for the prompt - base, warnings for another mention of death, grief, value dissonance, discussion of murder/poor survivalist mindsets

Chapter Three – A Permanent Rich Blue

Kouichi looked up at the sky and stared.

"Dark," he said, and the word felt nice. He liked the dark. It felt safe and home and useful.

Sayo said nothing to this. But she wasn't really talking much to begin with. The days since they had met passed with quiet. Wandering in and out, talking sometimes, making things that require her to use the stool and the thing that makes little blue and orange fires (stove, she called it) and a knife. He knew what knives were, Kouichi found he could easily name all kinds of weapons, even things that looked almost nothing like weapons. But her small hands did it well and her food filled him up, even if the apples she cooked weren't made of meat(what apples were made of meat in this world?).

"It's dark. Are you tired?"

Sayo glanced at him and shook her head numbly. "Almost done," she mumbled. "Uncle's comin'. Can't be bad when he comes."

Kouichi frowned. "Why not?" He wasn't even sure what an uncle was. Or what was particularly bad about being asleep when the uncle wasn't around.

"He's gonna take care of me," she replied.

Kouichi's frown deepened, which was very hard considering the limitations of his actual face. "But I do that."

Finally, Sayo smiled. It was a tiny, neat little thing but he really liked it, it looked very comfortable on her face and she needed to use it more. "Not like that. Kids aren't supposed to be by themselves, and make food and sew clothes and stuff. That's what Mama and Papa are supposed to do but..." She swallowed the hitch of breath as she rushed through the words. "But they're gone now, so uncle is coming here to take care of me. Buy food, get me to school, things… things like that."

"But I can hunt!"And he knew he could, Kouichi could remember how, somewhere between his paws and his nose. "And I can find books and teach you with those! You don't gotta be with anyone!"

She giggled and it was so tiny and weak and helpless that he felt that terrible, terrible tug to make it happen again, somehow. "No one can be alone, Kou."

A thrill ran up his spine. He really liked when she called him Kou. It was almost like being special, special to someone, special beyond being first. When she said that, she felt safe, because of him.

And he guessed she was right. Being by herself was not a good thing. He could kinda sorta remember being alone and not liking it at all. He knew the wait of the person returning was worth it but it didn't make the wait any better.

So he promised not to growl and behave himself. Kouichi sat in the fluffy cushion bed that had been stolen from the human sofa thing. He did not chew it. Human world dogs would but he was a good dog so he wouldn't. Besides, the one time he had tried it hadn't tasted good.

It was a very difficult thing to do considering that the person who came in for his Sayo immediately crossed the room to wrap their arms around her and lift her up away from him. Kouichi shrank on the couch, despite every instinct demanding that he snarl. That he puff up and look big and mean and tough.

Kouichi did not understand the concept of him being an adorable little puff ball. Therefore he did not see that at the most he looked like a giant white and pink pillow with eyes. Which only Sayo could see. And find adorable.

Not that she could see it either because the girl was currently bawling her eyes out. Grieving, Kouichi thought it was called. He could have sworn that he had done it once. He honestly just couldn't remember when he had. There was no one to grieve for, except maybe Kouji (who he only had a voice to and not a face or anything like what he did outside of being a digimon if he really was a digimon) and he didn't know where to start with that.

So he settled down once more and watched. And waited.

Shinta couldn't weep any more tears he was certain. The second he'd held his niece and felt her howling into his arms, however, he'd been proven wrong, proven so wrong because they were spilling all into her hair now. She sniffled eventually, heartbeat slowing, grief not dying but fading. Like she'd had enough for one lifetime. He couldn't tell her now, he couldn't.

But he could make himself stop crying and this he managed before his wife came in and saw the mess they had made of their faces. And she smiled at them, not crying of course because she had a soul of steel that didn't melt at children's frowns unlike him. He knew the curse of his weak weak spirit.

Nao looked at them gently, purple eyes knowing and solemn. Some things never changed from rich to poor and the familiarity of loss was one of them. Sayo looked back, her own stare big and helpless and still holding something. They'd had a shy little girl who made herself look people in the eyes. And she was doing it now. That was something.

"I'm so sorry, little one," she told her. Sayo wobbled, but nodded. "Our old home made a mistake, one they will pay for."

She felt her husband's eyes and ignored them. She agreed with her brother, with her sister in law, with her grieving sister. Earth was no longer her home. It had killed so many to be in the right, to be safe, whatever that meant. It had taken her little nephew, and it had nearly taken her children.

No more.

