AUTHOR'S NOTES:

..I think I'm just going to have to accept that I might hit you up with an update once every 3 months. It seems to be the cycle. So get hype for 4 chapters a year!

Life is busy. The world is crazy. I'll spare you all the details, you've heard them all before. I'd love to direct your attention to some kind of blog or Tumblr site where I could keep you updated with proof that I'm alive and this story isn't abandoned, but then that's just one more thing for me to not update…

I told myself I'd write more in the winter, once the craziness of summer died down, but turns out – Winter's just as crazy busy! So no promises this time – no expectations of when the next chapter will arrive, no cautious optimism, no ETAs – except a promise that I will get them to you At Some Point.

Thank you as always for your patience, and a warm welcome to everyone who has joined our adventure while I've been absent without leave. I hope you're staying safe and well, and I hope you enjoy today's update!


TROUBLE IN TOKYO


The next few days melted in to a blur as Ken found in Wormmon the friend he could have had, and discovered in himself the partner he should have been. By Friday evening, Wormmon had convinced Ken to have dinner with his parents (though Ken smuggled most of the meal back to his room in a napkin, discovering that Wormmon loved broccoli but hated sweet potatoes). They spent most of Saturday sitting on the balcony just talking. Wormmon asked Ken about his favourite types of candy, and after Ken had listed a few Wormmon had convinced him to leave the apartment for a trip to the nearest convenience store so that Wormmon could try one of every kind. They ate sweets until their stomachs hurt, and if Wormmon thought that Ken should have joined the other children as they left for their camping trip, he didn't mention it.

By Tuesday they had settled in to companionable silences. Most of their time was spent with Ken reading on his bed while Wormmon gnawed his way through the last of the candy, but that afternoon Ken's mother had left for her book club and Ken had taken Wormmon in to the living room so they could lounge in front of the television together. After showing Wormmon how the remote worked, Ken stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes while Wormmon curled up on his stomach and flicked through the channels. Ken caught snippets of soap operas and sitcoms and music, but the sounds he loved the most came from his partner as he gave passing commentary on the shows as they flashed across the screen.

"That's very pretty! Oh they look angry… What are they doing? I didn't think you were supposed to eat that… Oh dear, he looks very angry… oh, he was just pretending, that's good. Oh wow! I didn't think you had digimon in your world!" Ken chuckled.

"That'll be the special effects," he answered, tuning out the woman's voice and the sounds of cinematic destruction. "They can add monsters in to movies to make them look more dangerous, but it's all generated by a computer."

"Like me?" Ken chuckled and reached a hand down to scratch behind Wormmon's antenna.

"Yes, I suppose," he answered. "But those monsters aren't real; they can't come out of the computer like you can." Wormmon hummed happily, leaning in to Ken's hand.

"It's pretty cool how they make them look like digimon though. Ooh look! That one looks just like a DarkTyrannomon!" Ken opened a lazy eye at the television before bolting upright. He barely remembered to grab hold of Wormmon to keep from launching his partner across the room as he gawked at the television.

"I'm pretty sure that is a DarkTyrannomon!"

The picture was blurry, distorted every now and then by bursts of static, but he could still make out the digimon's dark scales and crimson red stripes. He watched in horror as the creature's tail knocked down several lampposts and swept cars aside. In the foreground, a panicked reporter was quickly handing back to the studio where his colleagues were urging for the public to remain calm.

"What's he doing here?" Wormmon asked. "You said-"

"He shouldn't be here," Ken answered. He stared at the screen, looking for a hint or a clue as to where it might have been happening. The camera followed DarkTyrannomon as it lumbered down the street and Ken saw a sign for Hikarigaoka station.

He watched with baited breath. Any second now, he told himself; any moment the Chosen Children would arrive. One DarkTyrannomon wouldn't stand a chance against them – they would easily be able to handle it, and then it would all be over.

A minute passed, and then another, and Ken finally remembered why they wouldn't be coming.

With a curse he raced in to his bedroom to snatch up his digivice and a jacket before tearing back through the apartment for his shoes.

"Come on!" he urged as his trembling hands fumbled with his shoelaces. Wormmon scurried over, his antenna twitching nervously. Ken scooped him from the ground and cradled him close to his chest as he grabbed his keys and tore from the apartment.

