35

The Woods

"'There's no end to 'em – no end at all.' Then he added in a lowered tone as if to himself, 'There's lots found out that, and gone plumb to pieces!'" – Algernon Blackwood, "The Wendigo"

BlackTailmon stretched lazily. Though it couldn't compete with cold moonlight, or the exciting glow of the city's electricity, warm sunshine was by no means unpleasant to immerse oneself in. She lay on the roof of the building that Sato's coven (for that was how she thought of the group) had made its headquarters, occasionally casting a half open eye upon the forest of skyscrapers surrounding it.

She had been busy all night, scrambling through the streets and alleys, watching the strange beings of this world milling about on their various inscrutable, superfluous missions. For the most part, they passed by without taking notice of her. Several times she had gotten incurious glances, the humans apparently taking her for some odd breed of cat and forgetting the encounter.

There had only been one time she felt nervous. That was when a man with a newspaper tucked under his arm had spotted her sitting in the mouth of an alleyway, and had stared at her doubtfully for several minutes. She pretended to pay no attention, and eventually he went about his business. Earlier, a child had approached her with intent to stroke, but she hadn't been intimidated – she scratched him for the fun of it, not for self-preservation, and marveled at how fragile these creatures were.

She purred as a breeze whispered through her fur. She had been on the rooftop for some time now. The excitement and strangeness of being in a new world prevented her from falling asleep for long, but neither cats nor cat-like Digimon were known for their industriousness, and she had no plans of relocating any time soon.

Something else had amused her last night. While in a more sparsely populated part of the city, she had witnessed one human, ornamented by tattoos, threatening another, shoving his target against a nearby wall. She hadn't been close enough to hear what was said, though the person being intimidated was allowed to go after conciliatory talk or a promise of some sort. Well, she thought at the time, it's pretty clear what just happened there. Maybe we aren't so different after all.

That had been the last of the evening's highlights. Eventually the dawn began to break, and BlackTailmon carefully retraced her steps to the building where Hiraga awaited her return. After checking in, she had felt the need to relax a bit, and so took the oversized elevator to the roof.

The forest seemed to stretch on forever. The trees were not very close together while one was near them, but ahead and behind the sheer number of them stretching on into the distance blotted out the horizon with a solid wall of fir trees. And everything was so silent. The Digital World was not densely populated, and lacking the omnipresent birds and insects of the human world it could often seem very lonely and lifeless in places far from civilization.

Ken and Shadramon talked little, so that the only sounds that broke the silence were the result of a Dark Tower falling to an attack. Ken and Daisuke had stuck together, as on the previous two days, but with such a wide area to sweep they had been following roughly parallel paths through the woods some distance removed from each other. Every once in a while Ken would hear the distant sound of Kangaroomon felling another tower. He had learned to expect the sounds periodically, but they were always startling in such complete stillness.

Why was everything so empty? It was unusual to see no signs of any life other than themselves. Ken thought back to Takeru and Iori's story of Poseidonis, the possible explanation of what had happened in Arkham. But in this forest there were no signs of ruins or recent habitation. Ken couldn't shake the nagging feeling that it had never been inhabited. That thought was uncomfortable. Because if it was true, there might be a very good reason why.

"Flare Buster!"

Another Dark Tower broke under the pressure of Shadramon's flames, toppled, and scattered fragments of itself about the forest floor. Shadramon flew on ahead, and Ken followed, not looking aside at the ruined tower. For some reason the fallen structures reminded him of the previous night's most often recurring dream, snapshots of the accident that had caused his brother's death.

"Shadramon?" It seemed wrong to break the silence with articulate speech, but Ken was in need of conversation. "Would you like to take a break?"

"I'm fine, Ken-chan. Let's just keep going until we're out of these woods. Daisuke and Kangaroomon haven't stopped yet."

So they pressed on. An unusually long interval seemed to pass between Dark Towers. Ken thought that they may have missed one by moving straight ahead instead of taking a more meandering route, but he didn't speak up and suggest that they double back. He wanted to find the other side of this forest. He admitted that to himself, and had a feeling Wormmon felt the same way. He ignored the small voice at the back of his mind, the one saying, But maybe there is no end. Maybe it keeps going and going until all the world is behind you, and only trees and silence ahead.

But then the silence was broken. It was a voice. Hoarse, echoing, windy. It sounded lonely, but not in a way that excited pity. The voice was too powerful, too horrible, to be pitied. It floated down to them from above, and its message consisted of a single word of four clear syllables.

"Ichijouji!"

