125
Collisions

"There was a crack in [his] head and a little bit of the Dark World came through and pressed him to death." – Rudyard Kipling, "The Phantom Rickshaw"

The Chosen Children reacted to Sato's declaration with expressions of apprehensive puzzlement.

"'Erase the walls between worlds'…?" Ken repeated.

"What do you mean?" Daisuke asked.

"You may see before long," Sato replied. "Soon, there will be no distinction between worlds. The dark power will be free to spread onward forever, and my lord's invasion of all lands will begin."

"You mean…" said Miyako, suddenly reminded of that day in the computer room, when she and the others had watched a screen of swirling colors fade to black, "…all the worlds will combine?"

"Exactly," Sato answered. "Not merely a World of Darkness, but an entire Universe of Darkness."

"We won't let that happen!" said Daisuke.

"You don't have a choice, idiot. It was always inevitable. Darkness is the natural state of existence. Don't you know that darkness returns to darkness? Light may flash forth for a moment, but it is destined to be extinguished."

Since Sato's appearance Takeru had been listening to the conversation with growing anger. His fists clenched spasmodically, and by now his entire body was shaking with barely constrained rage.

"You…" he said, sounding as if he were choking on the word. "You haven't explained anything. I'll never understand – I don't want to understand! To be a willing tool of darkness and evil… You really are unforgivable."

"I've never asked for your forgiveness," came Sato's icy reply. "But you are right. You will never understand, because you are going to die here." He began to raise the pistol in his right hand. "Are you ready, Takaishi-san?"

There were several gasps and exclamations from all sides, and Takeru, teeth still clenched in anger, turned pale as he found himself looking at the little black circle of the gun muzzle. The next moment Poyomon shot up from the ground like a released spring. At the height of the jump he spat something in Sato's direction, and a second later a little splat could be heard in the silence as the bubble burst on Sato's fingers.

Slowly, Sato let his arm fall a few inches.

"Acidic bubbles…" he muttered. "How low we both have sunk, Chosen Ones… And yet that is only fitting." He might have felt again the urge to laugh, but it was wholly swept aside by a wave of scorn. "Acidic bubbles. Why should something like that mean anything to me after all the years of horror and pain? Only the last feeble insult the dying light can offer.

"I have wanted for some time now," he continued after a pause, "to see what a bullet might do to a Digimon." He took aim again, but not at Takeru. "It's a pity that I have only Baby-level test subjects available."

"No!" Heedless of injury, Takeru threw himself to the ground to shield his partner with his body.

"Takeru!"

"Takeru-san!"

Several of the Chosen Children and Digimon made as if to intervene, but stopped at the sound of Sato's voice and the flash of his lightless eyes as his gaze swept over them.

"Foolish," Sato said. He seemed to be speaking not merely to Takeru but to the entire group before him. "You would throw your life away for a creature that has died for you already, just as it was programmed to do, even though both of you must be killed in the end? Your stupidity can still amaze me."

As he resisted Poyomon's struggles to get free, Takeru's eyes were turned upwards to meet Sato's gaze as it fixed itself upon him. He said nothing, but his expression spoke for him. The defiance born of hope still burned there.

"As you wish," Sato said.

"Wait!"

Hikari's voice, raised in desperation, was startling in the relative quiet. Sato's arm didn't waver, but he turned his head slightly to look at her. Several of the other children, managing to tear their eyes away from Takeru and the weapon poised to end his life, looked at her as well.

For several minutes now, as she watched unfold before her the events that threatened to cost her and her friends everything, her mind had been racing. She had quickly weighed every possibility she could think of, and could see only one option. She had chosen this option once before, four years ago, and it seemed even more horrifying now than it had then. But there was never else to be done.

"If I…" she said, in a voice by some miracle kept perfectly steady, "…surrendered myself to Dagomon and…the others, would you leave my friends alone?"

For her, time seemed to slow to a crawl as she spoke the words. She had scarcely finished before multiple voices – her partner's, Daisuke's, and others – raised themselves in protest. She heard them indistinctly as she saw that unforgotten expression of religious mania transfigure Sato's dead eyes.

Yet while she noted these external details, they seemed oddly distant. She felt faint, almost, and didn't know why. It was not, she felt, the horror of the proposal she had just made overcoming her, but something only tangentially related to it. Then perfect clarity returned. Only now she was no longer one but two. By a terrific effort, that other side of her had awakened once more, and Sato Katsu threw up his left hand to shield his eyes from its radiance.

Her friends, also, seemed stunned by the light's sudden reappearance and stronger brilliance. But a little voice – Chicomon's – squeaked out, "Now's our chance!" Immediately he was spitting as many bubbles as he could, as fast as he could.

The other partner Digimon quickly joined in. Acid-tinged bubbles streamed from mouth, beak, and pacifier, so that Sato, caught off guard, was soon nearly cloaked in a flurry of foam. He cried out not only in irritation but in actual pain, and staggered backwards, his gun clattering as it dropped to the stone.

Takeru started back from the weapon as it came to rest directly in front of him, and Poyomon was finally able to squeeze out of his protective grip. Hesitant, Takeru's hand reached for the gun. He had a vague idea of preventing Sato from recovering it. He touched it, tentatively curled his fingers about the grip, and shivered as the conviction came over him that he had held this gun once before, in a dream.