The train ride from Tamachi to Hikarigaoka was torturous. The metro felt as if it was running at half speed, and all around them Ken saw glimpses of the DarkTyrannomon's destruction. Multiple channels were covering the story, showing the digimon's rampage from multiple angles and likening it to attacks that had happened in the same area years before until Ken wasn't sure what footage was from now and what was from then. Eyes followed him everywhere, and he heard the low murmurs that followed. "Isn't that Ichijouji Ken?" voices asked. "It is! He looks different in person." "What's he carrying?"

A cheerful voice sounded over the speakers to say that the train would be terminating at Hikarigaoka station, unable to proceed beneath the chaos above, and when the doors open Ken raced towards the exit.

"You can't go up there, I'm afraid," came the firm voice of a security officer as Ken headed towards the stairs. "The area's been cordoned off until the Defence Force arrive. We're evacuating this way, please follow the – hey! Stop!" Ken had raced past him, ducking under the thin yellow tape and sprinting up the stairs, stumbling over debris. At his hip, his digivice blared a high, shrill beeping that only became more urgent as they emerged from the underground.

The DarkTyrranomon was halfway down the street, facing away from them as it lumbered towards the overpass. Each heavy footstep made the ground tremble, and when it threw its head back with a furious roar the sound left Ken's ears ringing. It stopped, staring down at the ground where a car had been overturned by its feet. With a rumbling growl the DarkTyrannomon plucked it from the ground with its blood-red claws. Wormmon gave a horrified gasp.

"Ken, look! There are people inside!" Ken could see them. They were tugging at the door handles and pounding on the glass screaming and crying. "We have to help them!"

Ken wanted to, but now that he was here he realised that he hadn't really thought anything through. What could they possibly hope to achieve by themselves against an adult digimon on a rampage? Ken stared down at Wormmon, grateful that his partner was still staring at the car. Wormmon was nice and brave and loyal, but he was very, very small compared to the towering digimon. At best he could create a sticky web that would be little more than an inconvenience. And it wasn't like Ken could do anything. He had never been particularly strong, and whilst he was fast there was no way he'd be able to outrun a DarkTyrannomon if it decided to charge. He had almost decided to turn tail and run when the digimon stood, sniffed the air, and then slowly turned to face them.

"Ken," Wormmon whispered, "I think he's seen us."

He had. DarkTyrannomon lowered his hands and the car rolled from his claws, tumbling sideways until it came to a stop on its roof several feet away. The windows buckled and the passengers clambered out, scrambling to safety as DarkTyrannomon hunkered down, his nostrils flaring with a huff that sent chunks of torn-up tarmac scattering. His eyes gleamed – deep blue eyes, almost black. Not red. There was no spiral or ring to be seen; no easy way for them to get themselves out of this. Ken would have to run, but fear kept him frozen still. DarkTyrannomon snarled before turning his back to them, lifting his tail high in to the air.

"Iron Tail!" It crashed down and the road exploded. Ken tore his feet from the ground and tried to run, but a shockwave struck his back and sent him flying. Ken landed shoulder-first, and the impact tore Wormmon from his grip. He rolled to a stop several feet away, winded and dizzy, and he clutched a hand to his chest and he forced himself to his knees.

"Wor-Wormmon!" he wheezed, erupting in to a fit of coughs. He gasped for breath and tried again. "Wormmon!" DarkTyrannomon roared, stomping closed as Ken scrambled to his feet, stumbling backwards until he found himself pressed against an apartment block with nowhere to run as DarkTyrannomon lowered his head to the ground. His gleaming eyes never left Ken as he pulled his lips back in a sneer, and between the glistening teeth Ken saw flames beginning to emerge. His heart stopped.

"Fire blast!"

A burning tongue of flame lanced out towards him and Ken felt the heat sear his skin. He curled in on himself, burying his face in his knees as the flames enveloped him, unable to scream. The heat seared his throat, and his brain felt like it was boiling as the world erupted with a roar of flame and a high-pitched wail.

