a/n: hi! i'm sorry for the lack of updates, this summer has been a nightmare. also, i'm sorry if i haven't responded to any PMs or responded to reviews, it's been crazy, but i appreciate all of you! tysm for reading!
tw for disturbing imagery & possession.
Ch 18 || Seesaw
"You're serious," Hikari breathed out in terrified awe. "Aren't you?"
"I am," Iori confirmed. "We have to find some other way to get clues about Mirrormon."
"What if something bad happens?" Her voice was still a fretful whisper, eyes impossibly wide. The dimness of the room shadowed her face, but Iori caught shimmers of horror in her gaze regardless. "What if we start talking to him and Takeru can't come back? What if Mirrormon takes control? What if it doesn't work?"
"It has to."
He meant it with every part of his being. He knew the very idea of communicating with a villainous entity such as Mirrormon was risky. He wasn't Daisuke—he couldn't act on instinct and hope for the best result. He couldn't ignore that every choice they made had consequences.
Rather, he'd spent the whole night pondering over what they could do in place of taunting him, and came up with one conclusion:
There was no other way. They had no choice. He'd mentally explored every option he thought possible, but something tugged at his brain. Thrummed inside his heart. Pulsed through his bones.
Something, he realized, like Takeru's heartbeat, losing its fight.
Something, he realized, like Takeru's voice, trying to scream but ultimately drowned out by some sinister force.
Something, he realized, like Takeru's will, slowly giving up control.
His Jogress bond with Takeru felt like it was slowly disconnecting. Takeru was calling for help and it was just barely loud enough that Iori could hear him, but it seemed the longer they struggled against Mirrormon, the quieter he became.
Hikari gazed forlornly back at Takeru. "He looks so worn out. How will he fight back?"
Iori knew he was exhausted, and not just by looking at him. Not just because Yamato told him so. But because remnants of that exhaustion rippled through his own body, and if he focused hard enough on it, it'd make him dizzy.
"He knows he doesn't have a choice," Iori murmured after a time, his voice grim. "Not if he wants to beat Mirrormon."
As he said the words, Takeru shifted, like he could hear them speaking. Iori quieted, observing. His heart pounded in his chest like it did not know the concept of silence, and no matter how hard he tried to tame it, nothing worked.
"You're right," Hikari said eventually, finally; although she looked as if she wished there was another option. Iori didn't blame her. "We should still tell Yamato."
"Tell me what?"
Yamato's voice startled him badly enough to cause his body to jerk. He craned his neck to face the doorway where Yamato stood with a tired but suspicious look on his face.
And he wasn't the only one. Sora stood behind him with a worried expression, and so did Mimi.
Iori swallowed. The last thing he wanted was to go against Yamato's wishes as his older brother and, to an extent, guardian. Legally, he knew that Ishida-san was responsible for the both of them, but Iori had figured out a long time ago—back when they had battled BlackWarGreymon—that Yamato was just as protective and fretful of his brother as any parent. But they didn't have any more time for Iori to stall.
So he met Yamato's gaze as evenly as he could. "I think we should try to lure out Mirrormon."
Yamato's eyes hardened ever so slightly. "Takeru doesn't have the energy for anything like that."
"I'm his Jogress partner. I know that," Iori said, and then took a slow, deep breath to calm himself. Then, quietly: "I feel like it's the only way to get information. We've tried everything else."
"We don't have all of our digimon," Mimi said with a frown.
"That is true, but we are here," Gabumon whispered, gesturing toward Patamon, who was still silent but appeared equally worried. "And we will do the best we can."
Yamato's gaze moved from Iori to Gabumon. "You think this is a good idea?"
"I am not saying I am fond of the idea," Gabumon clarified. "But I do think Iori is right when he says that we don't have much of a choice."
"Believe me," Iori began, lifting his chin as he spoke, "I don't like it, either. I know it's not the safest thing to do. But we're running out of time and options."
