The Crystal Gate

Part Twelve: The Peaceful Evening

Standard Disclaimer Thingie: Digimon is not mine, the plot is. Don't steal, don't sue, don't forget to moo.

Moo.

It had taken Hikari longer than she had expected to leave Takaishi, for, despite her best efforts, Takeru's grandmother was incredibly confused about where he had gone and why. Since most of her questions were unanswerable, it was understandable that it took some time for Hikari to persuade her not to send out a party to search for her grandson. Then, it was not so easy to leave at all, for Lady Takaishi wanted her to stay a few days more. Hikari demurred, and eventually the old woman agreed, though she did insist on sending along a half-dozen servants (two of which were really armed guards) as an escort. Though not eager for traveling companions, Hikari could think of no reason nor means of refusing the offer. It certainly was not wise to travel alone, and she hated to think of what might happen if Mummymon were to attack while she was alone – not that any of her companions were likely to be of any help.

By the time she had returned to the palace, Takeru had been quite some time in Hida, and had sent word of his location back to the palace. Daisuke had disappeared, taking Shijo with him, and Miyako had gone after them a few days later. Taichi had suffered frostbite of all things, and Jyou had been nearly ready to tear his hair from his skull at the thought of another such patient. Whilst she had traveled, however, both had mostly recovered, and things were now at a relative calm.

"Which is not to say that it won't be complete chaos tomorrow," Mimi concluded with a sigh, having greeted Hikari upon her return. "For now, all is quiet. Your brother still argues with the northern Lords, but I daresay he's nearly got them convinced, or at least managed to silence them enough."

"I don't see what they should argue with him for," Hikari confessed, shaking her head with a similar sigh. "None of them much want Hida for themselves, or they would have taken it twenty years ago. They should let it be given away and that's that."

They were walking down the corridors, Hikari heading for her room where she hoped to take a bath and rest for a bit. Something in the back of her mind was bothering her, but she pushed it away, not wishing to wrestle with it at the moment.

"That's precisely my opinion as well," Mimi agreed, nodding. "I think a few of them were hoping it might be given to one of their second sons, thereby increasing their power and wealth though not their responsibility. Still, Taichi is right not to give it to someone who won't care about it."

"Hmm," Hikari answered absently. They turned a corner and passed through a corridor lined with tall, bright windows. Warm sunlight flooded the hall, and outside, the gardens were visible. "I'm glad to hear of where Takeru has gone," she said, glancing out toward the garden.

A few women were tending the flowers, which were blooming with full splendor now. It would soon be summer, with long, warm days. Distantly, Hikari could see a man pushing a mower over the grass, trimming the green blades. A few ladies walked between the flowers, admiring the blossoms on the trees or the blooms of the flowers.

"I'm happy for him," Mimi said, "but it will be strange not to have Iori here." She, too, glanced out the window, and both of them paused to take in the pleasant scenery for a few moments.

Beyond the nearby garden the land rose gently, and they could see a solitary female figure slowly ascending the slope. From such a distance, it was hard to make out precisely who it was, but both Hikari and Mimi focused on her, thinking that they might know the person. Tailmon, whose eyes were sharp, said, "Is that Sora?"

"Might be," Hikari answered, squinting in the sunlight. "I wonder what she's doing out there."

When Miyako had forced her eyes open once more, it was late in the day, the sun sinking low in the west and the temperature slowly dropping, even in the desert. She became aware of the crackling of a fire not far away, and turned her eyes to see that a few small pieces of meat were cooking over the flames. Shijo was watching the meat with a focused attention, as though he was determined not to allow it to overcook for by even a second. A few steps away from him, his recently-evolved partner Agumon dozed in the sand.

The world was no longer spinning or blurry, but there was still a dull ache in the front of her head, right above her eyes, and another in the back of her head where it had collided with the stone wall. The pain in her chest had evaporated, but the rest of her body ached with an unspecified exhaustion, and she didn't feel like mustering the energy to sit up.

Shijo noticed she was awake though, and left his cooking, crossing the space between them. "Do you want some water?" he asked. "The meat isn't finished cooking yet, but there's still some fruit…."

"Water," she echoed, and yawned, still feeling tired. She willed herself to sit up, but her body took a bit more effort to persuade. "Water sounds good."

Immediately, he went about finding one of the canteens still half filled with water and twisted the cap off before handing it over. Having finally forced herself into a sitting position, Miyako gratefully drank a few gulps of the mostly warm water.

The evening was quiet, with not even the sounds of battle in the distance.

"Shouldn't be too much longer, I think," Shijo said, having gone back to watching the meat. He turned the stick and examined the side more closely. "I'm not used to cooking this sort of fish – I've never seen one like it before – so I'm not sure about the timing. It smells good already, though."