Something wrapped itself around his waist, snatching him from the fire's burning clutches and lifting him in to the cool air. His saviour cradled him close, wrapping strong arms around him as the roar of the fire was soon replaced by a whistling wind and a loud buzzing sound – like a fly, but far too loud. Ken slowly peeled his eyes open, and his blurred vision was able to make out gleaming green armour, two brilliant shoulder pads, and a fierce, chiselled chin.

"Don't worry, Ken," a voice rumbled. "I've got you."

Ken felt the shift from rising to falling, and soon he felt his saviour placing him down on something solid. They were on the top of an apartment building several blocks away from DarkTyrannomon's fading flames. The smell of singed hair made Ken's stomach churn, and as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him a strong hand gently guided him towards a railing. He clung to it, wiping the tears from his stinging eyes to better see his rescuer.

That it was a digimon, Ken had no doubt. The humanoid figure loomed over him with large dragonfly-like wings that draped behind him in a shimmering cape. His hands and feet were wrapped in large black plate that gave way to fierce silver talons, and the back of each arm bore a fanged mound that might have contained rockets or missiles. Black bands spiked with silver wrapped over the top of each shoulder, and his broad torso was plated in hard emerald that melted seamlessly in to his neck where his face was hidden by a smooth green helmet. Tufts of orange hair jutted out around his neck, matching the orange stripes on his jagged antenna that sprouted from his forehead and fell behind him in a familiar angled wave. The amber eyes of his helmet glistened as he tilted his head.

"Are you all right, Ken?" The voice was deep, but it trilled in a way that was all-too-familiar.

"W-Wormmon?" The digimon nodded and stepped back, iridescent wings fluttering nervously.

"Yes. Well, no. I digivolved. Now I'm Stingmon." He pulled himself up taller and drew his shoulders back, and Ken felt himself gaping. Wormmon – or, rather, Stingmon – shifted, his antenna twitching, and Ken pulled himself together.

"You – You're incredible!" he spluttered. "But, I don't understand. Why put up with me and let me be so cruel to you if you could do… do this?" Stingmon's wings gave a timid twitch.

"I needed your help to digivolve," Stingmon answered. "The digivice connects us together, and it couldn't work until… well, until it knew that you cared about me." Ken pulled it from its pocket and stared at it, tightening his fingers around it until his knuckles turned white. It had been his fault that Wormmon had been so powerless. So weak. His fault. The realisation struck him like a knife through his heart, and the world around him began to spin dangerously.

DarkTyrannomon roared. Ken snapped his head up, staring down to the ground far below where the digimon was pounding at his chest and bellowing up at them, his face twisted in a furious snarl. With a whoosh and a gentle gust Stingmon took to the air, and Ken felt his heart jump to his throat.

"Stingmon wait!" His partner turned, hovering in mid-air, his wings forming a gossamer blur behind him. Ken wanted to call him back. How could he let Stingmon just dive in to danger? And yet there was no other way to stop DarkTyrannomon's rage. Stingmon floated closer, the low drone of his wings filling Ken's ears as he reached out to place his hand over Ken's.

"I'll be all right." His mask was expressionless, but Ken felt his partner smiling at him, and when Stingmon turned Ken did not try to stop him a second time.

DarkTyrannomon roared as he approached, piercing the roof of a nearby (thankfully empty) car and lifting it from the road. He launched it towards Stingmon, and Ken held his breath as his partner didn't move. He crossed his wrists and ducked his head, taking the hit with barely a flinch. DarkTyrannomon roared, furious flames flickering around his teeth, but Stingmon was faster.

"Spiking Strike!" From the modules on the back of Stingmon's arms, two beams of searing pink energy appeared like swords, sprouting over clenched fists. Stingmon sped forwards, blades outstretched, and they left angry glowing welts along DarkTyrannomon's inky shoulders. DarkTyrannomon howled in anger, raking his silver claws through the air. Stingmon nimbly dodged each laborious swipe, which only made DarkTyrannomon angrier; he feinted left and then span right, catching Stingmon with his Iron Tail and sending him flying in to the nearest building.

