Chapter 3: First Contact

The next time she woke, she didn't hurt quite so much anymore.

In fact, she didn't hurt at all. She felt more rested than she'd had in weeks. Digimons needed rest, too, unlike what some humans think. They were not invincible. They were far from it. However, since the Master commanded it, she was forced to endure her exhaustion. It was, after all, the Master's order and who was her to disobey?

Slowly, Viximon opened her eyes. What greeted her first was…something white. Too white to be the pavement outside. And it wasn't even dark. It was supposed to be dark; when she passed out, it must nearly be the time the sun goes down. Maybe she hadn't passed out all that long? No, but that would not have made sense, either. If she did, then the pavement should've been painted a darker color from the fading light.

Besides, this is too soft to be the floor…

Comprehension flashed across her brain, and within seconds, Viximon was onto her feet, glancing around frantically. She was in a room. A human's room. She had only been in such a space once, and that was when she was very young. A misadventure, really. She didn't intend to get sucked in by that portal. But she could still remember what it was called. A…bedroom, was it?

The rectangular room was relatively large and spacious. It had enough space for a study desk set right in front of a large window, a wardrobe that was built into the wall on one side, a bookcase next to that, and a nightstand. The wall was a dark navy, and on the ceiling there was one light, turned on. It explained why it was so bright.

Viximon glanced down at the thing she was currently lying – or standing – on. It was, as she suspected, a bed. Which means she was in a human house. That was pretty much the worst thing that could happen aside from getting caught by the cops. For one, Viximon didn't trust humans. Two: she certainly didn't want to stick around to find out what exactly they wanted with her.

She had to get out of here.

As if on cue, the door to the room swung open. Viximon swung to face the entrance, her eyes narrowing. Truthfully, she didn't know what to expect. A man in black with the traditional shades coming in to question her? A soldier with a gun to blast her to data? Maybe just a woman with a broomstick ready to beat her to death, she mused darkly.

"I see that you're awake," a child's voice said, its tone matter-of-factly.

Viximon blinked at the one who'd entered the room. It hadn't been any of her predictions. Faintly, the Digimon realized that she was looking at the same child who'd paralyzed the Impmon some time before, the very same one she'd tried to escape from before losing consciousness.

He wasn't a particularly impressive human, Viximon noted, studying the boy who'd fully gotten into the room, closing the door behind him. He was not handsome, looking rather average. Dark brown hair framed an oval face, touching the base of his neck. Somewhat wary eyes, a dark green color, peered out at her, a look of assessment in them that she found she did not like. His build was thin, although not to the point of starvation. He was somewhere near the average height, she guessed, and he was twelve or thirteen years of age. He wore a simple long-sleeved black shirt and a pair of light pants. Rather dull, actually.

All in all, not threatening.

He studied her coolly, as if trying to decide for himself what he should make of her. Under his scrutiny, Viximon felt as if she was some sort of interesting artifact that he found on the street and was trying to find out what she was useful for. However, all he asked was a simple, "Are you hungry?"

For a brief second, Viximon wondered if she was mistaking this for the kid she saw back there. The one who faced the Impmon had looked utterly terrified, seeing as though he was ready to bolt in the other direction anytime. Even when she'd looked at him afterward, she still saw the terror in his eyes. This one was just way too calm for it.

Ah, right. People tend to react to danger very differently from their usual behavior.

Moving on to another matter; should she answer or not?

The human boy was still standing there, waiting for an answer. He didn't get any closer, also seeming to wait for her permission to do so even though it was his room.

Smart boy.

Her stomach suddenly growled, and Viximon realized how hungry she was. The boy seemed to have heard it as well. He gave her a small smile. "I will take that as a yes. Wait here." With that, he was gone again.

Left alone in the room, Viximon stared at the door in bewilderment before she started to mentally sort things out chronically. So she was trying to find somewhere to rest after running all day, escaping from the cops. When she did, the Impmon attacked her. She struggled with it, but at the level she was and the condition she was in, all she could do was keep alive – barely. Then the kid came along, the Impmon got distracted, and then the next thing she knew the Digimon was knocked out. After that, she'd given the boy one look and tried to run, but her strength hadn't been able to hold her up after all.

