Duskmon wakes first. He sits up slowly with a hoarse groan and slumps, holding his head between his gauntlets. Renamon bites his tongue and watches. There's so much he doesn't like about this, but what strikes him the most right then is how small Duskmon seems. He's bigger than Renamon, sure, and yet...

He doubles over coughing. Renamon beats down the urge to head over to him. He subsides soon enough and makes to stand, but Renamon snaps, "No. Sit down."

The eye on his nearest shoulder's gone milky white even though it's stopped oozing liquid from the rows of punctures. To see Renamon, he has to turn his face.

Despite the sun high overhead, his vision should work fine since they're in a heavily shaded spot under the towering trees. Not a trace of recognition emerges in his expression, though. Renamon hurriedly scrunches his eyes shut and buries his head under his arms, but the brief glimpse already etched the moment into memory.

That must be what other people see when they look at Duskmon.

"Oh," Duskmon breathes. Loam whispers under him, and Renamon bites out without looking, "Sit down."

Silence falls again.

"A fox," Duskmon croaks after a pause, like out of all that's happened that's the one event worth commenting on. Did he expect something else?

"I'm Renamon." He wraps his arms around his legs and lifts his head from his knees. Despite having limbs now, somehow he wants most to curl back into a ball.

"I wasn't there."

No, Duskmon wasn't.

Renamon evolved on his own. Alone, he found Duskmon and Izumi and carried them to flat ground. Both of them were still bleeding. He didn't know what to do for it, but it stopped after a while without intervention.

He hasn't eaten or slept since yesterday. He doesn't have food and doesn't know how to find it, he doesn't know how to start a fire for warmth and boiled water, he doesn't know how to leave the island, he doesn't know how to contact Cherubimon since Duskmon still has the Digivice ensconced in his inventory. He doesn't know anything. He spent the night and morning in terror that two people he cares about might die in a way anyone other than him could have prevented.

"Sorry," says Duskmon.

The world has shrunk around Renamon, people shorter and distances less daunting and dangers closer, but that word has become the smallest of all. No one should get to undo their mistakes with two syllables. "For what?" he demands.

Duskmon gives him a searching look. "I shouldn't have – " He breaks off with a flinch. This time Renamon doesn't manage to stop himself from bounding over to crouch at his side. He still can't help, though. Duskmon grimaces and rubs the side of his neck, where the metal bears teeth marks. Izumi made those, or the monster she became did.

Duskmon might have hurt her first, though. Renamon doesn't... he didn't see. Someone screamed. Izumi's voice when she spoke held more anger and desperation than it seems like one person should have the ability to contain.

Maybe Duskmon had it coming. Maybe Renamon would have done the same if he understood and lived through what Izumi has. Even still, he has never wanted to see Duskmon hurt.

"I can wait." He would like accountability, but it doesn't have to happen now.

"No," rasps Duskmon. "I shouldn't have brought you."

Renamon gapes. How did he misunderstand that badly? "We shouldn't have come at all! What's the point of scanning this place? Why are we trying to destroy the world? How is this supposed to help?"

"There's nothing in the world worth saving."

What? "We live in this world! You're worth saving! Neesan's worth saving! I'm... I'm worth saving, too. Right?"

Duskmon stares like Renamon just forced him to reevaluate all of his life choices, and Renamon reels. He's too smart not to have considered any of this when it's glaringly obvious, so what if Renamon is the one who got it wrong? Duskmon might have a reason he hasn't thought of.

"You left," he says. "I almost – I had to evolve. Did you go because I wasn't worth it?"

"No," Duskmon says with force that surprises them both. After a moment, Duskmon hooks an arm over his shoulders and pulls him into a hug. He can't fit into it like he did as Wanyamon. Sometimes hands come in useful, like when he needs to carry things, but right now they might as well be an extra tail for him to make sure doesn't get caught.

He sets his chin on Duskmon's shoulder, and that, at least, feels familiar.

Duskmon murmurs, "I messed up. I'm sorry. ...You're important. I don't fully understand why, but you are. I wouldn't let anything happen to you if I could stop it."

Renamon laughs wetly. Duskmon, emotional quota spent for the week, tries to let go, but Renamon's worked out what to do with his limbs and clings tighter. He's still brittle, the weight of the world too sharp and too present against his fur, and reeling from the whiplash fracturing of his trust in Duskmon's invincibility and ability to always answer when Renamon needs him. But that only means he should treasure Duskmon more when he does come through. They won't always exist like this, together. "I'm glad you're okay. But please don't leave me alone again."

"I'll try."

No one will get more out of him than I'll try. He doesn't make empty promises any more than he lies. Renamon wouldn't have believed it if he answered with I won't instead, but it would have been nice to hear.

Duskmon's gaze flickers to focus on something past Renamon. This time Renamon goes when Duskmon prods him off, settling into a crouch and turning on his toes to look at Izumi.

Her breath hitches. She opens her eyes and spends a few seconds staring at the shifting leaves far above, and then she makes a pained noise and eases herself upright, favoring her right arm. Renamon doesn't remember her having skin that pale or lips that waxy yellow before. Her clothes have enough dried blood caked into the fabric that they barely bend with her movements.

He angles himself to block most of her view of Duskmon, so she looks at him first. He waves. "Hi, neesan."

