In order ot make up for the horrible fillerness of the last chapter, here's the next one. It's up quick.
AN: FYI this takes place immediately after the last episode of Adventure 02. I refuse to say Season 2 just because. I apologize for the phrase 'ear type thing' but the mood desperately needed to be lightened. At least to me it did.
This chapter is a real whopper now. I really didn't think it would end up this long. Oh well, gives you more to read. I can't help but feel that this chapter is somewhat choppy, though. I really need to work on transitions scenes. And the relavation of the Chosen seems oddly disappointing. I suppose that's because no one really believes its true.
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Okay? I don't!
Déjà Vu
Summary: This wasn't supposed to happen. They were supposed to be home. Not here, in helping their future selves defeat an enemy whom they thought they had already slain.
Chapter 3: Re-caps And Reintroductions I
Michael guided seven of the Chosen- Mimi had taken Mimi somewhere else for a reason neither Michael nor the time-displaced knew- to a rendezvous point created so the Chosen of the world could travel back home. This point was not headed towards Japan but as Yamato and Hikari were manning the portal here to India, Michael thought the current Chosen could calm the past chosen.
At the moment Michael was slowly striding at a pace those following were finding painful. Michael's thoughts were contemplating on what to call the eleven-year-old Yamato and what to call the fourteen-year-old one. Then he wondered what the eleven-year-old Yamato would call his fourteen-year-old self. Needless to say the whole thing was one big grammatical nightmare.
Seven of the eight Chosen stepped up towards the two figures leaning against a tree stump. They stared at the oddness of the small television screen perched atop it and wondered how it was functioning without a power source.
The male blonde figure sighed and murmured something to the female brunette. She replied with a meek smile and another sigh. The girl reached for something in her pocket and closed her eyes with one more sigh.
"Tailmon!" the brunette called.
"Gabumon!" called the blonde.
There was a rustling in the over-head leaves and a white cat zipped down from the branches into the girls lap. Next, an odd yellow creature clad in a striped blue fur coat waddled up to the blond.
Little Yamato and Hikari gasped.
Michael cleared his throat; Big Yamato and Hikari turned towards him.
"Yamato, Hikari," began Michael, a little feebly, "Meet yourselves, three years ago."
The older Yamato's eyes widened in horror as did the older Hikari's.
"This… This is a joke, right?" stuttered big Yamato with a nervous laugh that was clearly forced.
"Actually, no. This is serious, Yamato," calmed stated Michael.
Yamato laughed loudly, sarcasm wringing from his voice. ""Seriously, Michael, you can stop the joke now. You can stop this cruel, cruel joke now."
"Yamato," said Hikari, "I think this is real."
"No… You must be imagining things because this can not happen!"
Young Taichi leaned over to young Yamato and whispered in his ear in a voice that was intended to be heard. "Future you can't handle stress any better than current you can."
Big Yamato blinked. The Taichi look-a-like was clad in the exact same attire he had: the same blue T-shirt; the same shorts that were a color he could never really place. But the startling thing was that the goggles that rested on the mop of bird's nest hair were identical to the ones he had seen his friend wear. The same odd chip at the corner of the frame over the left eyes; the same scratches and scuffs on the lenses- intentionally created with a key in order to gain some 'street cred' and worn rubber strap that tapered off slightly round the front.
"Then… Then…" stuttered Yamato. "You're us."
"How is this possible?" said the older Hikari.
"Well, we don't know. Didn't this happen to you?" said Michael.
"NO!" wailed Yamato and Hikari in equally shocked tones.
"So what do we do?" asked Michael meekly.
"Koushiro, any ideas?" older Yamato inquired.
Koushiro didn't respond, a little confused to which Koushiro he was referring to. That is, until he realized there was no other Koushiro there at the time. He began to stutter as he tried to formulate some sort of plan.
"I guess you really are me-us- whatever," Younger Yamato stood awe struck at the sight of the older him. He had grown up to be quite the looker.
"Guess so, Yamato," older Yamato replied in his trademark cool demeanor.