"Hmm," Miyako agreed, for the aroma of the roasting fish was filling the air and it was an enticing smell. Her eyes fell on the sleeping Agumon nearby. "Koromon evolved?"

His delight at this rite of passage was evident, for a wide grin spread briefly across the boy's face before he stifled it, likely to try to appear more grown-up. "Yes," he said, nodding. "He lit the fire."

"My brother wanted an Agumon," she recalled, thinking of her older sibling. "He fancied he'd be able to set my sisters' dresses on fire if they dared torment him."

His eyes grew wide; he had not considered this possibility. "I suppose no one would bother a fire-breathing digimon."

"No, unless they had firepower themselves."

The sound of footsteps shuffling through the sand interrupted whatever else might have been said then, and Miyako turned to see Daisuke approaching from the north, carrying four canteens over one shoulder, obviously heavy with water. He set them down in the sand with a clank and then sat down heavily beside them, opened the nearest one, and drank a long gulp from it. V-mon, who had followed him, fell into the sand on his back, obviously wanting a nap.

"Is there water near here?" Miyako questioned. "A stream or a lake?"

He shook his head and pointed the direction he'd come. "Snow," he said when he'd paused for breath. "Melts fast in the desert. Want some?"

Though she'd already had a gulp of water, Miyako took one of the canteens from him and drank a few more swallows. The water was still ice-cold despite the warmth of the air, and it tasted fresh and delicious like water usually did not.

Daisuke was watching her out of the corner of one eye, pretending not to be. "You all right?" he asked, casually, as though he didn't much care one way or the other if she was or not.

"Tired," she answered, frowning as his question quickly brought back unpleasant memories of flying through the air and how close she had come that day to death. "A bit sore." She reached up and gently touched the back of her head. There was no blood, but it was still a bit tender.

"Hmm," he said, laying back in the sand. Overhead, stars were beginning to appear in the darkening sky as dusk approached.

"They – she got the crystal, didn't she?" Miyako said after a moment, studying a few of the tiny crystals of sand beneath her. "I wasn't strong enough to stop her…."

"None of us are," a voice interrupted from behind her, and she turned to see another person approaching. Beyond the circle of fire, it was difficult to make out who it was, but she recognized his voice, and her guess was confirmed a moment later when a small green caterpillar digimon came into the firelight. "Don't blame yourself for it."

For a long moment, she couldn't move, couldn't speak, only watched dumbly as he sat down in the sand in the space between her and Daisuke, who turned his head momentarily in the direction of the newcomer. "But - ," she began.

"But nothing," Ken replied shortly, though in a soft voice. "The magic of an upper-level digimon will always be greater than a human. Especially a human who has not reached the full potential of her magic." He was not looking at her or at anyone else, but staring at the sand between his feet as though seeing something entirely different.

"But you stopped it!" she returned, having overcoming the shock of seeing him again as well as the astonishment of having him offer something in the way of comfort.

"I didn't…," he answered.

"We did," Daisuke finished.

Miyako glanced briefly toward the still-sleeping Hawkmon and sighed.

Since Iori had left, Yamato was of the opinion that things were dangling above a frenzied pit on a very thin line of string that might at any second break and send the entire kingdom into chaos. He was the only one to hold such an opinion, which was likely because he had taken it upon himself (or perhaps had it thrust upon him, it wasn't quite certain) to organize a mess of paperwork.

There was an extraordinary amount of paperwork involved in the running of a kingdom, far more than the average person would ever have suspected. Records had to be kept on nearly everything, and every law that was signed into effect or enforced or debated had to be written about on a half-dozen or so forms and then filed in the appropriate spaces. Each time any of the numerous land-owning lords met with the king to express a grievance or to report on the status of his holding, notes had to be taken (Yamato was quite glad he didn't have to take notes at least) and then copied and then reviewed and then copied again and filed in the appropriate spaces.

Some things, Yamato had never quite worked out what the appropriate spaces were. Some things, he wasn't sure had appropriate spaces. Some things fit into several different appropriate files and thus had to be copied yet again. The life of a scribe was undoubtedly a busy one.

Since the founding of the kingdom, there had been one person assigned to the running of the office – to keeping the paperwork straight and locating important papers when they were needed. Before Iori, an elderly man had been running the office. His appointed successor proved to be largely inept at the job, and Iori had slowly but surely taken over most of the actual work until his so-called supervisor had died. There was little debate as to who should replace him. No one, least of all Iori himself, had ever expected that Iori might one day soon vacate the position and thus need to train a successor. Though there were quite a few capable scribes and clerks, it was really Iori who had understood best of anyone how the system worked.