Ken couldn't breathe. His heart was in his throat as he watched his partner disappear in to a cloud of smoke. Jagged cracks spread up the wall, splintering the smooth stone exterior and belching rubble on to the street below. Ken spied a flicker of light from within the cloud of dust, and then a beaming javelin of pale light emerged. It pierced DarkTyrannomon's shoulder and he howled with pain. Stingmon burst from the rubble, the blades on his arms little more than blurs as he slashed at DarkTyrannomon, forcing him to stumble backwards. DarkTyrannomon unleashed his flamethrower anew, engulfing Stingmon in white-hot flames, and Ken's heart stopped.

Stingmon emerged, unharmed (though a little singed), and the relief that rushed through Ken left him dizzy. He fell to his knees, eyes never leaving his partner. Unbidden, his thoughts wandered to Motomiya and Miyako and Hikari.

This is how they must have felt every time their partners fought against me. How they all must have felt. Stingmon narrowly avoided DarkTyrannomon's sweeping Iron Tail and he retaliated with another Spiking Strike that pierced his opponent's hide. And each time they kept coming back, even to fight against their own partners. Against their friends. No matter how impossible the odds, they never gave up. The realisation was as staggering as it was humbling. They hadn't stopped for anything – not even for fear – and here he was, hiding from a camping trip because he was afraid they would hate him. He really was a coward.

He gripped his D-3 tighter, watching Stingmon twist mid-flight to avoid DarkTyrannomon's silver claws. Ken didn't want to be a coward anymore. The others would hate him, and that was fine, but Miyako was right; he couldn't help fix all the damage he'd caused if he stayed locked up in his room. And if things became truly unbearable, then there was no reason he couldn't go his own way – in this world or the digital one. Especially now that he had Stingmon. If anything, Stingmon was even more of a reason to go. Now Ken could offer not only his experience and his knowledge, but also his partner's strength.

They would go. They had to go. The resolve set a glimmer of courage flickering in his chest, and Ken swallowed thickly. He could only hope that he wasn't too late.

Down below, Stingmon had discovered his Spiking Blast, which fired hundreds of daggers in a furious storm of energy. DarkTyrannomon roared, forced to stagger back under the assault, but Stingmon refused to relent. He continued pressing the attack, swiping with his searing blades until he was close enough to plunge them both in to DarkTyrannomon's chest. The digimon's roar was quickly cut short as his body began disintegrating in to fragments of data that blew away on the summer breeze. Stingmon returned to the roof then, oddly solemn despite his victory. He landed beside Ken and watched as the last of the data faded away.

"I don't think he can come back," Stingmon murmured. Ken looked up at him.

"Come back?"

"When a digimon dies in our world, their data is reformatted and sent to the Village of Beginnings to be cleansed and restored. I don't know what happens when a digimon dies in your world."

He had never before considered the digimon he had killed. They had been few and far between, an accident here or a clumsy servant there, but they had been no great loss to him. He had never paused to consider that they might have had other digimon who might have missed them or friends who might cry for them. He had never stopped to wonder whether his victims would be mourned. The thought left him reeling and he turned from the carnage below to vomit on to the roof.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Ken and Stingmon kept a silent vigil as they arrived on the scene, each carefully navigating the devastation. Police officers cordoned off the road while fire crews surveyed the buildings and medics checked the empty cars. As the sun began to set, trucks with rigs and winches arrived with skips in tow to begin clearing the streets while floodlights were erected around the perimeter to replace the fallen streetlights. Nobody looked up.

"Stingmon?" Ken asked as the sun began to set. The cold breeze was stinging Ken's seared skin and he tried his best not to shiver.

"Yes, Ken?"

"Do you want to go and help the others try and get back to the Digital World?" Stingmon turned to him, his head tilting slightly. Ken felt his partner smile.

"If you do." Ken nodded slowly before allowing Stingmon to scoop him in to his arms. He held on to his partner's neck tightly as they took to the sky, leaving the destruction far behind them. Ken shivered against the cold, pressing himself tightly against his partner's warm amour as they city passed below them in a blur.


His mother was out when they returned home.

Ken turned the television up until he could hear it throughout the apartment, listening as the reports flooded in. More digimon were appearing and all in the same area, although some were beginning to spread further afield. The news station kept jumping between their field reporters, each able to report no more than a few minutes of footage before their connection began to fizzle and fade as the digimon closed in on them, leaving behind distorted freeze-frames of chaos.

