28

Repetition

"Death would be a boon if only it could blot out the memories." – H. P. Lovecraft, "The Call of Cthulhu"

The six eldest Chosen Children had been spared the rigors of battle over the past few days, but they had not been spared the dreams that also plagued their juniors. Taichi, for example, had the uniquely unpleasant experience of seeing his younger sister come home each day looking wearier than the previous, watching her go reluctantly to her bedroom, and then lying awake with the knowledge that both of them would soon be plunged, each alone, into a private hell.

Takenouchi Sora slept in a building adjacent to that of the Yagami siblings, and like them, she dreamed. The past few nights had been largely the same for her. There would be wet darkness, like the inside of a storm cloud, but close and confining. In these dreams Sora moved at times through a labyrinth of rock and at other times was forced to swim through black waters. Waking up the next morning was the only way she ever escaped from these visions.

Tonight, however, the dream was different. Sora dreamed that she awoke. She was not lying on her futon; this surface was hard and cold. Sitting fully up or even shifting to a more comfortable position was impossible due to the steel bands pinning her wrists and ankles. She realized with a thrill of apprehension that she had been here before, four years ago. The room was dark, unlike last time, but she remembered it well.

The first time Sora had entered the Digital World, back in 1999, she had been kidnapped by Nanomon to aid in his vengeance against Etemon. She had called Taichi's name, just after Nanomon, holding her and the unconscious body of her partner, had passed through the false segment of the electrified wall. The one scream was all she had managed before her captor had fastened his hand more securely around her mouth. She had heard a faint hissing sound, had immediately begun to feel faint, within seconds passed out entirely, and had awakened in the same position she now found herself in four years later.

After a few moments of silence a low hum began to grow in the room. Lights began to appear on the control panel opposite her, and the gigantic screen above it started to flicker. When blank, it had been a deep green in color, but now that the screen was active it had darkened and turned almost black.

After several minutes of tense waiting and watching, Sora thought she could see darker shapes moving on the screen, but could not make out what they might be. It dawned on her that there was now another sound in the room, distinct from the hum of the machinery. It sounded like whispering. Were the shapes talking to each other? After a while she was able to make out words, but they made little sense.

"…seals are fading…"

"…see something…"

"…can feel…"

"…first! The first…"

"…into another…"

Suddenly the whispers ceased, and the constellations of black shapes scattered and left the screen. Slowly, a brighter spot swam into view. It was yellowish, and nearly circular, but with a circle of darkest black at its center. It looked like a gigantic eye. Sora shivered. Another, smaller eye appeared below and to the left of the first. Dimly she could make out a black body, but no details.

For a while the thing on the screen was immobile. She wished it would move; she couldn't rid herself of the notion that the being was watching her intently, somehow seeing her through the monitor. At last it did move. The smaller eye vanished from view as the creature turned and hovered off the edge of the screen.

Her relief at its going didn't last long. A laugh rang out, simultaneously low pitched and piercing. Sora had never heard anything so unpleasant. It didn't sound human; rather it was like the sound some large animal might make when granted a sudden evil intelligence and comprehension.

"You're not useless to me… His time will come, but mine is already here."

While not as disturbing as the laugh, the voice was enough to set the girl's remaining calm nerves on edge.

"A dream!" said the voice. The laugh sounded again. "What a dream…"

Now Sora could see a new shape on the screen, almost as large as the thing with the yellow eyes. It grew larger, and she realized that it was drawing nearer to the screen. It was a vaguely humanoid shape, marred by narrow wings, a horned head, and oddly proportioned hands, chest, and shoulders. One of the massive hands was lifted, fingers spread wide, and there was a glassy thud as it collided with the other side of the screen. And the screen began to crack.

Sora strained with all the strength she could muster, first with one limb, then with each of the others in turn. But the metal bands held fast. The creature's other hand balled into a fist and crashed knuckles-first into the screen – the window. Shards of glass fell and rattled as they bounced off the control panel. The room grew dimmer and colder.

"Go away!"

The bestial laugh, now louder, was her only answer. The thing smashed its hands into the screen repeatedly. On the fifth blow the entire surface of the glass shattered and collapsed inward. The monster stood in the space where the screen had been. Its arms reached forward and its huge bulk clambered out of the opening.

Sora could hardly see. Shadow seemed to be pouring into the room through the broken screen, and all she could make out was the misshapen figure looming above her.

"Are you cold?" The question, spoken as the monster stepped forward and bent over her, caught her by surprise. The shock of it, in fact, was what woke her.

In an instant everything was different. She was lying once more on her futon, under her blanket, free to move and no longer spread-eagle. She was warm, too. She had been cold. Had she simply not noticed before, or had something happened when the question was asked? Sora had awakened because the instant the question was posed, in the last moment of the dream, she had felt the cold metal of the table against her bare body.

The night drew on, and the number of pedestrians waned. But no matter how late it got, the streets of Tokyo would never be entirely deserted. By now it was after midnight. Most of the railways were closed, and taxi fare had been hiked up at 10, so there were still a number of people walking to where they needed to be.