Speaking of which…

Viximon flicked her tail forward, examining it. It was no longer transparent, instead solid and real. She didn't feel any leaking data either. She was fully healed. It made her glad and all, but…why? Why did the human boy save her? And what did he want? Is this a scheme of some sorts? Did he see her injured and save her because in return, he could get something?

Just then, the door opened again, admitting the same human boy once more, this time carrying a black bowl of something. He knelt, wincing slightly as he did. Viximon suddenly remembered that the boy had been limping before. Yes, he probably hurt his ankle when dodging the Impmon's attack, she reasoned.

"Miso soup," the boy said, and Viximon realized he was talking about the yellow broth in the bowl. "But come down here. My mom would not be pleased if she found soup on my bed." His lips quirked in a wry smile, and he sat back against the wall, revealing a bandaged right ankle.

Viximon stared at the bowl cautiously, then at the boy. He was currently staring at her again with that assessing look, but less gauging and more out of curiosity now, not so intense anymore. She still didn't know if she should trust him. Yes, she was hungry, she had to admit that; she'd lived on data for the last nine weeks, but she didn't know what was in the soup or if he was trying to test her.

But if he'd saved her already, why kill her now? And Digimons are naturally resistant to all biological poison after all. She was being paranoid. As always. With good reasons, but still being paranoid.

Cautiously, the Viximon stepped forward. The boy didn't do anything, merely stared at her. Faced with his indifference, Viximon hesitated some more. What was he planning? He couldn't be helping her out of the goodness of his heart, of course. Nobody does. There was always some reason behind every action. This one would be no different.

It might as well that she would not accept his help. That way she wouldn't attach herself to him by favors.

Then again, he had saved her life already. Accepting whatever help he would give her afterward would be more or less the same. It didn't really matter. What did matter is that she now had a roof over her head and possibly somewhere to stay until she was strong enough to Digivolve back to at least Renamon. Then she would get out of here as fast as she could. The boy would be sufficient to keep her alive until that time.

Viximon finally closed the distance between her and the miso bowl. She carefully tasted it first, and when the heavenly liquid touched her tongue, she dug in. The Digimon had all but forgotten how foods tasted like these past few weeks. Humans are great cooks, she had to admit. That was one thing no other creature could beat them at, ever. And this one was no difference. The warm taste of the soup warmed her up considerably, and she finished the entire bowl off in less than five minutes, not leaving a single piece of tofu behind.

When she was done, Viximon quickly backed up, keeping a fair distance between herself and the human boy. A useful tool he might be, but she would not let herself trust him more than she could – and having him in the same room as her would be that limit. No use in letting her guards down around anything. Everyone is selfish, so she couldn't count this one out of it, young as he might be. After all, it was around this age that children started getting partnered up with Digimons, and when the bonds were formed, it often forced the child to mature. A Tamer's honor and responsibility comes hand in hand – to be a Tamer means to be exposed to danger, protecting civilians when the need arise and a load of other things Viximon could not care less about.

Speaking of which, did the kid have a partner yet? Viximon didn't want to deal with a potentially obnoxious roommate. Savior or no, she was a loner by heart – Devimon not counting; they've been partners since they were newbies in the Master's service – and having to share the room with the human boy, for she was sure she wouldn't be allowed to sleep on the roof (humans seem to have this…thing…about sleeping outside) was already a push.

As she watched, the boy picked up the bowl with a raised eyebrow, looking at its cleanliness. He was apparently amused or surprise – or both – at the speed in which she'd finished the soup, but he said nothing, instead standing to leave again. This time, however, he turned toward her before going, opening the door wide. "Do you wish to come?" he asked.

Viximon looked at him, considering the offer. It would do her only good, she supposed. It was, after all, a good plan to know the layouts of the house she lived in just in case. She couldn't be cooped up in one room forever. With another cautious look at the boy, Viximon made to follow him, and he stood aside, allowing her to go first. Her eyes narrowed at this, but then she decided that if he tried anything – and he seemed to have no weapon on him – she would K.O. him out with one move. Digimons are better than humans in a few things, mainly blowing things (or people) up.