Ken pulled everything out of their small storage cupboard to unearth their old camping supplies. He stuffed the backpack full of clothes and toiletries before moving in to the kitchen to raid it for non-perishable food. Wormmon perched himself anxiously on the coffee table, wide eyes darting between Ken and the television as he munched on a large bar of chocolate. He was exhausted after his flight back to the apartment, but he had promised Ken that it was just because it was his first time; he would get stronger. Ken knelt beside him to write a note to his mother, which he left on the counter beside the key bowl to make sure she wouldn't miss it. Then, after helping Wormmon in to what little space was left in the backpack, Ken headed back out in to the city.

It took several trains, a coach, and a cab for them to reach the campsite, and despite Miyako's hastily-scribbled map on the back of her now-crumpled note Ken had no idea where to go now that he was here. The site was open, but with no scheduled activities the main buildings were dark, and in the dim evening light the sputtering solar powered lanterns that lined the spiderweb of paths were less than helpful. The map near the entrance had significant landmarks like the food hall and the duck pond and the camp huts, but there was no way of knowing which of the four tent-sites the others would have chosen. Ken held up Miyako's map against it, squinting in the fading evening light, and after deciding that the two lopsided circles on stilts might have been a duck Ken stuffed the map back in his pocket and gently hoisted his bag higher.

"You okay in there, Wormmon?" he asked quietly over his shoulder.

"I'm fine," came Wormmon's muffled reply. "I've made myself a nest. I even found a blanket!" Ken smiled a little as he set off along what he hoped was the right trail.

The path sloped slowly upwards, and the further Ken walked from the main entrance the narrower and less-defined it became, often branching off in to dirt paths that led to quiet camping spots lined with trees or bushes. There were a handful of families, some small groups of friends, a couple of couples, but no group that seemed to be the one Ken was looking for. The crackling campfires carried the sounds of laughing and gentle music, and he had no doubt that the group he was looking for would be a lot more sombre (if they were even a group at all, and Ken couldn't deny that more than a small part of him was secretly hoping that they had managed to make it through without him). At the very least, he was fairly sure that they wouldn't be sitting around sharing stories about things that went bump in the night.

(Which was probably for the best, given that Ken was already having to deal with the thing that went bump in his rucksack.)

Something jabbed in to his spine – hard – and he hissed with a wince.

"Everything okay back there?" he breathed over his shoulder. The rustling paused.

"I just got a little hungry," came the quiet response. "I was trying to look for food." Ken smiled and carefully adjusted the bag, feeling Wormmon settling down again.

"The snacks are in the outside pocket. If we don't find the others soon, I'll get you something, if that's all right?"

"That sounds like a great plan."

It was getting dark now; dark enough that Ken spent more time peering at the ground underfoot than he did staring along the path. He was about ready to give up and make his way back to the main entrance to start again when he finally found a fire that looked hopeful. A large silver minibus was parked under a row of trees, but despite the potential for passengers there was only a single tent, big enough for one or perhaps two people at most. A small fire flickered nearby, just bright enough for Ken to make out its sole occupant. He seemed to match Miyako's straightforward description of the man Ken was to look out for; choppy brown hair, dark eyes, thin lips and a long nose. He was hunkered forwards in a creaking camping chair, engrossed in a small handheld television set that sputtered fragments of the news between bursts of hissing static.

Ken braced himself, tightened his grip on the straps of his pack, and carefully picked his way towards the fire. The man didn't look up. Ken came to a stop several feet away – close enough to be noticed, but not too close as to intrude – and when the man still didn't look up Ken took a steeling breath.

"Excuse me-"

The man jumped, nearly throwing the mini-TV in to the fire in surprise. He blinked several times, and when his eyes finally adjusted he quickly rose to his feet.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there!" he said with a cough, muting the TV and straightening his jacket. "Can I help you?" Ken stepped a little closer, grateful for the warmth of the fire.

"I'm looking for Ishida Hiroaki?" he asked nervously, stumbling slightly over the name (despite having practiced it over and over in his head). The man stiffened and set the device down in his chair, his gaze never leaving Ken.

