50

Killing Ground

"And, coincidently, I have been haunted by an equally formless dread, an apprehension as of some bygone but still imminent doom." – Clark Ashton Smith, "The Chain of Aforgomon"

Takeru seemed to awaken in a panic. Why was he sleeping? The others needed him. He was lying in bed, with the sheet over his face, a way he never slept. He didn't feel Patamon at his side, and that worried him. His intention was to tear the sheet off and get up, but he found to his horror that he was unable to move. But he had to get up – no; he was standing up, not in bed at all. The thing draped over him was too heavy to be a bed sheet.

He didn't have time for this. His friends and brother were in battle again, and he had to get there. He couldn't stand the thought of letting them down. Again he tried to move his arms, but was unable to budge them. They were stiff at his sides. He couldn't take a step, or open his mouth to speak. He couldn't close his eyes.

Quickly and silently the sheet was pulled off him, as though a sculptor was unveiling his latest work. Another sheet lay still before him, apparently concealing a number of objects about his size. The sheet itself was gigantic, stretching away on either side into shadow. Seeing it, Takeru had a sudden nasty insight into his situation. Near the end of their 1999 adventure, Piemon's tricks had transformed his friends one after another into dolls.

That's what had happened. This time Takeru had not been able to avoid being caught. He could now feel the cold hardness at the base of his neck where the keychain connected to his immobilized body. But where was Piemon? And what, he thought with a churning of his stomach, was under the other sheet?

A voice answered him from somewhere far above.

"I will be taking over tonight."

He had heard the voice before, but it took him a few moments to place it. The previous night its owner had stalked him through the rooms of Pinocchimon's mansion. In his peripheral vision, Takeru could just make out a titanic figure in the darkness, rising over him to a height he could not determine.

"You're too late, Takaishi-san. The battle is already over."

A hand larger than Takeru's entire body emerged into the small pool of light around the giant sheet, pinched the fabric between its fingers, and lifted it to reveal what it had hidden. Lined up before him were the losing participants of the fight: his brother, Hikari, Taichi, Sora, Daisuke, and Mimi. They were different from the dolls Piemon had created. Instead of plastic caricatures, they looked more like real people frozen into position. Their expressions were unmoving, but looking at their eyes he knew that they were as conscious as he was.

"You may be wondering right now where your partner Digimon is, but I want you to focus on what's in front of you," the voice said. "Out of these six people here, who do you care most about? I have my own guess, the obvious one, but I would like you to confirm it for me. Would your brother be the answer?

"No need for you to speak. I can see right into you. One way or another, you will answer the call. So…"

The hand reached down again and rested a fingertip atop Yamato's head. There was a moment of silence before the voice resumed.

"Yes. 'Onii-chan.' Family the more precious because it is fragmented. That's what I expected."

The hand gave Yamato a flick, knocking him onto his face, his arms unable to brace him for the impact.

"And what about Motomiya-san?" the voice asked, pointing to Daisuke. Takeru strove not to think, but his perpetually open eyes were drawn to the monstrous hand and what it pointed to.

"You're friends, though you haven't known him long. He could be a little annoying, a little too forward, but you've grown to like him and who he is. Though, as I thought, Onii-chan wins out."

Takeru, of course, didn't move, but his heart seemed to lurch when the metal hammer slammed down without warning, Daisuke vanishing beneath its massive weight. It rested a moment where it had fallen, and Takeru was able to recognize it as Pinocchimon's old weapon. Then it was dragged slowly back into the dark with a sound that made Takeru's skin crawl. He was thankful when the hammer was gone that what it left was in shadow.

"And that's the end of that friendship," the voice said without emotion. "How about Tachikawa-san?"

The hand indicated Mimi, who was at the far left of the group, farthest from what had been Daisuke.

"You and she were the kids of the group, when all this began. Now she's grown into a beautiful young woman."

There was another smash of the hammer.

"She won't be growing any more."

This time the remains were dragged off the surface entirely, and Takeru could hear the hammer clatter on some lower floor.

"I'm not getting the kind of response I was hoping for, Takaishi-san. Maybe the next of your friends will be more fruitful."