There was a pause as each Ishida examined each other highly. One reminiscing find memories of the past, the other wondering what his future could possibly hold.
"Yamato?" asked Big Hikari.
"Yeah?" both Yamatoes replied.
"I meant older 'Mato, not younger one," said Hikari.
Young Yamato blushed furiously.
"Let's talk…"
Digital Gate to America
"C'mon, guys! You're late enough as it is! Hurry it up a bit!" wailed Daisuke, waving his arms around furiously.
"Sorry, Daisuke. Tortomon and I accidentally saw another Tortomon peeing," said Lou meekly.
Daisuke sighed, "Don't worry. Happened to me once. It's a long story."
Lou shrugged and held out his digivice, the white light erupting from the television.
Daisuke sighed as the digi-gate closed. Those were all the American Chosen Children.
He sighed and fell onto the soft grass. Thankful for the scenic spot he closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh air. It was untainted by any factory waste or car fumes. The first time he had smelt it, the air seemed odd and stench filled. Now he realized it was clean and pure. As he began to nap- rightfully so, he had just saved the world!- he scratched his nose absent-mindedly and patted the soft earth.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
He stirred at the mechanical monotone alert of his D-Terminal. He groaned and flipped it on. Reading the message lazily.
To: Daisuke
From: Hikari
Meeting!
Meet us at the India gate. This is very important! Don't be late!
Blinking he quickly typed a response.
To: Hikari
From: Daisuke
RE: Meeting!
Be there as soon as I can. Just got to find V-mon.
He flipped down the Terminal lid stood up. "V-mon!"
A blue dragon poked its head out of the bushes.
"V-mon! We're meeting everyone at the India gate. The one Hikari is manning," said the boy running a hand through his spiky hair as he began to walk off.
"Daisuke! Wait for me!"
Near Digi-gate to India
" Yamato… Yamato-san…" said older Hikari, "Don't you have a plan, Yamato-san?"
Yamato looked at her with an apologetic gaze.
"The- The best we can do now is meet up with the others and think of something then."
The girl sighed, pushing back a lock of brown hair only to have it fall back to her face. "Yamato, what if they never get home?"
Her question was oddly pessimistic, cold tones laced the cryptic words as a look of concern spread across her soft features. He inwardly sighed, closing his eyes, breathing in air that somehow held memories in its fresh scent. His sharp features twisted as he winced.
"I don't know."
She turned towards him, fiddling with the strap of her digital camera; biting her lip.
"So they're just stuck here? Forever?"
He didn't want to answer. He really didn't.
Thankfully he wouldn't have to. At least for this moment.
"Guys! Guys! Why'd you call?" asked Daisuke as he ran up towards them.
Yamato turned towards Hikari. "You called him?"
She shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring his discomfort about one of the newer Chosen helping the situation. "You said call everyone."
Yamato sighed once more fixing his gaze onto Daisuke. "Has anyone else arrived?"
The younger boy blinked in confusion before replying, "No. Not yet."
"Then you can wait like the rest of them," the blonde stated icily.
"I am just as much of a Chosen Child as you are Yamato. If you think you're better than-" the spiky haired youth said, offended.
Hikari silenced him with a placing of her hand on his shoulder. "Not now, Daisuke. Go find the others. Don't go near the Digi-Gate, either."
"Fine," he scoffed, turning around.
When the redhead finally left Yamato looked up with his azure orbs. His piercing gaze was filled with confusion, his voice aggravated. "Why did you call him? Before the seniors?"
"He's still a Chosen, Yamato," she replied coolly, obviously disappointed in him.
"I know… I'm sorry. I just… it's not everyday you see yourself right there."
An awkward silence ensued; Yamato kicked the ground.
"Let's go, Hikari."
Digi-Gate to India
Daisuke grumbled as he trudged around the lake, not really trying to find the other Chosen. It was not fair. He had just saved the world! He was key in saving the world! Why did Yamato still to this to him? Daisuke snuck up behind a tree near the gate.