Yamato often had thoughts of 'accidentally' torching every file in the palace and forcing them to start from scratch. He had not yet followed up on this threat, but each day caused him to think even more seriously in that direction.

In the evening, he either went to one of the exercise rooms and forced one of the poor souls he found there to spar with him or he went outside and sparred with imaginary opponents. He imagined that he was fighting a horde of walking papers and file folders.

"It looks like you're fighting the shadows," Sora told him.

Startled by her unexpected voice, Yamato whirled around and, if not for her quick reflexes, might have sliced a portion of fabric from her skirts. He had not expected to hear any one else around, and had been so emerged in his activity that he had reacted as he might if an enemy approached. He lowered his sword, still breathing heavily.

"Don't sneak up on me like that," he said, half scolding. Piyomon, at her partner's feet, ruffled her feathers and cast a single brief glare in his direction but said nothing.

"I wasn't sneaking," she answered with a shrug, obviously unaffected by this brush with danger. "You were so involved in fighting imaginary opponents that you didn't hear me approach. Who are you fighting anyway?"

Yamato wiped the sweat from his brow and sheathed his sword. He sat down on a nearby bench. "Papers," he mumbled darkly. "I wish I were a mage who could control fire and I would burn them all."

Sora was quiet for a long moment. "I see," she said finally, and sat on the same bench, though, he noticed, as far from him as it was possible to be.

He sighed and wiped the back of his hand across his forehead once more. "I despise it," he said in a less intense sort of voice. "I despise paperwork and forms and files. I can't find anything, and I don't know where to look, and the more I study it to try to figure it out, the less I understand."

"I see," Sora said again, now with more sympathy than fear. "You were never cut out to be a clerk of any sort, were you?"

He snorted in amusement, finding this funny. "No. Far from it!"

"Hmm. It seems we'll need to find someone else for the job."

Yamato shook his head. "I've tried, trust me. I've tried. Not one of them wants to take over for Iori."

"Well, you could look outside that office," Sora suggested. "Beyond the clerks and those who worked with the files."

"I thought of that," he admitted. "I can't see where to look, though. The mages are mages, the doctors are doctors, the nurses are nurses, the clerks are clerks. I've tried asking amongst the cleaning crew and the cooks and such but most of them can't read very well and I can't put a scullery maid in charge of the paperwork when she can barely write her own name."

Sora fell silent, having no further suggestions. Yamato sighed again and stared up at the stars overhead. After a few moments, he glanced toward Sora. She was quiet, watching the flowers nearby dance in the wind.

"Sora?" he asked. "You came out here for something else, didn't you?"

Despite the fact that the villagers had all decided to occupy their newly-built homes that evening, the entrance hall of the large manor house in Hida once again became home to dozens of people, many of them wounded. Once again the doctors who had not returned to the palace or some other place (a few had decided to stay on full time because Hida had no other doctors) were obliged to do their jobs, tending to some who had suffered great burns or other wounds.

"It could have been far worse," Iori noted, surveying the crowd before him as he stood in the doorway of the hall, at the edge of a corridor that led beyond. "The Tyrannomon could have come south and attacked the village, undoing all our work. I feel better, now, knowing where they came from."

"It could have been disastrous," Li Tan agreed. "I must thank you for your help. We would never have been able to stop them without the help of the Chosen. We might never have hope of recovering without the help of Hida."

"I think that things will be much better if our people keep working together," Iori said. "These people don't seem to have any quarrel with your tribe. I hope we, at least, can live together."

"I don't suppose you think that Mai Wu will give up now, do you?" Takeru questioned after a moment, breaking the otherwise optimistic mood. A rather pessimistic look had appeared in his eyes, and a grimace crossed his face.

"Not likely," Li Tan answered, and his Lopmon partner, riding on his shoulders, shook his head fiercely. The tamer sighed. "I have known Mai Wu since we were children. He does not easily give in to defeat, and he does not like to admit when he is wrong. He has not always been so destructive, however."

"Destructive?" Iori echoed, glancing toward Takeru, whose face had taken on an even darker expression than before. "What do you mean by destructive?"

"He has always been stubborn," Lopmon said. "He has not always been so angry. It used to be that his stubbornness was directed elsewhere."

Li Tan had a faraway look in his eyes, as though he was recalling the distant past. He nodded to what his partner said. "When we were but teenagers, his parents were killed in a battle – a territory dispute with one of the other tribes. After that, he was angry, very angry, and not long after that, he seemed to develop a lust for power and revenge."