Yamato's expression quickly became unreadable, and he was quiet for so long that it sent a ripple of anxiety through Iori. His eyes flickered back to where Takeru slept fitfully on the bed, and he hoped that Yamato wasn't so worried about him that he wouldn't see through to reason. Maybe that was it—anything remotely dangerous would be shot down simply because Yamato didn't want Takeru to get hurt anymore.
He didn't blame him. Iori didn't wish to prolong or worsen Takeru's suffering—quite the contrary, in fact. He truly believed this would be a step forward in solving their problems.
"Everyone is here now," Sora murmured, turning to face Yamato. "We… we could give it a shot?"
"Takeru doesn't have to do anything. At least, not at first," Iori explained. "I just… wondered if talking to him and addressing Mirrormon directly would work."
"And if it doesn't?" Yamato pressed.
"We'll… have to figure it out from there." He didn't like the words even as he said them, but he couldn't give a better answer than that. "I know it's risky. I know. I'm not saying it isn't. But… what other option is there? I don't want to just sit there and wait for answers to come to us or something else to happen so we'll have more clues. I think we have to act to get them. Eventually, it'll be too late."
Footsteps outside the room told him that they were attracting more attention from the other Chosen, or they were simply wondering why the five of them were gathered in the bedroom when Yamato told them to leave Takeru in peace to sleep. Regardless, Iori stood firm in his decision, clenching his fists as Yamato met his gaze again.
Taichi peered his head in, followed by Daisuke, and Ken, and Miyako. Even Jou and Koushiro stood outside waiting, either curious or worried.
"What's going on?" Taichi asked, eyeing each of them. His gaze lingered much longer on Takeru and Hikari, who still sat on the bed, one hand now resting on Takeru's arm.
"Iori wants to summon Mirrormon by confronting him directly," Hikari said after a moment's pause. "He wants to talk to Takeru the way he would talk to Mirrormon, and see if that lures him out."
"He looks… so peaceful, though," Mimi said quietly. "Why disturb him?"
Iori hummed. "He's screaming inside." Slowly, almost instinctively, his hand came up to rest over his own heart—each echoing beat was an unpleasant reminder that something was truly, irrefutably wrong. "I… hear it."
"Are you talking about the Jogress bond?" Miyako asked, her voice lowered and uncertain.
He nodded once.
"How could that be?" Mimi went on. "To look so content, and… and to be suffering so much."
Iori faced Takeru. "The other digimon looked equally peaceful, and yet… we know they are suffering."
"You're right," Miyako said. "They were all just sleeping, but…"
"I wonder if it's like sleep paralysis," Ken murmured suddenly.
Slowly, Iori side-eyed him. He wasn't the only one—many heads turned in Ken's direction to gaze at him perplexedly. Iori's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"
"Sleep paralysis is when you're awake and aware of what's going on, but your body is still acting like you're asleep," Jou added as an explanation. He looked as grim and uneasy as Iori felt. "You can't move or speak. It's a normal part of REM sleep, but it can be pretty gnarly when it happens outside of REM sleep."
"So…" Hikari's eyes traced their way back to Takeru. Her hand twitched like she wanted to reach out and touch him, but was afraid of what would happen if she did so. "...he's awake right now?"
"I… I don't think so," Iori said, although the idea of Takeru being awake but unable to move frightened him. He hoped that wasn't the case. "But it makes sense for the other digimon to be in such a state. They were so still."
"How horrible," Taichi said. "Being trapped in your body like that. Must be really scary."
Iori's body stiffened just a little bit more. Taichi's words, it seemed, only caused the screaming in the back of Iori's mind to grow louder. "...yeah."
Maybe… maybe Takeru really was awake. Awake, but rendered a prisoner to muscle and bone, incapable of movement, unable to voice thoughts.
How truly, hellishly horrifying.
A hollow, flat sound followed Iori's words. That noise alone caused him to turn around, and the look on Yamato's face was so haunting, it was hard to believe that he was laughing, especially at a time like this.