"That would be me," he said slowly. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I'm looking for your son, I think," he said. The man's expression tightened.

"Which one?"

Ken bit the inside of his cheek, wishing that Miyako's crumpled note had given him more than a campsite name and a badly-drawn map. Ken's backpack rustled again and he felt Wormmon prodding him gently in the shoulder.

"If that's Ishida-san, then his son is Yamato. A-and Takeru, but their names are different and Miyako wouldn't tell me why." If Wormmon had been trying to be discrete, he had failed miserably; the man stiffened suddenly, his eyes peering past Ken and in to the darkness for a moment before looking back to him.

"Are you alone?" he asked. Ken grimaced, unsure of how to answer the question. He'd never really told anyone about the Digital World before – at least, not a grown-up – but if he was the Ishida Hiroaki that Miyako had left him to find, then surely he would already know. He certainly seemed to suspect, judging by the way his eyes kept glancing over Ken's shoulder. Unsure of how best to answer, Ken carefully set his backpack down by his feet and pulled the zipper back. Wormmon's head appeared, wrapped tightly in a pair of long thermal underpants that he was using as a scarf.

"Ken, I think I'm a little tangled up," he warbled, watery eyes blinking up at Ken. Ken felt the ghost of a laugh bubble in his throat as he quickly freed his partner and scooped Wormmon in to his arms. Wormmon burrowed in to Ken's thick sweater before his eyes landed on Mr Ishida. He froze. "Ken," he whispered urgently, his voice piercing the silence. "Is that him?"

Mr Ishida seemed to stare at them for an eternity before he finally slumped, an exhausted look of relief passing across his face.

"You're one too," he breathed. "Thank goodness. Maybe you can help. Please, follow me – here, I'll take that." He darted round the fire to heave Ken's pack from the ground and then led the way to the minibus. He hauled the door open and ushered Ken inside, motioning for Ken to take a seat.

Once Ken was settled with Wormmon cradled carefully in his lap, Mr Ishida pulled himself inside the van and reached in to one of the overhead bays to withdraw a silver laptop with its lid not fully closed. Mr Ishida set the laptop on a rickety camping stool and hammered the spacebar several times until the screen flared to life. The light was blinding, and Ken had to blink tears from his eyes as Mr Ishida typed in a long password one keystroke at a time. The lockscreen melted away to reveal a Digital Gate; the screen showed bursts of static, accompanied by the occasional pop and his of static through the tinny speakers. The port status blinked a single word in furious red: CLOSED.

"They keep in touch when they can, but it's not good news," Mr Ishida said solemnly. "They think they might be-oh!" The static in the gate preview window was taking shape, and after flickering several times an image finally came in to view. It was dark there too, it seemed, and after some hushed whispering and muffled footsteps a pale face came in to view.

"Ishida-san." The voice was tired and quiet, and lost behind rustling as the speaker positioning himself comfortably. "Is something wrong? I know we didn't check in today, but we've only just made camp and with not knowing what time it was – What is he doing with you?!"

Ken vaguely recognised the speaker, though he couldn't remember his name. The boy was maybe a year or two older than Ken, with dark eyes and close-cropped ruddy-brown hair and thin lips pressed together in a scowl. Ken shrank back from the screen, holding Wormmon close, all too aware of how Mr Ishida's smile had disappeared at the speaker's sudden change in tone.

"I… He's one of you," he answered, though the statement almost sounded like a question. "I thought he'd be able to help."

"He is the last person that we need right n- hey – Miyako – what are you – Careful!" The screen blurred as the camera was jostled from side to side, and the speakers shivered with tinny rustles and muffled curses before the camera finally settled on Miyako's fire-lit face.

"Ken! You made it!" she squealed ("Keep it down, Miyako!" the boy hissed). "I'm so glad you came. What made you change your mind?" Ken glanced sheepishly down at Wormmon who smiled back up at him.

"Wormmon helped me realise it was the right thing to do," he said with a grateful smile. Miyako let out an excitable squeal, earning herself another scolding. She turned away and pulled a face before holding the laptop close to her chest and shuffling further away from the fire. Mr Ishida cleared his throat.