Iori was frowning deeply now, one eye on Takeru, one eye on the tamer as he spoke. "Power?" he echoed.

"He wished to be the leader of our tribe, and he wished to make our tribe more powerful than the other tribes. He wanted to make war between the tribes. We fought amongst ourselves before, but only minor skirmishes – territory disputes, perhaps a fight over a woman now and then. Mostly, the tribes have been peaceful.

"Mai Wu, however, wanted to subdue the others, to make the tribes unite under his leadership, and then, I believe, to travel north and threaten the king of the Northern Kingdom. I doubt he would have succeeded – I doubt he will – but he does not give up."

"Sound familiar?" Takeru questioned, turning toward Iori.

There was little sound in the gardens but the chirping of tiny insects. Even conversations from people near the palace sounded muted. It was past the evening meal, and some of the lords and ladies had come outside to take in the warm air. Music played in one of the halls, entertaining a few dancers, but this, too, sounded distant, as though coming from another world.

Sora did not speak after Yamato had asked his question. For a long moment, he wondered if she had heard him at all, and then she sighed, a faint sound.

"If not for me…," she said finally, her voice very soft. She paused, for a moment, shaking her head lightly, and then began again. "If not for me he would not have been in danger."

It was with no great difficulty that Yamato concluded she was talking about Taichi. He had noted her uncharacteristic silence the last few days, her wanderings alone in the garden, away from others. He remembered how she had quarreled with Miyako – an unusual occurrence as well. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had noticed these things, though not their reasons, and now he realized the cause of them all.

"If not for you…," he echoed, shaking his head. "If not for you he might be dead!" His voice came out a bit louder than he had intended, and the insects' chirping momentarily paused. Sora lifted her head and stared at him with wide eyes.

"It was I who…," she began, a half-second after the insects had resumed their conversations.

"It was you," he interrupted sharply. "It was you who saved him, have you forgotten that? Have you forgotten that Birdramon evolved?"

"It was my fault that we went on the stupid picnic," she returned.

"Your fault? He did not go unwillingly."

"He did. He didn't want to go."

Yamato sighed, shaking his head. "As though he would refuse you," he mumbled, and Sora had no response to this. "He didn't want you to know, but he was glad to get away, I'm sure of it."

"He told you that?"

"No," he admitted, "but I know it. Do you suppose he likes spending hours in meetings and arguing with the Northern lords any more than I like organizing paperwork all day? If someone dragged me out on a picnic, I would protest, of course! It's my job to take care of the paperwork and the files, and I don't want to abandon it, as much as I hate it."

There was a long silence as Sora seemed to be taking this in. Then, she said, "I wonder if it's a sign."

"A sign?" he echoed blankly.

"A sign that perhaps it's not the best idea to walk away from our important tasks."

Yamato snorted in disbelief and skepticism. "You really believe that?" he echoed. "You really suppose that Someone wants us to stay indoors and fill out paperwork?"

Sora shrugged. "Maybe…," she admitted. "I was always told that it would be best if I stayed indoors and learned to embroider. I certainly wasn't embroidering that day."

Again he snorted, this time in amusement. "I think your fate holds a greater purpose for you than embroidering, Sora," he told her. "I'd like to think my fate is not to do paperwork. If we were meant to do those things, would we have been Chosen?"

"I should hope not!" Piyomon piped up, indignantly.

"So what do you suppose my fate is?" Sora wondered.

A tall glass door was propped open, a heavy stone set on the ground before the wood frame, preventing it from slamming shut in the wind. Gentle breezes gusted through, causing the long drapes beside the open door to dance in the night.

A few papers rustled in the breeze, but they were prevented from escaping by a few well-placed paperweights, some of rather ornate design. A cup of some delicious-tasting liquid sat atop another pile.

There was a quiet, gentle tap on the thick, heavy door, but it was barely heard over the sound of the wind. From the rooms below, gentle music waltzed in with the breezes. After a moment, another tap sounded, but it disappeared as the first had, hidden behind the sound of a scratching pen as it darted across the papers. There was a click as the doorknob turned and opened.

"Taichi?"

He looked up from his papers, his ink-stained hands and the words that had begun to swim on the paper. Seeing who had entered, he got to his feet.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Hikari said, having only half-entered the room. "I can come back when you're not busy."

"I'm never not busy," he answered with a grin, "and I'm never too busy for you. I didn't know you'd returned."

"A few hours ago. I thought I'd take a nap and a bath before I saw anyone." She stepped in, the door shutting behind her with the same soft click. "Mimi tells me you've been battling over Hida."