Thus, several individuals were close enough to hear the sound of a gunshot, and a couple of these saw the resulting explosion of a young man's head. There was instant confusion, and cries of alarm arose as a series of red flashes heralded the shattering of a store's glass front. No one had the presence of mind to determine where the shots had come from.

A row of buildings separated the scene of the murder, a pedestrians-only alley, from a higher traffic street. Several seconds after the obliteration of the storefront, the greater street was also strafed with gunfire. Several cars took damage, bullet holes appearing in their hoods, windshields, and roofs. One driver slumped sideways, the steering wheel twisting in his hands. There was a screech of brakes as another driver in the next lane was cut off by the dead man's vehicle.

Again no one saw the shooter. Had anyone fixed their vision on the roofline of one of the buildings separating the two streets, they might have seen a flicker of black as the killer whipped about, his cloak billowing in the night wind, and began running at full speed across the roof. He did not pause at the roof's edge, but leapt a full three meters and landed atop the next building. Baalmon's speed didn't slacken; he planned to cover a lot of ground before sunrise.

Takeru was standing in front of the wooden double doors, pushing against them with both hands until his arms were tired. No use. It wouldn't open. He turned about, placed his back to the door, and took another look around. He recognized the mansion as Pinocchimon's, but all the color seemed to have been sucked out of it, as if it were part of the lightless domain Piemon had ruled – or the Dark Ocean.

He tried to remember the layout. Had it only been four years? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Hall at the top of the stairs, another stairway beyond, toy room to the left, storage room in the back, additional halls on either side of the foyer… He couldn't remember another exit. But he would look. Ground floor first.

Takeru walked through the door on his right. Here was where they had found the exploding fire truck. There were no toys lying around now, and the nearby window was intact again. He strained his ears for any sounds other than his own footfalls.

Let's play~ Let's play~ Let's… He expected to hear it at any time, followed by the clatter of the Dark Master's footsteps. Pinocchimon might have the magnum again, or the submachine gun he had tossed to eight-year-old Takeru in the forest. I think I'll start with your legs first.

Everything was rushing back to him.

He walked through another door into a sitting room. There was still no sign of an exit. Takeru had little idea of what he would do if and when he got outside. Through the mansion's windows all he could see was an ashen forest with no apparent ending. He stood at one of the windows for some time, gazing into the shadows under the branches and the silence between the rows of trunks. Maybe he was better off staying inside after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound – the first he hadn't caused since the dream began. It sounded like the creaking of a door, maybe the door connecting the foyer to the room with the repaired window. Had it creaked when he opened it? But that didn't really matter. Something was coming. Takeru moved as quietly as he could through the next doorway. Beyond was another long hall without windows.

Is this how it was last time? he wondered. Not necessarily, he decided. This was a dream after all. But it felt like so much more than that. He hurried down the hall and opened the first door he came to. Here was a storage room, unsettlingly filled at random with balls, cute toys, and deadly medieval weapons. He considered hefting a mace off the wall in case his pursuer caught up, but it looked very heavy, and he could already hear footsteps coming down the hallway he had just left.

There was yet another door opposite the one he had entered, and he passed through it to find himself back in the foyer, looking past the front door to the fire engine room's entrance. This wasn't right. Not pausing to wonder at the architectural impossibility, he began to make his way up the stairs. It wasn't Pinocchimon chasing him; he could tell that by the sound of the footsteps. It might very well be something worse.

Once in the upstairs landing, Takeru pushed open the one door on the hall's left side. At least this was the same. Here was the toy room where he had broken the television and ripped up the enchanted playmat.

No, there was a difference. The other door was gone, replaced by smooth wall and wainscoting. He looked frantically about the room, knowing it was too late to retrace his steps. The stairs had already begun to creak under his tormenter's weight. There was nowhere to hide, no furniture. But—

His eyes fell on a dark object in one of the shadowy corners of the room. Quickly he moved towards it, and saw that it was a handgun.

This is a real gun! he heard a little boy say. I'll die if I play with this thing!

And another voice, equally childish: But of course! Dying for real is what makes the game fun!

He fought the memories back and picked up the weapon. He didn't know if it was loaded, but it felt heavy enough to be.

Takeru turned as the door to the toy room opened. He raised a trembling arm and aimed the gun's barrel at the portal. It was too hard – he would have to use both hands.

Instead of the gray twilight he had become accustomed to, only blackness lay beyond the open door. He wouldn't be able to take the suspense much longer. His finger prepared to pull the trigger…

"You won't do it…" said a voice. The tone was almost conversational, but the boy sensed a menace behind it. Takeru hesitated. And a man stepped into the room, just a normal man, not close enough for his face to be made out. "Come on, Takaishi-san. Let's play."

The handgun fell out of Takeru's limp grip and hit the floor. The instant it struck the wood there was a report like thunder, and Takeru was sitting up in his bed, listening to its echoes die away.