Except it wasn't real laughter. No, this was so far from laughter—it was almost unhinged. Something distantly manic lingered in his eyes, threatening to travel elsewhere and consume whatever it could find.
"I just got him out of that house," he muttered, each word accompanied by humorless chuckles. "I got Mom to get her head out of her ass and treat him like a human being—like her child—and Mirrormon is trying to take that freedom away. What the hell? What the hell? It's just not fair. What am I missing? What am I doing wrong? What kind of brother am I?"
"You're not doing anything wrong, Yamato," Sora said soulfully, her expression matching the sorrow of her voice. "I'm positive you're an amazing brother to him."
Gabumon nodded in agreement. "You are a wonderful brother, Yamato."
"I couldn't protect him from Mirrormon's grasp," Yamato argued, sounding more and more defeated despite their reassurance. "He slipped in right under my fricken nose."
"He slipped in right under all of our noses," Hikari corrected quietly.
Iori clenched his fists. A long-dormant wrath was starting to shake from its slumber, violent and forceful in its awakening, rushing through him like a deadly toxin. Yamato was right: it truly wasn't fair. Not at all.
Takeru was such a good person. He deserved none of this.
Another reason why they had to do something before all the little signs of Takeru's presence faded away. Enough discussion. Enough dwelling on the what-ifs. It was time to act.
Finally, he stepped toward a slumbering Takeru, drawing in a deep breath through his nose, if only to keep up his calm façade. "You have some nerve, possessing Takeru like this."
His words were met with silence. The deadly wrath sizzled and frothed, mixing with his blood. He waited with brittle patience. Waited. Waited. Nothing happened, and Iori snapped just a little bit more.
The screaming in the back of his mind dulled and then grew louder. Dulled and then grew louder. He couldn't tell if that was Mirrormon being provoked, or Takeru losing his grip even more.
"He's a very special person," Iori continued, his voice dropping low as his eyes became cold spheres of ice. Like the heat from the poison in his blood didn't exist at all. "You'll have to go through us to get to him."
A distant thrum echoed in his head. Takeru's heartbeat, stumbling, trying so bravely to put up a fight. Exhaustion, Iori knew, slowed him down immensely.
Still, Mirrormon said nothing.
"Don't you ignore me." His fingernails dug into his palms. Stinging. Scraping. "We're done playing games with you, and Takeru deserves some peace. We have a Jogress bond for a reason, and I won't just stand here while you make him suffer."
Takeru's body remained still, aside from his breathing. The room was eerily quiet—filled with ghosts instead of people.
Iori tried to ignore the thread of defeat that wove through him. It struggled to get past the anger, the fatigue, the screaming—but it did so all the same, and his body loosened, loosened, loosened as the wrath started seeping out of him.
How…? His teeth slammed together as the thought entered his mind. How did I think that… that would work?
The idea of it not working shouldn't have bothered him so much. He half-expected his attempt to be unsuccessful. He half-expected failure. But knowing that this was pretty much a last resort, and having it fail…
Disappointment didn't even come close to describing how that felt.
Iori's shoulders began to slump, disheartened, but then Hikari said, "Wait… hold on a second."
"What is it?" Yamato whispered impatiently.
"I saw it." Hikari looked down at Takeru's fingers, rusty brown eyes wide. "I saw his hand move."
"Are you sure?" Iori asked, his voice barely reaching audible volume. "When… when I spoke to him?"
"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached for his hand, and when her fingers curled around his, she asked, "Iori, can you try again?"
"...sure."
He wasn't sure where to start now. He drew in another deep breath, trying to access that bravery from before. Or perhaps anger had blinded him in a way he'd tried to avoid—coaxed him to lose his sense of reason and act on instinct.
"Mirrormon—"
Takeru twitched. Iori's eyes popped and he stopped talking. On the outside, it was just a simple twitch—a spasm of muscle; a sudden, small whisper of movement in the body—but inside Iori's mind, the twitching didn't stop there.