If they won't tell me, I'll find out myself…
He turned his head round slightly, V-mon tugging at his shirt.
"Daisuke, I thought Yamato and Hikari told you to look for the others?" the blue digimon whined.
"Not now, V-mon. I'm gonna find out what they're hiding from me…"
He shuffled around the tree, the rough bark grazing his jacket. Finding a good, unobstructed view he knelt down and peeked out. He was greeted to the sight of eight children that looked oddly familiar and Michael.
Michael was pacing the ground, hands in pockets, a look of seriousness etched onto his face. The other eight children composed of three girls and five boys. Most of them looked to be about ten or eleven but the two youngest only looked about seven or eight. Why were they so familiar?
"Who are they?" he whispered to himself.
"Us," replied Yamato rather flatly, appearing from nowhere and scaring the daylights out of him.
Daisuke sighed. Wiping a bead of perspiration from his forehead with his –also sweaty- palms. He smiled slightly. "Funny, Yamato. Real funny. Seriously, who are they?"
The blonde raised a brow causing the younger boy to cock his head.
"Us," he said simply.
"Yamato, stop fooling around," Daisuke said getting more annoyed by the second, "those children are probably lost! Who are they?"
The blonde a raised brow once more, piercing gaze adverted to the eight children. He looked at them rather wistfully, clenching his jaw. He shut his eyes for a moment taking in the cool air as if he were taking a long drag on a cigarette. He left his lids half-open, all the time leaving his gaze firmly on the children. His eagle eyes gave away his day dreaming mind. Memories seemed to swell in his mind.
"Like I said," he remarked coolly, still not facing Daisuke, "they're us."
The younger child shook his head. "But you're right here."
The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose, taking one more deep drag of fresh air. "They're us. Three years ago."
Daisuke frowned in confusion.
"This is why we told you not to go near here," said Hikari, emerging from the bushes.
"Aagh!" he wailed, "How do you do this? How are they-?"
"Not now, Daisuke. Just- Just not now," said Yamato coldly. His expression softened. "Keep the rest of the juniors out of this. For now, anyway."
The maroon haired boy stepped backwards slowly, turning backwards, slightly afraid of the seniors harsh words. It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Could it? He shook his head. Yamato must have become delusional after all the stress. Yes, that must have been it. Where was V-mon? He scanned the trees for his partner. It could not be that hard to find a blue dragon in a forest of green. He kicked the dirt with his shoe only to find his foot come to a grinding stop. He looked down, his eyes greeted to the sight of a sleeping V-mon, his foot wedged between the dragon's back and the dirt.
V-mon had a right to be tired. Being Imperialdramon in Fighter form and saving the world took it out of a digimon. The boy smiled at his sleeping partner.
"V-mon! Get up!" he bellowed into his partner's… ear type thing.
V-mon woke up with a stutter to a smirking Daisuke. The blue creature frowned at his partner, grumbling.
"Come on, V-mon. We have to find the others."
V-mon groaned.
Yamato and Hikari
As stressful as the situation was, he refused to pace the ground in circles like a puppy chasing its tail. Yamato simply refused to be that cliché. Michael, on the other hand, was prone to little common quirks and had carved out a shallow moat through kicking and pacing the ground. Betamon had tried to keep up with him but the teen was pacing so quickly his partner soon retired to watching the boy break out in cold sweat.
Yamato chose to preserve his dignity and energy. So he let Little Yamato catch up with Gabumon. So what if he had left his partner to baby sit himself? His jeans and sleeveless turtleneck- he still wondered today where he had found that shirt- clad self was perfectly happy catching up with an old friend. Besides, either pf them would rather not confront or converse with each other. It would never stop being awkward talking to your own self.
Big Yamato sighed. The fresh air was his new addiction. It was, by far, healthier than any cigarette or drug and completely legal. It was even healthy! Through out all his adventures through the strange land he had never really notched the scent of the air around him. It was different in every part of the Digimon World but his favorite kind was here, in the forests near the lake. The intoxicating fresh scent brought an untainted pleasure to him.