"The battery on that thing's probably older than you are," he muttered with a weak half-laugh. "I'll go boot up the generator, keep you powered up. You just shout if you need anything." Ken gave him a grateful nod as Mr Ishida uncoiled a long extension cable from under the seat beside the door, handing one end to Ken before feeding the other through the cracked driver seat window and then pulling the van door closed behind him. By now Miyako had repositioned herself further from the fire, and it was so dark in her new spot that Ken saw little more than the laptop's reflection in her glasses.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you," she whispered. "It's been… well, let's just say things have been tense here, to put it mildly."

"How did you get through?"

"There's a rift at the campsite – like a weak point between our world and the Digital World. With all of our digivices together we managed to punch through it and get across…" She trailed off, gnawing her lip with a tired frown.

"I thought that would be good news?" She sighed.

"Well, it is, only… we can't get back." She paused and Ken heard the rapid clicking of keys. "Koushiro and I have been trying to work on it from this side, but we can't figure it out. It's a good thing you came; maybe a fresh pair of eyes will do the trick." More fluttering keystrokes. "I'm sending you what we have so far. It's not much, but maybe you could take a look at it?" The laptop chimed as a file appeared on the desktop. Wormmon hurried out of Ken's lap, settling in beside him so that Ken could bring the laptop closer. He opened the file, his eyes skimming lines of code and data intermixed with symbols he had never seen before.

"Koushiro says it's the code of the Digital World," she explained when he asked about them. "It's what makes data… real. Makes it solid."

"I suppose that would be the key to how we're converted to data when we enter the Digital World," he mused. Miyako nodded.

"And we're pretty sure it's how the digimon can be taken back to our world, too," she added. "Koushiro thinks Vamdemon has corrupted the data that allows the conversions to take place, which means that the gate won't open because it can't make a stable connection with a guaranteed conversion. Misplace a zero or a one and who knows the damage it could cause?"

"But you were able to make it through the rift in one piece, right?"

"Koushiro thinks the rift works differently. It definitely feels different. It takes longer, and it feels…" She trailed off with a haunted scowl, lost in thought until a shiver brought her back. "It's horrible. I can't describe it. I'd take a hundred gates over going through that again. I guess maybe it's a good thing that it's easier to get in than it is to get out." Ken nodded, glancing back to the code again, but it was hard to make out anything at a cursory glance. He sighed and pursed his lips.

"It would help if I could understand these symbols." The longer he looked, the more familiar they seemed, but any semblance of understanding was soon lost behind the beginnings of a headache. (Perhaps he shouldn't be trying to peer at a white screen from inside a dark van.) "Have you been able to decipher any of this?"

"Koushiro has a few notes. I'll get them typed up and sent to you as quickly as I can. It'll probably take me a couple of hours, so who knows how long it'll be for you…" Ken blinked, confused, and Miyako let out an awkward laugh. "Oh, right, you don't know. See, time's a bit… broken? I guess?"

"Broken? How can time be broken?"

"The world don't sync up anymore. Sometimes a minute here is half an hour back home, and sometimes it's half a day. It only seems to match up with our world when we force a connection, like when we have the gate running." Ken sat back with a frown.

"It never used to be like that."

"It's this new darkness, or whatever Vamdemon's done to the connection. It seems to snowball, too. The longer we leave it, the faster we go, like a runaway train, kind of, except not…" Her voice trailed away and they fell in to a tense silence. After a while, Miyako sniffled. Then she did it again. Ken's stomach twisted nervously. Was she ill? He watched as she removed her glasses and leant out of view of the camera, though not quickly enough to hide the hand that brushed away her tears. Ken opened his mouth, hoping to fill the silence, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He looked to Wormmon for support, and his partner gave an encouraging nod and several silent motions with his claws which did not help Ken had as much as he'd hoped. Miyako came back in to view and Ken cleared his throat nervously.

"It'll… um… It'll be okay," he stammered, hearing the uncertainty in his voice and wondering just how he had ever been confident enough to do half the things he had done as the Kaiser. To his surprise, Miyako seemed to draw a little comfort from him hesitant words and she took a deep, steadying breath.

"It will be now that you're here."