Her frown clears slowly. Once it does, she sighs explosively and says with feeling a word he doesn't know. She slumps and covers most of her face with her left hand. "Wanyamon?"

"I'm Renamon now."

"You lived," she says with such palpable relief that it leaves him uneasy under the strength of it.

"Do you remember what you did?" Duskmon asks with strange intensity, finishing the question even though midway through Renamon whirls on him and motions frantically to stop talking.

Something awful and wounded takes over Izumi's expression. "Do you? Who were we facing at the end?"

Renamon shoves a hand over Duskmon's mouth before he can respond. Duskmon grabs his wrist, seemingly as a reflex since he doesn't act further. "Don't fight! Please don't fight, it doesn't fix anything." He just got them back. "You two blew up half of this island and nearly killed each other and nearly killed me and you still don't like each other. What was the point? What was that supposed to accomplish?"

"He shouldn't have brought you," says Izumi.

"You shouldn't have fought!"

By their faces, both of them disagree. Are adults just like this? He wants to lock them in a room with candied fruit to talk their issues out like people who make sense.

Duskmon tries to move Renamon's hand, but Renamon slides it back. Duskmon sighs. "I need to take a call," he says, because only his helmet is blocked and not his mouth underneath.

Renamon reluctantly withdraws. Izumi leans forward at the sight of the blue-trimmed Digivice, then sets her jaw when Cherubimon's reply to Duskmon's greeting sounds from the speakers.

"What happened to your voice?"

"I lost a fight," says Duskmon. Izumi startles, and Renamon, though he doesn't know and doesn't care about the specifics of how they tried to murder each other, blinks as well. The aftermath pointed to a draw. "Met the Warrior of Wind and she evolved with both of her Spirits. I doubt I can scan the area."

"...Is she still there?"

"Yes."

"Walk me through from the beginning."

Once Duskmon's account of events arrives at the beach, Cherubimon asks, "You're certain it was a corrupted double Spirit evolution?"

"Velgrmon was confident it was."

"You can stop there." Cherubimon hums. "It sounds like it couldn't be helped, I wouldn't expect you to win against that. Is she still in that form?"

Duskmon pauses. Izumi slides her hand into a pocket. "No. She's human."

"That, I expect you to win against."

Renamon freezes, hackles rising. Cherubimon spoke those words as easily as he might ask him how his day went. Izumi's gone tense as well, but Duskmon, who looks confused more than anything, hasn't moved. "I already lost."

"To her human form?"

"To Furymon. I can't challenge her when she's at a disadvantage after I lost to her strongest form."

Judging by Izumi's expression and the silence emanating from the Digivice, Renamon isn't the only one stumbling over the logic.

Eventually Cherubimon asks, "Why not?"

"Because she won." He hesitates. "I... don't know how many more ways I can say it."

Cherubimon makes a noise deep enough to set Renamon's fur on end. "I was sure I'd cut out your sense of honor. Well, you can't fight her, and you won't kill her. Since you're useless right now, you have time to come up with your own method to cross the ocean."

Renamon starts. "But – "

Duskmon slashes his gauntlet down in a cutting motion so abrupt it shocks him into silence. He never noticed, but Duskmon always keeps his body language soft around him.

"Oh? Hello, Wanyamon." Renamon almost corrects the name but subsides when Duskmon shakes his head. "Were you listening?"

A reply dies on his tongue. Duskmon's acting strange, Cherubimon's acting strange, and the right words sit out of reach.

"How are you?"

"...I'm okay."

"I'm thankful Duskmon managed to keep you safe, at the very least. This isn't the time for it, but remind me someday to tell you the story of why he took you from the Village of Beginnings."

"There's a story?" he blurts, setting a hand on the ground as he leans closer. He thought it just sort of happened.

"A rather long one, yes, for another time. I'll leave the pair of you to it. It was nice to hear from you, Wanyamon."

Duskmon opens his eyes a long moment after the call ends – he closed them at some point while Cherubimon spoke to Renamon. Renamon settles back into a crouch, peering at him with his head tilted. "Why... did Cherubimon-sama pick now to talk about that?"

"Don't ask him," Duskmon says. "If you need to, ask me. But don't do that either."

"Why not?"

Duskmon keeps silent.

"Is it personal?"

He exhales. "Yes."

If it's important enough to him that it makes him unhappy to remember, then Renamon has no great reason to learn it. He nods and decides he doesn't have to know. "Okay."

Izumi says quietly, "That was unpleasant. Why did you lie to him?"

"When did I lie?" says Duskmon.

"You told him you lost."

"I did." He seems surprised that it's in question. "When you forced a slide evolution. If Renamon didn't pull a miracle, you would have killed him. Nothing would have counted as a victory afterwards."

"Seriously?" She draws herself up and takes a shaky breath. "I didn't mean to hurt him. I – "

She makes to turn towards Renamon, but Duskmon's already cutting her off: "What you meant doesn't matter."

Renamon flattens his ears and covers his snout with his hands. "Stop using me to start arguments."

Actually, he can do something about that. "Duskmon, can I have the gourd? I passed water on the way here." Duskmon blinks at him, then starts to stand. He lets Renamon push him back down, though. "No, I'll do it! You stay here with neesan and talk and – and if I come back and you're yelling or one of you is gone I'll be really sad. Okay?"