However, if he still had the fake Digivice from before that paralyzed Impmon…

But why would he attack her? He had no reason. He'd saved her, fed her and generally not be an ass up until now, so she doubted he would change his mind now. She guessed her imagination was getting way overactive again. The attack she'd suffered and the Impmon had both made her be on her guard. That, coupled with the painful knowledge that she was a mere in-training, a mere infant compared to her old self, made her even more paranoid.

With one last glance at the human who was somehow still standing patiently by the door, Viximon shot through the entrance and a few feet away from the child in case he did try something. He didn't.

She found herself staring down a hallway. It was not too narrow, enough for two Agumons to walk side-by-side. The floor was made of wood, but she had no doubt underneath it was steel. At one far end of the hallway, a bit of fence could be seen, and behind that, a staircase. A two-story house, then?

The boy's room was situated on one end of the hallway, next to a bathroom. It was placed so that as soon as she stepped out, she faced the hallway right away. Two doors could be seen further down the hall; probably more bedrooms. That was all.

Something moved past her, and Viximon jumped aside in surprise. The boy looked at her apologetically before moving off toward the stairs. She glanced around the place one last time, memorizing the structures and placements of things before following him, still careful to keep her distance. They walked down the hall and then down the stairs, Viximon clearing it in two jumps.

On the end of the stairs, Viximon found herself standing in another hall. Except this time, the set of stairs was situated somewhere near its middle, while to her right she could see the front door, made evident by the shoe racks standing nearby and the footwear that could be seen even from here. To her left was yet another door, this one also standing at the end of the hall, although what use it was to the humans she had no idea. To the right of that door was another one, and another one opposite of that one.

Somebody cleared their throat. Viximon turned to her right to see the boy standing there, waiting for her. He motioned for her to follow before turning and limping down the hall. Once again, Viximon gave the place another once-over, committing it into memory before following him at her own space. It wasn't as if she'd lost him, and if she did, she couldn't imagine what could go wrong.

Unless, of course, there was a peeved Candlemon down in the basement and out for her blood.

Viximon snorted inwardly. It was hardly a time for jokes. She must get back to her former self as quickly as possible. The Master would not be pleased to know that his servant had been saved and then helped by a human. He despised them with a passion, after all, although the reason for that hatred was known only to a few, and Viximon was not one of those few. There was also the target. She was the last one alive who had contact with him, and she wondered if he'd escaped.

No…If he could blast the Digimons like that, nothing short of the Master's second-in-command would be able to catch him.

Absentmindedly, Viximon jogged down the hallway and soon stood between two entrances. Neither had doors, however, but the one to her right had a flap of fabric covering the upper half of it. There were noises coming from that room, so she went that way, crawling underneath the curtain curiously. What was it now?

From her earliest memories, nearly fifteen years ago, Viximon glanced around the space and realized it was what people called a kitchen. There were the stoves, the sink, and a kitchen counter. In one corner of the room, facing a very large window through which the vast blue sky could be seen (except for small dots that were Digimons flying by), was a rectangular dinner table with six chairs, two on each side, one on each end. It was certainly bigger than the boy's bedroom; about almost twice the size of it. The kitchen she remembered was a lot smaller, though…

The kid (Viximon despised calling him her "savior"), having rolled up his sleeves, was standing next to the sink, and there was the distinct sound of running water. After one last glance at the spacious kitchen, Viximon trotted over and jumped onto the counter, standing just out of arm's reach of the boy, but close enough to observe him. He was using a sponge to clean out dirty dishes. What was it called? She heard Devimon explained it to her once…Oh, right. Dishwashing.

"You aren't very talkative, are you?" the boy asked idly as he worked. Viximon looked at him, but didn't reply. He spared her one glance before turning back to the bowl he was washing. "Then how about we start with this: what gender are you? I'd hate to call you an 'it' all the time. That's reserved for animals and objects."

Viximon stared at the boy some more, then decided she can't act mute forever. Digimons, as a rule, often didn't suffer from organic diseases such as muteness, deafness or blindness. Messing up with the data could happen, but very rarely. "Female," she said simply. Digimons don't have sexes, of course, since they were just data, but they could choose their genders. Nobody had been able to explain why after the Digimon made the choice, their voices started to alter. Scientists of both races were still performing experiences to find out about that.