"So you're really Yamato, Yamato?"
He turned his head to the origin of the voice. An eight-year-old Hikari was standing before him, in awe of how much he had changed. He nodded in an attempt to answer the obvious question and not appear to be rude. He'd rather not have his young self know he would turn out to be. He was perfectly comfortable with who he was but somehow he didn't want the surprise to be ruined for himself.
She looked at him. Just looked at him. Not really staring or gazing but just… looking. Innocent observation.
"How much time has passed?"
Yet again, her oddly pessimistic question sent shivers down his spine.
She was a smart girl. That much was obvious. She had obviously deducted they were in the future. She looked slightly remorseful; afraid of living in the reality they had been placed in. He shivered as a cold wind glided through, blowing strands of blonde hair into his eyes. Did he really want to so this? Did he really want to break the truth to this girl? To Hikari? All of them had been through so much. They had been deleted and were reformed through sheer force of will. They had saved the world. They were promised home. He bit his lip; the wind howled louder and louder. Diverting his gaze to the image of himself under the shade with Gabumon he sighed.
He had already let her down once. Three years ago when Vamdemon attacked Odaiba. He was meant to keep her safe. He was supposed to reassure her. In the end, the only words he had spoken to her were of his doubt in her brother, in his friend, and she had turned herself in to protect him.
At long last he turned to face her.
"Three years."
The statement hardly seemed to affect her at first. She denied it in her mind. How could three years have passed if she had only boarded the trolley twenty minutes ago? Not even an hour. She bit her lip, wincing. He half expected tears to fall from her face.
"Thank you."
He paused. He had just shattered her world. Why was she thanking him? Why would she possibly thank the person that had reassured her that the world she lived in had fast-forwarded three years? His breath grew heavy as he stared at her. Only innocence stared back.
She smiled at him. A tiny smile, barely noticeable and only placed there as not to appear rude. "Thank you for telling the truth."
He faltered. His gaze was wide eyed. She turned round slowly. He desperately wanted to comfort her. He wanted to reach out and just say: "I'm sorry." He pushed away the thought. That was her brother's job.
What was being a brother? He looked over to little Takeru. Why wasn't past him taking care of his brother? Younger Yamato was talking to Gabumon. Mumbling by the looks of it. Big Yamato strode over and sat down next to little Takeru. The older blonde sighed. "You okay?"
Little Takeru looked up, studying the feature of much older brother. "No. Not really."
The brothers studied other, their eyes locked into an intense gaze. Yamato finally felt like a real older brother.
"Hey! What are doing to my brother?"
"Our brother," Big Yamato corrected, "You shouldn't be so edgy. He's my brother too."
Young Yamato glared at his older self. He was obviously suspicious of the strangers that claimed to be him. Both of them were. Somehow, older Yamato truly believed that this was himself. He could see it in his own eyes- if that made sense in any way. Young Yamato ushered little Takeru away, slanting his eyes. Older Yamato sighed. He though he had changed after the defeat of Apocalymon. Then again, he had a perfectly good reason to be a little suspicious. The older blonde really believed his younger self knew who they were. This whole situation was a grammatical nightmare.
Big Yamato sighed and stepped out of the chaos. Leaning against a broad tree he inhaled a deep drag of air. He was so engrossed with the clean air that he hardly noticed a hand lay itself on his shoulder.
"Yamato? What's up?" said Taichi.
"All the seniors here?" Yamato inquired cautiously.
"Yeah," the brunette replied, "What's up?"
The blonde turned his head, gesturing to eight children that looked oddly familiar.
"No way."
Daisuke and Co.
How long had he been walking? Yes he had found all the juniors (bar Takeru who he thought should be there) but what was he going to do now? Daisuke sighed running a hand through his hair.
A beeping from his D-Terminal interrupted his train of thought.
To: Daisuke
From: Taichi
Rendezvous
You and the others can come and meet us at the India Gate.