Takeru was watching the faces of the three people still standing, Taichi, Hikari, and Sora. They couldn't move, but he felt as though he could see the terror in the open eyes. He willed himself to move, strained at every unresponsive muscle. He had to save them. He couldn't let this happen. But he had no choice. He was a prisoner in his own body.

"Takenouchi-san. She was like an older sister to you, wasn't she? She helped you to be strong when there seemed to be no reason left to resist."

Something descended, more slowly than the hammer. As it settled down in front of him, Takeru saw that it was a transparent container of some sort, filled with water. The hand lifted Sora by her keychain.

"I was given specific instructions for this one," said the voice. "She can now suffer literally the fate she should have metaphorically in 1999."

Sora was dropped into the water. She sank quickly to the bottom of the container, supported by her frozen feet so that her eyes were almost on a level with Takeru's.

"I estimate less than a minute."

The speaker was probably right, though it seemed an eternity that the two Chosen Children stared at each other through the glass. At such close quarters Takeru could see that her eyes were still mobile, as his were. They could refocus, but for the most part they were locked on his. Eventually they rolled upwards, and he knew she was dead. The hand swept the container away, and the glass shattered somewhere below.

"Yagami Taichi. He never treated you like a child. You admired him. You still admire him, and it might kill you to lose anyone else, but…"

Suddenly Taichi was engulfed in green flames. There was no sound, and no telling how long it took for him to die, since the eyes were among the first parts of his body to melt. Soon there was little more than a featureless puddle, and the flames went out.

"Only two left," the voice said. It was such a cold voice.

"Yagami Hikari. She was the first Chosen Child of your age to join the group…"

The speaker paused for a long while. Takeru waited in horrified expectation. Now that her brother was gone, tears were beginning to form in Hikari's unblinking eyes.

"This is why you had to be brave, isn't it?" asked the voice at last. "For the sake of the only person who needed as much looking after as you yourself did. Can you remain brave now, Takaishi-san? Can you keep on hoping, keep on reassuring? Can you stop this light from going out?"

The hand knocked Hikari aside, out of the range of Takeru's vision and into the blackness.

"No."

It then picked up Yamato and set him upright again. The emotion in Yamato's eyes was nameless, almost an insanity. Their expression mirrored Takeru's own.

"I have one last tool at my disposal. You may remember it."

The hand released its grip and disappeared into the shadows. In the next second something flashed out of the dark, severing Yamato's legs from his body in a single sweep. The hand reappeared, gripping the handle of a sword which could only be one of Piemon's.

"Goodbye, Onii-chan."

Another quick slice, and Yamato's head was gone. The sword was then stabbed into the table, and the point bisected his torso.

"And so we're done for now," said the voice, as the hand was withdrawn. "It shouldn't take long for the rest of your friends to arrive. Without you, or these six, what do they have? One Perfect, and a handful of Adults? Yes, they'll be here very soon."

As the light began to dim, the white sheet descended once more. Takeru felt as though it was smothering him in the darkness. He realized soon that the feeling was no illusion. The sheet was not merely draped over him, but was wrapping itself tightly around him, constricting him, cutting off his air.

All through the dream, Patamon had lain at his partner's side. He was unaware of what was happening, but his own sleep was uneasy. Even though unconscious, he felt cold. The reason was that all of the covers were wrapped around Takeru, who in the last moments of the nightmare began to toss and groan. It took him some time to realize that he was awake and moving again, and longer for him to struggle free of his sheets, catch his breath, and remember where he was.

"Takeru?" Patamon asked, jarred awake by his partner's violence. "Takeru, what's wrong?"

The boy didn't answer. He staggered over to his desk, clutching at it for support. His legs felt weak. For a while he thought that he was going to be sick, but the vomit didn't come. Patamon flapped across the room and landed on the desk, and when Takeru recognized his partner he reached out, held the warm, fuzzy body close against his chest, and stood there, all but sobbing.

Gradually the events of the evening came back to him. Koshiro had messaged him that there had been a battle at the others' apartments, but it had been won. His friends and brother were safe. They were not dead. He sat down at the desk with Patamon still in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, he cried.