The cry seemed to fill Ken with ice. And the cold did not remain wholly internal. In an instant the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. He heard Shadramon's repeated calls of "Ken-chan! Ken-chan!" But the voice of his partner seemed to grow more distant with each repetition, as though a gap was widening rapidly between them, though Ken had not moved since the calling of his name rooted him to the spot. Soon he could not hear Shadramon at all.

The first shock of the metamorphosis quickly wore off, and he looked about him. The forest was much the same, but all the light seemed to have gone out of the sky. Snow covered the ground, and crunched beneath the boy's feet. There was no sign of Shadramon. All was still and silent again, but Ken waited nervously, fighting a rising panic, for whatever would come to end that stillness, and that silence.

He did not have to wait long. Again the silence was destroyed by a voice – not the same voice, but just as terrible in its way. It was human, at least, though warped by what may have been terror, or exertion, or blasphemous exultation. As with the first, it came from somewhere aloft. The worst was that he recognized it, even distorted as it was with nameless emotions.

"Ah! Ah! This fiery height! This rushing wind! Ah! I'm burning! My body is burning!"

Ken's mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He felt dizzy and numb. For a few moments his lips worked soundlessly, but eventually he found his voice, and formed his simple, quavering question.

"Onii-san?" Then, louder, in a sort of desperation, "Onii-san!"

A blast of cold wind answered him, rushing out of the arcades of trees and driving him back a step in its sudden fury. It was over after the first great gust, but it was followed instantaneously by the rush of displaced air off in the forest, and a heavy thud as though something had hit the ground with tremendous force. For an instant the silence resumed, but then there was the sound of footfalls crunching on the snow.

The progress was slow, deliberate but clumsy. The approach lasted longer than it should have – if the walker had been so far away Ken would never have heard its first steps. Then again, in this perfect stillness…

Ever so slowly, something was coming, making its broken, shambling way towards him. He told himself that he didn't know what to expect, but it wasn't true. Hadn't he dreamed it just last night? Could this be a dream? It was so very cold.

Finally, from out of the darkness under the trees, a figure stumbled into view. He's no taller than I am, Ken thought numbly. There was a strange sense of déjà vu about the entire scene. But there were many differences. The scenery bore no resemblance to the landscape of BelialVamdemon's illusion. And the last time he had watched himself die.

But the difference his mind kept returning to was standing in front of him. In the vision on New Year's Eve, Ichijouji Osamu had appeared just as his brother remembered him from life. Now what stood before Ken was Osamu as he had been in death. Though Ken had seen his brother's corpse, after the speeding car had run him down, the details of the scene had mercifully erased themselves from his memory. But last night his dreams had shown him, and the thing that had staggered out of the forest depths was a perfect replica. But it was standing. And the eyes weren't glazed and vacant, but alive, and fixed on him.

As for the rest… The head bulged in odd places, and there was a long red gash in the forehead. The right arm hung limp and oddly twisted. When Osamu had made his entrance, it was plain to see that one of his legs was no longer functioning properly. The whole body was a ruin.

Could a car do all this? Ken wondered dimly. One collision? But of course there had been three years, and the fall just now, and…

"Ken."

The greeting was monotone, the voice oddly forced. Even the single syllable sounded labored, as though all the energy of Osamu's voice had gone out of it with the shrieks in the sky. It was a cold word, with no sympathy behind it. Ken felt like he was nine years old again, caught with the Digivice in their shared bedroom. He couldn't speak.

"It has been three years," his brother said. "Where is it, Ken?"

Hardly realizing what he was doing, Ken raised his hand, the black D-3 hanging loosely in his grip.

"You changed it," Osamu said. "You made it better."

At last Ken found his voice.

"I didn't… mean to… The water…" His voice was a horse whisper. He paid no attention to what he was saying. "…wanted it, and—"

"Does it make you feel special?" Osamu grated.

Ken couldn't answer.

"You must like it. You have to like it. You killed me for it."

A sound like a low whine escaped from Ken's throat.

"But you paid for it," Osamu went on. "Do you know what happened to the driver? He hanged himself. Because he hit me… and because of all the things wrong with his life. You wanted to die, too, didn't you? Everyone had their greatest wish come true in their vision, and you died."

Ken couldn't find the strength to retreat or reply. The living eyes in the dead, battered face held him.

"I don't miss life, Ken. I'm glad I'm dead, because it hurt you, and because I hated my life. Always studying, never allowed to really live as I wished. But that, that was mine."

The eyes bored into him, dragged a response from him.

"Please… Osamu… Nii-san…" He would do anything to take those cold, accusing eyes away. The D-3, the tool he had used to conquer the Digital World, was heavy in his hand. For it he was hunted. With it he had never known peace. Ken held it out in his trembling hand. "You… you can have it… if you want."