That was it? He had stalled, gathered and paced for that?
Must be a real surprise, he thought.
"Guys, come on! We're meeting the others!" he called.
Taichi and Co.
Taichi's chocolate eyes scanned his surroundings. More specifically: himself. How this was possible, he didn't know. He paced the ground in a manner Yamato found rather cliché. He looked up, staring aimlessly into the forest.
"Guys! We're here! What's up?" called Daisuke, running up to the seniors with Ken, Miyako and Iori.
"Those children," said Taichi, gesturing with his head, "They're us. From the past."
"Three years ago to be more specific," added Koushiro with a tone of seriousness.
"Come on," said Taichi dismissively, "We have to meet Mimi."
Iori cocked an eyebrow, still walking. Was this really true?
He looked at them. Really looked at them, analyzing them.
The Digital world changed them, he deducted. That is, if they were really them. They did not look like carefree children. They seemed to carry some sort of duty, a burden of sorts. There was an unspoken maturity to their manners. He would have guessed their speech had a 'thought over' tone. The way they walked: it wasn't a proud sort of strut but it carried some sort of dignified yet it was at a pace that seemed to make them appear to be hiding. Their footsteps were soft on the hard earth- gentle plops like dripping water into mud but lacked the horrible squelch.
But the thing about them that really gave them away were their eyes. Iori turned his head to look at the sapphires of the Takeru he knew and compared them to the eight-year-old who tugged at his bag strap as it dug into his shoulder. The elder Takeru was smiling in an attempt to lighten the mood. The younger blonde gave a meek smile now and again, uncomfortable in this far off future.
The blue eyes were identical but the elder's carried a more hazy maturity within them. The young's was filled with beams of optimism, albeit dampened. Elder tapped young's shoulders and gave a warm but meek smile that seemed to calm young down. Young recognized that smile as his own. Though changed through age and adapted to a now squarer jaw he recognized the curve of the lips, the way his eyes lit up involuntarily and the rounded soft lips.
Iori paused but continued walking, all the time comparing the younger seniors to their current selves. Taichi had certainly grown a bit. His hair had grown even bigger and sat rebelliously on his head and by some strange stroke of luck, manage to keep out of his tan face. Iori had often wondered how Hikari could be so pale in comparison to her brother.
Hikari just shot up like a rocket. Takeru shot up more, though. Younger Hikari was a good two inches taller than younger Takeru. Her hair wasn't cut much differently, perhaps even shorter than before. However, the whistle that he had heard of, meant to be hanging from her neck was absent. She tugged, absent mindedly, at her long yellow shirt.
Yamato seemed to have used substantial amounts of hair-gel in the past. The young one's blond locks were gelled immaculately in a wind-swept way, spiked around in a manner that seemed too complicated to even think of doing. Iori was never one for complications like that. It was the reason his hair was cut in its neat bowl cut. Yamato almost looked like he had a haircut at some point between those three years until you finally realized that all the gel must have added some volume to it. His new hair was just slicked down a bit. Okay, a lot. Iori still refused to believe the Chosen had a hair cut.
Sora's hair hadn't changed that much- as far as he could tell. That hat was blocking his view. Her red hair curled at the ends, cut rather girlishly when you really thought about it.
Koushiro had cut his hair and certainly had a growth spurt. Young Koushiro's hair looked like it was a wig stuck through an electric socket. It wasn't particularly long but had it fallen straight he would have suspected it to fall somewhere above his neck.
Apparently, Jyou's wavy hair was once cut into a functional side-part, cowlicks appearing occasionally here and there. His old glasses were thick and chunky compared to his new ones. They had a thick brown frame, a bar from the top, lenses etched into the half-frames. He was about to analyze their clothes and dress senses but thinking that to be a little to extreme- even for him- he scanned for any signs of the only Chosen he had not yet seen.
Mimi? Where was Mimi? How could he possibly continue his comparisons without Mimi? What if something bad had happened?
They had already arrived. Iori tilted his head. "Where's Mimi-san?"