Iori's image of Takeru convulsed and seized, like something underneath his skin was trying to break free. Like his body was a cage ready to burst open, unleashing the monster that had been tormenting his Jogress partner for weeks now.
Iori stared mutely, stunned into silence as he struggled to stay in reality because truthfully, Takeru wasn't moving that much but the screaming in his head grew louder, louder, louder—
"Is… is it working?" Miyako asked, with a tinge of fear in her voice.
"It's… it's hurting him," Patamon answered through ground teeth.
A wave of dizziness swept through Iori, nearly knocking him off his feet with its intensity. One of his hands shakily came up to grasp his head, barely able to see Yamato as he darted toward Takeru with a frightened expression.
Barely able to hear Gabumon's growl.
Barely able to sense the shift in the atmosphere as the already dim room grew darker, darker, darker.
"No," he mumbled, almost sluggishly. "Don't… don't you break it."
Don't you dare sever our connection…!
Someone whispered his name. He wasn't sure who. He should have looked to see, but his head wouldn't move. His eyes screwed shut and he couldn't get them to open again, not at first. The image in his mind captured his attention and refused to let it go—all Iori could think about was that faint screaming in the back of his mind and the horrible, disturbing mental picture of Takeru's body twitching and jerking like he was being shocked.
Takeru's body, which was draped in ribbons of red.
Takeru's body, wrapped in a puppet's strings.
You called him, echoed in his brain. It was your idea. You did this.
The guilt came so fast, so hard that it left him breathless. Iori's lungs failed to draw in the proper amount of air that he needed; it was like they couldn't remember how to function at all. He knew, logically, that they had no time for such emotions, but his heart twisted and clenched with guilt and remorse all the same.
In his mind's eye, Takeru gazed up woodenly, mechanically, and his eyes were wide, tears brimming, swirled red and blue.
"Help me," his soul begged, twitching and tugging against thick red ropes that encircled his legs, his arms, his torso. "Please… help me."
"I'm trying," Iori called out to him. "I'm doing my best!"
It's not good enough, a dark part of his mind taunted. You're his Jogress partner and you couldn't protect him. You can't help him. It's not enough. You're not enough.
"Shut up," Iori snapped, making a move to dash toward Takeru, but something held him back. Coiled around his legs and squeezed and squeezed until he knew there'd be bruises. Caressed his arms like tongues of fire. Burned. Burned. Scorched him like he was made of wood.
"Let me go," he said, choking on a cry of pain. On his tears. On the crushing weight of his own failure to save Takeru; a weight that grew heavier, heavier, heavier with each passing second. "Let me… I said, let me g—"
"...body's touching you," came a soft, somewhat calm voice. "Iori. Iori, can you look into my eyes and tell me where you are?"
Iori swallowed past the painful dryness in his throat. He blinked away the tears clouding his vision, blinked away the threads of red, blinked away the image of his Jogress partner fighting for his life, begging for help…
...and realized he was still in Takeru and Yamato's bedroom. Still surrounded by the rest of the Chosen who, one by one, looked at him fretfully.
"...w...what?" he croaked out, blinking several more times just to clear his brain of the lingering fog encasing his brain.
"Can you hear me?" Jou was in front of him, kneeling by his side. "Iori?"
"I… I hear you," he whispered, one hand coming up to cradle his head.
"Good," Jou said. "Can you look into my eyes?"
Slowly, gradually, Iori did as instructed, and nodded.
"Good. Can you tell me where you are?"
"In… in Takeru's… room…?"
"Mm-hm. You're doing great. Do you know what happened?"
"We were… trying to summon Mirrormon," Iori recalled languidly. "Takeru was… calling for help…"
"He's been asleep," Jou said. "You… you were in some kind of trance."
Suddenly Iori's sluggishness scattered, like cobwebs being brushed away. His thoughts raced through the new forged path, bulleting, and he sat up straighter, eyes blowing wide.
