Duskmon falls asleep quickly on the train. Though Wanyamon tries to do the same it doesn't take. He gives up quickly.

Unfortunately, there isn't much for him to do on his own. He tries to sightsee out the window, but it's getting late enough that most of what he can look at is the reflection of the train's interior, and anyway he still doesn't know how Duskmon can spend forever doing nothing at all besides watching the scenery. He commandeers two taro buns, blows dust bunnies across the carpet to chase, ranks all the seats in the car by bounciness, helps himself to another bun, fails to build a dust snowman, and then – horror of horrors – realizes he needs to find the bathroom.

Duskmon has the magical ability to keep any train car they choose completely empty as long as the rest of the train isn't too full. This effect does not extend beyond the range of the car. There are people in the other cars. People who Wanyamon might have to talk to for directions. After passing through three compartments, he's starting to think he might have missed a sign, or that it might be on the opposite side of the train, and either way...

"Wanyamon?"

He whips around, bristling in surprise.

In his effort not to meet anyone's eyes, he completely missed the familiar face sitting there. Izumi is wearing different shoes, not the sandals from earlier, so he couldn't recognize her from the floor.

"Is Duskmon with you?" she asks, looking back down the corridor rather than at him.

"He's asleep," Wanyamon offers.

Some of the tension drains from her posture. She props her elbows on her knees. "Are you looking for something?"

Well, he was. "Don't you live at the Wind Terminal?"

"Yes." She smiles at him. She looks tired still, but she seems much more put together than she did earlier. He didn't like seeing her unhappy.

He remembers well enough what Duskmon said about her, but Duskmon was wrong. It wasn't a human that Wanyamon picked out of the crowd back at the Wind Terminal, it was Izumi. He doesn't know what other humans look like, if they're as difficult to tell apart as digimon of the same species, but even if they are he thinks he could spot Izumi in a crowd of them just as easily. It's nearly the same way he felt about Duskmon the first time he saw him. The difference is that Izumi didn't look nearly as scary.

He jumps onto the seat next to her. No closer than that, not with Duskmon's outburst still fresh in his memory. Izumi doesn't reach out again either. She says, "I thought I should do something different. A change of pace."

"Which stop are you getting off at?"

"The next one."

"Ours is the one after that," says Wanyamon. He doesn't know what they'll do afterwards. Maybe they'll take another trailmon, or maybe they'll take a boat. "What's at your stop?"

"A village," she replies. "But I'm not staying there. There's someone who... I should – I'm going to talk to. You're... headed to the Water Archipelago, right?"

"Yeah!" She must have either overheard them talking to Cherubimon or guessed by the station they're getting off at.

"Do you know what island?"

"I don't know." He doesn't pay very much attention to logistics. Izumi hums. "Who are you going to meet? Is it one of your friends?"

"No, nothing like that. It's just – " a wobbly hand motion " – it's nothing important."

Wanyamon doesn't know how to respond to that lie.

She asks, "Have you been to the Archipelago before?"

"Don't think so." He hesitates, fishing through memory for how to keep up his end of a conversation. Reciprocation? This isn't ever a problem when he's talking to Duskmon, and with Cherubimon it only comes up sometimes. "Have you? Is it nice?"

"It's sunny," she says. Wanyamon makes a face. "Is that bad?"

Duskmon doesn't like talking about it, and so Wanyamon has followed suit and never brought it up in so many words since Duskmon told him. But despite that, the thought of not telling Izumi doesn't so much as cross his mind. "Duskmon can't see when it's bright."

Izumi doesn't seem to know what to do with that. "He has like twelve eyes."

"I know! It doesn't make sense!"

Izumi laughs. She clasps her hands in her lap. The conversation lulls for just long enough that Wanyamon begins to remember the reason he left his own train car. Before that front can progress much further, Izumi says, "You like him a lot, don't you?"

The question catches him utterly off guard. He's never thought about it that way. There are things he likes – but things, only. Good food, wind in his fur, a sunny place to sleep... but how can he say if he likes a person, three-dimensional creatures that they are with histories and nuances and feelings all their own? Like is a binding word. With Duskmon especially, it's too strong to commit to on only a moment's notice. But he doesn't know how to put that answer into words.

"What is it you like in him?" Izumi asks.

Unusual question that it is, it's also an easier one. He starts to respond –

– what does he like about Duskmon?

"...He's tall," he says, which is true. Wanyamon gets to feel tall too when he's sitting on him. But a lot of stuff is tall, and Wanyamon doesn't necessarily appreciate all of it. He frowns as he casts about for another reason. "...And... nice."

"He is. Isn't he," Izumi says.

Wanyamon perks up immediately. That almost sounds like Izumi's okay with Duskmon now. Maybe they can get along! Maybe she'll want to travel with them! There's safety in numbers. Not that Wanyamon expects trouble, but staying safer sounds like a good thing.

But then she adds, "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked you that. I don't know what I was thinking."

Wanyamon rolls a little onto his side, peering up at her from a new perspective in case the bad angle before was all that was hiding the pieces he feels like he's missing. But she's still Izumi no matter how he looks.

"Are you doing okay?" he asks.

"'course." He can't tell if she means it, but he can't imagine a reason for her to lie about this, so it must be true after all. (And, buried deeper, a selfish thought: he doesn't know what to do if she isn't alright.) "You probably should head back before he comes looking. He will look, right?"

A nod. "I'm sorry he killed your Kouji," he ventures. "It doesn't mean as much coming from me, but he's being stupid and won't say it."

"What? It's not your fault. You shouldn't have to – " She shakes her head. "And it's not true anyway."

"Hm?"

Crossing her arms, she says, "He's not sorry for doing it."

Wanyamon makes another uncomprehending sound. "But he said – "

Quietly, Izumi continues, "He's not. I know he's not. I've killed people too, and I don't regret any of it. He's not sorry for killing Kouji."