"That's…" Sato said between gritted teeth. He slightly lowered his shaking hand to peer at the shining being opposite him. The girl's expression had changed to one out of place on Hikari's features, both grim and stern, an expression of authority. The other Chosen Children were also staring at her in amazement, but their attention snapped back to Sato Katsu as he screamed out in a voice thick with hatred.

"It's you!" His right hand flew to what must have been a pocket hidden among his drab clothing, and reemerged holding something – the strangely formed ritual knife. Then he was dashing forward with reckless speed over the uneven rock. "HIKARI!" The arm that held the knife was drawn back, ready to slash.

The others watched in horror, many rooted to the spot, unable to react in time to intervene, as Hikari stood motionless and Sato quickly closed the distance between her and himself. Several of the Digimon again spat their bubbles, but the madman charged through the barrage without flinching.

As for Takeru, he knew that, unless he could do something, mere moments remained before that knife tore into Hikari-chan's body, ending the life of his treasured friend. And as that realization hit him, he knew, with a final and terrible certainty, what he had to do. The gun was as heavy as he remembered it, but with both hands he managed to lift it. He pointed it in Sato's direction. His finger found the trigger.

It was at that moment that Daisuke collided with Hikari. He had essentially tackled her at the waist. From where he crouched Takeru saw her expression change to one of surprise, saw her and Daisuke fall to the ground together, and for a second he hesitated. He also saw, in a more unconscious way, YukimiBotamon pop up into the air before the onrushing Sato. The little Digimon's cheeks were puffed up at first, then she began to blow. Instead of bubbles, a spray of what looked like glitter emerged from the tiny mouth – YukimiBotamon's Diamond Dust attack.

Half blinded by the stream of icy crystals, Sato slashed wildly with the knife. He felt just the slightest hint of resistance – the slightest indication that the knife had cut through something. A small, soft, cool object bounced off his shoulder, and his feet caught on a body stretched in his path. He stumbled, began to turn, lost his balance… and those watching saw him fall. Twisting, reaching, crying out, he staggered backward off the canyon edge, dropped, and vanished.

With trembling hands, Takeru laid the handgun on the ground.

Daisuke slowly raised himself from where he had fallen atop the motionless Hikari, too dazed by the fall to feel embarrassment at the intimate contact. Something cold, like snow, was falling softly on his legs – the Diamond Dust, drifting to earth. Rising to his knees, Daisuke looked down at Hikari. Was she hurt? She had ceased to glow, and her eyes were shut.

"Hikari-chan?" he whispered.

From behind him came other voices.

"Motomiya!"

"Is Hikari-chan…?"

"Daisuke, are you all right?"

"Hikari-chan," Daisuke repeated. He was reaching out for her when at last she stirred. Her eyes opened. She didn't seem to know where she was.

"Daisuke…kun…"

Wincing with pain, she partly raised herself from the ground. The impact had hurt her, but the knife hadn't touched her. Only one of her long gloves had been sliced open at the top.

"Hikari!" squeaked a little voice. "Thank goodness…"

YukimiBotamon had been knocked aside after colliding with Sato Katsu, but had not been harmed. Hikari gave her a reassuring smile before accepting Daisuke's hand. He helped her to her feet, and she looked around at the others.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where is…?"

"Ah!" Ken gasped. "Sato Katsu. He…" His voice trailed off as he looked at the point on the cliff where Sato had disappeared. Daisuke was the first to step to the edge and look down into the rocky valley beyond. He gave an exclamation, and most of the other Chosen Children and their partners quickly joined him at the ledge.

Takeru alone hadn't moved, remaining crouched in place. Poyomon gazed up at him with a doubtful, worried expression.

Those on the cliff's edge were looking down into the spacious, irregular depression below, over five meters deep at its lowest point. There lay Sato. He didn't move. It appeared that the knife was no longer in his hand, but it couldn't be picked out among the dark stone of the valley floor. For a while the group only stared, not speaking. Then Hikari turned away, and began looking for a place where they could safely climb down.

Several times now Sato Katsu had opened his eyes only to have the lids irresistibly fall again. He couldn't see much regardless. His vision was blurry and uncertain, and the only thing discernable was the gray and empty sky. He couldn't quite remember where he was, but he got the impression that something had badly hurt him. Due to the chill numbness that had come over his body, he felt little pain, but he could sense a great mass of it held back like a tidal wave about to break.

He lay still a little longer, eyes closed. He concentrated on breathing. The process seemed more difficult than it should be. Yet everything seemed far removed from him, unreal. Could he be dreaming? Perhaps he was dead. That must be it. He was dead, or dying.

Then he heard something – footsteps approaching – and forcing his eyes open with an effort he saw silhouetted against the gray four dark, blurred ghosts bending over him. He felt called upon to explain, to justify himself. He found he could barely whisper.

"You… you left… me…"

A fifth shadow entered his vision. Seeing it, Sato awoke with a jolt of sudden terror. He winced with pain, but was almost relieved to see that he had been mistaken. It was only the Chosen Children… the current Chosen Children, Motomiya and the rest. They were looking down at him with expressions in which concern and disgust were mingled, and several started a little when they saw him twitch.

Sato closed his eyes again and swallowed. This time they could make out what he said when he spoke.

"Too late, Chosen Children… Too late to stop what I've begun…"

To their surprise, they saw a hint of wetness at the corners of his shut eyes as he lay making little movements of his head, still repeating, "Too late."

Somewhere beyond the jagged horizon, their ears could just faintly detect a low, continuous rumbling, like the rolling of distant thunder.