The boy nodded. They were silent after that, she watching him warily, he focusing on his dishes. Awkwardness hung heavily upon them, but neither made a move to break it. Viximon was, after all, just waking up in a stranger's house, found out that she was saved by a little brat, got fed by him, and was currently tagging along with him around the house. What was wrong with her? She never acted this way before. Why…?

But she'd never been in a situation like this before. How was she supposed to act?

Things were so messed up. Viximon wished it would all just go away like a bad dream, that she would wake up with Devimon telling her she wasn't so tough after all, foxy. That they would continue to wait endlessly just to know that the target had already been caught somewhere else, by someone else…

It was a great fantasy. But fantasy is fantasy. Viximon was skilled and experienced enough to know that dreaming would solve nothing. Reality will continue to be reality. She would just have to make do.

Furthermore, Digimons do not dream.

Viximon suddenly jolted as she remembered something. She didn't know how to check; her inner clock had been messed up when the target unleashed that peculiar attack on her. The In-Training looked at the boy, who was currently busying himself with his duty. She could ask him, certainly, but…

There was no choice.

"What…day is it?" Viximon forced out at last. Speaking to a human was very strange, and she felt wary around these two-legged creatures who never had the same face. They feared her, she knew that well enough. They feared her and her kind and pretty much anything that was either stronger or different from them. Or that was what the Master said. She seldom had direct contacts with any of them except for assassination purposes, spying, or when she was in need of foods. Stealing from them was easier than stealing from babes.

She fully expected the human to smirk at her since she finally talked, but he only gave her a quick look and glanced away, seeming to be thinking. "It's Saturday afternoon, around two thirty. I found you yesterday evening," he replied eventually. "Seems like an age, though."

Viximon had to agree with that. It felt like last month, not yesterday. In fact, she didn't remember clearly everything from yesterday. It was just a blur, but the main points she could recall. The loss of memories…It scared her.

"At least you are alive," the boy continued, and Viximon looked up in surprise. He finished the last of the dishes and put it into the dishwashing machine to dry. Why they insisted to wash it by hands he would never know, but he wouldn't complain. "If somebody hadn't found you, you would be data by this time already."

He wasn't saying it as though he was boasting. His voice still retained that matter-of-fact tone she'd heard from him ever since he first spoke. Viximon realized the kid was just stating the obvious. She suddenly had a recollection of the boring caretaker she'd had long ago back in the Digimon world, when she was still a natural In-Training Digimon. This kid could beat that one in boredom several times over.

Maybe she should see this as a blessing. Boring kids are often quiet.

She thinks.

The sound of a door being opened could be heard down the hall, and Viximon could hear several voices speaking at once. She turned to that direction, cocking her head and concentrated on them. Let's see how many people this family had. A man and a woman could make an effin' lot of kids, in her opinion; it was almost unnatural.

"Daddy, lemme see the bag! Lemme see it!" said a very young voice, female, around five or six. There were scuffling noises, a man's laughter and a woman's sigh as well. The boy next to Viximon moved, and she looked at him. He had turned to the kitchen's entrance as well, but he did not move.

"Yue, calm down," the woman's voice said gently. "We will give you the bag, okay? Just be patient."

"But I wanna show it to Awihiwo now!" the girl wailed. There was an odd noise. Is that her stamping her feet? "Now! Pwease? I'll do the dishes tonight!"

Viximon glanced at the boy, seeing as he was the only one at home right then. It was a strange name he had there, and, if she may add, ridiculous. "Akihiko," he corrected as she looked at him questioningly, looking torn between annoyance and amusement, the first real expressions he'd shown her. "My name is Akihiko. Young children often have problems with pronouncing things correctly."

Oh. That makes sense.

"You'd better hide," Akihiko added. "Else my sister just might hug you to death."

She gave him a look that said "what kind of ridiculous joke is that?" but was interrupted as a new character with the same hair color and features as Akihiko burst into the kitchen, holding up something pink and fluffy. She was also jumping up and down like a hyped-up rabbit. When she settled, however, Akihiko bent on his knees to be closer to her. He must be at least two feet taller than she, and a look of kind patience overtook his face.

