of schoolchildren killed…" he commented, now blocking out the words of the cruel young woman. "His own brother murdered…"
What further proof do you need that Kouichi Kimura is capable of murder? a part of him asked. This voice in his head was very familiar; it was the very one he reprimanded Tomoki with. Now he had to wonder what his life would be like if his brother died.
He didn't exactly know why he was doing it, but he placed his hand on Gabumon's shoulder, feeling the fur that covered his scaly skin.
"Nothing I can say will console you—I know that by talking with my own grieving brother," he coaxed. "But I can try and help show you that life can and will go on despite the pain. I can teach you how to fight and how to win against the person who sent that monster out with the full knowledge that he would kill and the apathy over who would be killed. I can help you, that is, if you want me to."
Gabumon looked up into the green eyes of this young human. A complete stranger was offering to help him, just as complete strangers had helped him rise in the opinions of his now dead classmates. Just as complete strangers had saved his world.
He nodded his agreement, receiving a smile of approval from his new partner, later to be called "Tamer."
"What is it that I should call you?" he questioned.
"Just call me Himi. Everybody else does."
"It seems too informal."
"We're at war; there's no time for formality."
"Will 'Himi-san' be okay?"
He was about to answer "no" when he saw the suffering brown eyes of his new teammate. Though Gabumon was a full Digimon and Tomoki was only half due to his adventures in that strange Digital World, the two matched perfectly in sorrow. Himi knew he could not reach his brother anymore—that was his friends' job now—but he could at least try with Gabumon. And like with the responsibility of being a brother, it meant making a few sacrifices along the way for the sake of small happiness.
"Himi-san it is then."
And so one of the most important alliances in the course of the war began…
Yamato Ishida sat at the kitchen table of the apartment where he and his father lived. His bass guitar rested against his char, plugged into a professional-grade amplifier. In front of him was a sheet of notebook paper, filled with lyrics.
The song he was writing was a lot darker than the songs his band usually played, but it was in reaction to Iori's condition and the need to institutionalize him in the hospital where Jyou Kido's father worked. Rather than the J-rock or J-pop sound the Teenage Wolves usually played, this one was pure blues. Yamato's old harmonica was in his hand, helping him to find the music he'd lived by as a rebellious eleven-year-old almost four years ago.
A knock at the door caught his attention. Calmly, the matured Child of Friendship got up and answered to a familiar young girl: the eleven-year-old sister of his best friend, Taichi Yagami.
"Hikari?" he recognized, surprised. She rarely, if ever, spoke to him, her best friend and confidant being his younger brother Takeru Takaishi. In fact, according to Yamato's memory, in the three or so years they'd known each other, they'd only spoken once, and he'd succeeded in making her cry.
"Hi, Yamato," she greeted. "Can I come in?"
"Sure," he answered, his shock not leaving him. "Do you want a drink or something?"
"No thank you," she replied. "I won't stay long." Her eyes strayed to the loose leaf on the table. "'Life is a Fatal Condition'?"
"Yeah, it's a song I'm writing. I've kind of gotten back in my blues stage. Now, was there something you wanted to talk about?"
"Yes," she answered. "It's nothing big—just a song that's gotten stuck in my head. I was hoping you could write the notes down for me since you're the only person I know that's an accomplished musician."
"Does this song have a name?" Yamato questioned. "Maybe I've heard it before."
"I don't know. I heard it from someone, and I think he made it up. I could hum the tune if it helps." She hummed the melody to what was obviously the first verse. Yamato recorded it mentally and played it back on his bass. "That's it! Can you finish the rest for me?"
"All right."
The music itself was perhaps four minutes long, but replaying it and scribbling the notes down on a score sheet took an extra four or so minutes, causing Hikari's brief visit to extend. But no harm was done, and Yamato did his part without complaint. In fact, he had gotten into it so much that he was rather dejected when Hikari said the song was finished.
"You called me an accomplished musician," he commented. "Whoever wrote this could be even better than I am. He's the real musician."
"The music is beautiful, but it seems so sad," Hikari observed. "It's almost like he was crying when he wrote it."
"That, my dear Hikari Yagami, is the soul of the blues," Yamato explained, his expression brightening. Though Taichi was their leader, Jyou their doctor, Koushiro their genius, Takeru their optimist, Hikari their empath, Sora their cook, and Mimi their ever-faithful eye; no one could outdo Yamato when it came to music. That was his job—musician. "I detected a bit of the blues or jazz in the music as I played it. Though it doesn't follow the rules to traditional blues and jazz, it does sound like some of the earlier songs I wrote, before Takashi, Akira, Yutaka, and I formed the band." He tore off the sheet and handed it to Hikari. "Tell your friend that if he ever needs a back-up band, the Teenage Wolves are at his disposal."
"I will," she promised.
As she walked across the street to her own apartment building, she thought of Yamato's words.
An accomplished musician, she silently repeated, looking at the notes. Who are you? And why do you sing the blues?
When she reached her family's apartment, she entered her room and closed her eyes. Someone had been unconsciously reaching for her, calling out for help. She concentrated on the music and tried to form an image of the person reaching out to her, but no one appeared. Exasperated, she sighed and stared at the notes.
Musician, keep singing the blues, she thought. The music will guide me to you.
Kouichi Kimura looked out over the legions of followers he'd gained. Of the many, he'd chosen a select few to be his army, his mighty Imperial Guard. But more would come soon. That he could promise.
The Digimon looked completely normal, as they should so that they could avoid detection. The human troops were dressed all in black with silver bulletproof vests over their uniforms. Their padded black nylon pants tucked into shiny black boots that reflected a dark sunset. An assault rifle was slung over each Imperial's right shoulder, and each had a belt with holster shielding a 9mm Smith and Wesson. Black helmets with darkened visors hid the dull gray eyes of the soldiers and the sparkling eyes of the mercenaries. Only one of these elite fighters had his helmet off of his messed blond hair and away from his green eyes, and he stood at the Kaiser's left side while a determined soldier, Renamon, stood at the monarch's right. Whereas she had been chosen as the best of the best for her exemplary fighting skills, he had been selected for his outstanding cruelty. That had earned Reiyama the title of colonel in just a few days. Along with being the Kaiser's personal bodyguards, they were permitted to inflict torture on the slaves…
Most importantly, on a nameless one in the bowels of Cell 24.
The Teenage Wolves really are named Yutaka, Takashi, and Akira, but I had to match them up to the instruments because it was never specified who played what. Also, I made up the last names. "Life is a Fatal Condition" was created from a quote said by Zoë in The Pretender. You can find the song under my account at Fiction Press. Kae Araki plays Hikari in the Japanese version of Digimon, and "Yasashii Ame" is Hikari's 02 image song that drives my sister nuts. The writing style used for the scene with "The World" was sort of based off of The Sh33p's introspective fic "Mirror Image" in the Zoids section. But I think I'm the only one to have a three-way scene done with the different alignments (at least until the formatting changed).