"He's not asleep," he said. "He's… he needs help."
"What're you talking about?" Yamato's voice cut in, abrupt and sharp. "What did you see?"
"Yamato, he'll need space to r—" Jou began.
"And we gave that to him, but damn it, this is exactly how Takeru acted," Yamato said, crouching in front of him. His gaze pierced through him like an arrow, steadfast and deadly. "Iori, you saw something, right? Tell me. Tell me what you saw."
Iori swallowed again but the knot in his throat remained. His face flushed hot crimson with shame as he realized the amount of attention centered on him, and it dawned on him how Takeru must've felt, sitting on the floor, surrounded by so many people, staring at him, awaiting answers that he wasn't sure how to give…
"Should we continue with the plan?" Miyako asked, eyeing Iori with concern and fright. "I don't know if… if it's a good idea… I mean, what happened?"
No. No, Iori couldn't be afraid. He didn't have time for fear, and he didn't have time for hesitation. No time for embarrassment. No time for shame or guilt. If they sat around in a pool of negative emotions, it would only fester and become deadly. The situation was already dangerous. He couldn't afford to make it worse.
"He's trapped," Iori said, pushing himself up to his knees. "I… I saw it. He's trapped and he needs help getting out."
"How… how do we help him?" Hikari asked.
"We have to show Mirrormon we're not afraid."
He was unprepared at first. That was all it was. This time, he was going to get answers, and he couldn't show any fear.
"He's right."
Now, Yamato's voice was stoic. Frosty. It seemed Iori's words had delivered the final push—the actions that followed both declarations were quick and decisive. Yamato made it over to Takeru in three intimidating steps, suddenly seeming much taller and much darker than the boy of whom Takeru spoke so highly.
Then, oh-so-gently, he cupped Takeru's cheek. Iori watched solemnly, pointedly ignoring the pounding of his heart, as Takeru leaned into Yamato's touch in his sleep. As Yamato knelt down in front of the bed with his back to the rest of the Chosen.
"You let my brother go, or I'll murder you myself," Yamato said in a dangerous, deadly-calm voice. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, here."
It happened so fast. So abruptly that it stole Iori's breath. Takeru's body snapped up like a puppet, unfolding, eyes peeling open to reveal deep, swirling pools of bloody red. He wasn't the only one who jumped in surprise—the room echoed with gasps of fright and yelps of consternation. Even Patamon and Gabumon seemed startled, but they soon recovered, growling and tensing in anticipation.
Iori stilled as unlikely-Takeru blinked red eyes. As an unnatural, crooked smile carved its way onto Takeru's face.
"Silly, arrogant boy." The words left Takeru's lips but it didn't sound like Takeru at all. "It is you who has no idea who you're dealing with."
Yamato clenched his fists and practically growled. Iori tried to speak but now that it was actually happening, no words could form. His body wouldn't move.
"No, I mean it," Yamato said with remarkable bravery. "I'm gonna knock you out of my brother's body and then I'm gonna rip you limb from limb."
Takeru-turned-Mirrormon gave him an unimpressed look. The cold expression on Takeru's face sent a shiver down Iori's spine. He'd never seen such an expression cross Takeru's features. "Brave threats from such a fragile human boy."
"It's not a threat. It's a promise."
It was Hikari who spoke next. She reached for Patamon's frozen body, took him in her arms, straightened her spine, and looked Takeru-turned-Mirrormon directly in the eye with courage that rivaled Yamato's. "We're not weak humans. Takeru isn't a weak human. That's why you can't fully control him, right? If you push too much… you're going to break."
"She is telling the truth," Gabumon said. "You have got to be worn out."
"Oh?" Mirrormon taunted. "How are you going to fight me? Are you going to hurt this boy?"
Iori swallowed. It was so pathetic, how fast his emotions seesawed, shifting, going back and forth between fearless and fearful. It was admirable, how Yamato and Hikari could talk directly to Mirrormon so selflessly, so stoutheartedly, while he—along with the rest of the Chosen, it seemed, although he couldn't turn around to check—stood doll-still, paralyzed by Mirrormon's mere presence.