Viximon wondered if he was faking.

"I'm gonna wear this to the school tawent show!" the girl – Yue – announced proudly. Her blue eyes, a shade darker than Viximon's, lit up in childish delight. In a fit of giddiness, she spun several times around the kitchen, laughing and squealing girlishly.

"Very nice, Yue-chan," Akihiko replied, inching to the left ever so slightly. Viximon stared at his back, wondering what he was doing, and then realized he was moving to cover her from view. She cocked her ear in puzzlement at his action but didn't question it. Yes, she thought he was joking about the "sister hugging to death" thing, but now that she saw how this little sister character acts, she…wasn't so sure.

Somebody else entered the kitchen, and Viximon peeked from behind Akihiko's arm in order to see the faces of the two others she'd heard. They were carrying various sacks and bags of all kind, which were all dumped onto the kitchen floor.

The man was middle-aged, somewhere around six feet tall with dark brown hair – the exact same color as Akihiko's, Viximon noted. His eyes were green, although lighter in color than his son's. He was dressed in a soldier-green jacket and black pants. Aside from a scruffy beard that looked like it needed trimming, nothing adorned his face.

His wife was lighter-haired, chestnut brown with a kind face and soft blue eyes. She could plainly be seen as Yue's mother; they shared many physical similarities, although Viximon doubted the girl's spirit was inherited from her. The woman, standing half a head shorter than her husband, exuded a calm, controlled aura Viximon didn't often see these days. Kindness, too, was evident in her.

Either way, neither of them looked like they would really stand out in a crowd.

"Akihiko!" the father said, grinning at his son. "Looks like you've cleaned up the kitchen, eh? Good! I don't have to do it tonight! See, Mimi, that was an empty threat."

The wife scowled at him. "Oh, be quiet, Fuji." She also looked at her son, smiling gently. Her gaze suddenly shifted to the side, and Viximon realized she was seen. Mimi's eyes lit up with delight and she clapped her hands together before walking over to them. Viximon tried to fight back the urge to attack. She didn't want to give the impression that she was a feral monster. That might get her tossed out on the street, and she decided that staying somewhere with reliable technology and people feeding her was better than the city any day.

"Ah, you've woken up!" Mimi said, thankfully standing a reasonable distance from Viximon and her son. "I'm so glad! So what should I call you? A he or a she?" It was the exact same question Akihiko had asked before, and Viximon wasn't one to answer the same thing twice. She remained silent, and taking that as the cue, Akihiko spoke for her.

"Viximon's a she, Mom."

"She's awake?" Yue exclaimed. "Lemme see! Lemme see!" She scrambled toward them, making Viximon feel increasingly edgy. She was surrounded by humans for the past weeks anyway, but never this close, and never like this. Her instinct told her to either fight or flee, but she remained where she was, tense, but still there. Where else could she go? And they were not trying to murder her. That was the most positive thing she'd heard in years.

"Yue, please control yourself," Akihiko said, the barest hint of warning in his voice. Amazingly, the energetic little girl with the pink dress subdued somewhat and smiled shyly. From behind him, Viximon stared at the boy, one ear cocked again. He did not strike her as the type who anyone but programmed machines would obey, but the control he held over his little sister was rather excellent. Mm…She wondered what made him like that, and how.

Fuji rolled his eyes, until now ignored. "Can we please get over the stuff now? That is still a no, Yue-chan. You are not going to strangle the poor Digimon. She is not your pet puppy. And by the way," the man turned to face Viximon, who, seeing as everything was safe, stepped out from behind Akihiko, "welcome to the family. I would introduce my Digimon partner to you, too, if he hadn't been sleeping. Ah, well. Tomorrow, maybe." He shrugged, then clapped his hands. "Dinner!"

"Dinner!" Yue threw up her little fists. Mimi smiled at them both.

Dinner? Viximon nearly turned and run right then. Meals weren't served at the Master's halls, of course. She hadn't had dinner in weeks – except from that soup thing but she knew the concept of it well enough, both from personal experience and other sources. She wasn't going to sit about with a bunch of humans –!