"Endlessly," he replied, wiping his forehead as though he had recently completed some strenuous task. He stepped away from the desk, toward a couch, taking the cup with him. A bottle of the liquid he had been drinking was on the table near the couch. "Do you want…?" he began, and she shook her head before sitting beside him.

"You'll be glad to know, if you haven't heard from Takeru already, that the crystal in Takaishi is safe," she told him. "Mimi told me he's gone to Hida."

"Yes. That was a funny letter we got from Koushiro. He doesn't have a clue how Takeru transported himself clear across the kingdom in less than an hour."

Hikari smiled a secretive sort of smile. "Some things are best left unexplained," she said. A strong, cool breeze distracted her, rustling the papers and causing the curtains to wave more than before. One of the papers broke free of the weight designed to hold it and it danced across the desk.

If Taichi noticed, he didn't care, for he was looking at his sister's face as though he was studying an interesting book. After a moment, she became aware of his eyes, and turned back to him with a questioning glance. He looked away almost immediately.

"Something is on your mind," Hikari said before he could say whatever it was he had been thinking. Now she was looking at him with an intense gaze. "You've been waiting for me…something you want to talk about?"

"There's always something on my mind," he answered lightly, shrugging. "Are you trying to read my thoughts?"

Again she smiled, the same sort of secretive smile. "I've only known you my entire life," she reminded him. "If I had an idea of what anyone is thinking, it would be you."

A cold breeze rushed in, rattling the windowpanes and scattering a few papers across the desk. Taichi got to his feet and shut the door, kicking aside the stone that had held it open. "I've been thinking about the future," he said when the door had been shut. "Especially since I nearly froze to death."

"Froze to death?" Hikari echoed, suddenly appearing a bit paler than before. "Was it really that bad?"

"Depends on who you ask. According to Jyou, cutting your finger open on a nail could lead to your death. Yamato says he's exaggerating. Sora…." He sighed, crossed the room and sat down heavily on the couch again.

"She doesn't want to think about it," Hikari finished, her expression grim.

"Maybe not," he answered. "I don't."

There was silence for a few moments. Another gust of wind rattled the windowpanes, but the door was firmly shut and the curtains didn't move. The air seemed to have grown colder in the last few minutes.

"Anyway," Taichi said, no longer thinking dark thoughts, "I've been thinking about the future. That, and several people have told me that I should be thinking about the future…." He frowned.

"Several people who are not your friends?" Hikari questioned, and he frowned even harder.

"Several people…," he mumbled, and shook his head, sighing, pushing aside the dark thoughts again. "People have been telling me that I ought to think about the future…you know what that means, don't you?"

His sister grinned now, nodding. "Yes. It means that they want you to think of the future of our kingdom and the welfare of our people. They want you to chose some hapless woman and produce a gaggle of children."

He frowned at her teasing, but she only grinned wider. "Some hapless woman," he said, "is not precisely what I want."

"Well…it's not always about what we want is it?" she reminded him, now frowning slightly. "Do they want you to marry your cousin…or perhaps your own sister?"

"Hikari," he said darkly, and she stopped, shrugging.

"Well, do they have someone in mind?"

"Not yet," he answered. "Give them a week and they'll find some…'hapless woman,' as you so delicately put it." He frowned even harder.

"Ah…," Hikari said then, understanding suddenly spreading across her face. "I see. You've got someone in mind of your own, don't you?"

For a moment, Taichi was astonished by this statement. He lifted his head and stared at her with wide eyes. "I swear, you do read minds, don't you?" he asked.

She laughed, a short burst of giggles that faded almost as soon as she had begun. "It's not so complicated and mysterious as you make it seem," she told him. "Anyone who has ever seen you near her knows you are in love and you have been for…for who knows how long. If you're afraid she doesn't return your affections, you have nothing to worry about. "

He had not taken his eyes from her yet and he did not do so now. Then he blinked once and turned his head away to stare at the floor. "It's not that," he answered. "It's…."

Though he didn't finish his sentence, Hikari knew precisely of what he spoke. She grew solemn again and sighed heavily. "I know," she said comfortingly and slid across the couch to put a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. I think that she could manage being Queen."

After a few chapters of nearly non-stop action, a bit of quiet to fill in the spaces. Some readers may be happy to know that I've almost gotten to the point where I can see an end to this story (although not yet the entire universe). Wow. Gasp. It's a miracle, isn't it?

Thanks to everyone who has been reading and leaving very helpful reviews. I'm sorry I haven't had time to respond to them, but know that I've definitely been reading them and taking them into consideration when I write. It's actually been helpful in moving the story forward.

So what's next? Well, probably another chapter of building tension before the big battle breaks out. Though I can see the end, there's still some kinks to work out before the big to-do. Stay tuned!