This was my idea, but...
Why can't I move?
Why can't I speak?
Why can't I do anything to help Takeru?
Why… why am I failing… again?
Takeru, he tried to call out. Takeru, I'm sorry…
Yamato leaned forward to grab Takeru by the collar but then stopped, as if afraid the aggressive gesture would hurt him. Mirrormon only chuckled.
"See?" Takeru-turned-Mirrormon said, his smile only growing. The wider it became, the more uneasy Iori felt. "You can't hurt me. Because you can't hurt him."
"Coward," Yamato growled. "You're using him as a shield."
"For now," Mirrormon corrected. "I must admit it is quite a useful tactic. But… he is much more than that." A pause. His eyes seemed to glow as he looked at Yamato with sadistic glee. "He is the key to building my army."
"What the hell does that mean?!"
"...you'll soon find out."
"No." This time, Yamato did grab Takeru's collar, seething like a livid animal. "You tell me now. You tell me why you're after my brother."
"I think it is ironic," Mirrormon said after a few moment's pause. "I have summoned countless digimon and absorbed their powers, but none of them have the same energy as this boy. He is my perfect puppet, you see." Red swirling eyes glistened and shone brightly in the dimness of Takeru and Yamato's bedroom. "My perfect Sleepwalker. He is…"
Suddenly Takeru's body froze. Glitched and lagged like a computer struggling to keep up with multiple programs running simultaneously.
"—ing to h—p me ta—trol of all of you," Mirrormon went on, but the words were unclear and staticky.
For a moment, Iori saw a spark of blue.
Mirrormon's smile twitched. Faltered. Iori's eyes widened and abruptly, the fear-induced trance in which he'd been trapped broke.
"Takeru," he gasped out, struggling to breathe like he'd been holding his breath the entire time and hadn't been aware of it. He stumbled forward but couldn't go very far. "Hey… hey, his eyes."
"Sh—t up, and sub—t to me, boy," Mirrormon hissed.
"I f….feel him again," Patamon gasped out weakly. "He's still… he's still there…!"
"What?" Yamato said, releasing Takeru at once.
Takeru's body twitched again. Convulsed. His hands fisted and unfisted, and the blue in his eyes expanded. Pulsed. Fought for dominance over deep crimson.
"You… you must be so... exhausted," Takeru's real voice said, breathless and thick. "You've… you've mirrored… so many digimon, and... and it must be… so tiring."
And then his expression changed, seesawing the way Iori's had been the entire time. Red overpowered blue. Seesawing down. Mirrormon.
"Sh...shut up," Mirrormon said with Takeru's voice. "Sh—t up!"
Seesawing up. Takeru.
"A… a part of you is… still pulsing in those digimon. The more… strings you have… the more p...power you need… to control all of them."
Seesawing down again. Mirrormon.
"I s—d, shut up! Submit t—me!"
Seesawing up again. Takeru.
"No…! I'm not… I'm a doll…! I'm not your doll!"
Seesawing down again. Mirrormon.
"You will be. Y—re ap—t of my a—y. You're—"
Seesawing up again. Takeru.
"I don't belong to anyone!"
For a moment, the room was filled with gold light. Bright. All-consuming. Iori didn't even have time to cover his eyes before it began to fade, and no sooner did Takeru begin his descent to the floor.
Iori, Hikari, and Gabumon twitched with the instinctive desire to catch him, but Yamato was there first. He wrapped his arms around him, gently guiding his body back to the bed, his anger seemingly seeping out of him more and more with each passing second.
"...this needs to end very soon," Yamato breathed out, voice now soft and quiet. "I don't know how much more of this he can take."
Iori looked at his pale friend. Even more evident now were the dark circles under his eyes, standing out even in the dimness of the room.
Iori's expression turned grim. "...you're right."