"I already ate," Akihiko said politely. He cocked his head behind him. "And she, too. So if you will excuse us, I have homework." The boy made to leave, and Viximon followed, silently grateful for the help. Maybe she could tolerate being put in the same house with a bunch of energetic people – and a Digimon – for awhile, at least. She could do that. She'd had worse. But she'd rather keep her interaction with them at a minimum.

That was about as much as her sanity could take.

Viximon pointedly ignored the eager look on Yue's face as she leaped onto the counter, then to the door before vanishing outside, close on Akihiko's heels. As soon as she exited the crowded and noisy kitchen, she couldn't quite hold back a sigh of relief. There was a reason she liked solitude. They made her nervous, and most of all, they annoyed her to no end. Too talkative. Too much people.

They made the trip the stairs again, this time the boy – Akihiko – moving slower due to his ankle. Once again, Viximon cleared the stairs first, and she made for the room immediately, waiting there in frustration since she was too small (she winced at this) to jump up and turn the round handle. She didn't even have proper hands right now.

What an embarrassment. At least none of the Master's other minions were close by right now. Public humiliation was the last thing Viximon wanted. She would never dare to even look at them after this if this gets out, she knew. But she shouldn't be worried. After all, nobody knew what happened to her. For all that happens, they might just think she'd been destroyed by that light, too. There was no reason to be concerned, really. That light should have blinded most people around there, and the Ogremons she'd ordered to follow her of course wouldn't be able to keep up. In other words, it was only her and Devimon near the target at that time.

Her ears wilted slightly. She missed him. They were not friends, but they were as close as they could be, seeing as they served the Master and it was every Digimon for themselves. She respected him for his power and lightning-quick strategy skills while he respected her for her agreeable nature and speed. They complimented each other well, and they've grown to be a team.

Devimon was the only one she could tolerate as a companion for a long period of time, and he hers. And he was gone.

Viximon quickly pushed the thought out of her mind, however. Emotions are dangerous things. They could be your greatest hindrance and enemy, stronger than even the Master. They make you weaker…or they could make you stronger, in the form of hatred. But then you get out of control…

Emotions are still dangerous, no matter which way you looked at it.

She snapped out of her thoughts, however, as the door opened. Akihiko looked down (down!) at her for a second, seeming as though he was thinking about something, then opened the door wider. Giving him one last glance even though her paranoid against him had fade somewhat, she dashed into the room and got onto the bed again, settling down, her tail flickering.

Akihiko closed the door behind him after he'd entered and went to sit on the chair in front of the desk, spinning in it until he was sitting sideway. He bent over to search in his backpack for a bit before pulling out an iPad, a thin mechanical slab that was like the first iTouch, except much bigger and barely half an inch thick. It was a device people used for writing and copying notes. Much better than notebooks.

Pulling yet another thing out of the backpack, this time a green paper notebook, the boy opened it, looked at the page it was turned to for a few seconds before closing his eyes and heaved a sigh. He then proceeded to pull out a little book and proceeded to read it, sometimes jolting down notes on the iPad with the special pen for it.

Viximon watched him for the next hour but not really seeing the boy as she reviewed the short amount of time she'd spent so near an actual family. She never made any contact with normal individuals like this for a long while now, and it alienated her. She didn't belong here, she knew that. Her place was back in the Digital World doing something for the Master…or chasing after the target.

Curling her tail around herself, Viximon remembered the warmth the family had exuded. The completeness of it. It felt comfortable, it felt safe. Safer than the safest place she'd known, and that have been the Master's hall, where she always had to watch out for assassins who thought they could outsmart her.

She was right. She didn't belong here. The sooner she was away from this place, the better. Before it affected her faith in the Master's plan.

Before her, the boy called Akihiko started humming softly, a sad, sorrowful tune. Viximon smirked, wallowing in the irony of it all. Then she directed her gaze to the blue sky outside, past the boy's head. She contented herself with that sight for the next few hours, running her mind through the methods that could get her power back the quickest.

Yes, the child and his family would be sufficient in keeping her fed and warm until then.