"Earth is bad?" chimed a little voice from the sofa and Nao looked at the tiny digimon. A mere puppy, a mere helpless biting thing. But very earnest, very kind, very devoted.

"What they've done is bad," she said without hesitation. "We cannot make them all pay." She let out a deep exhale. "But we can make some of them, and we will. And we will bring our own to this place. We don't have a choice."

"There's always a choice," Shinta said quietly, but she hushed him. She had to. This Digimon needed something, surely. Something to do for this tiny child who was almost alone. They needed incentive.

"But what others are there for us?" she answered back, serene. "For you? That was your sister, Shin."

"She wouldn't want me to become a monster," he said without hesitation. "She took me away from monsters."

"And monsters took her son," she replied. "We will need to fight those monsters to get him back."

She watched him shift with discomfort, with unwillingness. But the little Digimon is fascinated, watching them both eagerly.

"I have a brother!"

Everyone looked at the little pup, even Sayo, who had been distracting herself with her uncle's pants.

"I beg your pardon?" Shinta began.

The digimon's tail wagged. "I have a brother. His name's Kouji I think. But I don't know when he was my brother. It was before I hatched."

The adults looked at each other. That was impossible, they wanted to say but it wasn't. Digimon had siblings, adopted parents now in some cases. But never before they hatched. That made no sense. And yet younger digimon were truly terrible liars. Shinta knew this from experience. So either he believed he had a brother, or he really did. Which raised all sorts of questions.

"Maybe we'll find yours when we find mine." Sayo's voice didn't carry far, but the Digimon, who hadn't looked despondent even once, seemed to shine all the more.

"We've gotta," he said and Nao looked back at her husband once more, a grim line in place of a smile.

Shinta looked them both up and down, expression ashen and tired and old. "We will find them," he finally said. "You will be children, and have friends and grow up and be happy. And by then we'll get your grandmother and she will adore you both."

"But first," Nao continued, as if she had not started the conversation in the first place. "We're going to eat and you're going to get a bath, Sayo."

Sayo made a face. "I hate baths."

"Good!" Nao only beamed. "It'll be a fast one then."

Sayo made an unhappy sound, but the digimon only blinked its baffled, beady eyes.

The Angels had made mistakes. The Angels had murdered children. Now, the Angels would fix the children, no matter what it took.

Unfortunately, no matter what didn't guarantee miracles.

Tururiemon's face was taut with concentration, beady eyes fixed on the circle Tailmon's servant had carefully painted onto the floor. "You're sure he's still alive? Not floating in the Ocean somewhere, waiting to drift apart?"

"The Digivices refuse to properly turn back." Tailmon waved a paw, tail curling against her chair. Angemon sat against her largest window, expression as unreadable as ever to anyone who had never known him. "If their task was done, they'd reverse the program. Trust me, I've tried overriding it. I was apparently much more thorough the first time."

There were no awkward looks, no shifts of discomfort, of guilt. They were digimon. They saw no urge to harp on a past they no longer had. That was for the humans who had one life and a handful of years left to them.

"Of course," Tururiemon grunted. "So they must still be necessary, your children, and Kimura Kouichi must linger. And you are absolutely certain I can find where?"

"Nothing is certain, Rurie," Angemon called. "But we are of faith in you, if nothing else."

Turuiemon let out a snort. "I suppose that is some sort of answer."

Would it be a bother if he attempted and failed? Possibly. But it was probably dangerous to have objects that could go from world to the other in the hands of humans for too long. Someone else could get a hold of them. And then…

Not all humans would have the sense of blind stupidity and reckless arrogance that the children did, nor would it be easily tempered by the same loneliness and the hunger for something beyond humanity.

But it would not carry them forever.

"If I find him," he said, voice deliberate, choosing his words as he hadn't before. "You know it will not be the same. They have never saved anyone. They did not save us. They merely facilitated the future that they desired to have for themselves. This is a selfless thing that they must do. And yet also a selfish thing."

"So was stopping you, and him," Angemon replied before Tailmon could start. "Perhaps a broken clock strikes twice. Or perhaps they have grown human hearts."

"If the boy isn't in the ocean, we can only hope they have." Tururiemon looked up at the ceiling with solemn, old eyes. "That they are prepared to face consequences."

"If they were actually ready, they would have clicked no the first time." Tailmon's voice was wry. "But I am grateful they did not."

"As am I," said Angemon, bowing his head.

Tururiemon slowly lowered to look at his two friends, the facilitators of his own demise and subsequent rebirth. "As am I," he finally agreed. He closed his eyes, and opened his heart.

And in a city high in the sky, Kouichi the Xiaomon woke up screaming.